All The Queen's Monsters (The Queen's Slave, Book 3)

Four: The Queen's Conduit

"WHEN IT HURTS SO MUCH YOU CANT BREATHE, THATS HOW YOU SURVIVE. BY REMEMBERING THAT ONE DAY, SOMEHOW, IMPOSSIBLY, YOU WONT FEEL THIS WAY. IT WONT HURT THIS MUCH."

-DEREK SHEPHERD

"Play With Fire"

By: Sam Tinnesz

K O R E

I waded through the busy city streets of Santa Fe, New Mexico, keeping my head low. Elizabeth followed with a watchful eye beside me, the heavy cloaks we wore despite the heat, hid any defining characteristics perfectly. Weaving through the market, the souls of the damned called to me, igniting a burning hunger in my throat. Elizabeth and I were fighting to survive. Living without Azalea's blood was a torment I had not forseen. Elizabeth had lived without it once for two months, and no matter how hard she tried to sate her hunger with a substitute, nothing worked. It was the same for me, I wanted for nothing other than her blood and her's alone. Though even I must admit, my control was fraying the closer we got to any defining leads. We'd lost all knowledge of where Azalea had gone after the explosion, escaping with Sienna, her daughter, and our lives. From there we decided to move south, hoping to regain who and what we could of The Pack. So far we'd managed to recover a thousand of them. But this time rather than hide them away in a cave or den, we let them free. Which is why our cover here was about to be blown. Elizabeth's eyes dilated to slits, emanating a faint glow. I clenched my jaw and slid my hood back, giving the door a good and rough banging.

"It's open!" A male voice called out. She caught my arm before I could push it open, loosing a rush of warmth at the touch of her despite the loss of our bond.

Let me do the talking? Her eyes asked, her jaw tight. I knew fresh wounds still bled between them, but he'd been her friend once. It was only luck that we hear of a stable master looking for work so close to our new home.

If only luck had anything to do with it.

I shouldered the door open rather impolitely, the uncomfortable position of holding my wings shut was causing a nasty headache to build behind my eyes, fraying my temper. The longer we were without our mate's blood had another unforeseen effect; our bodies reverted to what was accessible. In layman's terms, the anatomy of myself as well as Elizabeth had changed. We required actual food now, to sustain our bodies, all the while still starving. Our veins had only just begun to shrivel, heightening the urge to find Azalea.

Xavier jerked his head up, dark hair and overgrown facial hair everywhere. Though wild-looking, he was well built, stocky. Elizabeth pushed passed me and his face paled even further than it had since finding out his mate was both dead and well, not his mate. I leaned against the open doorframe, the tavern chatter below dulling to a low throb. He backed up to the window, everything about his stance screaming that he wanted to jump. I had to laugh in the moment, it was hollow but amusing how he thought he could escape her. I unclasped my cloak, breathing a sigh of relief as my wings unfurled for the first time in two days. I met his eyes then with a warning, and his jaw clenched in defiance.

"I wouldn't. She won't spare you." Elizabeth told him, flashing me a look that said to sit down. So I rocked back on the heels of my boots, a cocky smirk pulling at my lips. I crossed my arms, feeling his eyes rake over my shoulders and arms.