Prince's/King's Consort Bonus Chapters

DO NOT begin reading from here. Please read The Prince's Consort and The King's Consort first, if you haven't, as there are MAJOR spoilers within this compilation. This is meant only for those who have read through the series and are interested in alternative views of existing scenes, scenes that didn't make it into the series, an extended final scene, and bonus content.

One star(*) is a break in the scene with the same POV (point of view) following into the next scene. Three stars(***) is a change in scene and a change in POV. They should be -- mostly -- in sequential order. Enjoy!

The Prince's Consort bonus content~

Kalen watched the flames roar up around the bunker, engulfing the heavy beams of metal with their searching fingers. Soon, the place would collapse in on itself, obliterating any proof of Gabriel's horrid experiments. With Caitlin safely in the vehicle, and Nadia by her side, he could be rest assured that she was well cared for.

He glanced down at the two bodies spread out on the lawn.

A slight tinge of regret colored his mood. They were good men, the two of them, and he couldn't stand to let their bodies be buried with the other humans. So, he had them removed by Nadia's team, who were merely a loan from his father.

Obliterating the hunters seemed to be the only thing they ever agreed on.

Kalen laughed to himself. Truly it was he who was the monster, killing countless people to ensure his one little human was safe. Consorts were rare, so rare, but not impossible to find, if he waited long enough. But he had an irrationally strong attachment to the girl. Not only that she carried his child, but there was a measure of strength to her, a stubbornness that might do her well as a Queen. He did not regret the choice he'd made with her, but he'd wished he'd shown more restraint.

She deserved a softer touch.

Kalen knelt to the corpses of his men, one loyal, and one betrayer. Unfortunately, Micah, the loyal one, had his head blown off by Gabriel's men. There was nothing he could do for him, in such a state. All they could do was cremate him and remember his sacrifice.

The other, the betrayer, was also Caitlin's brother. Half. He'd been shot, not in the head, but the heart. From Kalen's brief investigation, he concluded that Sara had a standoff with Gabriel, and had attempted to protect her from the hunter with his life.

So, even in the end, he wasn't all bad.

He looked down at the corpse, the blood still warm. Kalen eased Sara's head back, and tore at his own wrist to allow the blood to flow. "Sara, I've not released you from my employ." He pressed his wrist to pale lips, letting his heart pump pure, royal blood into the dead man's mouth.

Sara's eyes were still wide with the shock of emotion he'd died with. The blood in his veins wouldn't be enough to maintain him once the change took hold, but Nadia's team could help him on his first hunt. Kalen didn't know how the big man would react to undeath, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to care, either. If Sara had any lingering concern for Caitlin, he would understand.

His glassy eyes remained unseeing for a moment longer, then the skin around them twitched, and thick hands came up to grip Kalen's arm. Kalen focused on keeping his wound open long enough to sustain Sara until the change took hold.

The big man didn't acknowledge him, pressing his mouth hard against the vein. His eyes flared when the blood reached his center, mending his shattered chest and forcing his heart to pump again. One strong thud after another, and it picked up pace, thrumming rapidly.

Kalen finally tore away, pressing Sara to the ground with a hand on his sternum.

Sara flailed and screamed out in agony. The blood coursed through him, forcing the change through every cell of his body. It was good Caitlin wasn't here to witness this, or she'd truly think him a monster. Kalen tried to protect her from the cruelty of their nature, but she'd learn soon enough, if she wished to remain at his side.

Maybe she meant what she said before, when those human men ruined their evening and tried to rape her. Kalen had only done what he needed to protect her, but she never seemed to see it that way.

He understood her fear of their kind. She was an untested, sheltered child, but she'd shown more spirit than most humans could muster. Even in the face of death, she met it head-on. He began to wonder if it had something to do with her lineage.

Sara's body trembled beneath him, once, twice, then went still.

Kalen watched as the transformation took hold, the roughened skin smoothing out, the slight lines around his eyes disappearing, and the eyes themselves, bleeding into blackness. When the body's stiffness relaxed, Kalen knew it was complete. "Stand up, Sara."

Sara did, slowly easing up, levering from the ground off his haunches. Kalen stood with him, having to look up at the beast he'd created. Kalen was tall, but Sara was taller still. Though, if it came to a test of strength and speed, he would win.

A newborn would never stand a chance against royal blood.

Sara opened his mouth, but no words formed. He blinked, then stared down at his new master, feeling his own torn shirt for the bullet holes that were no longer there.

"You are one of us, now," Kalen said, maintaining and mask of indifference, but internally, he was relieved the blood took hold. There was a chance he'd been too far gone, but something had kept his spirit near to the body, making the return easy. "Who is your master?"

Sara bared his teeth in distaste, the canines threatening to grow. "You are."

"Good." Kalen gauged the man's temerity. "Caitlin killed Gabriel ten minutes ago, and you've been dead for fifteen. You understand what you are?"

The man hesitated, then gave a curt nod.

"You don't have to like it, but I still need you. For Caitlin's sake." Kalen glanced down at Micah's corpse. "She does not need to suffer more than necessary. But-" He looked back up at Sara. "-she must not know you're alive. Not yet."

Sara blinked, then nodded again.

Kalen placed a hand on the big man's shoulder. "I need you to do something for me, first."

***

The King's Consort bonus content ~

The council members dissipated from the room, but Eamon's gaze never left her. "You're a bloody idiot for coming here. You know that."

Amandine knew Caitlin was safe with her son. It didn't matter what happened after this, so long as the next heir was given the chance at life. "I'm all you ever wanted, my King."

His eyes went soft, like they did when he first laid eyes on her. "And still, you fled." The thick pad of his hand cupped her cheek, tenderly, gently. She remembered what those hands had done to her sister and her tribe. Nothing could ever make her forget it. His eyes weighed heavy upon her as he stroked his massive dark beard. "You will not fight me?"

Amandine shook her head. "No. My gift, as I said."

"Good." He the back of her neck, pulling her towards him. This close, she could smell the blood of a dead virgin on his lips. "I will have to dispose of a few concubines to make room for you."

She remained quiet.

After years apart, he'd grown wild, unpredictable. She might have considered him handsome on the battlefield once, so many years ago. But he'd struck with deadly accuracy against her family and tribe. Her parents and husband-to-be were slaughtered, her sister, raped and murdered, all in an effort to procure her. Amandine would have gone willingly if she'd known.

She did not flinch as Eamon dragged her out of the council chamber and into his private elevator. He tried to kiss her, found her lips unyielding and traced his way to the crevice of her collarbone.

When she did not bend and moan at his advances, he slammed her against the elevator wall with the force that might have killed a human.

His heavy lips pulled back from her skin as he groped. "Time has made you cold."

"No, my King. You have made me cold."

Eamon let out a low growl from his throat. "Where is my gift you spoke of? Or was that a lie to get that precious breeder out of my bed?"

Amandine's jaw tightened.

"Answer me, you little bitch." He squeezed her neck tighter.

She used her speed to yank his hand away. "I will do as you say. But do not threaten her again, or I will gladly tear your heart out, myself."

Eamon did not retaliate as she expected, but took a step back as the doors opened. Women, human and vampire alike, lined the walls in shackles. The vampires were drained so that they were not strong enough to run away, and the humans- some did not have beating hearts.

He led her through the mausoleum of broken bodies and spirits, into a wide, empty room with a single bed at its center. There, a corpse of a woman lay sprawled out on the bedsheets, her bruised wrists still purpling from the shackles that no longer held her.

"It's not much, but you'll find it rather comfortable, after a time." He rolled the corpse off the bed, letting it hit the ground with an irreverent thud. He patted the now-empty bed with a twinkle in his eye. "Let's get you fitted, luv."

Amandine was beyond being frightened by his antics. She knew his games. She had suffered them for three years before Kalen was born, and another fifty after the civil war. This would be no different.

"Take off the dress."

She did not hesitate to obey, pulling down the zipper from the back to expose her supple body beneath a thin slip. It was what caused Eamon to steal her in the first place. By the look of the women in the hall, he had been trying to find a fair substitute for her.

All he had in his menagerie were crude imitations.

When the dress fell, his eyes widened and went black. "Still beautiful, after all these years. Come, sit with your King."

She sat close enough so he could reach her, so that he did not think she was keeping herself from him. His thick hands gripped her arms and pulled her in for a crushing kiss. He found her teeth clenched, and worked feverishly to pry them open with his tongue. Amandine let him in for only a moment before clamping down on his greedy appendage, which withdrew with frightening speed.

A strike knocked her to the bedding, where she could smell blood and death and decay.

"Fucking little bitch." He pressed his body over hers, finding the silver manacles and clamping them over her wrists. "You think you're exceptional because you've a title bestowed by me? You'll learn your place again, Amandine. Fucking count on it."

***

Kalen marched from the room, his teeth bared, his eyes dark. He could only think past the aching fire in his throat long enough to get as far away from her as the mansion allowed.

Never would he blame her, though. Caitlin's mere presence had the tendency to bring out the worst in him. It was his nature that guided his action, and it was so very cold.

He flitted around the corner, shouldering through the veil to a speed he rarely went, one that pushed on his every cell until they burned. But the burn was good. It distracted him from feeling her beneath him, his consort, his Queen, his- victim.

Even as their child danced inside her stomach, his basest nature thought her little more than a sack of blood to sate his thirst. After he'd spent so long trying to find her, he thought it'd be different.

Of course, it wasn't.

No matter Amandine's decades of training, or Kalen spending nearly a hundred years trying to unlearn the damage his father's influence caused, he was still an animal.

Kalen leaned against the cobbled wall of the basement's most intimate tunnels. His face, already lowered in shame, dropped into his hands. A useless gesture, but one he couldn't stay. She'd asked from him what she'd asked Nadia, back in the city, to see him kill. Part of him would do anything for her, steal the sun, moon, and the stars only to lay them at her feet. But that other part, that dangerous, soulless thing that sat beneath the surface, waited until he was weak to lash out. And it would have again, if he'd not divorced himself from her as suddenly as he did.

He could hear her breathing, even two floors below. Caitlin's reaction was better, this time. She was not that naïve little town girl he'd stolen, only a few months prior. Something about her was changing. She was stronger, now.

The child inside her was already remembering, hearing, feeling what Caitlin experienced. Would he think Kalen a monster for the things he was doing to his mother? If so, he would be right.

Kalen slid to the floor, disregarding the slight snags of his embroidered vest against the coarse cobble. His own father was correct: he was a ravenous beast who had no right to assume the throne. If he couldn't even be in her presence without the aching desire to drain her, what sort of leader would he be, when millions depended on his wise and impartial wisdom?

Even after taking what he wanted from a stranger, his teeth still grew long and his eyes still darkened at the thought of fresh blood speckled across her golden skin. Caitlin was the only creature on earth he couldn't touch, and the only one he wanted.

That first encounter, back at the inn, was a mistake. He'd gotten a taste of her blood, then, and it only served to make him crave her more. Even his father had tasted without risking her life or health. That alone was the only credit he could afford Eamon. No matter how greedy the old monarch was, he never killed by mistake or became so wrapped up in his bloodlust that he lost control. It was something Kalen had hardly mastered in his nearly three hundred years of life.

If Amandine were here, she would have shaken her head and offered nothing but silence; the sheer absence of her chill scrutiny was even worse as he sat in the undulating darkness, spiraling deeper into a state of self-loathing.

Never before had he felt such hatred towards his own nature, and it was she, that beautiful, innocent creature that had fallen so easily into his lap, that forced a mirror to his actions. Caitlin, he thought, streaking his hands through his dark locks and staring at the ground with sightless eyes, you've no idea what you ask of me.

***

Whether it was the first, or the hundredth, it wouldn't matter. Taking the girls the King provided him never got any easier. And, though Sara hated his dual-servitude, it was Eamon he most resented.

For this.

What a terrible waste, he thought, crouched in a dark corner, watching her light breathing expand her ribs like a scared mouse. She didn't hold a candle to the Queen's visage, but she would have been handsome in her own right, before the King did as he pleased with her. Killing her was more a mercy than keeping her alive at this point.

She did not move, the shallow breaths filling her ribs as she lay naked and bound on the cold cement floor, facing away from him. Sara doubted she felt the chill anymore, and surely, it was a relief to her. He noted the bruises and bites along her back and over her narrow shoulders. She had a wide set of hips that were also marred by puncture wounds, as if she'd fallen into a pit of vipers.

He didn't move for a long while, merely watching his prey. When he stood, she didn't even flinch, but he knew she was awake. Her breathing was not in line with a sleeping human, and he heard the occasional flit of her eyelids as they opened and closed. This girl he could throw over her shoulder and not feel encumbered, not even when he was human, himself.

Sara strode towards her silently, then hunkered over her. Her breath quickened, but it was likely due to the fact that she thought him as merciless as Eamon. His hand enclosed her bruised shoulder as he turned her to him, looking upon her blank face. She met his eye, then stared past him, her tongue darting out to moisten parched lips. She was used to being handled. Tortured, more like, he thought, catching the hip she was resting on and pulling it so her back was to the ground. Her hands were bound at her chest, forcing her small breasts to squeeze together between her forearms. He traced a callous hand over her curves, only saddened for her, for her life to end too soon. "I'm sorry."

She blinked, but otherwise gave no indication she was listening.

But his secondary nature kicked in, tasting blood in the air. It would have torn into her neck without mercy if he didn't hold back. Like the first kill, or the second.

He lifted her like a child to his chest, kneeling on the floor. Her bare ass brushed against his leg and he felt her skin, made soft by the harsh treatment it received under the King's hand. Sara cupped her to his wide chest, drawing a thick hand up her petite back and cradling her. Her head fell against his shoulder, dark hair veiling her face. Still, she didn't speak or protest. As he moved her, he adjusted her legs, so that one fell between his, and her bare womanhood was pressed against his thigh. He felt the warmth of her burning him, a sensation that might have aroused him in life. This undeath, however, stole his basest human urges and replaced them with new ones, for the only cleft he craved of the girl was between her neck and shoulder.

He buried his face in her hair with his eyes squeezed shut and inhaled. Though she'd been mangled by Eamon's sadistic needs, he still smelled her blood, fresh and whole, coursing through her. He stroked the hair on her head several times, pawing through the tangled mess. "It'll be quick."

Sara heard her eyes close, and a small sigh escaped her. Was it relief she felt? He hoped so as he pressed his nose to her skin, finding that tender spot he'd been trained to bite. It yielded the most success, and was the fastest to drain the victim. He thought she stretched her neck, so to give him better access to her vein. And Sara knew, then, that she'd already surrendered.

He did as he promised, closing his mouth over her small shoulder and sinking his teeth in deep. She gasped and stiffened, her hands clenching between them. Then, she seemed to force herself to relax again, resting her head between his own neck and shoulder. As he drank, he thought he felt the light brush of her lips against his neck, and he heard her mouth move, though he was too preoccupied with her lifeblood to focus on it. When her body chilled, and the lips at his neck went cold, he stopped, feeling the dead girl's form begin to stiffen. His teeth retracted into the gums as he glanced down at the damage he'd done to her. It was nothing compared to the smattering of bruises and bites that were so bright against her pallid canvas of flesh.

And then he remembered her kiss, that whisper of words against his neck: Thank you.

Sara felt a pang of remorse, but also a strange relief. Though he could never have saved her from life, he did, at least, save her from suffering to the end. He set her stiffening body down and tore open the restraints, so that she was no longer bound. He also placed her arms over her heart, straightening the petite body as if to prepare her for burial, though she'd get none.

"Touching, Sara, very touching." King Eamon was behind him, but he did not bother to turn around, still recovering from the cloying intoxication of the girl's blood. "I have another task for you, when you're ready to leave."

*

The job was simple.

Most of the jobs were, when it came to the King. He had few reservations and simple needs. Horrendous, cruel, unforgivable, but simple.

Sara did as he was told. By both his masters.

One meant to destroy the only human Sara cared for, and the other meant to protect her. Serving the prince was easy, until the order came. Serve my father, he was told, observe from the inside, and do everything he says. Simple enough, or, it should have been.