Page 1 of Of Hearts and Hunters (Fallen Crowns Duet #1)

VERITY

I don’t like taking breaks. But it’s not like I have a choice. When Paxton and Megsie say ‘jump,’ we hop to it.

The clanking of beer bottles in a loud, “Cheers!” from a nearby table makes me jump in my seat. I’m usually not like this. I’m almost always in control. But after what happened two weeks ago–

I suck in a shallow breath, fighting back the urge to cry, scream, or throw the table at the wall. I’m sure if I did any of those things, Bodhi would boot me out on my ass. The Azalea Tavern is his life–and it’s sort of mine too.

It’s hard to stop thinking about what happened. It’s almost impossible for me to sleep now–and it’s not like I was very good at that before.

We’re all feeling this way: angry, exhausted, bent on revenge.

I guess that’s why Paxton and Megsie are meeting with me. And that’s why Bodhi made me take my lunch break early.

Damn.

I’m snapped out of my thoughts when a shadow looms over my place at the rickety and least favourite table at the tavern. Paxton told me to pick a secluded table for our meeting–not that we really need to keep any of this under wraps. This is a Korama hangout. No vamps or sparklies in sight.

Still, I guess we should tread carefully. A few people–or, a lot, maybe–aren’t thrilled with Paxton and Megsie right now. And I guess I’m one of them because I just don’t get why they’d promote me to Kormo.

What pot have they been smoking? I think to myself (which is a riot because Megsie would never do that).

“You’re getting soft, Veri.” Megsie smiles down at me but it doesn’t touch her aqua eyes. She’s trying to kid around with me, but she’s in Serious Mode–which is twenty-four-seven with Megsie. I guess being a lawyer and second-in-command will do that to you.

Megsie pulls out the squeaky wooden chair across from me, frowning as she goes. “Doesn’t Bodhi ever think about renovating this place?” she asks, looking around the tavern analytically.

Megsie kind of has a point, but she whispers this to me because she knows if Bodhi overhears her, it’ll be the end of her free margaritas. The wrap-around bar counter is splintered off in places. The wooden beams holding up the ceiling are dusty and old. The stone wall panels need to be polished. Even the chalkboard with daily specials scribbled on it is on its last leg. And the rooms upstairs aren’t much better.

Still, I doubt Bodhi would ever change a thing about this place–and neither would I. It’s a tourist attraction. And it’s the Moon family’s legacy.

I give her a small frown, though I know I need to be respectful of my Kormi–whether we’re in a meeting or just talking. Megsie doesn’t take any shit. “Don’t let Bodhi hear you say that,” is all I say.

Koramas have keen senses. Bodhi would whip our asses if he caught wind of any of this, regardless of Megsie’s standing. And… I guess… Regardless of my standing.

“Trashing the place, huh?”

Megsie looks to her right, but a lump forms in my throat. I finally turn slightly and make eye contact with the Korma, Paxton Costas. He’s four years older than me, but age isn’t the only thing that makes me respect him. He’s the leader of the Cold Moon Pack and has been for ten years. Before that, his dad was the Korma.

No other way to slice it. Paxton is in charge. Hot as hell. Thrives under pressure.

He’s the one who decided to promote me.

“Hey, Veri,” he greets me, but not in a, ‘Hey, there, what’s up?’ kind of way. He’s all business. He pulls out the chair to my left, to Megsie’s right, and sits, glancing to the counter. He shakes his head ‘no’ when a pup gives him an eager look, hoping to bring him his usual–a Bud Light–at two o’clock in the afternoon.

Yeah. All the girls around here want him. And everyone else who doesn’t swing that way wants to be him.

I try to suppress an eye roll at how pathetic this new hire pup is, but I know I need to have a poker face–or a serious face–around my Korma and Kormi.

“Hi,” I respond, a beat too late, causing Paxton’s honey-brown eyes to fix on me.

“Let’s get to it,” he tells Megsie but is still looking at me.

“We know you’re not thrilled about the set up,” Megsie begins, maybe for Paxton, as my Korma folds his arms across the table, his muscles bulging through his gray T-shirt.

I hesitate before finally admitting, “It’s not my scene, no.”

Paxton and Megsie share a brief but pointed look . “We know,” Paxton confirms, now circling back to me. “But I have my reasons.”

I squirm uncomfortably in my seat. See, I never wanted to be a part of the trio. Lots of other Koramas would kill to be in charge. Not me. I like keeping my head down and just surviving, getting through the day. I don’t think I’ve got what it takes to be in command. Don’t you have to be good with people to be in a position of power? You know, team building and all that BS?

Yeah. That’s not me.

So even though I don’t want to contradict my Korma and Kormi, the question is on the tip of my tongue.

What the fuck are your reasons for choosing me?

Megsie must have a sixth sense about my inner thoughts–being a lawyer, she must be good at guessing what people are thinking–because she props up her elbows on the table and gives me an earnest glance. “Look. You’ve got the grit and determination to be a Kormo. It’s not like your day-to-day life will change all that much.”

“The people stuff will come in time,” Paxton adds, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

Sure.

It’s a ton of pressure to be a part of the Korama Nobility–even third rung down or whatever. But I know I can’t give them any kind of push back. Their word is final.

“You’re a phenomenal fighter,” Paxton continues. “And you can take direction. Those are my main reasons. The rest–well, you’ll just have to trust me.”

He glances at Megsie and raises his dark eyebrows ever so slightly. If I wasn’t looking at him, I would’ve missed it.

Megsie reaches down to the side and plops her large black leather briefcase onto the empty table that I thankfully wiped down before the meeting. I didn’t see her come in with her work gear, but that’s probably because she’s always working and I just don’t notice those details anymore.

She flips open the gold buckles and digs around in her neat and tidy briefcase. “We know how upset you are about Frederick,” she begins as she rummages around in there.

My heart skips a beat.

Frederick was just twenty-five years old when a fucking vamp ambush out in our territory ended his promising life. He left behind tons of friends, grieving parents, and a human boyfriend who will never know his true cause of death.

Freddie was a drama major and an actor in a bunch of different productions around town. I have a gaping hole in my chest, an ache that doesn’t want to leave, thinking about his excited babbling about his lead role in Romeo and Juliet , which would’ve premièred in April. He’d just been promoted to Kormo after a few years of being under Paxton and Megsie’s watch.

I kind of wish I’d have paid more attention to his yammering about his plays instead of telling him to shut up. At least I promised him I’d go opening night.

But that doesn’t matter anymore.

Even though he could be annoying and over-the-top, Frederick had been my close friend. He always came over to the house to hang out with Briony and me. When I got chicken pox at twenty-two, he brought over soup and magazines, and even rubbed lotion on me. That was two years ago, but I still remember his warm hugs (even if I hate physical contact) and how nice he was when all I did was whine about being sore and itchy.

He was a good guy. Too good.

And now he’s dead.

My chest burns–not with grief now, but with fury.

I want to run headlong into vamp land and rip apart the lot of them. I press the heel of my palm into my face, removing the lone tear that escapes from my eye.

That’s one thing I hate about myself. Crying is so pointless. I don’t get weepy very often–but when I do, it’s usually because I’m angry.

“We know you want revenge,” Paxton goes on as if he didn’t see me show any kind of emotion. Thank God.

All I can do is nod gruffly.

Megsie finds what she’s looking for in her briefcase, closing it up with one hand and sliding it onto her lap. She places a weird object onto the table and slides it across the way so it’s in front of me.

It doesn’t have to move very far for the stench of vamp to hit my nose. I grimace at the scent. It’s like ‘death warmed over with a side of bad eggs,’ to quote Bodhi.

“Remember the Vamp Prince we killed off a few months back–Ben-something?” Paxton asks, a small smile tugging at the corners of his full lips. It’s the first one he’s given since he arrived.

I nod again. I’m not good with words, and I’m too focused on grief and revenge to say much anyway.

“Well, they got a new one. Some kid from Québec. This is his.”

Huh. Looks like the Vamp Queen went back to her roots to find this new prince. Everyone knows Lenore has a French background.

Personally, I don’t like the French. They’re weird. I can’t speak the language, either. I dropped French as soon as I possibly could in high school. All I really know is bonjour, je m’appelle, and à bien-something.

I pick up the gray beanie that Megsie clearly stole from Vamp HQ. As soon as I touch it, this damp and uneasy feeling creeps into my bones. We all get this kind of reaction to vamp stuff or if we’re around a Vampyr. It’s worse when we’re in human form. They’re faster and stronger than us when we’re vulnerable and can’t shift. That’s probably why we feel so rotten when we’re like this.

“I forget his name–Der-something or other.” Megsie scratches at her temple. It’s not like her to forget stuff like this, but she and Paxton have been up ‘round the clock patrolling the perimeter of our territory, including the Heavenstream National Park that separates Vamp and Korama Country. They haven’t slept properly in days.

“Point is, he’s not just the new hire. He’s fresh meat,” Paxton offers, a glimmer in his eyes. “And we want him dead. Tonight.”

Fresh meat?

I salivate at the thought of decapitating a freshly turned vamp. They’re so wet behind the ears during that stage. They can’t sense us. They’re so turned on by wanting blood all the time that they’re mindless and stupid. It’ll be easy to kill off this new Vamp Prince. Almost too easy.

Oh well. A kill’s a kill. Vamp Prince in exchange for Frederick. Not a fair trade by a long shot, but at least I can avenge Freddie’s death and get to slice into a few vamps too. And it’s coming from the top, so this killing-slash-revenge spree is authorized.

“Sniff ‘em out,” Megsie tells me, so I bring the beanie to my face and breathe in the vamp reek at close range. “It’ll be an easy kill for you, Veri, but I’m guessing they’ll have increased security after we killed off the last one.”

“Tonight’s initiation will prove you’re the right choice for the pack,” Paxton explains. When I make eye contact with him, he adds, “Megsie and I are sure about this. And once you kill Darren, the rest will be too.”

Megsie points a perfectly manicured finger at Paxton. “Right. Darren. That’s his name,” she affirms.

I suck in a quiet breath. If this hunting mission will also get me in good graces with the rest of the Cold Moon Pack and the Korama community, I know I have to take it seriously. I don’t usually give a damn about pleasing people–life’s too short–but this is different.

“Alright,” I begin, crossing my legs and putting down the beanie, relief flooding my system as soon as I’ve let go. “I’ll do it tonight.”

“Like you had a choice.” Megsie gives me a small grin as she fiddles with her blond bun.

I suppress an eye roll, but not all the way, and quickly play with my black, low-cut tank top, hoping she didn’t see. But she does. She gives me a look in return.

“Remember, we’ll be at the border as back-up. Call us if you need help,” Paxton cautions, honey-brown eyes soft with pain. But it’s gone in a second.

I nod, my throat tight with my own grief. I know why Paxton and Megsie will be waiting for me at the fringes of our territory tonight…

This is fucking tragic. And it never should have happened.

But I’ll set things right.

“You’ve got a ton of potential,” Paxton shocks me by asserting. “You just need to focus more. Dig into your wolf senses.” He gives me the tiniest smile ever, adding gently, “Megsie and I know you can do this, Veri.”

My nails dig into my thighs as I give him a hesitant grin in response. “Thank you,” I breathe.

A pep talk from the Korma is huge. Sure, he sprinkled some of my weak points in there too, but still. If Paxton and Megsie truly think I can do this, well–

“Alright. Meeting adjourned,” Paxton announces, placing both hands on the table and shoving off it, pushing in his chair. “Gotta head to work. Call me if you have any questions.”

“Thank you.” I nod, standing up a hair after Paxton, with Megsie in tow.

“Keep this quiet,” Megsie advises as Paxton leaves the table. “We don’t want anyone swooping in to help, overwhelmed by big feelings.”

Another lump in my throat forms at her words.

The last time that happened–

“I won’t.” I ignore the sinking feeling in my gut and instead give Megsie a very brief nod. I’m all about body language and shit because talking almost always gets me in trouble.

Megsie straightens out her crimson business outfit, looking at the tavern all over again. “I still love this place–even if it’s a dump. You know that.” She gives me one last look –it’s an affectionate one this time–before walking through the establishment, her high heels clanking along the way.

I bend slightly and grab hold of the gray beanie, swallowing back nausea at the feeling of vamp against my skin. This guy was freshly turned and his shit is already making me want to hurl.

But that’s the thing. Vampyrs aren’t human. They’re thoughtless. They aren’t living . They’ve gotten away with too much. We’ve all had loved ones taken because of them.

They deserve to die–and stay dead this time.