Wicked crown, p.1
Wicked Crown, page 1
Wicked Crown
LUNA JOYA
WICKED CROWN
By
Luna Joya
Copyright © 2022 Luna Joya
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Edited by Tee Tate.
Cover Design by MiblArt.
All stock photos licensed appropriately.
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Published in the United States by City Owl Press.
www.cityowlpress.com
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For information on subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher at info@cityowlpress.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior consent and permission of the publisher.
Praise for the Works of Luna Joya
“Wicked Crown is an enchanting, adventurous, and sizzling-hot page-turner of a romance!” — Award-winning author, Abigail Owen
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“A witch and an FBI agent find love while solving a years-old murder in the wickedly delightful second paranormal romance in Joya’s Legacy series. The anticipation is delicious, and the eventual romance is well worth the wait. This sexy love story will entice longtime paranormal fans and draw in new readers.” — Publishers Weekly
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“Passionate and heartfelt, Wicked Crown delivers! Step into the goblin realm where court intrigue mixes with page-turning plot, Joya’s electric foray into fantasy romance.” — J.E. McDonald, author of the Wickwood Chronicles
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“A magical debut full of unique, complex characters, fabulous sisterhood and an adorable dog. Who could ask for anything more?” — Felicia Grossman, Historical Romance Author
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“With fast paced, heart pounding, thrilling suspense and fantastic displays of supernatural powers, Magic Touch is a paranormal delight! The romance isn’t anything to sneeze at either! There is romance echoing through time and scorching the present. Readers will feel the heat of instant attraction and the sorcery of levitating passions.” – InD’tale
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“Tides of Time was one of those reads that kept my hands locked around my e-reader and my butt firmly planted in my chair. This book promises witchy mystery and romance, and it doesn’t disappoint.” — Evie Drae, author of Queer Romance
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“A HOT romance with excellent chemistry between the characters, and a paranormal aspect that was both intriguing and contained a unique spin on magical powers.” — Amber K. Bryant, Award-Winning Author
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“Highly enjoyable. I was engaged from beginning to end. I was delighted in the different ways the author chose to incorporate magic into the book. These characters were well written. I hope to read more about these witchy sisters! I loved the chemistry between Cami and Sam. A wonderful debut for Luna Joya.” — The Literary Vixen
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“Killing Song is the high-octane third paranormal romance in Joya’s Legacy series. Joya holds the reader in her grip with action-packed intrigue and an expertly paced will-they-or-won’t-they. The satisfying ending still leaves plenty of room for the series to continue; readers will be eager to see that it does.” — Publisher’s Weekly
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“Heart and Seek is a powerhouse of political intrigue, magical secrets, and sexy characters… For readers who love witches flexing their magical muscle, who drool over an intricate plot, and who believe that a love match should always prevail over a power match – this is it! This is a fabulous read. What will the delightfully devious Luna Joya bring us next?” — InD’tale
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“Joya sends out her Legacy series with an enticing fifth paranormal romance, Flash Point, that finds the five Donovan sisters working to defeat the demon Nymvyra once and for all. The emotional friends-to-lovers romance plays out as a tantalizing tug-of-war between Mina and Josh, while the multilayered suspense plot provides satisfying answers to series-long questions. Readers are sure to be pleased.” — Publisher’s Weekly
For Hannah Felicia,
my sister-in-crime
Want even more from Luna Joya? Read MAGIC TOUCH and be sure to sign-up to receive all the news and updates at lunajoya.com/newsletter/
A witch with secrets, her reluctant protector, and a murder to solve. What could possibly go wrong?
Delia Donovan has everything under control.
Keep her family’s magical secrets hidden? No problem.
Rein in her own witchy powers? Easy.
Join a clandestine FBI task force to solve a cold case murder? She’s got it covered.
But ignoring the intense sexual chemistry she has with the cocky jerk who heads her security detail? Well, that’s another story.
The last thing Mark Cavan wants on his team is a supernatural Lawyer Barbie who traipses through crime scenes in designer clothes and stilettos. But he needs a magical asset to solve the case, and Delia is the perfect witch for the job.
He’ll just have to somehow ignore his growing attraction to the infuriating woman. Seems doable…right?
It’s not long before Mark learns there’s more to Delia than meets the eye—and Delia realizes that falling for Mark would be the easiest—and most complicated—thing she’s ever done.
But they’ll need to put their feelings on the back burner if they want to catch the murderer…before they become the next victims.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Sneak Peek of Magic Touch
Find Your Next Read
Want More City Owl Press Books?
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Publisher
Additional Titles
Chapter
One
Vori hoped she’d found the right sex dungeon—the one with the Hollywood mogul who had an amethyst from the goblin’s wicked crown. She had less than a month to return home to that realm with the six missing jewels.
If she didn’t get home with these rocks, she’d be screwed.
Because forfeiting a blood vow meant a painful death.
The mogul fed his fetish at this sex dungeon every Wednesday night. Hump night. So appropriate. As hidden as anything could be in Los Angeles, the place sat at the top of a winding one-lane road just below the Hollywood sign.
She’d taken so many wrong turns on her Ducati motorcycle in the labyrinth of twists leading up the hill that she’d lost count. She checked the address for the gazillionth time.
This had to be a sick joke.
Someone had built the pleasure club inside a massive storybook cottage that looked as though the witch from “Hansel and Gretel” owned it—if she’d been a West Coast power player into expensive kink.
Shrink the place to a fraction of the size, add legs, and it could be Baba Yaga’s house. Vori’s pulse raced as if she’d run an hour at her goblin fastest. With weeks left on her agreement with Baba, surely the old crone wouldn’t come all this way to collect early.
No, it simply had to be another place for humans to pursue fantasies outside their considered norms. A floodlight cast a ringed halo over the spindly turrets and crooked gables. Muffled sirens blared from the silver-screen city far below. She scanned the street, looking for the mogul’s car. No luck.
Leaving her motorcycle at the curb, she hurried past the cameras on the front of the house. Humans didn’t know about magic, which made it too risky to hide herself with the shadow powers she’d been gifted by a faerie queen at birth.
She looked through the windows of the garage next to the house. A luxury sports car gleamed atomic tangerine. Score. She’d found the mogul. Her pulse kicked into a rhythm as fast as her celebrity-status-gets-me-out-of-tickets driving.
The front door creaked open. Damn, she’d been here less than thirty seconds. Someone must’ve been watching the surveillance feed. She glanced at her Cartier watch, running her fingers over the gold to calm her adrenaline spike. She was right on time for the private midnight tour. Punctuality was necessary in both of her chosen fields. A
“Hello?” A petite redhead in staggeringly tall heels stood in the doorway. Her voice was a melody of naughty promises, her sweater set more suited to prep schools and pearls than pain and pleasure. “Miss V?” Names weren’t allowed in sex dungeons. Privacy came with the six-figure annual membership fees.
“I’m here for the tour.” Vori stepped into the light, risking the same momentary blindness as each time she strutted a runway.
“Oh.” The word puffed out in a squeak of starstruck recognition. The redhead straightened another impossible inch. “Miss V indeed. Come in, please.” She pivoted on those seven-inch heels without wobbling, something that had taken months of tumbles for Vori to perfect.
Taking a suck-it-up breath, Vori followed her inside. It was just a house, a nonmagical human house turned sex dungeon. Nothing to do with Baba Yaga. Still, she traced her fingers along the gold-threaded corset under her designer jacket. Goblins and gold went together like supermodels and stilettos.
“I’m Petra, and I’ll be your guide.” The redhead led her through a foyer that featured whimsical stained glass and soft pastels. It was inviting, unlike the depressing medieval prison vibe of most sex dungeons. “I understand your time is limited.”
“Yes, I have an international flight tomorrow.” To Paris for a quick promo shoot and a lead on another amethyst.
Petra hummed her disappointment and waved at a wardrobe selection that rivaled the designer racks for fashion shows. “Our dressing rooms. We have clothes and footwear for every desire. Schoolgirl, leather-clad warrior, nun—”
“Witch? Given the looks of the place, I was half afraid an evil hag might wait inside to gobble me up.”
“Good thing no one believes in magic.”
Oh, but witches were real. Some good, some horrible, some she counted as friends. Of course, she’d made her blood vow to Baba Yaga, the most powerful witch of all.
They walked into a long hallway, painted bright white with gleaming hardwood floors. Mirrors on the walls gave the illusion of wide-open spaces.
A huge red “Surveillance System in Use” sign was posted on every door. No way could she be filmed here. Not if she was going to snatch the amethyst. “There are cameras inside?”
“The safety of our clientele and staff is imperative.”
“I appreciate the concern for safety, but with my career, I can’t risk a video.” As a model known for magazine spreads involving lingerie or less, she could recover from a celebrity sex scandal, but she couldn’t recover from being exposed as a thief.
Petra slid closer, her cashmere sweater brushing against Vori’s skin like a kiss. “For you, we’ll turn off the cameras.”
Ooh, a fan. This had possibilities. “But what if I like to watch? You know, watch others being taped.” Their cameras had to feed into a room somewhere, and a glance at the screens might help her find the mogul with the amethyst.
“This way.” Petra led her into a retro kitchen. “If anyone asks, you’ve never been in here.”
“Understood.”
Bold red appliances stood out against the white counters and cabinets. Cellophane wraps littered one table, and dirty pots filled the sink. Nothing sexy to see here.
“The monitor for our surveillance.” Petra pointed to a small bank of video screens in the corner. A grainy feed showed five treatment rooms, each play space staged with kink equipment ranging from swings to crosses to cages.
Vori skimmed the scenes, stopping to note an ornate gilded throne that both tantalized and tortured given her family history. Now wasn’t the time to dwell. She had to concentrate on finding that amethyst.
She didn’t need to wait long. The screens flashed, and there was the mogul.
He sat at a miniature table at a child’s tea set, extending his pinky over a tiny cup’s handle. The innocent pose didn’t match the tattoos on his hand that marked the violent crimes he’d committed. The amethyst set in his ring sparkled in the low light.
She wanted to reach through the screen and grab it. “Any chance I can ask to join in the current scene?”
Petra crowded close. “Normally, I would say no. We stagger arrival and departure times to protect anonymity as much as the fantasy. But that client might make an exception for you. Perhaps next time?”
Vori needed that stone now. She had only three weeks until the blood vows came due on her twenty-sixth birthday. The day she’d dreaded since she’d made those promises to Baba Yaga.
Find the stones. Return home. Kill the beast.
The looming deadline made her sick. There could be no more pretending and procrastinating. Vori had two of the stones, several reasons she would prefer to stay in the human world, and no wish to confront any beast other than the one in the mirror when she slipped skins. “I can’t join him tonight?”
“No.” Petra’s answer came quickly, definite and bitter. “That client doesn’t tolerate delays.” Her words tumbled out like a whip’s snap before a crack that would split skin, as if a lesson of pain raced beneath.
“I see.” Vori would need to be extra rough in removing the goblin stone from a power-hungry, greed-fueled man who’d provoked that kind of fear.
“But you’ll come back?” Petra’s pitch climbed, the earlier sweetness and uncertainty returning. “Ask for me?”
“Next time.” Time was ticking. The mogul left the creepy play area with the amethyst. She needed to go after him.
“I’ll hold you to it.”
“I promise.” Vori ducked out the back door and hurried after the mogul.
His bright-orange car rumbled down the street, its brake lights blinking a brilliant scarlet in the darkness. This was her chance. Collect the third amethyst, and she would have half of the stones in this realm. But she’d have to catch up with him now or risk losing him in the tangled twist of roads.
She hung a U-turn so fast her Ducati almost touched the asphalt, but a streak of orange ahead was her reward. The mogul rounded a hairpin curve.
Movement flashed in her peripheral vision. A massive creature aimed for the mogul’s car like a missile. The blaring screech of tires had Vori braking her motorcycle to a sudden stop.
Her heart raced, her mouth went dry, and time seemed to slow as if the moment had been trapped in a horror-induced fog.
No, no, no.
The car jerked to the right, its fender clipping a guardrail and sending it spinning. Sparks flew yellow and orange. Its hood slammed into a concrete wall in a bang of crumpled metal and shattered glass.
What kind of creature had attacked? And where had it gone? The stink of smoke and rubber stung her nose. She needed to call for help, to do something.
She voice dialed Alexei. Her adopted cousin would know what to do. Her gasps for air almost drowned out the phone’s ringing in the helmet’s speakers.
“Vorishka?” Alexei’s deep voice made the endearment gruff.
“I…” She swallowed past the panic knots tightening her throat.
“What’s wrong?” He clipped the question machine-gun fast.
