Three Werewolves and a Vampire Queen

(ELARA MONTOYA POV)

The Grand Hall was finished, but the stench of depravity lingered in my lungs. My mind kept looping the Sire’s chilling decree: She will bend to my will, or she will be completely Blood-Broken.

I'll show them 'use,' I thought, bitterness burning my throat. My heel up their arrogant throats is the only use I'll provide.

Grumbling, I moved to Kael’s suite. I knew it would be the worst. He usually slept off his Blood-Feasts in various unsuitable locations—once, I found him naked and passed out on a decorative raft in the courtyard fountain. I walked in, broom in hand, and froze.

He was there, but he was not alone.

Kael Whitmore’s bare, pale backside swayed rhythmically to the low, musical moans of Vikki Blake. He was kneeling behind her, driving into her. Their bodies gleamed with sweat and pheromones. She was the pureblood chosen for his future Blood-Bond, and he was violating her right here on the mattress, in the middle of his filthy room.

I should have bolted. I should have dropped the broom and run. My life depended on invisibility. But I was stuck, paralyzed, watching every arrogant inch of the heir slide into Vikki.

Wish that were me. Wanting it to be me.

The thought slammed into me, sharp and sickening. Gods, what is wrong with me? This was Kael—my primary oppressor, the living embodiment of my trauma. This should revolt me.

I took a clumsy step back. Just as I did, Kael grunted, driving hard into Vikki, throwing his head back, and then—he saw me.

Every muscle in his body tightened. I braced for the inevitable roar of fury, the instant, violent punishment. But nothing came.

Kael merely grinned, a slow, predatory curve of his lips. He gripped Vikki’s hips tighter, pulling her into him as he drove himself in again. Vikki’s moan mutated into a soft, stunned cry. Kael slowly, deliberately, slid out.

A raw, strangled sound rattled the air. I wasn't sure if it came from Vikki or my own throat.

Kael's smile stretched wider. He slammed his way into Vikki once more, every glorious inch of him filling her. My skin was hot, every vein pooling with the sudden, undeniable rush of pure, raw desire. I felt a deep, sickening lurch of longing, a desperate, traitorous need for him to look at me that way, to touch me that way.

I gasped, the sound followed by a whimper, as Kael began to move faster, his dark eyes never leaving mine.

Escape. Now.

I finally regained control of my limbs and spun around. I collided with the door frame, cracking my forehead on the wood. The broom snagged sideways. I abandoned the damned thing and ran, not stopping until I shoved myself into the utility closet.

Crammed among the bleach and mothballs, my breath came in ragged gasps. Why did it feel like a betrayal to see him with another woman? Why did it matter that he watched me the entire time? I despised Kael Whitmore. Yet, the thought of him made my chest ache with a desolate, confusing longing.

I didn’t risk the Manor’s exit again, instead taking the side route to the Fledgling Quarters to grab my satchel. I cleaned up quickly, discarding the ash-stained tunic for a spare cloak. The only thing sour left about me was my attitude. I marched through the marble halls of the Pureblood Academy like a soldier off to a war I was already losing.

First, the Sire plans to exploit me, and then I turn into a paralyzed voyeur for his son.

I was so preoccupied with the searing image of Kael’s too-perfect back that I wasn’t watching where I was going. I didn’t notice who was leering down at me until it was too late.

“Well, well, look what the rat dragooned out of the utility closet. The Clan’s voyeur.”

Kael was strutting toward me, his voice lifted so every pureblood in the hall could hear. He and his three Vassals formed a tight semi-circle around me, trapping me against the ornate wall paneling. No one in the hall paid us any mind. This public humiliation was normal. The moment they saw Kael approach me, students averted their gaze, and instructors scuttled into their lecture halls.

“I knew you were a filthy servant, Elara, but that display this morning was a little much, even for you.” Kael leaned in, his eyes blazing with the same predatory look from his bedroom. He placed a hand on the wall above my head, boxing me in.

I straightened my spine. “I went to clean your chambers, and you were there. Don’t flatter yourself. I might abstain from Vita-Mix for a week because of that disgusting performance.” Saying it brought the images rushing back. The memory twisted in my gut—that knot of sickening, unwanted desire. I clenched my stomach. I couldn’t let Kael smell the sudden, hot rush of arousal.

“IS THAT TRUTH?” he sneered, leaning closer, the dark, twisted glint in his eyes intensifying. “Then why did you stand there, little half-breed, and watch while I claimed Vikki? You watched. And it didn’t look like disgust on your face, I promise you.”

The smile he gave me was pure, unadulterated pureblood malice. Any vestige of arousal I had felt quickly turned into a desperate need to drive my fist into his perfect face. I balled my hands into fists.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Kael. I was merely surprised to see that you had a suitable length and knew how to deploy it. Usually, you’re too intoxicated to perform.”

Wrong words. So wrong.

The quip earned me a violent shove. The back of my head slammed into the paneling, and my ears rang as the pressure of his hand increased, pinning me to the wall.

“You wretch!” Kael yelled. Alias Marwood, the most heinous of his friends, chimed in: “Don’t you dare speak about him like that. He is the future Sire of this Clan. Speak with the respect he is due, or you will regret it.”

“Whatever…” I was cut off when my head was slammed into the wall again. “Fine! Whatever you wish, Sire! Is that respectful enough for you all?”

They burst out laughing, a horrid sound. When they released the pressure, I turned, ready to push through the circle, but Kael grabbed the arm the Elders whipped me on and twisted.

The searing pain brought a genuine scream to my lips.

“Yeah, that’s the sound I like to hear,” Kael whispered, his breath hot near my ear. He looked me up and down like I was a choice selection of cattle. “And trust me, Elara, that’s only the beginning. Once I am Sire, and you’ve Ascended for the first time…”

“Well, I’ve been dreaming about what I’m going to do to you. Screaming like that is going to become a full-time service obligation.”

His threats only cemented why I needed to escape. I stayed only because I knew the Sire would hunt me down and punish me worse. Without my full power, I was toast, but once I Ascended… I'm not sticking around to see what they have planned.

I forced a smirk. “I look forward to not being present for it. Can I go now? It’s been delightful, but—”

He smiled, a chilling promise. His deep, dark eyes pierced mine, and a strange, hidden surge of power within me—the raw, hybrid part—perked up. My lineage has a thing for arrogant bullies, damn it.

“Yes. Just one thing more.”

He reached into his pocket and retrieved a pouch of dried, crushed Nightshade—a noxious, highly poisonous spice to vampires. He shoved it into my chest, grinding the pouch until the pungent powder burst and was ground into my dark cloak. When he walked away, laughing, I could have sworn I felt the faint, silver threads of my nascent power recoil deep in my blood. The poison was a calculated, symbolic attack on my very nature.