Bonds of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 7) by Bella Klaus (romantic books to read TXT) 📗

I scampered toward Beowulf, placed a hand on his broad shoulder, and settled behind him. My hands rested on his waist.

“Hold tighter unless you plan on flying off,” he growled.

Before I could adjust my grip to something secure without being grabby, the vehicle lurched toward a solid wall, making my heart explode with fireworks of panic. I opened my mouth to let out a scream. We were going to die.

Beowulf drove into the wall, which dissolved into a set of illusion-based wards that prickled across my skin like needles.

I slumped against his back, panting hard. “You could have at least warned me that we weren’t driving into a wall.”

“Where would be the fun in that?” he said with a harsh chuckle.

Wall lights whizzed by on both sides of an underground passageway large enough to fit two trucks, but no traffic passed on the other side. The road ahead was empty, making me think this was a road reserved for the monarchs of the Supernatural Council.

“How long have you known Valentine?” I asked.

“You mean how long have I been a King?” he shouted over the roar of the cycle.

I squirmed on the back seat, heat rising to my face. So much for being subtle. “That too.”

“Five years,” he replied. “My father was the alpha of our pack, but he had to go.”

“He retired.”

Beowulf threw his head back and roared with laughter. “That’s a way of putting it.”

My throat spasmed. I didn’t need extra sensory perception or the ability to read minds to know that something nefarious had happened to the previous Shifter King.

Many shifters gathered in packs or prides or other groupings that centered around a dominant male who always had to watch his back for challenges. Because I didn’t have any shifter friends, I was unfamiliar with the nuances of their society, but I’d seen enough fights in the academy and studied enough history to understand that these skirmishes were a reflection of life in Lunaris, the part of Logris where they lived.

“King Valentine was the only monarch who took the time to show me how the Council worked,” Beowulf said over the roar of the engine. “He’s a good man.”

“The best,” I replied.

“I hope you understand that you’re a lucky female,” he muttered. “A man like him needs a harem of vampires, yet he spent years pining for you like a lovebird.”

“Really?” I squeaked.

A tunnel of light shone up ahead, and Beowulf accelerated. I clenched my teeth, clutched his broad torso with all my strength, and readied myself to burst into flame at the first sign of a crash. He raced up a ramp with a speed that made my stomach lurch.

Eventually, the anxiety coursing through my system settled to a background level of dread, and I cracked open an eye to find the twin ponds of Logris on our far left, behind which stood the sprawling structure of the Supernatural Council. From this angle, it reminded me of La Défense, a modern region within Paris, characterized by its great arch and modern high-rises that reflected the afternoon sun.

We sped past traffic on both sides, heading away from the center of Logris toward the residential areas ruled by the monarchs. I swallowed hard, watching the landscape whizz past. Valentine had mentioned that there hadn’t been anyone else in the three years we’d been apart, and I had believed him, but hearing it from someone else made my heart melt.

Beowulf continued down Pen Ponds Road, which cut through the supernatural city, separating Lamia from Natura, the domain of the Mages. While Lamia consisted of low-rise buildings arranged around garden squares much like Grosvenor Park, Natura was all narrow streets and high-rises.

We took a left turn into Caedes Road, a boulevard of all-year cherry blossoms that had been enchanted the color of blood. The houses behind the trees were small mansions occupied by prominent vampire clans, such as the Noble House of Vandamir and some offshoots of other Royal Houses including Sargon.

“They live like fucking princes, don’t they?” Beowulf muttered.

“That’s because vampires have such a low birth rate—”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” he snapped. “None of these bloodsuckers pay taxes. They’re lavished with easy jobs, hoard their inheritances, and get to keep everything they earn. It’s no wonder they live better than the rest of us, eh?”

I stiffened at his words. While they were true, and reflected some of Aunt Arianna’s rants about vampires, I wasn’t about to badmouth Valentine’s subjects. “They’re lucky to have such a stable leadership.”

“Too right,” he said with a bitter laugh. “And what did they do the moment they got levied with a one percent tax?”

My brows rose. “One?”

He turned his head. “Did you think it was higher?”

“I assumed it was ten, like how much everyone else has to pay,” I muttered.

Beowulf shook his head. “Valentine only wanted them to contribute a paltry amount toward their upkeep, and they tore the place up, set everything on fire, and we had to lock the suckers down.”

I leaned against the Shifter King’s broad back, not bothering to reply. If the Witch Queen lowered taxes to one percent, there would be celebrations across the streets. The Royal House of Sargon had subsidized their comfortable lifestyles to the point that they had become spoiled and entitled.

When I became Valentine’s consort, we’d have to look into ways of spreading that wealth across Logris, not just keeping it to a bunch of vampires who didn’t know when they had it good. Until then, we had Kresnik to contend with, not to mention the machinations of Hades and Prince Draconius.

A limousine sped past, making Beowulf swerve onto the sidewalk, narrowly missing a tree.

“Fuck!” He cut the engine and glared at the back of the car that continued speeding toward the palace.

“Are you alright?” A tall vampire rushed to our side, wearing the uniform of the palace guard. As soon as he met my eyes, he stood to attention and paled. “My Lady Phoenix!”

“Someone tried to knock us off