Hello!
And welcome to the 4th instalment in the main Queen Among series line-up. Before you dive in, it is important to know that understanding terms, character names, and certain events is dependent on having read books 1-3 and Bite-Size Luna before this. Each book in the Queen Among series meticulously weaves into each other and overlaps, so those moments will not make sense if read out of order.While I welcome all readers to join these characters on their journeys and even encourage them to continue on with the next generation series (Royal Shadow series) releasing upon the completion of the Queen Among series, I want readers to be able to have the reading experience they deserve, and reading this book before the others will impede that from happening.Now, I can't make you do anything, but I hope you take this into consideration before you begin.With that being said, on with the story!xoADB_Stories~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~My eyes snap open and my body jolts to life as I’m awoken by the sound of agonised screams. I slowly sit up, my muscles protesting from fatigue, dehydration, and starvation while I lean my head back against the cement wall. I close my eyes and try to block out the screams that float down the corridor and into my cell, making me wonder when it will be my turn next.
Three days. I’ve spent three days in this cell with my body wasting away as I listen to the sounds of torture. I’d complain, but I don’t see the point. After all, I put myself in this situation. No, that’s not me being self-deprecating, I mean I LITERALLY put myself here. Though I wasn’t supposed to be here this long waiting for another prisoner to show up, so we can chalk this one up to poor timing on my part. Visions really should come with time and date stamps. Would make my life much… okay, it wouldn’t make my life EASIER, but it would allow me to help others just a tad more efficiently.
Four days ago I had a vision of a mutolupus being brought to these cells, only to be tortured and killed. I never know how the visions come to me; I just know if they do it means I’m supposed to help. Perhaps it’s insane of me to put so much faith in intrusive images in my head, but I have very little I can hold onto. My visions remind me that I have a purpose and that maybe there’s a reason for my suffering. There’s a reason I’m still here. So, I see each vision as a step towards a greater goal. I just have no idea what that goal is. At least I’m able to save some lives in the meantime, and that has to count for something… right?
The only problem with visions is they don’t often come with a clear sense of time. They might reference something happening hours, days, or weeks from now, so it’s up to me to decide whether to act now or wait. I’m usually rather good at assessing them and deducing if this is an immediate upcoming event or something in the distant future. This time I was rather close, but sadly off by a couple of days, and sweet Goddess am I kicking myself for that.
I glance down the rows of barred, occupied cells to the single window that casts a small ray of light from the morning sun into this otherwise dark and dank prison. I would give anything to be able to feel its warmth on my skin if only to replenish my strength, but I’m stuck in this cold hellhole with nothing to provide warmth but the clothes on my back. Which aren’t looking too good, to be honest.
I close my eyes and try to focus on meditating and preserving what little strength I have left when a large object being slammed against the bars of my cell – causing an unpleasant ringing in my ears – gains my attention.
“Aww, did I interrupt the little bruja’s beauty sleep?” I open my eyes to see the face of the latest person to make it onto my shit list. “What, cat got your tongue? Your kind love cats, right?” He says mockingly through his very present Mexican accent.
“Estás perro si bien pendejo,” I say in an apathetic tone.
Very quickly his dark brown eyes narrow into slits and his nostrils flare with rage as his hands fist the bars to my cell. “The fuck did you just say to me, puta?” He seethes.
“Sorry, I was under the impression you spoke Spanish, but I can say it again in English if you prefer?” I say in a bored tone.
“You must have a death wish,” he sneers.
“I don’t really fear death, but I bet you do,” I tell him as the ghost of a smile dances on my lips. His tough exterior falters for just a moment, but the rage returns with greater intensity than before.
He places his hand on the electronic pad on my cell and after a ding sounds, the cell door opens. Slowly, his 5’8 frame steps into my cell with a sadistic smirk on his clean-shaven, olive-toned face as his dark brown eyes stare down at me with dark intent. I don’t flinch or cower as he unzips his jacket exposing his ripped body to my eyes. I don’t know what that does for some people but to each their own. To my utter disgust, he begins rubbing his hand over his crotch, rubbing his dick through his jeans as he licks his lips in a way that has bile rising up my throat.
“You know, I’m not into fat chicks, but with tits like yours I’d be willing to make an exception,” he says in a low, gruff voice as he steps closer.
On instinct, I roll my eyes at yet another person going for the easy insult of commenting on my weight. Yes, call the fat woman fat, how original. Want to tell me water is wet as well? Moron. A groan leaves my mouth as the son of a bitch grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks my head back hard. “Did you just roll your fucking eyes at me?” He spits.
“Congratulations, you can read body language,” I mock.
“Pinche coño,” he seethes as he begins unbuckling the belt of his pants. I try to yank my hair free from his grasp but the mercury bars around my cell have my body too weak to do much of anything, and the lack of food and water isn’t helping my strength either. I would love to use my magic to slam this guy’s head into a wall, but I haven’t been able to feel for my magic since I was tossed in here, which can only indicate the presence of nuummite somewhere. Probably embedded in the very foundations of the rock.
Just as he’s nearly done unzipping his fly, an enraged voice calls out from behind him. “Mateo!” Booms the voice, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The livid voice asks in disgust.
I glance towards the open cell door to see one of my other captors. An older version of the dickhead who has my hair in a vice. He’s standing at 5’10 in a very expensive all-black suit, with no tie and an open shirt. He has salt and pepper hair, salt and pepper goatee and dark brown eyes. His undoubtedly once olive skin is now more beige in tone, except for the hint of liver spots near his eyes. He looks to be in his fifties, but even with the signs of age, the authority he exudes says he’s not someone to be messed with. I bet he’s even more ripped than his son. Though someone has to tell these men that muscles do not equate to strength.
“Was just about to teach this puta some respect, papá.”
“Do not disgrace yourself or this family with such vile behaviour. Do your job or get the fuck out of my sight,” the senior orders.
Mateo leans down and whispers in my ear, “You’re going to wish he hadn’t interrupted,” he says as he then proceeds to drag me out of the cell by my hair. I grasp his hands trying to stop him from pulling my hair out at the roots as I struggle to break free of his hold. He’s fucking strong for a human. I feel the flesh of my feet and legs being grazed as I’m dragged along the harsh cement floor of the dungeon until I’m dragged into a pristine, white exam room. The smell of industrial cleaning chemicals fill my nostrils and have my stomach churning. Shit, not this room again. I make one last futile attempt to break free, but I’m just too drained. Junior and senior lift me up and strap me to what I can only describe as a dentist’s chair, in a room that looks like a dentist clinic from hell. White walls and floors cause the white light glaring down on me to only burn brighter and I have to shut my eyes to stop the stinging it causes my retina.
I peek my eyes open and see the tray of instruments beside me and I know exactly what’s coming. The same shit that happened on my first day here. Why? Why can’t visions come with fucking time stamps?!
“Let’s have a little fun, shall we?” My captor gloats as he picks up a small blade from the tray and I hear the sizzle as he slowly runs the blade down the inside of my forearm. I can’t hold back my scream as searing, burning pain spreads through my arm as I feel the blade slice through my skin. Fucking mercury! “What’s the matter? Don’t you like mercury? Oh, that’s right, bruja’s hate the stuff,” he smirks as he proceeds to run the blade down the inside of my other arm, forcing another scream of pain from me as I instinctively fight against my restraints. “If you’re going to torture a race, you should at least learn the fucking name of the race you’re torturing!” I hiss at him, panting and trying to stop the tears that are building in my eyes as the burning pain from the mercury begins to spread through my body. Sick, twisted fucks. I have a very selective list of people I loathe, but venators are pretty high on the list. Especially now. Venators and venatrixes are just humans with
“Señorita Cabrera, we’re home,” announces my driver, pulling me from my daydream. As I open my eyes I feel the exhaustion from my long journey dissipate as the gates of Casa Montero come into view. I smile and glance out the tinted windows of my town car at the beachfront villa I have called home my whole life. It’s been two weeks since I’ve been home, and I’ve missed it terribly. I watch as the gates open, and the car pulls into the entrance, stopping in front of the doors of the villa. I’m quick to exit the car and breathe in the salty sea breeze that lets me know I’m home. As my driver gets out and grabs my bags from the trunk, I let myself into the villa, and instantly see my mother hurrying down the stairs with her arms spread open to greet me. “¿Cómo estás, mija?!” she cries as she reaches the bottom of the stairs and races over pulling me into her arms. I wrap my arms tight around her and inhale her familiar perfume, relishing how good it feels to be home. “Hola, mamá, I’m go
I must have fallen asleep at some point because I find myself being woken up by a knock at my bedroom door. I give my body a quick stretch and get up to open the door. “Sí?” I ask as I see one of my family’s guards, Rahui, at my door with a nervous look on his face. Always amusing when I see a man over six feet tall looking nervous around me, though in this case, I can’t tell if he’s nervous about me or something he wishes to tell me. “My apologies for the disturbance, Señorita Cabrera, but since you are home, you did instruct me to come to you if your brother was ever to get out of control with one of the prisoners,” he says carefully. I close my eyes and take a slow deep breath in an attempt to keep calm before I open my eyes to look at the guard before me. “What has he done?” “He is currently torturing one of the fish people in the White Room,” he informs me. That fucking room. I hate it. It was intended to be a room for interrogation, so we could learn more about supernaturals
This sucks. I know I said I’m not one to complain, but this sucks. Even without being in this cell, I wouldn’t be able to heal and at this rate, I don’t know which might kill me first, blood loss or infection. I get the feeling these assholes don’t really care about the hygienic conditions of their dungeons. It’s not like venators have health and safety inspections. No, that would imply they cared about our well-being or saw us as human. To them, we’re less than human. They would show more respect to a dung beetle than they would to one of us. The thing is, we may be supernatural, but we are still human too. If you looked at our blood you would still see the clear signs of the human genome. We just have some additional cells as well. Excluding irshiusts and raitruums, we all come from humans, we just have a few extra quirks. But do they care about that? No. Why? Because they all drank the Kool-Aid and now believe the sales pitch like it’s fucking gospel. It’s equally sad and pathetic.
“Isolde? Isolde, wake up.” I hear someone whisper. I slowly open my eyes and take a moment to let the blurry figure to my left come into focus. It’s Alpha Jasper, with something glowing in his hand. “Is this supposed to be happening?” He asks. My vision finally clears up and I can see the pendant in his hand glowing brightly. I smile and nod, “How long did you have it in the sun?” “A few hours. You looked like you needed the rest, and the humans have been busy,” he says with a disgusted look on his face. I can guess what they’ve been busy with. “So what do I do now?” “If you’re ready to get out of here, then stand back and throw it at the bars. We have to be quick because they’ll send an army down here to stop us, and each one will be packing everything they need to kill us,” I warn him. “Boom and run. Got it.” He gets to his feet and presses himself back against the cell wall as I struggle to my feet, using the brick wall behind me for support. Jasper takes in a deep breath and hu
As I stand in the booth of the villa’s firing range, I load another cartridge into my Beretta, aim, and fire several shots, each one delivering a successful grouping hitting the centre of the target and the centre of the head. I haven’t even been home a full day and already my father and Mateo have me in a foul mood, so I’m taking my anger out on some targets. I’ve already gone through six cartridges and I’m not feeling my mood improve. “Mija?” I hear my mother call. I glance back to see my mother across the grass walking over to me. “What’s bothering you?” She gently asks, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “What makes you think something is bothering me?” I ask as I fire another shot. “You only ever spend this much time practising your shots when something is bothering you,” she says with a knowing smile. Leave it to a mother to know her daughter so well. “This is about your father, isn’t it?” “And Mateo,” I spit. “I know you tend to butt heads with them, but what they do, th
Every wound and injury my body has sustained is screaming out in protest thanks to the weight on top of me, but at the same time, I feel my energy increasing. I sigh with relief when I feel the weight roll off me, only to find that relief short-lived when I glance over to see the venatrix who was pointing a gun at me now laying in the dirt with me. “C’est quoi ce bordel?!” I shout as I struggle to my feet, “You hijacked my portal?!” “I think I’m going to be sick,” she groans. Portals can be a little disorienting the first time, even more so for humans, but that’s what she gets. With a few gestures from my hands, I call on my depleting magic, feeling my obsidian eyes take over as purple energy travels between her and myself, latching itself around her ankle and my wrist before turning into a golden thread and disappearing. I then snap my fingers and watch her gun disappear. Won’t be needing that. My knees start to buckle, and it takes everything I have not to fall down as I close the
Well, this bites. I just had to lunge at her. I still have no idea what compelled me to do that. I had my gun; I should have shot her. I didn’t have to kill her, I could have just gone for the knee, but no, some ass-backward instinct told me to jump and now I’m her prisoner. Talk about a role reversal. Though as far as prisons go, this isn’t a bad way to spend my time.The room has a lovely modern gothic style to it, everything in shades of black from the textured wall to the carpet and the furniture. A stunning black leather framed bed with a matching ottoman and full-length padded leather headboard. There’s a stunning black vanity with gold accents and an ensuite. The dim lighting gives it a soothing atmosphere and the pops of white and grey give the room lift. It’s not my usual taste at all, but I honestly love it. It's dark yet inviting and incredibly elegant.I take a quick look around and try the door to the right, but that only opens up to… holy shit, can I have this bathroom?!