Queens of Ruin

By Selena Collins

Long ago, a mysterious disease wreaked havoc on the world, stalling birth rates and leaving a society confused and slowly dying. As the human population dwindled, a benevolent race of aliens arrived, and it seemed like salvation had come with them. The Queens, as they called themselves, brought their wisdom and hope, and the humans happily trade

• Language: English
• Publisher: Endless Romance Publishing
• Release date: Jan 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9781963671001

Book preview

Selena Collins

Queens of Ruin

First published by Endless Romance Publishing 2024

Copyright © 2024 by Selena Collins

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Please note that this book is an LGBTQ+ polyamorous romance which contains subject matter that may not be a good fit for every reader. This may include dubious consent, assault, sexual assault (off-screen), suicide (off-screen), violence, blood, and murder.

First edition

ISBN: 978-1-963671-00-1

This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

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When I wrote this book, I dedicated it to my husband.

For Matthew, whose love and support never wavers.

Now, I dedicate it to his memory.

I love you.

Always.

Contents

1. Chapter 1

2. Chapter 2

3. Chapter 3

4. Chapter 4

5. Chapter 5

6. Chapter 6

7. Chapter 7

8. Chapter 8

9. Chapter 9

10. Chapter 10

11. Chapter 11

12. Chapter 12

13. Chapter 13

14. Chapter 14

15. Chapter 15

About the Author

Also by Selena Collins

1

Chapter 1

It was morning when Elaura watched the snow fall in swollen clumps onto a thick blanket of white outside the window. It would’ve been a wonderland to a girl in any other time, but Elaura wasn’t a little girl any longer.

She walked through the maiden’s barracks, her feet shuffling down the aisles between the bunk beds. Around her a dozen or so girls chattered excitedly, like little finches chittering as they flitted around one another. To them, today was a celebration, a day when they would begin the Opening Ceremony as girls and end it as women. It was a day when their assigned mates would be presented to them. Elaura watched the girls as they smoothed kohl liner over their eyelids and patted balmy rouge onto their cheeks and lips, blissfully unaware of the political machinations behind their celebration. The truth was, this ceremony was little more than an arranged marriage, ritualized to give it some symbolic meaning for those forced to endure it. Nothing more. Nothing special.

Her eyes locked with a girl who stood out from the rest. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated, and the flush that crept up her cheeks was bright without the addition of any rouge. Elaura wished she could offer some words of comfort to the poor girl, but she stayed silent and kept them for herself, however selfish that might be. Elaura pulled her gaze from eyes that too closely echoed her own feelings and looked at the clock.

It was time.

She clapped her hands loudly above her head. Though they were all the same age, her position in the royal household came with specific obligations. This year, their twenty-fifth, she would lead them from maidenhood into womanhood in their first step toward their ultimate goal: motherhood. The girls giggled and fussed over themselves one final time before they eventually fell in line and followed Elaura out of the building into the snow. Their belted tunics draped from shoulder to ankle, but the fabric was not thick enough to protect them from the cold. They shivered and rubbed their hands up and down their arms, hurrying down the street and across a giant courtyard.

The sky was gray with wispy clouds that formed finger-like trails across the sky. Their ends came together and fell apart in ribbons above them. Around them, the snow twisted and turned in the air as the wind blew. Their footprints joined countless others shuffling as quickly as possible from one point to another. Elaura led them through a passageway flanked by two massive columns and finally into the blessed warmth of a church. It was the central building in the Temple Complex and the hub of all of their rituals, especially fertility rituals, of which there were many.

A woman dressed in a pristine white toga, nameless and known only as a Matchmaker, gestured for the group of women to follow her through a door on the right side of the cavernous room. Inside the receiving room, they sat along the curving perimeter of the room and anxiously waited to be taken into the adjoining chamber one by one. They’d prepared for this since they were young, and the anticipation was so palpable Elaura could hardly stand it. As a daughter of one of the ruling Queens, she had access to more than the propaganda taught to children of the City. The statistics on domestic violence, depression, suicide, and more were incredibly high, but so was the birth rate. In fact, it was the highest it had been since the plague that wiped out two-thirds of the women on earth and rendered nearly half of the men sterile.

But the birth rate… that was the number they wanted you to hear. Births were on the rise—the selling point of a totalitarian monarchy, Elaura thought wryly. Because when you focus on healthy, happy babies in the wake of a plague, it’s easier to forget about the problems within the society giving birth to them.

Elaura, one Matchmaker said. She gestured for Elaura to come forward and pushed her briskly through the doorway.

Once inside, the door was closed behind her with a bang that echoed through the dim antechamber. On the far side of the room was an arrangement of seven throne chairs and seven Queens atop them, including her own mother dressed in her most elaborate toga. Upon their heads, the Queens wore crowns adorned with jewels that looked as if they were stars themselves plucked down from the heavens and set into the precious metal. Who knew? They could be. She stared at those star-like jewels and remembered the wishes she’d made on them as a child. Staring up at the night sky, she’d wished for all manner of things. Now, she wished she could love her mother as others loved theirs, but that would require a different mother altogether. For hers, all she could muster was cold obedience for an alien presence who largely ignored her.

The alien race of Queens, the Nurses, and the Matchmakers had all arrived at the end of the plague, a force bearing love, light, and hope. They’d helped the humans, sired children with them, and systematically taken control so quietly, so outwardly compassionately, that they now ruled them and had for forty years without so much as a drop of blood spilled in resistance. Or so they were taught.

A ring of Matchmakers moved to surround her and began chanting, their voices echoing in the dim room. One stepped forward and removed her maiden’s tunic and the braided belt she wore. The simple cloth symbolized youth and humility, two qualities held in high-esteem by the Queens. Stripped naked, the Matchmakers closed in on her, tightening their circle around her, and pressed their hands over her womb, belly, and the soft mound between her legs. They closed their eyes, and the chanting grew in volume. The skin beneath their hands glowed. Green light filled the room, casting eerie shadows across their faces, and Elaura felt her body pulse with it.

She is fertile! a Matchmaker declared.

Another woman approached Elaura with a pile of cloth draped over her arms, and the two wrapped it about her. The cut of it was loose and fell down about her body in waves, leaving her arms bare and her feet covered. Elaura heard a door open behind her, and she knew from the shuffling of feet that they were leading her husbands-to-be into the room.

One… two… three… the women said together, their voices an ominous chant.

One of the Queens in the center throne stood and raised her arms toward Elaura. Today you journey from maiden to woman and soon from woman to mother. Three knots for three husbands, the Queen said.

A Matchmaker stretched a long piece of tapered fabric across her back and wrapped the belt of cloth around her waist, tying knots at the hip with the tail of it. The men at her back moved into view in front of her. Fabric similar to hers draped their bodies, though their chests remained bare. All the men looked to be in their late twenties or thirties, not as dramatic a difference to her own twenty-five years as she’d feared, and they were well-muscled specimens. This wasn’t particularly surprising. When your entire culture revolved around a race of alien Queens obsessed with reproducing in the name of restoring the population, your body became a temple, and they expected you to keep it in peak condition. Any less was simply unacceptable. Elaura noted that all the men wore the same stony expression on their faces, and she wondered if they were as uncomfortable with this arrangement as she was. Or perhaps they