Let Him Reign: An Underworld Romance (5 page)

"Yeah well, he went easy. He could've just killed me," I respond, knowing that he actually considered it for more than a few seconds. "How the hell did I get here?"

"Charles, Marjorie, and Ryan brought you over last night."

"Oh shit!" I exclaim, trying to sit up as more memories of the night before come flooding back. "Hope..."

"Relax, she's fine," Li Na says with a hand on my shoulder to ease me back down on the mattress. "Charles said he saw the girl sneaking off the property after they loaded you into the car."

"God I hate that bastard," I grumble, lowering my head onto the soft pillow again.

"He's a horribly cruel man, and an even worse ruler," she replies, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Her light, ear length hair is paler than the last time I saw it, and even more wrinkles are etched into her aging face. "But you, young Coughlin have the potential for greatness."

"Yeah right. He swears I’m gonna be such a fuck up that the entire underworld collapses."

"Only because he'll have already destroyed their trust and faith in you, and burnt too many bridges than can be repaired before he's dead and gone."

"Great. Thanks for those encouraging words," I tell her.

"If you could prevent it, would you?" she asks.

"Well, yeah, of course."

"It'll take every ounce of your lion courage and strength, and only when you lose everything will you be free to have it all." There she goes again with the crazy talk. "You must stop running from your destiny. Confront your father and end-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." I hold up a hand to interrupt her. "I’ve had enough of
confronting
my father to last me a few years."

She sighs heavily and reaches over to the night stand, grabbing a clear plastic medicine cup full of some sort of red liquid. "Here, for the pain," she says, holding it out for me to take.

Since just moving into a sitting position is enough to make me curse, I take what she offers and pray it works.

When Li Na leaves the room I try to figure out where to go from here. Since I can’t go home, I figure I should get back to New York as soon as I'm able to walk on my own again. If my father or his brainwashed goons find out I'm still in town...I just don't want to deal with anymore of his shit or drag Li Na into this any further. There's no reason for me to stay here.

It's a shame that I don't know Hope's last name or have any way to contact her. I'll probably never see the beautiful redhead again. Being with her was...nice. Easy. I felt like I was a different person with her. A better one, because for the first time in my life, instead of thinking selfishly only of myself, I wanted to take care of her and make her happy. And I'm pretty sure she actually liked me, even though she didn't know my family name. Too bad that when I finally meet the perfect woman, she's nothing more than a one-night-stand.     

May 2015

Eric

Since I haven't yet learned his name, I nod to the driver in his impeccable suit holding the limo door open for me when I step out. A week ago I inherited him and a bunch of other staff, a few houses around the world, a fleet of vehicles, an army of twenty thousand, and the entire underworld population of a little more than a million shifters, vampires and magic users.

When Ryan, my father's head of security, had called and told me my father was dead, I didn't believe him. After growing up and hearing my dad repeatedly tell me that I'd never be the man I need to be to lead, I was certain he'd try to live forever rather than hand over his reign to me. Instead, the bastard died suddenly at the incredibly young age of fifty-one, and that pisses me the fuck off.

Staring down at his lifeless corpse on the coroner's steel table I was flooded with blinding fury. I never wanted this life, this
destiny
that was forced on me before I was born. And now at twenty-two I'm the youngest Coughlin to take the crown. Not only that, I'm the only one left.

According to my grandfather's rantings in an old journal, he swore our family was cursed. For the past five generations there's never been more than one male heir, which is a helluva way to keep a bloodline alive.

Grandpa Coughlin's rambling words also retold the story of a prophecy, one that our coat of arms was created from. It claims that under the reign of three lion heirs the curse would be broken, and the underworld would emerge from the shadows to save all of humanity. The old man had a few screws loose because we would be extinct if all of humanity knew about the underworld. As it is, our numbers are already dwindling thanks to human hunters. There's been five murders with the lunatics' calling card of crosses painted in blood on the victims' chests in the last few days. That's just one of the ninety-nine problems I have.

I've been dealing with one fucking pain in the ass emergency after another ever since the funeral. Like the rundown brick building in front of me with no identifying signs or words, just one white door with chipped paint.

Heaven
is an underground suck and fuck house ran by a dumbass vamp named Simon Kellum. Rumor has it that one of his patrons drained an Angel last night and walked out scot-free. That shit won't fly, especially in my hometown, and Simon knows it. So now it's time for me to give him his first and final reminder.

I don't want to be here dealing with this shit. I’d rather be lounging on the beach with a beer in my hand, wasting my family's money while having absolutely no responsibility whatsoever. After staying away for years, here I am, back in this dump known ironically as Eden, supposedly leading a society because of my asshole father's untimely death. The news of his heart attack came as quite a shock since I didn't know he possessed such an organ, at least until I heard it had killed him while he was fucking some random slut. That sounded more like him.

Now everyone around me wants something, for me to make decisions all Goddamn day, or they're just greedy fuckers who want a handout. I'm already tired of this shit. It's not that I haven't spent most of my life surrounded by conniving gold diggers, but now they seem even more persistent in their quest to lure me into marriage.

The giant, balding bouncer standing guard at the brothel's door moves as if to step in front of me to halt my approach. When he sees my face he wisely flattens his back against the wall, so that I can pass. I push through the front door and my sensitive nose is immediately assaulted by the smell of perfume trying to cover up the stench of sex and smoke. I don't know how these fucking people can breathe.

I stop a passing waitress, grabbing her arm. "Tell Simon that Eric Coughlin is here to see him, and to get his ass out here
now
."

"Oh, yes, sir. I'll go get him for you," the pretty young brunette bats her amber eyes at me before racing through the door behind the bar.       

Since I have nothing to do but wait, I take a seat at one of the few empty tables and scope out the place. Women in colorful corsets and black thigh-high hose sit on patrons' laps, trying to seduce them into paying a few Benjamins to go play in a private room. Their very tempting tits and asses are advertising exactly what's up for grabs. The women's faces, on the other hand, look haggard from long, strenuous nights doing various filthy things with strangers in the back rooms of this place, and more likely than not, abusing a multitude of drugs and alcohol.

I'm seconds away from jumping up to hunt down Simon myself, so that I can get the fuck out of this foul dump when I spot her.

A strawberry-blonde Angel shines like a beacon in the room full of waste. Her flawless ivory skin makes her appear pure and innocent, seeming so out of place like she wandered in here completely by accident, and now she can't find the hidden door to escape.

The sexy siren is sandwiched between two vamps, sitting on one’s lap while he fondles her luscious breasts that are very close to being exposed from the top of her violet and black, silk lace corset. The other vamp nuzzles her neck while running his hands up the tops of her thighs. As if sensing my gaze, she swings big, emerald eyes around the room, but never once lands on me in the crowd. My lungs seize up at the sight of the familiar face, the beauty mark over her lip clear as day.

Catwoman
? Hope? 

My surprise and guilt caused by seeing her again after all these years is quickly replaced with anger. What the fuck is a gorgeous girl like her doing working in a disgusting place like this, letting men suck on her and fuck her for a few dollars?  

I'm so damn captivated and infuriated by the goddess amidst the filth that I don't notice Simon's approach until he's standing next to me. Damn it, I know better than to let my guard down, especially now. I shouldn't have come in here alone tonight, but this couldn't wait. I'm still not used to having to be babysat by some of my dad's former goons.      

"Mr. Coughlin—I mean—Your Grace, I know why you're here and I assure you that the problem will be taken care of," the unremarkable, middle-aged looking vamp says without taking a seat. He's clearly in a hurry to get me out of here, tugging and fidgeting nervously with his shirt collar like its shrinking around his neck.

"The fucking
problem
should've already been taken care of!" I snap. "Who the hell was it?"

Simon lowers his eyes in hesitation, refusing to answer. The sudden burst of anger sets my blood on fire, and my newly inherited alpha power crackles, begging to be released. For the first time since I became the head of my bloodline I channel it into a silent metaphysical command, exerting control over this lowly subordinate to force the words from his lips.

"Bron Drake."

It worked! I’m momentarily relieved and freaked the hell out at the same time. At least now I know I’m the rightful leader, but the way it felt to overpower him…was really good. Too good. I’m worried it might even be addictive to the point I turn into my coldhearted father. Shrugging that thought away I turn back to the problem at hand.

Bron Drake, the shady, murdering bastard! I wouldn't put it past him to have killed a human woman simply as a way of giving me and my new title the finger. He’s challenging me, and that shit can't go unpunished.   

"You see him again, I want that motherfucker killed on sight. Got it?" I ask and then follow it up with a threat because that's what's expected of me now. "And if I find out you let him walk again I'll burn you alive at the stake not just once but every single time you fucking heal to make you an example to others."

"Yes, sir...I'm sorry, Your Grace. We'll take care of him," he assures me, his palm quickly swiping the sweat from his forehead after I forcefully raise his body temperature a few degrees to emphasize my warning. I try to take deep breaths to calm myself down from the power trip.

With at least one problem settled, my attention can't fight the pull of the radiant redhead. Years later and I still remember the way her incredible body writhed against mine, and the sexy little sounds she’d made even though I tried to keep her quiet while we hid from my dad's men. Knowing from experience just how goddamn amazing it feels to have her mouth on my cock I bet she's making a killing in this sin sewer.

"Who's that?" I ask Simon, wondering what she goes by here.

"The lovely Cinnamon, or Cinn. She's new, barely even tasted."

"I want her." The brutally honest words slip past my lips without my permission.

"Like father, like son, eh?" he jokes with a smirk. I'm not amused and hate the comparison, but not enough to get up and storm out without fucking her. "After those two gentlemen are done-"

"No," I interrupt him. "I want her now." The idea of their cocks or fangs in her has me ready to rip someone's throat out. 

"But, sir-"

"What are they gonna pay?" I demand.

"Four hundred to share her for an hour."

I stand up, pulling out my wallet from the back pocket of my slacks, then count out the crisp green hundreds. The tiny, white slip of paper with a Chinese fortune I found last week in the secret room sits in its new place of honor in the very front of the stack of bills. I don't really know why I’m holding on to the worthless piece of paper. It’s just the only thing I have to prove I hadn't imagined her. I'd given up years ago of ever finding her again, and now here she is just a few feet away from me, selling herself in a goddamn brothel.

"There's three thousand for the rest of the night. I want her in a dark room and ready for me before I finish taking a piss," I tell Simon, slapping the currency down on the grimy table.

When I walk away I know that he'll make it happen. Not only is he greedy for the money, but now he knows that I could end his two “customers” with just a thought and not pay him a fucking penny for the girl if I wanted.  

…

Hope

I can't help but fidget nervously with my garters while I sit on the edge of the bed in complete darkness. I'm waiting for the mysterious customer who wanted me without even copping a free feel first. Apparently he's a VIP with a well-known name - Frederick Coughlin, III according to my boss. That also happens to be the name of the family who owns the huge estate just outside of the city. The one at which I made the stupid mistake of fucking a guy I’d just met in a secret bookcase hideaway a few years ago. It's also the same name as the man who keeled over while fucking an Angel last week.

I really hope
this
Mr. Coughlin is not ancient and pruny. The thought makes me shiver, but regardless, this is the line of work I voluntarily entered into. I know that despite how gross, old or smelly he is, I have a job to do to pay for the prescriptions coming up for refills at the pharmacy next week, and it'd be nice to have a few meals that don't come in a paper bag made from processed unknowns.                          

I can't contain my startled gasp when the door suddenly opens, only a brief sliver of light shining into the room before it closes again. It's too fast for me to see his face, but I can tell by the outline of his body that he's big. My heart nearly gallops out of my chest when I start to panic, wondering what weird kink he might have other than wanting it pitch black, and if he'll get off on hurting me. It wouldn’t be the first time, and certainly won't be the last.
Just think about the money. This is only temporary. You can survive a few minutes of anything.
      

"Lay on your stomach," the man's deep voice commands, interrupting my internal pep talk. Thank goodness he sounds young and not decrepit.

"Do-do you want me to get undressed first?" I ask timidly.

"No. I'm looking forward to removing every single shred of clothing from your beautiful body."

I’m surprised that he doesn’t seem in a hurry since he takes his time undressing me. I quickly crawl to the center of the bed to comply with his request. It's also my favorite position since I don't have to touch them, smell them, or look at them when I'm face down.

I lay still and listen while he undresses. The all too familiar clinging sound of metal tells me his belt is being undone, and then there’s the whoosh of clothing being removed.

I jump when his hands grab my shoe, sliding one heel off first and then the other before softly pressing his lips against the outside of my ankle. It's strangely innocent and almost feels...sweet.

Once my shoes are gone and out of the way, his massive hands slide along my calf and up to my thigh before peeling the hose slowly down every inch of each of my legs. Despite his size, his touch is gentle, unlike almost all the other men who are in a hurry to get it in and get their money's worth.

Both of his palms smooth up my bare legs to my buttocks, cupping my ass cheeks. Even in the darkness, it's like he’s well-acquainted with the curves of my body when he draws my thong all the way down and off. My breathing accelerates and it has nothing to do with nerves anymore. Heat burns, causing a throbbing low in my belly. I'm actually aroused by just being undressed slowly by this stranger.

For the next part he climbs up on the bed, making the mattress dip before I feel his heavy weight press down on my lower body when he straddles me. His hard cock presses into the crease of my bottom, thick and ready, ratcheting up my own need. The gentle stranger goes to work undoing the dozen or so corset clasps down my back until the silk and lace material separates, falling to the sides, leaving my body completely naked underneath his.