I dropped to my knees and frantically dug through his remains, searching through any lump I could find. I crawled around my living room dumping furniture over and scouring every inch of the space. When I found nothing, I still searched. I crushed bones in my hands. I tore apart what remained of his liver. Everything I could find, I overturned and demolished in my frantic state.
For an hour, I searched. His blood now cooled.
I pounded my fists on the ground andbellowed!
The Original druid amulet wasn’t here.
Fuck. Fuck.Fuck.
I shifted to my feet and glowered at the ceiling. There was nothing there anymore, the heavy gore from his body having fallen already, only blood stained the ceiling—the same with the walls. I rubbed at my forehead and shook my head again.
I needed the Overlords. Like yesterday.
I walked to my front door and opened it a crack.
Crow and Phoenix’s heads whipped in my direction, their nostrils flaring as the scent of blood filled the hallway. Their eyes widened at my blood-covered state, and their swords were instantly in their hands.
I shook my head. “No. That’s not needed.” I swallowed hard. “I need you both to speak to the Overlords’ personal guards. I need you to be discreet. But I need every Overlord inside my roomright the fuck now. Understand?”
They sheathed their swords and nodded.
In the next second, they were blurs in the wind as they raced down the hallways, going in opposite directions.
I shut my door and righted my couch.
Then I took a seat and waited.
Lord Xenon arrived first.
He walked inside, took one look at what was left of our king, and damn near fainted. The Overlord fell back against the wall and stayed there. Mute and shell-shocked.
Lord Pippin stepped into my room next.
He stumbled on an anklebone entering my room and then shut the door quickly as his eyes widened at the mess. His mouth bobbed a few times. He blinked even more. Then he closed his mouth and stood silent.
Lord Otto arrived at the same time as Lord Cato.
Both vampires handled it better than the other two. Their eyes swept the room. Scanned my person. Then they crossed their arms and stayed quiet. Their reactions were telling enough to the men they were—and what they had done in life.
It took fifteen minutes for the eldest lord to enter.
Lord Belshazzar’s hair was sopping wet, his suit haphazardly thrown on, staring at his cell phone and speaking as he entered, “My apologies, Gwen. It took a while for my guards to get through my security—”
His nostrils flared, and his eyes popped up from his cell phone. He instantly kicked back his left foot, slamming his heel against my door to shut it. My lover pocketed his cell phone and his narrowed gaze traveled over…me…first. Those ice blue eyes perused my frame intently from head to toe, and he demanded, “Are you injured?”
Quickly, I shook my head. “He didn’t hurt me.”
“He…” Lord Belshazzar hissed softly—toxic to whoever “he” was—then his eyes voyaged over my room with calculation in his scrutiny, studying everything he saw. His attention stopped on the head of our now deceased king. He simply cocked his head and stared at it for a moment. Lord Belshazzar’s shoulders relaxed, and he stated absently, “He…being King Niallan. Yes, I can see why it was an emergency now, your majesty.”
I patted the air with my blood-covered hands. “I know this looks bad—”
Lord Xenon snorted. Then abruptly laughed.
And he continued laughing.
He laughed so hard, he bent over at the waist and placed his hands on his knees…and just kept laughing.
My father coughed hard behind a fist.
