Queen of Death

Solana

Sunlight pours in through the window casting a muted red glow over my closed eyelids. At first Eli’s smokey sweet scent is the most prominent, and if that wasn’t indication enough that he’s the one wrapped around me, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat would have given it away.

With my eyes still closed, memories of last night replay in vivid technicolor. The images are accompanied by chills, heat, and a deeply satiated feeling low in my belly.

“She’s awake,” I hear someone say in something not quite a whisper. Anticipation, joy, impatience begin to spiral through me as quickly as I heard the words.

“I’ll make breakfast.”

“I’ll go get her.”

“No. Let her come down on her own time. She doesn’t need your thirsty ass jumping her as soon as she wakes up.”

Anger flares up through me like heartburn, but I don’t recognize it as my anger. Come to think of it, I didn’t particularly recognize the anticipation and impatience as mine either. I’m amused listening to the guys bicker, and I am considering how long I should let them stew, but I’m not angry. So then why do I feel it so acutely?

I pry my eyes open, scowling at the sun for being so damn bright, and make my way into the bathroom to shower and put myself together before facing the day – and the guys.

I catch my reflection in the mirror in my periphery and nearly snap my neck doing a double take before rushing up to the mirror to inspect my reflection up close. My neck bears two fading bruises encircling fresh Marks on either side of my neck, with a third on my breast next to the tattoo I have of Hunter’s name. The claw marks slashing through his name are long gone, but the tattoo on my ribcage just below Hunter’s Mark is new. Two dragons, back to back sharing a pair of wings with the phrase “come what may” written beneath it. It’s the same one Tate and Dean have, and now I wear a matching one as their brand on me, their Mark. I notice the branding on the inside of my left wrist last. The word “Death”, with an ace of spades in place of the “a”.

“Her heart is beating like a hummingbird. I’m going up there.”

“Tate,” I hear Ace’s command as much as I feel it. Like a ripple through a lake that ends up lapping at the shore.

“It’s been over two days,” Tate exhales his frustration.

I wonder idly what he means by that — it’s been over two days. But I am too jittery and eager to get downstairs to focus on it too much.

Ace’s quiet amusement and understanding bloom in my chest. I hold on to that warmth as I shower and ready myself, dressing in a tank top and a pair of Ace’s sweatpants with the drawstring pulled into a tight bow so they don’t fall off my hips.

I’m jogging down the stairs when four of my guys, minus the sleeping Eli, come into view all situated in various places in the kitchen.

Dean at the stove, Tate atop the counter, Hunter sitting at the island making knives appear and disappear in his hands, and Ace propping a hip against the island next to Hunter.

“You guys are loud as hell, I could hear you in the shower.” I tease them and take a seat at the breakfast bar next to Hunter.

My lungs suddenly feel empty, squeezed of air and the pressure is only continuing to increase.

“Breathe.” Ace commands absently to the room at large. And it does. The room breathes. Hunter, Tate, and Dean drink up fresh oxygen like fish that had been out of water.

Ace saunters over to me, stepping into the space between my knees and caging me against the bar between his arms. His face is only a few short inches from mine and he regards me warmly with his morning meadow green eyes.

“Good morning, Solana.” His lips slant up with a smirk and he begins to close the distance between our lips. Before he reaches me though he detours down to my neck where his Mark is permanently embedded. The warmth of his breath against it is enough to melt me, so when he presses his lips against it, applying light suction and teasing his tongue over it, liquid desire floods between my legs and my body goes limp against his.

“Ace,” I plead breathlessly. For what, I don’t know. For him to stop, for him to keep going, for him to go further.

“Hush, princess. Eli is still asleep. That’s why none of us have spoken a word.” He murmurs against my skin.

“That doesn’t make any sense. I heard you guys. Tate wanted to come upstairs but you told him not to.”

Ace pulls back to stand upright, giving me an unobstructed view of my bite on his neck, the ghost of a smirk from earlier now a full blown grin.

“You mean like this?” Ace says the words but his mouth doesn’t move.

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise and my head whips around to confirm with the others.

“All of you?” I test the theory through mindlink and when they all nod yes to me my hands fly up to my face covering my mouth.

“This is insane. How?”

Ace and Hunter beam at me, and motion for us all to move over to the lounge. I take up a seat next to Ace but am quickly plucked from my seat and usurped by Hunter who lowers me back down into his lap. Dean sits on my other side and Tate sits himself on the coffee table in front of me.

“How? Do you really not remember?” Ace asks, dropping gentle kisses to my bare shoulder.

A heat rash spreads from my chest up my neck. Of course I remember. It’s a night that is literally burned into my memory. And every rumble of their voices, every wisp of their breath against my skin makes that memory all the more tangible.

“We’re bound. Mated.” I say.

“Marked and sparked,” Dean boasts proudly, leaning over and stealing a kiss from me for himself.

“Please never say that again,” Tate groans at his corny brother and we all share a laugh.

“How long were we out for?” I’ve heard horror stories about girls being knocked out cold for days after being Marked and that’s just by one person let alone five.

“I woke up after a few hours. These guys about a day later and now you another day later.” Ace answers simply.

That explains what Tate meant by over two days. It’s how long I’ve been out for.

“Why hasn’t Eli woken up yet?” I ask.

Ace takes my left hand and flips it so it rests palm up on my leg. Hunter sets his hand next to mine, followed by Dean and Tate. All of them have the word “Death” branded on their knuckles, the same ace of spades replacing the “a” like the one on my wrist.

“Your mother and Ember believe that Eli is adjusting to immortality. He was the only mortal one of us. Hunter was already blessed by your mom and the rest of us are draconic. So when you —“

“Marked and sparked,” Dean supplies.

“— accepted to be our queen,” Ace continues, ignoring Dean, “you not only Marked us, but branded us with your sigil. Our Queen’s sigil.”

They each tug at the collars of their shirts where nightshade blossoms like the ones on my hip trail from their collarbones down across their hearts.

“I have two questions,” I whisper, still dazed by how extraordinary all this is. “This is your brand?” I run my thumb over the mark on my wrist.

Ace nods with a smile, “did you know the ace of spades is considered the Death Card? Nice touch right?”

I roll my eyes at his cock-sure smile but secretly I find his playful side endearing. He’s so fucking proud of himself, like a peacock with its feathers fanning out in an arc around him.

“Secondly, you called my mother?” I send a swift punch to his bicep, and fortunately for him he has the brains to at least pretend like it hurt him.

“I could have called your grandmother,” he quips. This time I lunge for him but Hunter traps me in his tree trunk arms giving Ace time to teleport out of arm’s reach.

We’re all laughing, enjoying this moment of levity, and it feels so good. So right. Like, why didn’t we do this sooner?

Ace clears his throat, putting on his serious face again. “All jokes aside, Solana, I called her because I needed to know that you two were okay. Everyone else was waking up and we couldn’t do anything except watch you two lay there for hours, unmoving, dead to the world. Plus I had to explain why none of us had been responding to any of their messages to meet again.” He tosses me a wink and just like that I’m not mad at him for calling her.

I don’t care that my mom knows we’re mated now, but if my mom and Ember know… then the entire inner circle now knows too. And I’m never going to hear the end of it from my siblings.

***

“Wow, mom wasn’t kidding when she said we had some catching up to do.” My brother Rhys holds me at an arm’s length to appraise me. “Good Gods, which one of them bit the shit out of you? Wait, don’t tell me! I want to guess.”

“Can you not?” I aim for stern but as my older brother all he’ll hear is me whining. The guys, including Eli who finally woke up this morning, are scattered around the bar where I’m organizing and restocking for the bartenders on shift tonight, and since we’re the only ones here I’m sure they can hear Rhys’ every word.

“I bet it was that Alpha of theirs.” He tilts his head towards Calla. “If our dads are anything to go by —“

“Ew! Can you not!” I don’t care if I sound shrill, I can’t stomach Rhys discussing our dads and my mates in the same sentence. I feel Hunter’s amusement, Tate and Eli’s protective instincts kicking in, and Ace’s self-control, interested to see how far Rhys can get to the line before he crosses it and my guys shut him up.

“So, not the Alpha? Hmm,” Rhys puts a finger to his lips pretending to think.

“Rhys, knock it off.” Cole growls as he walks into Caligo with Griffin.

“What?” Rhys throws his palms up defensively and pretends to drop the subject but all he really does is lean in closer to me and lower his voice only slightly and all for show since everyone in the room can still hear him. “Did you bite him back?”

I look around the room at my guys, watching desire darken their eyes at the memory of that night and it’s aftermath.

“Damnit, Rhys! Why are you the way you are?” Cole fumes. He up-nods Dean, Tate, and Eli, then stops over by Hunter for one of those bro hugs where they slap each other once on the back. Then he approaches Ace with an outstretched hand and an apology for Rhys’ tactlessness.

“Oh my Gods, you fucked all of them didn’t you. Oh my Gods!” Calla’s voice gets louder and more alarmed as she goes.

“What the fuck is wrong with this family?” Cole hisses with indignance.

“Don’t lump me in with them,” I warn my brother. “I’m over here minding my own business.”

“Yeah, and making fuck-me-eyes at your harem.” Calla heckles.

“I think the technical term now would be pack or colony,” I mutter to the hardwood floor as I dry the glasses I just washed.

Tate appears by my side out of thin air, wrapping an arm around my waist and reeling me towards him possessively. “Should I show her how we treat our queen when you look at us with fuck-me-eyes?” He says lowly in my ear but loud enough for her to hear.

I want to say yes so badly. His fingers feather along his brand on my ribs sending sparks sizzling across my skin. Calla goes pale and rigid, like she swallowed her tongue and the truth to his question along with it.

“Time to go,” Cole calls out to the room.

Calla snaps out of whatever shock she suffered and grins at us with delight. “After this meeting you have to tell me everything. I want every. Single. Detail.” She squeals excitedly, throws a brazen wink at Tate, and sashays away to the lounge upstairs.

“That was fun,” Tate remarks.

“Under no circumstances are you allowed to do that in front of my dads,” I warn him half-heartedly.

He swivels me to face him and pushes me back against the bar top, pinning me in place with his hips. He leans into me and stops when his mouth is a hair shy of mine.

“Is that a command, my queen?” He leers.

He knows I’ll never say yes to that, not seriously. Tate loves to play, and it would be a boldfaced if I said it didn’t thrill me.

“After you, pet.” He purrs, gesturing for me to go ahead of him.

Oh Gods, I’m so fucked.