Royally Charmed: A Royal Bad Boy Shifter Romance Read online

  “Trust me,” says Trey softly. “Another slew of vamp attacks around Blackwater isn’t going to go down well with the Council. As much as I dislike you following the leech instead of me, you’re doing the right thing.”

  My lion doesn’t agree, not at all happy that the priestess is out of sight and smell. Miles away from our protection. Her scent faded quickly and has all but gone now I’m in the basement. Without her power to taste, I feel her loss even more like a part of me is missing. Which is crazy since I only laid eyes on her for the first time this morning.

  I grit my teeth and force myself deeper into the guts of the building. Ignoring the urge to retreat, grab my bike, and follow the priestess around like a shadow. Even though it’s all I want to do.

  The vampire. I need to concentrate on the vampire. I can’t let just any blood sucker walk into my territory without question. The Council may have a treaty with the master vampire clans, but the Pride doesn’t and never will. Trespassers of their kind in Blackwater are open season in my book. An image of burning bodies flashes before my mind. Seven vamps burnt to ash—killed by a breaking dawn. Not my finest moment, and not nearly enough retribution for what those leeches did.

  For a moment, all I see is red. But as I take the stake from my pocket and unleash my claws, my vision switches to a shades-of-grey—detailed night view. The low rumble in my chest becomes an all-out growl, and echoes off the enclosed walls as I start down the metal steps and into darkness.

  Chapter 2

  HAILE

  The cab slams to a halt.

  My neck, still sore from cattle-cramped economy, twinges in protest as I slide off the seat and slump into the goddess-be-damned foot well. All the papers in my lap flutter everywhere. I curse for the hundredth time, making bitch eyes at the driver, before hauling myself back into the seat.

  “You could slow down,” I mutter.

  I take a moment to gather my notes as we swerve left and right, dodging lanes of blaring traffic. Another bump makes me slip again on the shiny leather.

  “Excuse me?” I say out loud, hoping he’ll hear me above the squawk of some foreign radio channel. “Could you slow down? I’m falling out my seat here.”

  The driver catches my eye in the rear-view mirror and manically points to my seatbelt, the one not fastened. I roll my eyes and yank it across my body, while snatching at the files on the floor.

  It’s probably not the right time to tell him I suffer from car sickness.

  I shuffle my notes into a rough pile and half sit on them. The Coven is so old school, using paper and printed books. But there’s such a thing as using magic to hack technology, so it makes sense when a lot of their data is confidential or dangerous, or both. At least this way they’re not going anywhere but under my ass or on the floor.

  I get my phone out of my purse and send a brief text to my cat-sitter, slash best-friend, slash housemate, Ingrid. To let her know I’ve landed safe. No doubt she’ll update the coven, which suits me fine.

  I’d rather not speak to my mother, anyway—not after our last conversation.

  Anger bubbles in my core, so I stare outside, pushing any rehash of the argument way out of my mind. The early morning airport rush hour deafens me and I rub my throbbing temples. I already have a migraine from the flight here, and now this blasted cab is making me sick, weaving in and out of the hills. I’m thankful at least for the darkened glass cocooning me in from all sides. Not a feature I’d expect of a town cab, but who am I to complain?

  Suddenly, my phone vibrates. It’s not Ingrid though, it’s Esme, one of the coven witches from several towns over. She’s arriving the day after tomorrow to help me navigate local shifter politics. My mother thought I could use a fire elemental since I have little to no offensive magic of my own these days. Well, two fire elementals, actually. There was supposed to be another one meeting me at the airport, to be the third member of the triquetra, and temporary addition to our little detective agency. A warlock, who probably has his head too far up his own behind to realize he forgot pick me up.

  “Esme,” I say, answering.

  “Haile, good, I managed to get through to you,” the other witch says softly. “I hope your trip was a pleasant one? Did Kai pick you up?”

  “The trip was fine.” I don’t start on at her about the warlock, Kai or whatever his name is. I’m happier that he didn’t show, really. Warlocks are notorious for being arrogant and cocksure, believing they’re better than us mere witches. What was my mother thinking, really?

  “Good, good. I just called to let you know I’ll be driving up tomorrow and should be in Sidlow by the following morning. Are you still staying at The Royal?”

  “Yes, I’m just on my way there now.”

  “Okay, great. I’ll meet you in two days’ time, say seven am? Breakfast?”

  “That would be lovely,” I say and mean it. It’s been a while since I saw Esme. And she’s family. Half-sister to my mother, and so an aunt to me.

  “Perfect, we can catch up before getting down to this awful business. I sent your mother a copy of the local case notes, did you get them?”

  “Yes, I’m reading them right now.”

  “Tell me what you sense?”

  “Sense?”

  “Your gut reaction to the way they found the remains. Tell me what you see, and then what you feel.”

  I swallow before recovering the image of the victims’ mauled remains from under my butt. I’m glad Esme phrased it the way she did. If she’d said actual names or body parts I don’t know if I’d be able to look at them again.

  It’s not pretty.

  It’s also creased from me sitting on it.

  I smooth out the paper showing one victim and try to look with fresh eyes.

  “There are long gashes all over the upper torso and neck. Bite marks with multiple punctures on the upper and lower side of the wound. Huge amounts of bruising around each one...”

  “Ok, good. Now what do you feel?”

  “I feel sick, mostly.” I don’t add that I’ve been feeling ill all morning.

  “A normal reaction. Is there anything else? About the killer?”

  I blink and stare at the mess in the picture. I’m not sure what I’m meant to be feeling when, suddenly, a sharp, hot and raging emotion sears through me.

  “He’s angry. Furious. She hurt him and he wanted to hurt her back.”

  “Good. Interesting. You’re blossoming. I thought that may be the case.”

  “Blossoming?” My brow furrows. A strange word to use since I’m meant to be at my peak right now.

  “Maturing into your latent powers. Most witches develop some level of psychic energy from our unique connection to the Goddess. Your mother was afraid yours would lay dormant, given your father’s heritage.”

  My ears prick up at the mention of my father.

  “My father? What do you know about him?” I sound a little desperate, but I don’t care. Without thinking, my hand grazes the warm stone of the necklace he gave me. Or should I say left me.

  The morning after he disappeared, it was on my pillow with a letter wrapped around it. Not much was in the letter, except an apology for leaving and a request for me not to blame my mother. I’ve worn it ever since.

  “Nothing much, just that he was here one minute and gone the next. You should ask Valerie about him.”

  “I can’t.” I don’t add that I already have, a thousand times. He’s become such a taboo topic with my mother in recent years that I don’t want to waste this moment.

  “Look, let’s chat when I’m there. It will be nicer when we can actually see each other. I’ll tell you as much as I care to remember.”

  “Okay, and thank you.”

  “Oh, don’t thank me just yet. There’s a reason Valerie has kept quiet all these years. Though I don’t agree with keeping you in the dark either. You’re his daughter. You have a right to know.”

  “Thank you all the same, and for coming all the way out here. I know
it was at the last minute for you.”

  “No worries. Now, I must be going. I’ve got errands to run before I can start driving and it’s going to be a long trip.”

  “Oh, where should I meet you?”

  “Let’s say the coffee shop next the hotel,” she instructs. “It’s called Steaming Joe’s if I remember rightly.”

  “Perfect,” I reply. “I’ll be there at seven.”

  I hang up. My mind a whirl of thought and emotion. My emotions this time. How strange I could connect to the killer that way. Creepy even.

  In my hand my phone vibrates again, though this time it’s a picture message. The cutest boy to ever share my bed. An image of a furry, fluff-ball fast asleep on my pillow lights up the screen.

  Zeus the Siberian.

  I can’t help but smile.

  Ingrid knows I get homesick, so she tries to send me a selfie of my cat every day I’m away to make up for it. I’ll admit, some of the stress has melted.

  I draw a breath and check the time to my destination using my phone. Twenty minutes still to spare.

  After a quick scan of my notes, I re-find my place and continue reading. I’d just gotten to the gruesome bit. Highlights from the autopsy report on what was left of the body, the one belonging to the last witch killed right here in residence at Sidlow Springs.

  Or more importantly, what wasn’t left.

  “You psychopathic son of a bitch,” I say out loud as I stare at the horrendous images. “No, not you,” I add, as the driver gives me a funny look. “The person who did this.”

  I rifle through, done with graphic images and wanting a little more mystery. I locate the report on Tia Gonzalez, the last witch to be attacked and still missing. That they haven’t found her body yet means there’s still a chance she’s alive.

  “Driver, can we change destination? Can you take me here, please?” I show him the map. Not the best tactic in a speeding car. The driver shakes his head at me clearly not understanding. But after a few exchanges, back and forth, we get there in the end.

  I can’t tell if I’m more upset by the images or the idea that Tia was just like me. A witch with earth magic, able to protect herself from shifters—and now she’s missing.

  I shuffle though the rest of the papers, noting the locations she often frequented, the people she knew, and the last person to see her alive.

  A lion shifter. One of those arrogant royals. The king’s heir, to be exact.

  Caleb Beaufort-Lowe.

  According to the report, he had an appointment with her the day she went missing. He was the one who called it in and was there when the police arrived. They’d just started questioning him when his father, the royal who rules this territory, pulled some strings… Most definitely suspicious.

  I read the rest of the report, but it’s not complete. It’s as though someone redacted half of it. But there’s at least a photo of him. Not recent or anything. Just a fuzzy snap taken five years ago, from the rear-side like he’s walking away from the camera. He’s got his arms casually around the shoulders of two females. One is looking back at the lens.

  She’d be really pretty if it wasn’t for the massive black eye.

  Great.

  He’s an abuser as well as being my main suspect.

  Typical though. Most male lion shifters are as creepy as hell. Acting like jerks most of the time because of their mating right to have more than one female. It annoys the crap out of me, and seeing one of them hurt a female in black in white makes me downright livid.

  I should try to confront Caleb about the dubious nature of Tia’s disappearance first. Even if he is the King’s heir, I’ll have to keep my wits about me. Maybe even more so.

  The car slows to stop under the shade of some trees, and I realize we’ve arrived at the final crime scene. At Tia Gonzalez’s two-story detached, only a mile away from the lake and a twenty-minute drive from town. I give the driver a tip to wait and then get out, getting a feel for the energy about the place. It’s secluded this far from the road. Gloomy, weather-beaten, and very trampled from the comings and goings of state investigation teams doing their job. The paranormal troops have been here too, if the wild energy left hanging in the air is anything to go by.

  I duck under the police tape and take a brief look in each of the rooms. Most appear to be trashed, with the victim’s belongings strewn about and broken glass everywhere. Blood stains mar the wood and walls. A lump rises in my throat and my eyes prickle. Tia once had a life here. Now look at it.

  I check everything I can against the reports, finding the forensic team have done their job. It’s a small house, so it’s not long before I’ve had my fill of depression central. Without the other two to form the triquetra, I can’t do much more here anyway. Unfortunately, my magic isn’t working well enough these days to try alone. I must wait until Esme gets here, or even the warlock, before using my magic in a place where someone died recently.

  I’m just about to get into the car when a feeling of being watched slithers over me. I can’t get in fast enough. After telling the driver to head to the hotel, I lie back and close my eyes.

  It’s just a crime scene, Haile. Nothing but a creepy crime scene.

  Without warning the cab screeches, swerving down a deserted side street.

  Luckily, I’m strapped in this time.

  All I can do is hold on as my things go flying across the back seat. I snatch at my phone, stopping it from disappearing down the side of the seat.

  The blue dot on the map screen flashes red.

  We’re going the wrong way.

  “What the hell? Excuse me, driver, the hotel is back that way?” I exclaim to him, thoroughly unimpressed with his crappy navigation skills. He’ll be lucky if give him one star for this ride.

  The driver turns to me, sneering—he’s not my driver.

  “Who are you? Where’s my driver?” I shout at him.

  The car-jacker smirks, flashing me super-white fangs in the rear-view mirror.

  Oh, boy.

  My phone tells me we’re heading west, away from the city center. All I can hear is the roar of the engine as we leave the main roads behind. We’re heading towards what looks to be the more derelict and darker areas of the city, where anything can happen, and no one would have a damned clue about it.

  Okay, what now? How to get out of this one?

  I count to five. Think, Haile!

  Following coven procedure, I send an SOS text and my location to them, even though it’s pointless. The coven is at least two thousand miles all the way east. Even if they alert the local law enforcement, I doubt they’ll get to me in time. Esme, for sure, won’t even if she leaves right away.

  I’m on my own. Unless there’s another magic user who just happens to be close. Like a warlock.

  I scramble in my phone looking for his contact and punch in my location and the scythe ♄—the universal symbol of ‘death’ and ‘protection’ and known to all occultists as a request for help—into the body of a text message.

  I’m pressing send when the cab jerks and the phone slides out of my hands, shooting under the front seat. I duck down and try to reach it, but it’s gone too far.

  Shit. I’ve no idea if it sent or not.

  We bounce over bumpy ground and so I grab whatever I can hold on to. It’s then that I find myself staring at the darkened glass, trying to see outside. My magic won’t help. I’m necromancer-born, not elemental, or even mage-taught. And necromancers need a spark of life to work their magic. There’s no animus to manipulate or dead body to bring back to life here. The vampire is technically dead, and his spark is long gone—if he ever had one.

  I also left all my better weapons in my holdall, which is in the trunk. Even if I could do magic, it’s been super flakey of late. I couldn’t even spark a lightbulb on if I wanted to.

  I could always jump out.

  People have survived jumping from moving vehicles, right?

  It can’t be that hard. Trying not to p
anic, I pull up the door lock and try the handle nearest to me... Once, twice, a few more times. Nothing. I unclasp my seatbelt and try the other side, but that won’t budge either. Okay, okay, he must have enabled the child lock. Now what?

  The vampire seems to leer at my pathetic attempts to escape, opening his mouth to laugh. To my horror, where his tongue should be is mound of disfigured flesh, as though someone tore it out before he turned, shredding it to pieces. He reaches back, trying to lock his cold, clammy hand around my ankle. No chance! I kick at him and scoot to the other side of the backseat. Further away.

  I’m so done with this nightmare cab.

  I lean down and slip one of my much-loved designer, satin pumps from off my foot, and start to hammer it’s five-inch, spiked-metal heel on the glass window.

  Chapter 3

  CALEB

  My bike takes the sharp curves like a hellion on wheels, narrowly missing fallen tree.

  Any minute now, I’ll fall off this dammed thing and eat dirt.

  “Where is she now?” I ask Trey. It’s taking all my concentration to keep the connection open with the throttle of raw bike engine loud in my ear, as I speed along the back roads from the airport, trying to play catch up.

  Even Trey’s thoughts, directed at me, are hard to read around all his scattered emotions. He’s usually better at blocking. Right now, for some reason, he feels angry and I’ve no idea why. “She’s still in the cab. They’re heading west towards Thaw Lake, as far as I can tell.”

  “I’ll be there soon. Just don’t lose her.” I don’t need to remind him that our necks, and Kai’s, are on the line if anything happens to her.

  My throat aches just as much as my head, and my skin is buzzing all over. My lion is fighting me, wanting to take control. Ever since Trey interrupted my search for the elusive vampire, telling me he lost the witch, my beast has been twitchy.