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  Diadem of Blood and Bones

  Midnight’s Crown, Book Three

  Ripley Proserpina

  Contents

  Diadem of Blood and Bones

  Prologue

  1. Briar

  2. Valen

  3. Briar

  4. Sylvain

  5. Briar

  6. Hudson

  7. Briar

  8. Briar

  9. Valen

  10. Briar

  11. Marcus

  12. Briar

  13. Hudson

  14. Briar

  15. Briar

  16. Hudson

  17. Briar

  18. Sylvain

  19. Briar

  20. Valen

  21. Briar

  22. Hudson

  23. Briar

  24. Valen

  25. Briar

  26. Sylvain

  27. Briar

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Untitled

  Books by Ripley:

  Diadem of Blood and Bones

  Midnight’s Crown, Book Three

  By Ripley Proserpina

  Copyright 2018 by Ripley Proserpina

  Copyright 2018, Ripley Proserpina

  First electronic publication: 2018

  Ripley Proserpina

  www.ripleyproserpina.com

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  Published in the United States of America

  Created with Vellum

  Dedicated to every reader who wanted more of Briar’s story. I hope it meets your approval.

  And to my critique partner,

  Rebecca Royce

  And my ever-patient editors,

  Heather Long and Jennifer Leigh Jones

  Prologue

  Briar

  Someone was chasing her.

  She’d awoken on that dirty floor, surrounded by the smell of decay and death, and run. Her instincts had screamed at her—don’t wait, run! Run!

  So she did.

  Everything hurt. Every sensation overwhelmed her. The sun was too bright. The sirens, the heartbeats, and the traffic—all of it was too loud. The wind on her skin was like sandpaper, and no matter how fast she ran, she couldn’t escape.

  Then came the chase.

  Something urged her forward. Inside her head, a tiny voice whispered that she could find safety. It was just ahead of her.

  But then she got there—home. And she smelled them. Marcus. Sylvain. Hudson. Valen. The wind changed directions and she smelled something else.

  Rot and death.

  So she ran, rather than lead the evil back to them. All day long she ran. The sun was bright in the sky and somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she should be afraid of it.

  But she wasn’t.

  The sun didn’t burn her; it tickled her skin like static electricity. It distracted her for a moment, and she held her hand out to the rays. She felt it warm her so she tilted her face back, imagining the heat burrowing beneath her skin.

  The back of her neck prickled a warning. Run.

  As she ran, her mind cleared, processing the sensations that overwhelmed her. One by one, she filtered through them to focus on the things that mattered.

  Valen.

  Sylvain.

  Hudson.

  Marcus.

  Thirst.

  Briar paused by the Charles River, tracing her face with her fingers. She should be burned down to the bone, but her skin was silky smooth. And her hands, when she examined them, were smooth and white, graced with golden freckles that were as familiar to her as her reflection.

  A thousand questions assailed her—but one was central. How was she alive?

  Perhaps this was a nightmare. Perhaps all of this was one of Asher’s creations from which she couldn’t awaken.

  Briar breathed in deeply and caught a scent. It was familiar and loved, and she followed it like a marker tracing a street route. It led her home.

  She breathed in again and something within her eased for a split second before her thirst overtook her again. What had begun as an uncomfortable tightening at her throat, soon engulfed every other sensation.

  The scent she’d traced here, it separated. Each one was original and unique: Valen, Sylvain, Marcus, Hudson.

  Slowly, Briar climbed the stairs toward the door. She wanted to fly up them, rip the door off the hinges and bury her face in the source of the scent, but she was afraid.

  At the top step, her energy drained away and she fell to her knees. Hollowed out, she couldn’t knock, couldn’t call out. Her body was a desiccated shell.

  Help. She couldn’t push the words past her swollen throat. Exhausted, Briar let her head fall to her knees. Marcus. Valen. Sylvain. Hudson. Find me.

  As if they’d heard her, the door opened. Warm light and the scent of them filled the night. It took every bit of energy she had, but she tipped her head back until she could meet their beautiful eyes.

  She almost didn’t recognize them. Their faces were bleak, devoid of expression with eyes as empty as she felt inside, but when they saw her, they changed.

  Disbelief.

  Confusion.

  Hope.

  Briar wanted to wrap them in her arms, but she couldn’t move. She was weighed down with something that made movement impossible. If she didn’t fill up and slake this thirst, she’d die.

  Again.

  She swallowed hard. With the last bit of energy she had, she whispered, “Marcus. I’m thirsty.”

  Marcus moved fast. She remembered a time when she wouldn’t have been able to track his movement, but now she could. He reached over Sylvain, sweeping her into his arms. He buried his face in her neck and breathed her in. “Briar. Briar. Oh, God.”

  They rushed into the living room, but he didn’t let her go. The others crowded around her. Hudson knelt by her, pushed back her hair, and studied her face. “You’re alive.” His voice broke, and his icy-blue eyes filled with pain. “How are you alive?”

  She’d lost her voice, used up the last of it speaking to Marcus, so she shook her head. She kept her hand wrapped around her throat as if it would ease the ache, and Hudson’s eyes widened.

  “Marcus. Blood,” he whispered.

  But Marcus hadn’t let her go. Maybe he couldn’t. His arms tightened around her, and he shook his head, so it was Valen who left and returned with an IV bag full of blood.

  Briar breathed in. She could smell it, the metallic tang beneath the heavy plastic, and held out her hands before jerking them back. Why did she want it? What would she do with it?

  Her gums swelled and something pricked her tongue. Slowly, she lifted a hand to touch her teeth. Fangs.

  The logical part of her brain overrode the part of her that was freaking out.

  Okay. Okay. So this was why she was alive. Okay.

  Hudson passed her the bag, and she took it, wincing at the cold and the way
it sloshed inside the plastic. “Bite it,” he said. “It will help.”

  She brought it to her face, aware of Valen and Sylvain watching her. Delicately, she bit through the plastic. Coppery and tangy liquid filled her mouth, and she gagged. Forcing herself to swallow, she quickly gave the bag back to Hudson. Get it away from me. She didn’t want to smell it, and she gagged again. Over and over she swallowed, trying to rid her mouth of the horrid taste. It had done nothing to quench her thirst. If anything, it was worse now.

  “You have to drink, Briar,” Hudson whispered. “It will help.”

  No. She shook her head, and Marcus drew back. He sat straight, studying her. In the quiet of the room, Briar heard his heart give a strong thump, and his pulse throbbed in his neck. Gaze drawn there, she eased forward and breathed in.

  He smelled so good, her mouth watered. Comfort. Ease. She pressed her face against his neck, wanting to bathe in his scent.

  It was as if Marcus knew what she needed. Strong hands cupped the back of her head, pushing her toward his skin. “Bite,” he whispered, and helpless against the urge, she flicked her tongue against his skin.

  Yes. This was what she wanted. Now she could move. Briar straddled him and eased back to hold his face between her hands. Her gaze went to his neck again and then to his face as she waited for permission.

  “Bite, Briar,” he whispered and his pupils dilated, hiding the sea-foam green of his irises. “Do it.”

  Hesitantly, she dipped her head, eyes locked with Marcus until her lips grazed his skin. And then she bit.

  Briar

  How to explain the relief Briar felt as Marcus’s blood coated her tongue? A glass of cold water on a hot day was too flimsy an analogy. It didn’t touch the life that flowed into her.

  Her cells were a desert—dry and cracked. Lifeless. She was a dead planet. She was drought. Decay.

  Until her teeth sliced through his skin, she was a sailor lost at sea. Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink.

  And then? Bliss. Her body hummed with sudden energy as a hunger she’d never known was sated. The contrast between death and life was so jarring, she jerked away from the body she’d wrapped herself around.

  “You can have more.” Marcus’s voice was hoarse. “Take everything you need.”

  Briar released her breath and self-consciously licked her teeth and lips. “I’m okay.”

  You’re not okay, but you will be. A voice inside her argued with her statement. It was unfamiliar—a stranger—and yet…

  Who are you? For a brief, terrifying moment, Briar thought Asher, her vampires’ maker, was in her head again, but this voice held a wildness that had never tinged Asher’s voice. The voice disappeared as if Briar had imagined it, and she closed her eyes to find it again. Where’d you go?

  Tell them the truth. Lean on them.

  “Briar?” A hand on her back made her jump straight into the air and whirl. A growl, unbidden, ripped out of her throat until she saw it was Hudson who had touched her. “Princess,” he went on, voice low and calming. “What’s happening?”

  Her heart gave one heavy thump in her chest and Briar pressed her hand against her skin. “Just once,” she whispered. She straightened and met Hudson’s gaze. “Hudson. My heart isn’t beating.”

  Valen made a sound at her pronouncement—something between a groan and a cry—before he covered his mouth with his hand. The hope on his face was chased away and replaced with bleakness. He shook his head at her, perhaps in denial at her statement or perhaps because he couldn’t speak.

  You’re not stupid. Briar put together the signs smacking her in the face.

  The taste of Marcus’s blood lingered on her tongue.

  Her heart had stilled its beating.

  The sun hadn’t burned her.

  Briar looked—she really looked at her vampires. Their clothes were torn and dirty and splashed with blood.

  And then there was the voice—Briar hit her temples with the palms of her hands to rattle it awake—there was a new voice inside her. Where did you go?

  Be stronger! The voice was angry now. A growl built in her throat. Briar shut her eyes, trying to force it down and away. Don’t run.

  “Something is wrong,” she got out. Her insides churned as all the pieces clicked into place. “I’m wrong.” She opened her eyes and let her hands fall to her sides. “Tell me I’m mistaken, Hudson.”

  Her professor, usually so stoic, looked like an angel confronting Hell. He shook his head like Valen had.

  “Valen?” She faced the giant of a man who only ever protected her. Now she needed him to protect her from the knowledge of what she already knew to be true.

  “Sylvain?”

  The dark-eyed man straightened. He’d squatted, hands over the back of his head, but now he stood, unfurling inch by inch to tower over her. “You survived,” he said, taking a step forward.

  Mine. Briar swayed toward him as she fought to keep her eyes open. The wild stranger in her head purred.

  “You are a vampire, but you are still you.”

  More than you. Stronger. Now you can protect them.

  “I’m a vampire,” she repeated, because of course she was. Like a wrecking ball, the events leading her to this moment slammed into her. “I burned.”

  “You died,” Marcus said. His hand covering his neck caught Briar’s attention, distracting her.

  She approached him quickly, but slowed before she touched him. “Let me see,” she whispered. Gently, she took his fingers in hers and lowered his hand. Two small pink punctures dotted his tan skin. A rivulet of dried blood dripped to his collar. Briar licked her thumb and drew it across his skin, wiping the blood away. “Did I hurt you?”

  The world seemed to go into slow motion. Marcus began to shake his head, the muscles at his neck tensing, when a blossom of scent hit her.

  Oh, God. What was that? She’d never smelled anything like it. With a gasp, she took in the scent, held it inside her, and rolled it around. “What is it?” When no one answered, Briar opened her eyes. Marcus stared at the floor. “Marcus?” she said again. “I smell something.” She sucked in breath after breath. “What is it?”

  Marcus cleared his throat and leaned toward her to whisper in her ear, “Arousal, Briar. I promise, you didn’t hurt me.”

  Was it possible to blush as a vampire when her heart didn’t beat? But then the treacherous organ squeezed and heat shot through her veins to her face. “Are my cheeks red?” she asked, curiously.

  Marcus lifted one corner of his mouth. A half-smile. “Yes,” he replied. “You’re still you.” It was what Sylvain had said.

  “I’m still me.” Truth rang in the words as she repeated them aloud. A surprisingly small part of her wanted to deny this. She wanted to yell, “I’m not the same!” But she didn’t. Had she not discussed with these men, who she loved more than anything, the potential of turning her? Would she rather be burned and lifeless on the dirty warehouse floor, or would she take this second chance at life?

  Take it. Be stronger.

  A little bloom of excitement pushed through the cracks where before she’d been a wasteland.

  Stronger.

  Marcus was so close to her. He still gave off that delicious scent, awakening her arousal. Heat left her face, pouring down her body to pool in her stomach and between her legs. Marcus’s nostrils flared as he inhaled.

  All of her senses distracted her. Everything was brighter, louder, intense.

  And more primal.

  Her instincts screamed at her to essentially climb Marcus like a tree and her brain, which usually kept her logical and focused, had zero counter arguments.

  Briar held her breath, waiting for the sensation of tightness and burning in her lungs, but it didn’t come. Okay. “If I don’t breathe, I’m okay,” she said, except she had to breathe to speak, which flooded her senses with Marcus’s scent again—and her own. “This is so embarrassing.”

  Marcus threw back his head and laughed before cu
tting off abruptly. He stared, wide-eyed and shocked, at Briar. “I don’t mean to laugh.”

  “Are you thirsty again?” Hudson asked, distracting Briar. She gave him her attention gratefully. Hunger. Focus on the hunger.

  Carefully, Briar inventoried herself. Horny, yes. Thirsty, no. Ignoring the first thing, she commented on the second. “I’m not.”

  “You’re not?” Hudson narrowed his eyes and raked his gaze over her face.

  “I was,” she answered, remembering how horrible she’d felt before Marcus had allowed her to bite him. “But I’m not. I’m…” Full wasn’t the right sensation, but… “I’m satisfied. I’m not yearning for blood. In fact—” The blood bag lay dripping in the sink. With her focus on the blood, the coppery smell chased away Marcus’s scent. “In fact, if I never taste blood again, I’ll be fine.”

  “What the fuck is going on?” Sylvain approached Hudson and crossed his arms. “I’m not complaining, because she’s here. Alive. But why would she feed from Marcus?”

  “I don’t know,” Hudson answered. He shrugged, and Briar lifted her hand as if to ask a question. The gesture seemed to lighten the mood, and Hudson smiled. “Yes?”

  “I have a million and one questions,” she said. Like—how would they fight Asher now? What would she tell her family? Did this change their relationship? Did they feel differently about her now? Did she smell different to them? Less… tasty?