Court of the Vampire Queen: A spicy polyam MMMF romance, page 1
COURT OF THE VAMPIRE QUEEN
KATEE ROBERT
TRINKETS AND TALES LLC
Copyright © 2022 by Katee Robert
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
CONTENTS
Content Notes
I. Sacrifice
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
II. Heir
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
III. Queen
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Epilogue
CONTENT NOTES
Court of the Vampire Queen is a dark and incredibly spicy book that contains dubious consent, blood play, patricide, pregnancy, blood, gore, explicit sex, vomited (caused by pregnancy), discussions about abortion, abusive parent (father, historical, off-page), attempted sexual assault (alluded to, non-graphic), and attempted drugging.
This book is the compilation of the previously published Bloodline Vampire trilogy, Sacrifice, Heir, and Queen.
PART I
SACRIFICE
1
I don’t want to be here.
Rain slashes my face, the wind turning my long hair into whips. I feel like I’ve been walking for hours, but I suspect in the light of day I’ll discover it’s a mere half mile from the tall iron gate to the front steps of the house looming in front of me. It looks like something out of a gothic novel, towering peaks and narrow windows, all dark and vaguely faded as if it’s stood on this hill for time unknowing.
Probably because it has.
I readjust my grip on my suitcase and march up the steps. There’s no point in turning and running as far and fast as I can. I already tried that and it got me a brand new scar on my knee and a limp that made the hike up here agonizing. The only reason my father healed me the little bit that he did was to keep me from being fully damaged goods. The man in this house won’t care about a few scars. He’s interested in what lurks beneath my skin.
Specifically, my blood.
I don’t knock. The vampire in this house knows I’m coming. There’s no point in playing the courteous guest or pretending I want this. I make it three steps inside before the door slams shut behind me, sealing off the roar of the storm and leaving only eerie silence in its wake. I glance over my shoulder, but I don’t expect to see anything.
Vampires move faster than the human eye can see. And while I’m only fifty percent human, I’m tainted by that lineage enough to not be able to see more than a blur of movement. Another way I’m seen as damaged goods. At least if I had full vampire reflexes and strength, it might make up for my lack of magic. As it is, I’m barely better than a human. Barely better than prey.
The knowledge sticks in my throat, preventing a shriek of surprise when I turn around and find a man looming close. No, not a man. A vampire. It’s there in his pale skin, the barest hint of fang pressing against his bottom lip. It’s the slightest loss of control, and it makes me wonder how long it’s been since the last sacrificial lamb was sent to this house.
He’s gorgeous in the way all vampires are, flawless beauty and hidden strength. This one has dark brown hair that falls in a sleek wave to his shoulders, fathomless dark eyes, and a muscular body slightly too thin for his frame. He holds himself stiller than any human ever could. “I apologize.”
I blink. Of all the things I expected him to say, that didn’t number among them. “What?”
“Cornelius sent you.”
It’s not a question, and I can’t quite stifle the flinch at my father’s name. At the reminder of who I can blame for my current circumstances. “Yes.”
“You know why.”
Now his stillness makes sense. He’s barely preventing himself from attacking me. My heartbeat kicks up, and I can see well enough in the dark to note how his nose flares as he inhales my scent. I’m running out of time. I want to stay silent, but there’s no point. Despite my best efforts, my voice wobbles a little with nerves. “He gave me to you.”
“Yes.” It’s hardly more than a sigh. “We’ll discuss this…after.”
“After—” This time I can’t stop the shriek of surprise. One blink he’s a few feet away, and the next he hits me with the force of a runaway truck. He still manages to control our fall so I don’t bash my head on the marble floor, but I don’t have a chance to appreciate the consideration. Not when he surges forward and bites my neck.
“Fuck!” My curse turns into a breathy moan. I knew to expect this, but being lectured on the pleasure of a bloodline vampire’s bite does nothing to translate how good it feels. It’s as if every pull of his mouth is connected directly to my clit, pulsing through my body and turning my resistance liquid. I don’t want to want this, but my body doesn’t care. I arch against him, reaching up to pull him closer to me.
One of his hands is in my hair, using the leverage to keep my neck bared to him, and the other snakes around to press against the small of my back, urging me closer to him. As if I wasn’t already straining against him.
I have the distant horrified thought that I’m going to come if he doesn’t stop. “Wait!”
“I’m sorry.” I feel more than hear his murmur. His tongue strokes my neck and then he moves to the other side. “I can’t stop.”
“But—”
He bites me again and I whimper. Fuck, that feels good. My dress is tangled up around my hips and I wrap my legs around his waist, arching closer. I can feel my blood warming his cool body, and evidence of his bite is already hardening against me. He rolls his hips and growls against my skin, but he doesn’t move his hands from their spots. He doesn’t touch me like I’m suddenly desperate for him to do.
“More,” I moan.
He gives a hard pull to my neck and I slide my hands down his back to his ass, holding him close as I roll my hips, grinding myself on his hard cock like a wanton thing. It doesn’t matter I’ll regret this later, I’ll hate both him and me for this loss of control. I need to come more than I need my pride. It will still be there on the other side of this.
I work myself against him, and I have half a thought to reach for the front of his pants, but it would mean stopping this delicious friction, and I’m not willing to do that. Another time.
It’s what I’m here for, whether I chose this role or not.
I realize he’s stopped sucking my blood, but the endorphins have nowhere near worn off. I should stop. I know I should stop, but the subtle pressure of his fingertips against the small of my back urge me on. Pleasure winds through me, tighter and tighter, and for one breathless moment, I think I won’t get there, that I’ll be poised on the brink for an eternity.
My orgasm hits me even harder than the vampire did earlier and I come more intensely than I ever have before, crying and panting as I hump him like I really do want this. The last wave crests and I slump back to the cold marble floor, my head feeling fuzzy and too light. “You took too much,” I murmur, my words coming as slowly as taffy.
His tongue strokes my neck and he gives another of those growls I don’t want to enjoy. “You don’t taste like a human.”
It’s strange to be having this conversation on the floor while he’s pressing between my thighs, but I can’t seem to find the energy to shove him off. “I’m not.” I lick my suddenly dry lips. “I’m half bloodsucker.”
“Ah.” He inhales and slowly, oh so slowly, he releases me and sits up. There’s a new flush in his pale cheeks and his eyes are blazing with power. He kneels between my legs and his gaze strokes over me in a way I can almost feel, lingering on my lips, on my bloody neck, where my breasts are nearly escaping this ridiculous dress, where said ridiculous dress isn’t covering my panties any longer. My panties that are soaked.
I start to cover myself, but he catches my wrists, easily overpowering me. He does another of those long inhales and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt he’s scenting my arousal. He shifts my wrists to one hand and reaches for my panties with the other.
“Wait!”
The vampire’s eyes are pure black and his fangs are on full display. The little glimpse of control from earlier, of regret, are nowhere in evidence. Gods, I’m in trouble. His gaze drops to my panties again. “You know why you’re here.” His knuckles brush the wet fabric, lightly stroking against my pussy. Despite just coming, I have to fight the desire to lift my hips in invitation. I know it’s the aftermath of the bite, but I hate myself a little for it.
He pauses, his hands shaking as if he’s fighting himself. He could have broken my wrists, could do so much more damage and there’s nothing I could do to stop him. “Say it.”
I don’t want to. I very much don’t want to. But the words spill from my lips, almost as if he compelled them with his low voice. “I’m here to satisfy your hunger.”
“Hungers, little dhampir. All of them.” He strokes me again. “Lift your hips.”
I obey even as I argue. “You said we’d talk.”
“Yes, after.” Still, he hesitates. A drop of blood drips down his chin and I dazedly realize he’s bitten himself. “Say yes.”
The fact he isn’t simply taking what he obviously wants confuses me even as I hate him for making me say it. Would he really stop if I tell him to? I’ll never know. “Yes.”
His eyes flash to my face as he grips the crotch of my panties and tugs them down my legs. He could have just ripped them off—it probably would have taken less effort—and that little show of restraint almost makes this worse. Or better. I’m honestly not sure.
I didn’t choose to be in this house, to be a sacrificial lamb, but that doesn’t stop my body from shaking with need. I bite my bottom lip as he moves down my body and I know I should argue more, should never have let the word yes leave my lips, but he gives my pussy another of those light strokes and the touch short circuits my brain.
“Please,” I whisper. I don’t know what I’m begging for, for him to stop or not stop. It doesn’t matter. He shifts slight to the side and strikes, quick as a snake, sinking his fangs into the sensitive skin of my upper thigh.
I come again instantly.
I keep coming, wave after wave, until I’m sobbing and begging, but I can’t begin to guess what I’m begging for. For him to stop. For him to fuck me. It doesn’t matter. Before I can decide, he lifts his head.
And then he’s gone, a flash of motion up the curving staircase, and I’m left alone in the entrance hall. Wet. Bleeding. And filled with enough confusion that my head feels like it’s spinning wildly on my shoulders. “What the fuck just happened?”
2
I think I blackout. I must, because one moment I’m lying on the cold marble floor and the next I’m blinking up into a darkened bedroom. I go perfectly still out of habit, forcing my heartbeat to slow and my breathing to stay even. I can see well in the dark, courtesy of my vampire blood, and I pick out the features of a bedroom that must have been the height of luxury sometime in the last few hundred years. It hasn’t been kept up in the meantime. There’s dust on every surface of the heavy wooden furniture and the canopy overhead is filled with holes and worn nearly transparent.
I count to one hundred slowly, and then do it again.
Nothing moves in the room except for the steady rise and fall of my chest.
I can’t lay here forever, no matter how much part of me wants to curl into a ball and wait for this all to be over. Maybe another woman in my position would. Maybe the last sacrifice sent to this place did.
It’s not who I am.
My life has been hell since I was old enough to realize my position within the vampire colony my father rules. I am the worst of all things. Magic-less. Bastard. The product of my monster of a father and one of his human mistresses he pretends is there of her own free will, rather than an exotic pet he likes to keep to prove his power. Unlike other dhampir children of bloodline vampires, I have no magic to speak of. I fit nowhere, and so every move I made was an insult deserving punishment.
For years, I didn’t understand why he resisted killing me and getting me out from underfoot once and for all.
Now, I do.
This is where he planned to send me all along. A sacrificial lamb. A womb just waiting to be filled with one of the failing vampire bloodlines my father holds so highly. And if I die before accomplishing that? He’ll lose no sleep over it.
Under other circumstances—mainly, if I’d inherited his magic like I should have—my getting pregnant would make me his heir. Now, he wants me to serve as a vehicle to bring another bloodline under his control. It seems particularly cruel, but I’ve long since stopped expecting anything resembling kindness from my father.
I let rage propel me to sit up and gingerly touch my neck. The bites are small puncture wounds. The vampire didn’t so much as tear my skin, though I’m not about to thank him for it.
Him.
Malachi Zion.
If my father is to be believed, this vampire can trace his bloodline back to one of the original seven vampires. There are only two types of vampire. Turned and bloodline. Over time, the number of turned vampires has far outnumbered the bloodline ones born—something rare even before vampires withdrew and hid away from humans, and now practically non-existent—which means those family lines are in danger of dying out.
Which is supposedly where I come in.
I sigh and climb carefully off the bed. My thigh aches, but my busted knee aches worse. The hike did me no favors. I limp to where my suitcase is tucked near the door. It appears untouched, but when I lay it down and open it, I find things rifled through. “Nosy ass vampire,” I mutter. A quick search finds what I feared. He’s taken my knife. I glare at the mess of clothing in the suitcase. “What’s the fucking point? You’re like two hundred years old, and I’m half human. I couldn’t kill you with that knife if I tried.”
If he’s lurking close enough to listen to me rant, he makes no appearance to reveal it. It’s just as well. Even with my vampire side accelerating my healing, I’m a little light-headed from blood loss. I need to eat something, but I might as well wish on a star as hope that kitchen is stocked.
Still.
The alternative is hiding in my room until the vampire starts wanting a snack and seeks me out again. My body hums at the thought, entirely too onboard with the idea. I’d heard bloodline vampires had a pleasurable bite, had even seen it play out during my father’s services when he moves through the room and bites a few of his chosen followers, but I chalked it up to vampire-on-vampire nonsense. The few times I haven’t been fast enough to avoid one of the turned ones’ fangs, it hurt.
I glance at the bed, at the reminder I’m here as more than blood donor. All part of my father’s grand plan to bring the vampire race back to supremacy or some bullshit. He never asked me what I want, but then a bastard magic-less dhampir is more tool to be utilized than actual person from where he’s standing. I clench my fists.
The house will be watched. My father is too smart to leave anything to chance. He figures if he throws me in this place, it’s only a matter of time before Malachi either knocks me up or kills me. Either will suit his purposes. If I do get pregnant, I suspect I won’t live past the live birth. It won’t matter if my child manages to inherit powers or if they are born without magic like their mother. I’ll have served my role.
