Chapter 3

SALEM’S POV

AFTER DINNER, SALEM SLEPT WELL. REALLY WELL.

When he woke the following morning, he had an idea why. All three of his mates were snuggled beneath his bedsheets. They snored softly, curled up around Salem as if to keep him safe and warm. Ulrich, the dragon-shifter, had his strong arms wrapped around Salem’s waist, spooning him from behind. Ulrich’s breath ticked the king’s ear and sent blood rushing to his nether regions. A low groan escaped his parched lips. If Salem risked staying in bed any longer, the others would wake up to a very sticky mess.

Salem carefully and quietly pulled himself out from under the entangled arms and legs of his mates and tiptoed downstairs. He found Valencia hard at work in the kitchen. The smell of breakfast made his mouth water.

Several traditional breakfast dishes—mainly proteins, like fried eggs and slices of seared pork belly, and vegetables—sat prepared on the island in the center of the kitchen. She was working on finishing touches when he

appeared in the doorway. Valencia noticed him and curtsied. “Good morning, Master Salem.”

“Good morning. It smells great in here.”

“I cooked a lot to restore your strength. I hope you and your mates are hungry.”

“You told them to sleep with me, didn’t you?” he guessed.

“Maybe,” she said with a smirk. “How did you sleep?”

Salem made a face and sat at the island. He propped one elbow up on the quartz counter and rested his chin against it. “I slept amazingly well, but that’s not the point.” As he talked, he swiped a slice of cooked pork belly from one platter and munched on it.

Valencia turned her spatula toward him and jabbed it forward like a saber. “You can’t afford to take it slow!” she warned. “The more time you spend with them, the better. Now wake your mates. Breakfast is ready.”

Salem wanted to complain, but decided against it. He returned to his bedroom and sat on the edge of the mattress. Ulrich roused first. As the dragon-shifter sat up, the sheet slipped and exposed his barren, scarred chest. Salem couldn’t help but stare. He wondered how Ulrich had gotten

those scars, but couldn’t bring himself to ask.

“Good morning,” Ulrich greeted him softly. The sound of his sleepy, sensual voice sent tingles down Salem’s spine.

“Morning.” Salem looked away, determined to ogle anything but the gorgeous men sprawled out in his bed.

Thoren woke next. He stretched and rolled over. His biceps tensed as he propped himself up onto his elbows. “I smell food.”

Salem risked a glance, saw a butt cheek, and about fainted. He pulled at his collar and looked away again.

“Five more minutes,” Cecil murmured into one of Salem’s pillows.

Something about the magi’s sleepy request made Ulrich and Thoren bubble with laughter. He laughed with them and before he knew it, the sudden shift had dispelled all of his sexual tension.

“You can have five more minutes,” Salem said as he wiped tears from his eyes. “But Valencia’s got breakfast prepared downstairs, and I’d like you three to join me—so don’t take long.”

“It would be an honor to join you for breakfast. Is Valencia the woman who spoke to us last night?” Ulrich queried.

“What do you mean?”

“She said you asked for us,” Thoren responded.

“But you were too shy to tell us,” Cecil mumbled sleepily.

The werewolf’s head snapped back in the magi’s direction. “Weren’t you asking for five more minutes?”

“Yeah,” Cecil yawned. “But this conversation is interesting and if I fall back asleep, I’ll miss it.”

Thoren turned back to face Salem and narrowed his eyes. “You’re acting like you didn’t know a thing about it. Was your housemaid lying to us?”

Salem rubbed the back of his neck and smiled nervously. “Maybe a little, but I don’t really mind sharing my bed with you three...”

“It’s because of the dreams we share, isn’t it?” Ulrich asked. “We must feel closer to each other because of them.”

Salem’s cheeks burned like fair skin on a hot summer day. “How do you know about that? Wait. Don’t answer that. I’m heading down now. I’ll be waiting in the dining room.” Salem hurried out of the room and took the stairs by two. Back in the kitchen, he sat at the head of the table and focused on each inhale and exhale until his heart slowed and the tingling in his cheeks dissipated.

Valencia appeared in the doorway with an armful of plates, cutlery, and goblets, and began to set the table. “Is everything all right?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Salem groaned.

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t prod. “I’ll bring you some tea.”

“Thank you,” he managed. While he waited for his mates and his tea, Salem ruminated over Ulrich’s words. Maybe he was being theatrical, but the suddenness of the dragon-shifter’s admission made Salem feel embarrassed and frazzled.

Valencia returned with a steaming cup of chamomile and arranged sugar cubes and honey on the table. Salem continued to fret over the issue while he prepared his tea the way he liked it.

One by one, his mates entered the dining room and took their places at the table. Valencia worked like a bee. She serviced everyone, loading up their plates with a little of everything. It was a feast befitting a small army, but when Thoren and Ulrich started doing work on the heaping portions

Valencia prepared, Salem understood her genius. It seemed fitting a dragon and a wolf would eat like animals.

Salem watched them and wondered where they put it all. Cecil must have been thinking the same thing. The magi turned to Salem and asked, “do you think they share stomachs? You know, with their beasts.”

“I’m not familiar with their anatomy,” Salem replied tentatively as he cut into one of his fried eggs.

Ulrich grinned. “We should change that.”

Salem blushed, tongue-tied.

Across the table, Thoren pounded on his chest. “Can’t help my appetite.

It takes a lot of energy to be a shifter.” Thoren patted his sculpted stomach and leaned back in his chair.

“We do need to eat in proportion to our beasts,” Ulrich admitted with a sheepish look on his face. “But feeding us would cost the kingdom too much, so we will work for our keep. Right, wolf?” The gleam in Ulrich’s eyes told Salem the dragon wasn’t asking.

Thoren eyed Ulrich and frowned. “You want me to hunt? Here?”

The dragon shifter shrugged and sipped from his goblet. “Why not? I’m sure Bloodborne has plenty of wild game beyond the city.”

Salem nodded. “The northern half of our land is mostly marshland, so I think it would be best to avoid it. Bloodborne’s southern border runs along the ocean—so hunting there would probably be more viable.”

“We could go fishing then!” Cecil beamed. “And have a cookout!”

Salem allowed himself to daydream a little. He imagined what it would be like to do something as innocuous as fishing with his fated mates. Given the circumstances, Salem’s fathers never allowed him to leave the estate, so

most activities, like fishing, were foreign to him. As he listened to them discuss the idea further, he wondered if they would teach their child such life skills. The thought warmed his heart.

Thoren frowned and swallowed a bite of pork belly. “Don’t the vampires dislike us, though? It seems like leaving the estate would be dangerous.”

“Pay them no mind,” Salem urged. “They’re afraid because of the Sorcerea curse, but they wouldn’t dare touch any of you. Such a crime is punishable by death—and since most vampires have long lifespans, I doubt anyone would take that risk.”

“So that’s why those vampires were so upset. Not that knowing makes me distrust them any less.” Thoren swirled his goblet and took another sip.

“What does the curse do?”

“It seals fertility,” Salem explained. “If Blue Bloods weren’t on the verge of extinction, it wouldn’t matter so much. Not to the survival of the kingdom, that is. But the curse has taken a toll on our people and pushed them to the brink. They are understandably angry, but their emotions are misguided.”

“Can you blame them?” Thoren scowled. “If anyone cursed my mates, there’d be hell to pay.”

Cecil slammed his palms against the counter and stood. The force of the impact sent his chair clattering to the floor behind him. “That can’t be true! My mother wouldn’t do that!”

“Your mother?!” Thoren gasped.

Ulrich’s eyes widened. “But—how? Salem said the curse is centuries old.”

Cecil put his hands on his hips. “My mother is immortal,” he explained with a huff. “She’s ruled Sorcerea forever and pops a kid out every century.”

“Your mother is the queen,” Salem whispered.

“Bingo.”

Salem was at a loss for words. Ulrich and Thoren seemed to share his sentiments, both quietly fiddling with their goblets and avoiding eye contact.

Valencia reappeared and straightened Cecil’s chair. “Unfortunately, it is the truth, Master Cecil. I lost my fertility to the curse two hundred years ago—when I first arrived here to work for the estate.”

Cecil stared down at his hands, lips pressed into a firm line. “I don’t understand. What would my mother gain from sealing your peoples’ fertility?”

“Isn’t she your mother? Maybe you should ask her,” Thoren suggested.

Cecil’s chin jutted out defiantly. He sat back down and crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe I will.”

Salem never imagined one of his mates would be the son of the Sorcerean queen—or that his mother was immortal. Salem had always assumed her longevity was the work of magic, but according to Cecil, that wasn’t the case. He wondered how his mate had never heard of the curse

before and realized Sorcerea must have covered it up. Salem sympathized with that, for it was something he was oddly accustomed to. His heart ached for Cecil, who seemed at odds with the truth. Even then, the conflict swirling in the magi’s deep blue eyes was clear as day.

The magi turned to look at Valencia and frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s partially my fault, so let me try to make it right. I will discuss this issue with mother the next time I travel west.”

“That’s very kind of you, Master Cecil,” Valencia replied. “Would you boys like more to eat?”

“Yes, please,” Cecil beamed.

Watching the magi reminded Salem of an old mortal phrase... The way into a man’s heart is through his stomach.

The vampire made a mental note to request cooking lessons from Val and turned his attention to Thoren, who said, “your housemaid is an amazing cook! Between dinner last night and this feast—I’m in heaven.”

I definitely need to learn how to cook, the vampire thought.

“Thank you, dear,” Valencia called from the kitchen. She returned to the dining room with seconds, then grabbed the pitcher to refill their glasses.

Her hospitality was impeccable, as usual.

“I could get used to this,” the wolf shifter joked.

When Valencia finished attending to everyone, she excused herself.

Salem cleared his throat and pushed his plate away. Three sets of eyes swiveled to look at him. “There’s something I’d like to discuss and I’m going to come right out and say it. I need an heir by the next Blood Moon.”

Cecil spoke first. “I’ve heard of this before. It’s a Bloodborne tradition, right? The kings turn their mates after they’re summoned. Then when they’re past their prime, the summoned mate takes over.”

Thoren scrunched his nose. “What happens when the mate is past their prime? Do they just summon a new one?”

“The throne gets passed down to the next royal family in line, right? So long as they can produce a viable candidate, they’re guaranteed a seat on the throne.”

“You’re well informed, Cecil.” Salem nodded, impressed. “All of that is true under normal circumstances.”

Salem’s mates exchanged looks.

“Normal circumstances?” Cecil echoed, his brow knotted with confusion.

Salem leaned forward. “You must keep what I am about to tell you between us. It’s classified information, and in the wrong hands, deadly.”

Ulrich, Thoren, and Cecil agreed to keep his secret, so he took a deep breath and told them the truth. “I’m a Blue Blood.”

Cecil gasped. “I thought Blue Bloods were extinct?”

“Not while I’m alive, they’re not.”

“Are you the only one?” Ulrich inquired.

“I don’t know. Blue Bloods were common before the Hunters got involved, but if any are alive, they’re likely in hiding.”

Ulrich cleared his throat and asked, “was your father also a Blue Blood?”

“Yes. When Blue Bloods have children, the mutation is passed onto them.”

Thoren pursed his lips. “So if our child is a boy, they’ll be a Blue Blood, too?”

“Maybe. I’ve never heard of any cases of shifters or magi’s mating with a Blue Blood before, so it’s hard to say what the child would inherit...”

“You mentioned Hunters earlier?” Ulrich remembered.

“The Hunters are an underground group that scour the land for Blue Bloods. They’re the reason Blue Bloods are almost extinct. They tried to take my father and killed my family because they fought back.”

“That’s horrible,” Cecil whispered.

“So that’s why it’s classified,” Ulrich surmised. “Your life is at stake.”

“The Hunters want Blue Bloods because we’re the only vampires who can conceive. If they came for me, they’d want to use my body. I’m a liability to my kingdom whether or not I like it.”

“Back up,” Thoren interrupted. He mimed a baby bump with his hands.

“You can have a baby?”

“That’s right.”

Thoren gawked, incredulous. “You will carry the child?”

“Usually shifters do that job,” Ulrich added.

“Wait, does this mean you won’t turn us?” Cecil asked.

“Yes—I’d carry the child. No one will be turned, but I’ll need some of your blood for the ritual.”

His mates gulped.

“Just a small amount,” Salem promised.

“But how does it work?” Thoren asked. “Like, what do you do with our blood? And how will that create a baby?”

“It’s complicated.”

“You must perform a blood pact,” Valencia said. “Once that is

complete, your magic will meld together as one. Then you will seal the deal in bed.” She winked.

Cecil choked on his drink and flashed a toothy grin that drew attention to his dimples. “Sounds messy.”

“You should see shifter pregnancies,” Thoren snorted.

The four of them laughed as Valencia refilled their glasses and took away empty plates. Salem leaned against the table and looked at his three mates. “Can I count on you?”

Ulrich smiled and said “of course,” without hesitation.

“Shifters live and breathe babies,” said Thoren. “You can count on me.”

“Magi do, too. Well, I do at least. It would be an honor,” Cecil gushed, his words coming out in a rush. “And when this is said and done, I’ll have a talk with mother. Gods forbid we have a girl. I doubt she’d want to seal her granddaughter’s fertility away.” He accentuated the last part with a dramatic

eye-roll.

“Are you sure you don’t want more time to consider it?”

“I’ve been dreaming about you three for decades,” Ulrich huffed. “I know this is where I belong. My Mark is proof of that, is it not?” Ulrich held out his hand to show off the Mark Salem gave him only the day before.

“Okay, I give up. Do we really share dreams?” the king wondered, curiosity getting the best of him.

Ulrich licked his lips. “Oh, yes.” Salem recognized the predatory gleam in his mate’s eyes and shivered.

“Our fates have been tied together for a long time,” added Cecil. “You three have been hijacking my dreams and my visions since I became a magi.”

“Incredible. Did my father also experience this?” Salem directed his question to Valencia, who nodded in response.

“Your father told me once that he used to dream of his mates all the time,” she replied. “From what I’ve gathered, it is common with fated mates. You could call it a side effect.”

“Wow.” Once again, Salem found himself tongue-tied.

“So when do we do the blood ritual?” Thoren gulped.

“Three weeks from now.” Salem gestured to Valencia. “Would you fill them in on what to expect?” I’d like to get some fresh air.”

“Certainly.”

Salem excused himself and retreated outside onto the veranda. He sat on a swinging bench and inhaled. The crisp morning air filled his lungs. Birds chirped in the trees and bees buzzed among the flowerbeds. A gentle breeze

rustled his hair. He leaned against the back of the seat and let gravity take control. As the bench rocked back and forth, the vampire contemplated the last twenty-four hours.

Salem still couldn’t believe Cecil’s mother was none other than the queen who cursed his people. He imagined her as his mother-in-law and shuddered at the thought. Lost in thought, he ruminated on the Sorcerea curse, Bloodborne’s stagnant population, and the obstacles still lying in wait.

On top of all those issues, he worried the most about his unborn child.

With the Hunters still lurking in the shadows, Salem contended the thought of his heir experiencing life as he had—isolated and sheltered.

On one hand, he absolutely loathed the idea of his child living life within the confines of the estate. On the other, Salem feared what might happen if the Hunters caught them. While Salem escaped with Valencia during the last attack, his new family might not be so lucky—and while he couldn’t let Bloodborne perish, the king wished there was something he could do to ensure his heir would have a brighter future.

Presumably some time after talking with Valencia, Salem’s mates wandered out and pulled him from his thoughts. Cecil joined him on the swing and gazed out at the property’s landscaping. Thoren and Ulrich leaned against the railing across from the swing.

Salem took in the little details, like how their muscles contorted their shirts; the shadows of leaves that danced across their skin; the sunlight that illuminated the rich colors of their hair. It took the king’s breath away. He savored the peace a bit longer before inquiring about their talk.

“Oh, she told us, all right,” Cecil chuckled. “Five month pregnancy.

Three weeks to make it happen. Lots of side effects to watch out for. It’ll be tough, but I think we can handle it. Especially with those two. They seem strong.”

“We can and we will,” Ulrich announced confidently. “And trust me, we’re not letting anyone through to you. If the Hunters learn of your secret, they can send their best men—their biggest armies—and I will send home

their ashes.”

Salem hoped they were right.