Sire's Broken Crystal Kiss The Night

By Marcelle Sixx

To be a member of the Monarchy, it comes with great consequences. For instance, having to keep yourself pure for an alpha wife that you might not ever have when there are many gorgeous woman willing to allow you to slip inside for a secret night or two. After having his chosen wife choose to leave him three years prior, Yawha was on a downward spiral. That was of course, until he came across Crystal Welch for a single date. What was supposed to be a dance and dinner for the Peace Ball turned into much more. Nights of passion and sweet 'I love you's', tender kisses and the hopes of living out the rest of his days with her.

His father's kingdom is falling apart, so he must lend a hand, even if it gets bitten in the process by Gray-- his egotistical father who doesn't listen to anything or anyone, and only lives by his own powerful list of rules that seem to keep everyone else caged in.

However, Crystal is not only the sister-in-law to Aaron Feròz, the Lycan King, but Jerome McIntyre, the Leprechaun King. Neither realm is quite fond of the way Yawha and his realm of pureblood vampires are handling things. To have Crystal-- who is already broken from previous relationships-- stuck in the middle doesn't sit well with Aaron or the family. But with a dive of hope, she's willing to take the chance at love, even at the cost of being hurt all over again... and even if it costs her, her life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: After Hours Publications
• Release date: May 15, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224752805

Book preview

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*DESTINED FOR THE LYCAN KING

(BOOKS 1-3)

*FATED TO THE LYCAN PRINCE

(BOOKS 1&2)

*NISSE DESIRE: THE LEPRECHAUN KING’S DIAMOND BOOK 1

*DIAMONDS AND CLOVERS: THE LEPRECHAUN KING’S DIAMOND BOOK 2

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For... Nikia Amann...

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CRYSTAL, CAN YOU HEAR me!

I could. Aaron’s voice was but an echo. If the nurse had to tell him once more to back away, he probably would’ve swatted her. There was a sting. Less than the excruciating pain I was feeling already. It was for an IV, perhaps. I was later proven correct when I could feel myself floating toward the ceiling, yet it wasn’t getting any closer.

This is fucking bullshit! Get your hands off me!

That was Jerome that time. The sweet, bubbly, crucially honest brother-in-law. Things were about to turn up a notch if he was pissed.

Dallas, I’m not going any-fucking-where! Unhand me!

Kingdoms were falling.

Darkness was coming faster than the shadows that were consuming me.

Or maybe it was just my eyelids getting lazier and lazier.

We’re losing her! a nurse bellowed. She looked like the type of brunette that worked all her life to get ahead, but always got cheated out by a blonde. I could tell in her stocky build and the ugly face she gave to the yellow-haired dame who kept telling me that everything would be okay.

I wasn’t going to be.

So, I lay there, accepting my fate, staring at the ceiling while they worked.

This was my fault. My doing. My choosing.

Her blood pressure is dropping!

She’s going to need stitches and plenty of blood, the doctor warned them. Someone get the family settled so they can ready themselves to help her!

Help me? Now? No, they were ready to rage war.

There wasn’t enough time. I couldn’t feel the stickiness of my own fluids anymore.

I was numb.

I made the choice to love, but I didn’t make the choice to be broken.

I didn’t make the choice to die, either. But, I guess you could say I did. I knew the consequences of going after the man I wanted. Why? All so I could end up worst off than what I already was? At least he tried to love me back, genuinely. At least he tried to piece me back together... even though he fell apart himself.

Crystal!

I’m sorry.

Crystal!

We tried.

Crystal!

I leave you with only a piece of me. My last shard.

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THIRTEEN MONTHS EARLIER...

Silence.

Thick. Deadly. Unescapable silence.

I reached over the arm of the tub for my cellphone on a towel to try to escape this warped, imprisoning nothing that caused a ringing in my ears. This was something I should’ve been accustomed to, but I wasn’t. One could not become more familiar with what I was faced with. The inevitable. Most would rather have something very hurtful thrown at them through the lips of a lover before they succumbed to silence. The bringing of anxiety and unraveling thoughts of certain acts that either shouldn’t have been remembered, or scenarios of how other events could’ve, should’ve and would’ve played out.

Silence.

After drying my hand next to the phone, I scrolled through Instagram to catch up with my sisters so that I would have something to complain about.

That’s cute, I thought as I swiped through Diamond’s pictures of her dark red ball gown the night of her and Jerome’s shindig. I couldn’t make it, of course, because I had to come up with an excuse as to why I wanted my sister and brother-in-law to enjoy their alone time in Rome.

Sasha’s really losing weight. My little sister, next, was showing off her hard work in the gym. She and her husband made a bet over who could become more ripped abdominally before the other. He just didn’t count on Sasha being a Welch after all by multi-tasking with the kids, her patients, and hitting the gym all in the same breath. Poor Aaron. I could’ve taken that $10,000 off his hands if he just wanted to lose money like that.

Finally, my phone rang. I held my breath, closing my eyes. The number on my screen was my poison. The man who I thought I’d love forever, only if I kept giving him money and attention that I couldn’t give myself or my family. My eyes didn’t open until my phone stopped singing. Echoes of the bells I chose for a ringtone sang throughout the bathroom in runs. Then, they sounded again.

This time, it was Bando calling. Probably drunk-calling to have something to do or someone to talk to. Maybe the wench he chose over a pretty little number named Mandy was getting the better of him. That’s what he got for choosing an uppity bitch.

What? I huffed, bracing myself for one amazing conversation that he wouldn’t remember come dawn. It wasn’t the first, and as long as I was single, I was sure it wouldn’t be the last time he’d slur in my ear about things he knew I wouldn’t repeat to someone else.

Cr-Crystaaaal. He chuckled before snorting and spitting on the other end. Crystal. Hello? Helloooo!

What, fool!

He laughed a little more. I miss you, buddy. When... When are you coming back to the Land, huh?

Whenever one of my sisters come back, Bando. I rolled my eyes as if he could see me.

He kissed his teeth. Listen, yo. You need to stop swinging from their tits and come back to see me. You do know that I can come there, right?

Why are you being so possessive? You sound like a whole asshole right now.

Because! I want to be close to you, man.

Stop. Bando, just stop. You’re drunk. Are you home?

Maybe.

Are you home?

Yes.

I took in a deep breath. My last visit to Ireland almost began with a disaster. Aunt Maggie whacked Bando so hard that all he could do was fall asleep. He was so drunk that he was a part of a highspeed chase and didn’t know about it until he woke up, cuffed to a bench inside the county jail cell. He didn’t even remember getting whacked and passing out, surrounded by family and police. The last thing he needed was another DUI. Bando, sleep off the sauce.

What do you mean, Crys? I’m-I’m-I’m wiiiide awake... with aaaaall the energy in the world.

I pulled my phone away from my ear to stare at the time. I gave him three minutes at best and he would be out like a light.

No one was so sure of why he’d started drinking so much, but what they knew was that now he had a problem. Even his bar was in jeopardy. He’d started four fights there, and two biker clubs refused to come back for a visit. It has to be something terribly wrong with that picture for not one but two groups of rowdy clubs not wanting barfights to be a part of their club’s reputation.

I’m trying to ask you a... you a-a-a question, mate. See, I feel like you don’t take me seriously, yo.

Bando—

"Crys, let me talk. Can I talk? Can I speak? I wasn’t finished. That’s the problem, mate. Women— you women— don’t let men get their shit off their chest, and then you walk around mad because-because you didn’t listen, alright? This is maddening. Who-Who else am I supposed to tell this to without them turning their fekking noses up at me, bruv? Who else am I supposed to go to without them tellin’ all my dirt? Miss Crys. That’s who, bruv. Fekk anyone else, Crys. You’re the shit. You hear me? You-are-the... shit."

His phone ruffled on the other end, and that’s when my countdown began. He’d finally landed either on his bed or on his couch. Either one was fine with me. I didn’t understand what the fuck he was talking about, but at least he was safe. It was a little after ten in Atlanta, so it was mere minutes after two in the morning in Dublin. If only we could’ve gotten to the root of him being a drunk all of a sudden, I think I wouldn’t have to hold my breath before asking where he was and when he’d be home. Fact of the matter was that he was safe. For now.

WORK YOUR WAY INSIDE to the last fork and knife, Quisha preached for the umpteenth hundredth time via Facebook Messenger video call. I’d already gotten the message, but she was a perfectionist. She wanted to make sure that by the time I’d gotten to the ball and dinner that I wouldn’t look a mess.

Honestly, the only dinners I’d been to consisted of two or three of the same utensils. I guessed being around other species meant more forks and spoons.

While Q gave me the lowdown on the people who would be in attendance of this Silver and Gold Peace Ball, I was having my hair rolled, finally, so I could get dressed and head on out. My plush strip lashes were applied, along with a silver tint eyeshadow that made my lids look cold. Atop it was a dark rose gold for somewhat of a contrast. The makeup artist decided to go heavily in with the eyeliner and filled in a sharp tail at the ends of my eyes. My lips were dark purple with an ombre of silver, and she contoured my face perfectly, giving me a little highlighter and shimmer along my cheekbones and the edges of my nose and chin. The woman in the mirror I stared at wasn’t me, but she was painted to kill.

I took a deep breath as the stylist zipped up my formfitting, sweetheart neckline dress at my backside. My figure was always slim-thick with a squeezed waist, but the dress made me look as if I was built absolutely perfectly. Though it was off-the shoulders and backless, a single strap raised from the backside of the dress, wrapped around my neck to make it look as if I was wearing a choker, and had an oversized hood attached to the strap. My sleeves, however, looked to be painted onto my arms with stretching vines the color of sparkling peach from the bellbottom openings of my hands. The dress itself fit me so well that one would have to wonder how I could walk in such a well-designed and tailored dark plum-colored get-up. The trick was the mermaid bottom that flare just below my knees. My heels sparkled because of wrinkled metallic rose gold that had an overcoat of thick gloss, and showed off my pedicured dark plum-colored toes. Yes, the girl was dressed to outdo any other at the ball, but I wouldn’t be losing a slipper for a prince to find at the end of the night. In fact, I was only dressed this way because of a prince. I didn’t choose this dress or the makeup or the shoes. It all came from his designer to the person he chose to help me to get ready.

And my sisters wondered why I didn’t mind not becoming royalty. I enjoyed my freedoms.

Getting inside the limo that arrived at my apartment, I spotted a bouquet of dark purple roses with black thorns, next to a bottle of champagne and a small shopping bag. Pffsst. Was this his way of saying thank you for being his arm candy for a few hours?

I paid it no mind and hated myself for not bringing my phone with me. My sisters were to be in attendance, but I wanted to know where they were, and if they had arrived yet. Knowing Sasha and Aaron, they would’ve been there fashionably late. Diamond and Jerome would’ve been there as soon as the doors opened just to get a good seat. Di was now two months outside of giving birth to her second child—Hazyl. She’d already been to Rome, for crying out loud. To me, my sister should’ve been in the bed instead of at a gala. But that’s what she got for being a royal. All they did was dress up, shake hands, tried to command peace, and smiled when they didn’t want to.

The driver helped me out of the backseat of the stretch Cadillac. I pulled my wide hood over my head to only cover the top of my body-wave hair. People who walked the carpet weren’t those I was trying not to be familiar with. Attending enough dinners and get-togethers you’d see a lot of the same false faces. These people were different. They looked different. They carried themselves differently. They were, of course, royalty of different species.

But she caught my attention the moment I entered the building. Skin as white as snow. Hair the color of copper; so healthy and shiny; flat over her shoulders. Her dress was that of an aristocrat woman with a tailored waist and