Read Let Him Reign: An Underworld Romance Online
Authors: Lane Hart
Let Him Reign: An Underworld Romance
Let Him Reign
An Underworld Romance
By Lane Hart
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue were created from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual people or events is coincidental.
The author acknowledges the copyrighted and trademarked status of various products within this work of fiction.
© 2015 Editor's Choice Publishing
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator” at the address below.
Editor’s Choice Publishing
P.O. Box 10024
Greensboro, NC 27404
Edited by Wendy Ely and D.B. West
Cover by Mina Carter
WARNING: THIS BOOK IS INTENDED FOR MATURE AUDIENCES 18+ ONLY AND CONTAINS EXPLICIT SEX SCENES AND ADULT LANGUAGE!
October 31, 2010
Hope Gabriel
My one-piece, black patent leather suit squeaks loud enough to wake the dead with every step of my stilettos.
"This is not sexy," I tell my best friend Kayla as we hike our way up the long, winding driveway.
"Oh, yes it is! You should see your ass, Catwoman," she replies with an over the shoulder glance at my behind.
"Forget the cat, I sound like a dog's freaking chew toy!"
"Ha!" She bursts out laughing, letting me know I'm right. "You'll be fine once we're inside where it's loud enough to drown you out. Just...walk slowly. At least you won't freeze to death."
"You should've let me wear the
Star Wars
costume and you be Catwoman," I complain after she wraps her arms around herself like we’re in the Arctic, while I’m over here sweating buckets. Her little burgundy dress and black knee-high boots look so comfy right now. Although, if the dress is above the knees on her, it would be indecent on me since I'm three inches taller.
"It’s
Star Trek
!" she exclaims.
"Yeah, that's what I said."
Kayla huffs and shakes her head, causing her long, straight, dark chocolate locks to float around her face in the wind.
"Are you sure this is going to even work to get us in? We only have one invitation,” I argue for the fifth time
.
A party of this magnitude is a brand new experience for me. My close circle of friends and I think we’re having a helluva good time when there’s a romantic comedy on cable and someone can spring for a few sodas and a bag of popcorn. So I’m having serious doubts that Kayla and I can just waltz right into this fancy shindig without someone calling us out for being white trash losers trespassing on the wrong side of the railroad tracks.
"Yes, it's going to work to get us in! Brooklyn knows a guy who has a cousin who knows the person handing them out. It's just a flyer, not a golden ticket."
I'm surprised the scrap of paper is
not
actually made of gold. The humongous Coughlin Manor and its occupants have always been this shitty, poverty-stricken town's biggest mystery. Since they stay sequestered within the walls of their castle that sits just outside the city limit sign, no one has ever seen any of the members of the filthy rich family. I don't know a soul who has actually ever stepped foot on their several thousand acre, gated property. Until tonight.
It's Halloween, and there's a new moon high above us, making the night seem even darker and spookier. It feels like we've been hiking through fallen leaves in the chilly, autumn air for half an hour. One good thing about all this exercise is that at least I’ll burn off the calories of the sweet and sour chicken I just ate. To celebrate the holiday, Kayla and I splurged by going out to eat at the Peking Pagoda before getting dressed up and seeking out this party everyone has been talking about. That reminds me of the small white slip of paper I pushed up the cuff up my sleeve since Catwoman’s getup doesn’t consist of pockets. It’s the fortune from my cookie that I’d saved. The crazy, old lady at the Chinese restaurant told me that if I wanted my fortune to come true then I have to keep it safe. The tiny red words, "
Love will follow you into the sunlight, but true love will always find you in the darknes
s,” make me feel optimistic about finding a fairy tale romance every woman dreams of, so I'm going to try not to lose it. The possibility of a happily ever after with a prince charming is especially appreciated just a few short days after being dumped by my cheating ex.
Continuing on our trek, it’s silly how anxious I am, practically jumping out of my skin at every sound, worrying about assholes popping out of the bushes or hiding behind the cars lined along the driveway, thinking it would be funny to give us a good scare.
Finally reaching the top of the hill, I heave a sigh of relief when the enormous three story stone structure comes into view. It's lit up like Christmas, and the pavement is practically vibrating through my heels from the boom of the bass coming out of the stereo. Double doors stand wide open as people come and go freely. Most are in costume and have red Dixie cups in their hands as they laugh or feel each other up on the wrap-around porch. The party is much less formal than I expected, which is a relief.
Kayla gives me a raised eyebrow, told-you-so look before leading the way inside, already swaying her hips to the Black Eyed Peas hit, "I Gotta Feeling”. Maybe tonight really will be a good, good night after all.
An hour later and I'm drunk as a skunk. I don't know what's in the punch, but it’s
strong
! Kayla and I have been dancing like fools, sometimes with each other and sometimes with a few guys who approach us in the crowded room. Like the one currently bumping and grinding against my ass. This is
exactly
what I needed to temporarily take my mind off of my shitty life.
…
Eric Coughlin
Watching from the balcony as hundreds of wild and crazy humans cram into the house is more satisfying than I expected. When a staggering couple walks past me on the second story I don't even bat an eyelash. As a betting man, I'd put down a few grand that they'll both be naked and fucking on a luxury duvet in one of our bedrooms in the next five minutes. Hell, I hope they pick my father's. I'm almost tempted to suggest it to them.
I hate this rundown town and all the country hicks in it, and I especially loathe my only living relative that resides here. If it was up to me, I'd never step a foot in this place ever again. But it's not.
I'm here because my father
ordered
it, something I'm unable to refuse regardless of how hard I try to resist. I know because I've been trying to find ways around his alpha commands for eighteen years. That's the reason I'm here, in Eden as he’d ordered. I'm just not at the masquerade ball celebrating my Day of Ascension where he wanted me to be tonight, proving to our nervous society that their future leader is no longer a juvenile delinquent. He should've been more specific with his wording.
Just picturing the look on his sneering face when he not only realizes I'm a no-show, but that I'm letting lowlife humans trash his perfect, pristine house makes me smile. I'm actually surprised that one of our housekeepers or butlers haven't tattled on me yet, especially since they're the ones that'll have to clean this shit up. They're probably with my father at the elite Country Club an hour away, waiting on his every little request. One of them probably has to follow him to the bathroom to wipe his ass for him.
I can't help but wonder if things would've been different if my mother was still alive. If my father hadn’t caught her cheating on him twelve years ago. If he hadn't murdered both her and her human lover in a fit of rage, maybe he wouldn’t have turned into an evil asshole, giving only a nonchalant explanation to me and everyone else that alphas never share mates.
Over the years, his anger has grown even more out of control, like a category five tornado. Only unlike Mother Nature, his whirlwind destruction never comes to an end. He rules the entire underworld with an iron fist without any consequences for his own actions, daring someone to step out of line because he gets off on inflicting pain and punishment. Feeding off their fear is how he maintains his power, and he expects me to do the same when he dies. I'm sure he would live forever if he could, since he's convinced that when it's my time to reign I'm going to be such a pushover that everything will go to hell.
Since the 1700s Coughlin werelions have been the ruling family of the entire underworld. Every shifter, magic user, and vampire is related by blood, born what we are, not made like some folklore. Shifters of all types of animals have been around for thousands of years. Mages of all types, too, though once some of the weaker bloodlines became diluted, they were left with only a little ability for potions or textbook spells.
The vampires emerged after a group of disloyal shifters developed a curse. It contained the blood of sacrificed humans intended to permanently stop their shifter transformation, because they wanted to set future generations free from the reigning dynasty. It worked, as far as they lost the ability to shift, but then they were required to continue drinking blood from humans for sustenance. Much to their disappointment, it didn't change their inherent DNA as they had hoped. Vampires give birth to vampires, but they're still blood brothers and sisters to the shifters.
The bloodline that links us all is controlled by the reigning dynasty. For the last three hundred years the alpha blood has flowed through all Coughlin male heirs. My father, as the head of his family's line, can control and invoke the shift in any member of the underworld with a command. As their trueborn king, only vampires have some resistance to him since they can no longer shift. They could band together and eventually even pull away. If the majority of them weren't murderous bastards the shifters might even consider allowing it. At this point most would rather see their extinction than allow them free reign in the world. With the command of the rest of the shifters, my father could order it done, and the vampires know it, yet they still revolt. The arrogant fuckers think they're above us shifters and that humans are worth nothing but providing them food and fucking.
Over the years, our rules as a society have been simple. We don't kill humans and we don't let the rest of the world find out about us. Sure, some humans know, and Eden is a small, ass-backwards town which makes it easier to pay off law enforcement to look the other way. That's not the case everywhere. There are groups of humans that know our secret and hunt us, more than happy to try and pick us off one by one.
My father’s job is supposed to be maintaining peace and order, protecting our society from each other and outside forces. Everyone just wants to live as normally as possible, and keep their families safe. Too bad there’s no one to keep them safe from their king.
The thought of washing my hands of my fate is tempting, and one I've considered more and more lately. A last fuck you to my father after he's dead and gone, unable to control everyone from his grave. But the logical, level-headed part of me knows that sort of irresponsible decision on my part would mean chaos and immeasurable harm to the thousands of innocent members of our society. At least I won't have to worry about that shit for several decades. Until then, I just need to avoid my father and keep moving, so he can't find me. If I stay out of his reach he can't control me. Or pound his fists into me.
My jaw clenches at the mere thought of how hard it's going to get crushed for this party. I tell myself that the defiance is worth it. Laughing in his face those few seconds before his fists land, knowing I made a fool of him, will be my reward.
"These women are sexy as
fuck!
" My best friend Heath yells out the obvious over the thumping hip hop beat when he walks up and leans against the banister beside me. Although the crazy SOB can be a pain in the ass, there's no one who can make my gut split with laughter quicker than him. He also enjoys getting a rise out of his own vicious father and mine just as much as I do. The fact that my dad loathes the obnoxious slacker only makes me love Heath more. He's the one who printed hundreds of flyers advertising the party and handed them out at local college campuses and hangouts.
Looking down below us, we both silently gawk at the rippling sea of women in slutty costumes dancing provocatively. It's such easy pickings that all we're missing is our fishing rods. Cast a line out, using a few crisp green bills as bait, and we'd have so many catches we'd feast on these bottom feeders for weeks.
"You decided which of these sluts you're going to sink your teeth into yet?" I ask Heath. "And way to go incognito."
The idiot vampire actually came to a party consisting almost entirely of humans dressed as fucking Dracula. Without the costume no one would suspect that the light-haired, mahogany-eyed man with a year round golden tan requires the occasional blood slurpy to survive. He’s not a typical vampire, and his very unique DNA likely makes him one of a kind.
"I'm still searching for that very lucky lady," Heath says, making me scoff and shake my head at his egotism. "And I think this might be the first time I've seen
you
at a party without the vultures circling. So, birthday boy, how does it feel to actually be invisible for once?"
No one recognizes me while I’m dressed in a head-to-toe Batman costume, which is just fine with me. I've only been home from NYU for two days. Not enough time for the skanks from my old private school to hear I'm in town, but long enough that I'm thankful for the reprieve from the greedy whores constantly throwing themselves at me back in the city.
"It's fucking awesome. I can actually take my pick instead of prying gold diggers’ sticky fingers from my wallet all night."
He chuckles. "I knew right away that it was you up here all alone, brooding behind the mask, and if they weren't all a bunch of airheaded bimbos they'd realize it, too. I mean, come on, you and Batman are pretty much one in the same."
"How's that?" I ask.
"You're both filthy fucking rich assholes always whining and bitching about how w
ith great power comes great responsibility
."