Page 71 of Midnight Queen

Rowena prowls to the middle of the aisle. Her venomous green eyes glare at us, a look of pure hatred on her face. “You’re so blinded by your disgusting infatuation with her that you can’t even tell how humiliating this whole thing was,” she spits at me. “I don’t care what information she may or may not have on me. I will never take orders from a fucking human.”

Quincey scoffs, her arms twisting through mine while her head rests on my shoulder. “Let’s be honest here, Rowena. You don’t hate me because I’m human. You hate me because I have something that you will never have again.”

The redhead’s lips pull back in a snarl, her perfectly shaped white fangs flashing. “He’ll soon grow bored of you, Quincey, and when he does, I’ll be there to set him on the right path.” The vampire leaves the building in a blur before any more verbal spars can be exchanged.

I’m truly starting to believe that Rowena’s days are numbered.

“How the fuck do I get this off?” a vampire shouts in frustration, his fingers carefully patting the collar for a latch of some kind.

Quincey shrugs halfheartedly. “I couldn’t tell you, but I wish you the best of luck at figuring it out,” her tone trips with false sweetness. “I can only suggest you do itverycarefully.”

Lorcan nods in agreement. “Yeah, the guy I got them from said they were pretty unstable.” His palm slams against the man’s shoulder in a patronizing pat, making the man’s body shake. His eyes grow wide, and he freezes in place, expecting the device to go off.

Lor laughs at the man’s reaction. “I would recommend trying to remove it in a tiled space, like your bathroom. That way if you set it off, they don’t have to scrub your brain matter from the carpets.”

Quincey chokes on a laugh and bumps her fist against Lor’s when he offers it. Their lighthearted relationship hasn’t changed in the slightest since the events the other night.

The easy smile that had started to cross her face falls when her eyes lock on something. My head turns in time to watch as Bria flies across the room in a blur toward us. On instinct, I tuck Quincey behind my arm, bracing for an attack.

But Bria isn’t coming for us, her target is Lor. Or more so what he carries in his hand.

The element of surprise makes Lor’s reaction a millisecond too late and the woman snatches the detonator out of Lorcan’s fingertips.

Bria turns to her mate with an immeasurable amount of pain in her eyes.

Álvaro barely has time to gasp her name before Bria hits the button that has his name written on it.

“No!” Quincey screams but it’s too late.

The sound of the device detonating is louder than you’d expect from such a small bomb. It causes the stained-glass windows to shake but it’s not the noise that’s most concerning. It’s the hot spray of blood and bodily material splashing across everything andeveryonein a fifteen-mile radius.

Quincey yelps, turning her body into mine, but the damage has already been done. Every inch of her body is speckled in red. The white dress she wears now looks like a crime scene.

Álvaro’s headless body crashes into an empty pew, and it lands awkwardly over top of it.

For thirty seconds, everyone is too stunned to make any noise or move an inch.

It’s Bria who moves first. With a final look at her deceased mate, she holds the blood-covered remote out to Lorcan.

The Irishman plucks it from her fingers and offers her a very sardonic, “Thanks.”

She simply nods once and walks away; her blood-soaked heels leave a trail of footprints to the exit.

“Bria,” Quincey tries to call to her, but it’s no use.

I truly do not know how Bria is going to cope with such a rash decision. I know firsthand what it feels like to end the life of your significant other, and I wouldn’t wish that crushing weight on anyone.

The other vampires wearing collars look rightfully petrified, and one by one they stiffly leave the church after Bria.

“Holyfuck,” Quincey curses harshly from behind the blood-stained hand she holds in front of her mouth. “Good call about the tile, Lor.”

The pair shares a look, and as if they’d had a telepathic conversation, they look at me and at the same time declare, “I’m not cleaning this up.”

Shaking my head at the two of them, I pull the pocket square from my suit. Part of it has blood spray on it, but it’s clean for the most part. Holding Quincey’s face, I begin to wipe what I can away. “You have a lot of explaining to do,Mon Soleil.”

“I know.”

Not caring if there’s still blood on our faces, I dip my head a press a kiss to her mouth. “I’m proud of you, Quincey.”

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