The death monarchs, p.1
The Death Monarchs, page 1
Copyright © 2022 by Whimsy Nimsy
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All rights reserved.
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No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without express written permission from the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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This book is solely licensed for your personal use only. All characters, organizations, and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover Designed by Whimsy Nimsy
Editing by Kaye Kemp Book Polishing
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Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Stalk Me!
About Whimsy Nimsy
~Blurb~
He used me.
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He betrayed me.
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He locked me in a prison of never ending ice and snow, expecting me to die in the desolate cold. But for hundreds of years, I survived and thrived despite him.
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But now he’s sent them to my door.
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The monster, the beast, and the butterfly of the elven court. Each of their hands marked with the symbol that strikes terror in all.
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His most loyal bloody killers.
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The Death Monarchs are here.
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*Trigger Warning: this shit gets dark…*
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Prologue
Drip
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Drip
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Drip…
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I watch as the dark red blood slowly mars the glistening snow. It adds to the gruesome streaks and splashes of the matching color that litter the courtyard. Not that it matters. In an hour, at the rate of the snowfall, they will be gone. Swallowed up by the cold, uncaring storm.
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I tilt my head as the man falls to his knees at my feet, releasing a strangled grunt. Hand to his gut, he looks down at it in shock before looking up at me. The blood starting to pool in his mouth tints his teeth red as he offers a cruel smile.
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“You think you won, but it will never cease”—cough, cough— “You’ll rot here in this ice prison, bitch. He betrayed you, your belove—”
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I snap his neck before he can speak that fucking asshole’s name. Just the thought has my nails digging into the skin of my palms. Tears of anger and pain trail down my cheeks, and I wish there were more men to kill.
Chapter One
SÍOFRA ~250 YEARS LATER
“Potions, Potions, I like making potions,” I sing to myself as I mix my very last bit of healing draught.
Once it’s all mixed and strained into a bottle, I pull off my necklace and carefully extend it above the vial. I focus my will on the dangling stone, and a drop of glowing purple essence falls from it and into the mixture. Its color quickly changes from the murky brown to a bright violet hue.
A screeching roar rattles the window above my desk. I look through the frost that creeps over the sides of the window. The flowers in the barely visible garden below still bloom despite the sheet of white that blankets them. A brief flash of black whips by the window, followed by a loud thunk.
A cheerful voice booms in my head. “I brought you butterflies!!”
“Butterflies?”
“Yup! Come see! Come see!!”
Excited at the prospect of something new, I push from my desk. “I’m coming!”
I quickly nab a cloak and head towards the massive bay doors that lead to my balcony.
Pudding is sitting on his haunches, chest puffed up proudly and wings splayed out behind him, blocking the harsh winds from the winter storm outside. His black scales glimmer like the night sky in stark contrast to the white marble balcony below him.His tail swishes behind him despite the howling wind.
He’s like a big cat, I swear. Feels like every week he’s dropping something off. I push open the door and step into the chilly air. Pudding nudges me with his head in greeting, and I pat his massive snout gently.
“Why don’t you shrink down a bit so I can see what you brought me?”
“Kay!”
With a poof, he shrinks and is sitting on a pile of… people?
“Pudding, these are not butterflies. They appear to be men.” I walk closer and take in the light blue lips and pale skin peeking out from under the hood of the closest guy. “Possibly dead men,” I mumble.
“Nope, not dead. They got little pitter patters going still. And they are butterflies. Look.” Using his little nose, he turns over one of the men’s hands. A skull butterfly marks the back of his hand.
“Oh, well, look at that, Pudding. You’re right! How fun. Members of the Death Monarchs.”
At Pudding’s blank look I elaborate, “The world's deadliest group of assassins that are loyal only to the elven king. Bastard must be getting quite desperate.”
“Shall I eat them, roast them, or take them down to the cellar?” he asks as the wind and snow start to pelt over us.
“Let's just bring them inside for now. I’ll figure out what to do after that.”
He and I each grab a leg of the top man and start to pull him through the balcony doors and into the building’s warmth.
“How did they make it through the storm?” I never get more than one or, at most, two assassins at a time due to the constant blizzard.
“They were walking.”
I reach up and push back the hood of our new guest. I stare dumbfounded for a moment at the deliciously gorgeous man on the floor. A perfectly angular jaw, pointed ears and long eyelashes. It’s a face gods might be jealous of. I don’t remember Death Monarchs being this attractive.
Well… except one. The King’s right-hand man and twin brother, Malic, with his piercing eyes that seemed to stare through me, and stunning tattoos that covered him from the neck down.
I lick my lips unconsciously. Memories of missed chances attempt to flit through my mind, but I ignore them choosing to focus on the stunning guy at my feet. This man seems thinner than him, but still just as pretty. Actually, now that I think about it, I suppose I only ever met one.
While I’m lost in my reverie, Pudding makes huffing noises as he tries to separate the other two men.
“Is that so? This one seems far too pretty to be able to make it through that,” I say as I wander out to help him push the extremely large man on top to the side. He is clinging with all his might to the man below him, so we end up rolling them both over.
“Stop hugging him!” Pudding demands of the giant man.
I sigh, giving up on prying them apart, and pull down the large man’s hood. Adorable black fuzzy ears with odd white stripes peek out of his hair, along with a strong jaw covered in a beard that has icicles hanging from it. A beastman? I want to touch his fuzzy ears! How cute!
Not wanting to feel him up while he is clearly unconscious, I make a mental note to ask if I can touch them later. I wonder if the other is a beastman too?
I attempt to get a look at the man he is hugging, but he only clings tighter when I do. Granted, without even looking at the third, I can guess he is also attractive. Maybe Death Monarchs only hire attractive men? I suppose, with the assassinations they pull off, it would make sense for them to be able to woo their targets. The gossiping ladies of the court always spoke about the supposed attractive members but I assumed it was all hearsay. Those women would blether about a pig if it sparkled enough.
A wicked thought crosses my mind. It’s been so very long since I’ve had any man, and these ones came to me, after all. They surely won’t be mad if we have a bit of fun before they leave. Assuming I don’t have to kill them, that is.
I tilt my head towards Pudding, who has now ripped the cloak of the larger man in his attempts to pull them apart.
“Let’s drag them inside for now and then separate them,” I say, grabbing a leg of the larger man.
Pudding grabs the other, and we struggle to bring them both inside as the snow beats down on us.
“Were they all bundled together when you found them?” I huff as we finally pull them through the doors, along with a decent amount of snow.
“These two were hugging, but I found the third near a dead monster.”
“One of the oozies?”
“Yeah. They smell so bad!” He rubs his nose like the stench still lingers there. “How’d you know?” His eyes go abnormally wide and he leaps off the man’s chest and starts rolling around on the floor. “Do I smell like an icky oozy now?!”
I point to the black ooze that is clinging to the pants of the one lying on top of the others.
“Ewww,’’ he says, backing up and checking his claws. “Nasty.”
I can’t help but laugh at his antics. The oozies are disgusting, though; so I don’t blame him. “Can you dig up an old maid uniform and bring it to me? I think we have some in the gray room.”
“But that’s so far away !” He huffs, little puffs of smoke coming from his nostrils.
“I’ll let you have some of my dessert tonight if you do.”
“Really?”
“Yup, really.”
He whips past me, almost knocking me over in his haste, and I chuckle to myself. Taking in the three men at my feet. This should be fun.
I walk across the room and open my cabinet, picking out a glowing dark blue vial. Perfect opportunity to test the batch I made the other day.
“Down the hatch,” I mumble before popping the cork and shooting it back. Warmth floods my body and I clench and unclench my hands.
I walk back over to the pile of men.
“Please excuse my rudeness, sir,” I say to the pretty one, then I start peeling him out of his clothes, careful to avoid any remaining black ooze.
“This is truly a first for me, honestly. Never taken off someone’s clothes before. I would have had Pudding do it, but he is even lazier than I am. Last time I asked him to remove a guest’s clothes, he just toasted them. You have no idea how hard it is to get the smell of burning flesh out of the carpet,” I inform my new guest.
“Well, look at that,” I tell the unconscious man as I pull off his shirt. “I take it back, Mr. Butterfly. You totally could have taken on an oozie.”
Who would have thought under all those clothes there would be all these muscles. His body shivers unconsciously beneath my fingers as I brush my hands over his chest.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry! You must be freezing.”
The wind picks up and more snow starts to pile up on the balcony as if to agree with my statement.
I make quick work of removing the remainder of his clothes and do my best not to peek at where that V leads too. But I may or may not accidentally catch a glimmer of a very decent sized dick under his fabric crotch cover. This is going to be so much fun.
I drop his clothes in a pile outside, then walk back to the man and effortlessly heave him over my shoulder, carrying him to the large bed. I less than delicately drop him on it, then move back to the other two, who are now completely covered in snow because I forgot to close the door.
“Well, that’s just great,” I say and reach down to pry the big one off the other man so I can get to work on his clothes, too.
Even while unconscious, the man seems to have the strength of a beast. In spite of my strength potion, it takes a good five minutes before I manage to pull him away and start tearing off his clothes.
I’m covered in snow by the time I’m done and can’t find the pile of clothes from before, so I just blindly toss them to the side. I then drag the giant man to the bed, placing him next to the other man, whom he immediately grabs on to. I wonder for a brief moment if I’d also get cuddles if I climbed into bed with them.
The last man is now nothing but a hand sticking out of the snow. I yank him out of the pile and lift him upright. I flick off his hood, taking in his pointy ears, stunning angular features, and the unmistakable green hair that is identical to the king’s. I drop him, and his head hits the floor with a loud thunk.
I see red. Angry tears try to form in my eyes. I grasp him by his collar and lift him, and his head lolls to the side.
“Why the hell are you here?”
I shake him until his no doubt expensive leather cloak tears straight down the side. A muscled torso that’s covered in tattoos peeks through the torn clothing. I drop him again, a gasp escaping me. Oops.
“Malic?” I reach back down and rip off his glove, finding a dark iridescent monarch tattoo. I reach up to force open his eyelid, and a piercing black eye stares unseeing up at me.
Then I break out into tears and hysterical laughter, grasping my side as my belly aches in pain and my chest feels like it’s being stomped on by Malic’s boot. I’m honestly unsure if it’s happy laughter or sad.
“That crazy bastard has taken this to a whole new level of insanity if he is willing to send his own blood out here.” I shake my head, my lip curling as I run a finger down one of his tattoo covered scars. "His favorite monster."
I glance back at the other two. Realization dawns on me as flittering, disjointed memories of my time in the elven court surface. Malic’s here with a beastman and a man as pretty as a butterfly. Malic the Monster leader of the Death Monarchs and his two best assassins.
Once my brief moment of hysteria passes, I sigh and stand. Then pace, glaring down at that hauntingly beautiful face as the glistening snow tries to engulf him once more. Did he come here to kill me like all the others? A larger part of me hopes he didn’t. Maybe he came to save me, just like he did when we were young.
As if to mock me, the wind howls and windows rattle, reminding me of my prison. I quickly beat away that thought, letting the ice coat my heart. I’m far past the point of saving.
Chapter Two
SÍOFRA
“This is so unfair, he knows I won’t kill you,” I tell him before crouching down and brushing the snow from his face. Then I yank off his pants first, simply out of spite. “Stupid, attractive monster. I hope your willy freezes while I do this.”
I try to pull off his shirt as well, but find myself impeded by a tattooed muscled arm that’s clinging to a worn leather bag.
“Why are you guys all so clingy? Is this an assassin thing?” I brush off the outside of the bag, finding an embroidered crest of the royal elven family. My chest tightens again as I brush my fingers over it. How long has it been since I’ve seen this mark? Far too long to matter, I suppose.
Pulling my hand away, I tilt the bag to and fro, checking it over for ooze before prying it away from him. I place it over my shoulder and remove what’s left of some very expensive leathers. I regretfully toss them aside, giving them a longing look as I do.
“Such a waste of some good leather.” I sigh as I heft him up.
Just as I reach the bed, my legs turn to jelly and my muscles go lax.
“No!” I cry as his huge muscled, naked body lands over mine.
I groan. “I know I dreamed of having you on top of me. But this is not what I meant.”
My muscles are spent. I’ll need at least an hour before the side effects of the potion wear off, or my necklace. I try to squirm and shimmy my way out from under him but find myself barely able to move.
“I really need to take the time to fix that potion,” I grunt.
I lay under his massive body, unable to even lift my fingers to touch the amazing man lying above me. Maybe I should just take a nap, it is kinda warm and cozy, actually, I think just as the sound of clicking talons comes from outside the bedroom door
“A little help here, Pudding,” I call. Then I grunt as the weight on me increases.
“Why are you under a half-naked butterfly? Are you hiding?”
“No, I didn’t get under him on purpose. Can you please move him and not climb on us?”
Malic is flipped off me and I let out a relieved breath as the weight disappears.
“Thanks, Pudding.”
“Does this mean I get extra dessert for helping?”
I chuckle as I roll to my back. “If you bring me my shiny purple necklace, yes.”
“Okay!”
The moment the necklace touches my skin, my muscles regain strength and I leap to my feet, bursting with energy. “Much better!”
I move to the door as I clasp it around my neck. “Can you push out the snow that came in? And then roast the patio for me? There’s some nasty oozie left out there.”
