Queen of His Heart by Jeanette Lynn

Author:Jeanette Lynn [Lynn, Jeanette]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-01-26T16:00:00+00:00

I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, staring down at the male responsible for the hell that had become my life. He’d manipulated and terrorized me, taking over every aspect of my life towards the end there until Segrid had come barging in and saved me from it all. Now, as I stared at him, my hands hidden in the arms of my thick hoodie so he couldn’t see me wringing them in it worriedly, he was so much… less.

It certainly helped he was tied up, hogtied with some kind of magicked rope, blood dripping down his arms where he’d fought to free himself to no avail. A thick, booted foot pressing to his back kept him from squirming around. The wide shouldered bruiser whose foot held him in place lifted a fat cigar to his dark lips. Pulling out a lighter with a picture of a scantily clad devil woman on it, the Hellhound lit the end of his cigar. His eyes glowed like the tip of the cigar in the low light.

“Got any last words, Johnny Rotten?” the male, Rez, as he’d introduced himself, asked the Vampire at his feet.

“Go fuck yourself,” the Vampire spat. “All of you.” Glaring at me, he bared his fangs and hissed. “You aren’t worth the taste of you, filthy bitch!! Cuckolding Troll whore! You were my bride, as promised to me! Why, I should have snapped your little-”

Before he could finish that sentence, his white blond hair was gripped, jerked back in a meaty fist, and my Troll-squatch prince charming gripped one of his fangs and snapped it clean off. The Vampire screamed, and then there was another snap. Before he could howl again, Segrid turned until his back was to me. A loud, popping snap filled the backyard, a squelching wet noise, the metallic scent of blood thick on the air as it stained the ground, spilling out, and then nothing. Letting the limp body fall where it would, Troll spat on him, huffing in disgust, and had just enough time to catch me before I fell as black spots danced in my vision and splat, I’d done wet myself.

“My Vivienne?” Troll kneeled near the puddle that I am, and went to scoop me up.

“I’ll get a bucket,” Rez called, adding belatedly, “and, like, a trash bag or something for Johnny Rotten over there.” The Hellhound grunted, muttering lower, “He’ll hold, at least ‘til I can get him to somewhere better kept, like the damn old freezer at my place. He should still be dead-dead til’ then.”

You mean he’s not dead? I tried to say, but all that happened was soapy gurgles burbling. And that was all I recalled as I went ahead and passed the heck out.

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