War and His Queen (Carpe Noctem #1) Read Online Amo Jones

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Dark, Forbidden, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Carpe Noctem Series by Amo Jones
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Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
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Stella strolls back through the doors, sitting opposite Priest. “What’d I miss?”

We're not surprised when she shows up wearing a tight strapless gray top, a short denim skirt, denim thigh-high boots, and crystal tassel chains. The girls all have a similar style, in the sense that they don’t ever follow any rules. One day they’ll be in heels, the next it will be Jordans or Uggs.

Except for River. River is pretty consistent with her aesthetic.

I kick my boot up on the coffee table, allowing my eyes to rest on the swarm of people outside. On any other day, I’d probably grab one just to sit on my dick and look pretty, but right now, I don’t want to. I can’t even say why.

“Nothing. Halen wants to start a train.” Vaden gestures to where she sits.

“Oh, are you driving, Hale?” Stella asks, turning her focus to Halen.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Hmmm…” I push up from the chair and swipe a bottle of whiskey on my way out the doors. “I ain’t driving anywhere.”

Music fucks my senses as I push through bodies. The parties get old, especially with time, but they’re still a perfect distraction for us. Especially a few days before we’re set to fly out.

I lift the bottle to my lips, swirling the liquid around my mouth until it hits the back of my throat. Halen catches my eye through the window, where they’re all still seated inside, and I reach out to catch the first set of hands that land in mine.

Warm. Nothing like the ice queen inside.

I tug her into my chest, raising my finger to the side of her jaw. I don’t even know her name, but she’s pretty. She’ll do. “I’m bored.”

“We can’t have that.” Her fingers trail up my chest before curling to the back of my head. She pulls me down until her lips brush my ear. “And I have a friend.”

I bury my hand in her hair and tug her in close, until my teeth sink into her bottom lip. “Then I’m no longer bored.”

“Hey, bitches!” Halen stands outside, one hand on her hip and the other twirling her keys. “Who wants to burn rubber?”

I shift backward. Yeah, timing is not suspicious at all.

“She’s bossy,” the girl in front of me says.

“Ah—” the other girl murmurs, snatching the keys off her flirty little friend. “She’s Halen fucking Hayes. You do as you’re told.”

The corner of my mouth slowly lifts in a wicked smirk. That you do.

I watch as the dark clouds roll over the thick trees in the distance, coming to a stop where we are in the town center. Perdita isn’t a place for the mundane. It’s an island completely owned by the Elite Kings.

It’s a weapon.

Historically, Perdita has always been run by one of the Founding Families: the Stuprum bloodline.

My mother’s bloodline.

Only when it was time for her to reign, she declined the crown and handed it down to another, who was the one who ran it to this day. When you wear the crown of Perdita, you become Katsia. It can get confusing as fuck when you flick through our family grimoires, especially now, since the old Katsia wasn’t the next Katsia-in-line’s biological mom, but that didn’t matter to the old one—for whatever reason. She cared about the girl enough to crown and love her as much as a Katsia could love. People don’t know this as it is classified information, but even the old Katsia wasn’t of pure bloodline, since my mother was the last living Stuprum and they whacked off all the others, including Mom’s sister.

“Boys,” Hector Hayes announces through an ashtray for a throat. He’d done two terms of presidency. He may have kept America happy—well, sixty percent—but most people hate him. And those that hate him? They still fear him.

Bishop isn’t like Hector. He rules the Kings down a path of destruction, sure, but he has a moral compass.

“I hate that flight.” Priest stretches out his arms, clicking his neck. We stand out the front of an iron gate with tips as sharp as swords. The house itself is modern, designed with glass windows as walls which display the main street of town behind us. High towered ceilings and corpulent overgrown shrubs manicure the footpath. Flowers grow through the foliage, but they lack vibrancy. Almost withered.

“What did you think, Vaden?” Hector lifts his eyes to V who stands beside me.

Vaden stares back at Hector. “I think I’m ready.”

Hector smirks wide, his cheeks creasing as he slowly turns back to the gate. He looks up to a camera that’s pointing down and twirls his finger in the air. “If you haven’t figured it out, I’ll be doing your training. Teaching you the fundamentals of a King. Most you know, some you don’t, others you will soon find out, and those I don’t show you, already live within you. You just need to rip the layers of humanity off to reveal the roots before you water the seed.”


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