He pulls the door open, and a fucking cacophony erupts.Red sidles inside, but Octavia’s arm shoots out, slamming into my chest like a concrete rod, blocking my way.
“Mother of Blood, Octavia,” I snap, giving her a little shove and rubbing my chest.But when I take in the scene, I realise why she stopped us.
“What the f—” Xavier starts, but Octavia stomps her heel on his toe.His jaw flexes.
We stare inside the door, giving each other surreptitious glances.Stood before us, are the cluster of royals still covered in blood, all screaming at each other.
There’s a female guard, though she looks more like she’ll kill you than protect you.I think I recognise her.She’s the one that fought with us in Octavia’s club when we were attacked by a load of demons.Scarlett?Yeah, her.She’s stood at the side kneading her temples, looking rather frustrated.
The stench of blood is glorious.Or it would be if I could lick it off the rather delectable selection of women in front of me.
I take them in properly.The queen has curves for days.She also holds an air of authority that screams ‘I’m about to fuck shit up.’She’s a MILF and a half, and sadly I realise, not someone I can charm the pants off.Her hair, despite having a smattering of red splatters, is blonde like Penelope’s and coiffed into an elegant up-do.Her natural olive skin makes her hair seem lighter than it is.
Penelope, though, is drenched in blood, her pretty pink dress a rather gruesome shade of claret.She definitely took the brunt of the explosion.But everyone has splatters, blood stains and the odd chunk of flesh clinging to them.Honestly, they’re covered in so much blood it looks like a fresh-turned vampire’s wet dream.
Even poor Morrigan’s blunt-cut fringe is covered in goop.She’s the one getting married according to Octavia’s lectures en route.Her skin is smothered in ink and tattoos alongside the blood.Those tattoos are what make her so impressive, so Octavia said.Each one represents a different type of magic she’s mastered.
Octavia made us memorise the royals’ names, history and a bunch of other stuff en route, but I lost all of my fucks halfway through.So I’m patchy at best.
The screaming intensifies.Scarlett looks furious enough to take her sword and end everyone’s suffering.
Penelope shrieks at Morrigan… ahh, my deviant little princess.
Well, notmine,mine.
The sight of her all bloody and pissed off makes my pussy clench.
Her and Morrigan are right up in each other’s faces.I don’t understand how two sisters can be so similar and leagues apart all at once.
Penelope’s hair is as blonde as Morrigan’s is dark.She has legs for about eighteen days and I’d like to bend them around me while I take her for the fucking ride of her life.Morrigan, though, is shorter.Penelope is a palette of pink whereas Morrigan is all midnight.Yet, the way they bark at each other, the pair of them sharing the bluest eyes filled with fury, oh you can tell they’re vicious pair.
Penelope’s eyes dart to mine.Baby blues that scream ‘fuck with me and I’ll ruin you.’
My stomach tightens, my cunt soaking my boxers.Maybe my siblings were right, and I do want a woman who’s a living nightmare.
What kills me about Penelope though, is that no one else sees through her bullshit to what’s really under her sultry gaze.She might project bitch vibes, but to me, her entire being screams ‘please love me.’
Gods, she’s practically begging to be broken and put back together.
Penelope holds my gaze, my body heating under the intensity “Thank you,” she mouths at me.
I give her a nod, not really sure whether she means thanks for getting her out of the bar, hugging her until she stopped trembling, or keeping her escape antics quiet.Probably all three.My eyes roam her body, stripping her clothing away piece by piece.
Octavia must be staring at me, because the heat of a thousand suns burns into my cheek.
“What?”I growl at her.
“Stop gawping, she’s the princess,” Octavia whispers quiet enough under the shouting that she can’t be heard by anyone other than our group.
“I gathered.”
Scarlett catches sight of us and stops kneading her headache away, raising her hands.“Enough,” she booms.And the gaggle of women fall silent.
“Scarlett Grey,” Octavia says.
Which is when everyone turns to the door.
“Octavia,” Scarlett says and launches away from the group to step into the doorway and, I shit you not, fistbump my sister.
