Rose Bound: The Rose and King series Book 1

by J. J. Marshall

  “It does not excuse their actions, but their actions define them in the eyes of our Maker. Our actions define us. Letting that boy go was the right choice, you will see,” her mother replied. Her voice wavered, drowned out by the group once more. Oliver leaned in closer, resting his hand on a tree and craned his neck.

  He wanted to know more.

  Needed to.

  “Don’t move,” a young voice commanded from behind him.

  Ollie turned despite the warning and came face-to-face with an arrow. His eyes focused on the point. Ollie gulped. Fuck... He knew he could break the arrow, but the silver tip, well, one touch of that to his flesh and he would be down for days.

  A shiver ran down his spine. He imagined the horrid night sweats, the vivid fever-induced dreams that would follow blistering flesh. He knew he did not want to experience that again, not any time soon.

  “I told you not to move, wolf,” the girl hissed again. Her Cajun skin had been disguised within the shadows of the trees, but here, now, he could make out her every feature. Young, likely still adolescent, but worn like that of a warrior, he knew that this girl had witnessed awful things, perhaps even done them to survive. Her hair fell in a sheet of black down her back and crushed red raspberries painted her cheeks in war-paint smears.

  Oliver raised his hands in front of him, exposing his palms to the girl. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he replied quietly.

  “Then why are you spying like a mongrel in the shadows?”

  Ollie remained silent, ignoring the ever-present canine insults relentlessly tossed his way. No answer he gave would be accepted by the warrior. Keeping his mouth shut would equally save him as it would serve as his impending doom.

  “Tora!” the girl barked.

  A rustle from behind him told Oliver that the leader had shifted her position and was approaching the pair. The cool prick of metal bit into his back as Ollie’s muscles tensed, confirming his suspicions. It took all that the wolf had not to turn and overpower the woman behind him. No. That would only complicate his situation and create an enemy he did not want nor need.

  “Lass, I’m just trying to pass through,” Ollie said, his breath coming out in a rush.

  “Looks like you chose the wrong way home,” Tora snarled.

  The hairs on Ollie’s neck stood on end as his skin prickled. A flush brightened his cheeks. Was it being caught or her voice so close to his ear that brought the blood rushing to unwanted places?

  Tora pressed her blade harder into the fabric of his shirt, the tip tearing the fabric, pushing against his flesh. Fiery pain erupted through his back. Silver. Fucking goddess-be-damned silver. Ollie winced. If he couldn’t get the bandit to remove the silver, the horrible side effects would begin and he would be rendered useless. He didn’t have that kind of time.

  “Lassie, kindly remove your spike from my back and let me be. The hours wane and I have other more pleasurable things to do than stand here.” His patience was wearing thin. Gavin was close. He could scent him now with the shifting wind.

  “He had a weapon,” the girl before him gritted out, arrow still poised to strike.

  “Drop your weapons, puppy dog,” Tora issued with a nod. Ollie silently cursed himself. He had foolishly sheathed Rose’s dagger while eavesdropping, the very thing they were accusing him of. Something he had not yet denied. Rose… Shit. If she woke before he got back, she’d come looking for him, and her vibrant spirit would stir the shit-pot he currently found himself in.

  “Where exactly were you headed?” Tora’s voice was again in his ear. Almost too close.

  “Searching for a bit of privacy. Nothing else. Now, will ya please remove the damned dagger and let me go?” Oliver stifled the annoyance that was growing in his own voice. If there was to be a blade to part of his body, this woman was not the one he wanted holding it there. A flash of blonde hair and steel paraded through his mind like a lucky reminder of what he could not have.

  Tora inhaled deeply. “I smell a woman on you. Where might she be?” she pushed. Ollie’s heart beat faster. Had Rose’s perfume rubbed off on him somehow?

  “I don’t see how it concerns ye, lass.” He kept his voice clipped.

  “Aye, you’re right. However, you’re in my here trees now, mutt, and that means your business is no longer your own.” Tora circled around him, trailing her silver blade across his ribs. Pain seared red-hot in his side, bubbling and burning the flesh, leaving a bloodied path in its wake. Still, Ollie remained motionless, unfazed by her tactics. He’d been tortured before. Hell, before Gavin rescued his arse and took over as his manager in the Pits, Palmer had tortured him for every fight lost. This? This was child’s play. As long as she kept the blade shallow, his wolf could battle the silver.

  “Speak, dog!” the huntress harped.

  Ollie’s lips perked upwards as a grin pulled onto his face. He shrugged nonchalantly and said, “Ya know, this would be kinkier in a bed. Or perhaps you’d like to strap me up? Mix a little pain with some pleasure, eh?” Tora scoffed at the remark and buried her blade between Ollie’s ribs. Fuck, she did it.

  He let out a howl. The pain scorched at him from within. Stars danced before Ollie’s eyes and hot sticky blood poured from him. He could feel his bones crack and shift before he could react, trying to mend the wound from his other form. His fur would staunch the blood. Ollie knew that he needed to shift, but doing so, would leave a bloody aftermath in his wake.

  Ollie’s cuticles tore as his nails turned to claws. His back popped and hunched, bringing him down to his knees. The shift would be quick and painless. Sandy fur sprung around his arms, torso, and legs. His vision blurred and then everything went red.

  12

  Rose

  Rose jolted awake as screams tore through the silence. The hairs on the back of her neck stood and the spot where Ollie had been was vacant. A knot formed deep within her gut, twisting in on itself tenfold. Rose sat up and rubbed the crust from her eyes before scanning the surrounding area, searching, nay, praying, for any sign of the wolf she was falling head over heels for. Nothing. The vampiress pushed to her feet and turned in place. There were trees as far as her eyes could see.

  “Ollie!” she called out, her voice echoing in the air until it was lost and silence greeted her. “Dawson?” A slow panic grew in her chest as the screams became more distinct, more discernible.

  “Shit,” she hissed, grabbing for her twin daggers, strapping them to her hip. She didn’t bother with the bed roll before she trudged into the trees. He had better have a good explanation for this!

  Leaves crunched quietly beneath her feet as Rose neared the commotion, paying close attention to the placement of her boots. A snap of a twig, and her location would be given away. She slowed her pace and inched forward cautiously. Shadows shifted before her and it took Rose’s vampire eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness that had set in on the forest. She stood on a hill, hidden within the brush, looking down into a hollow. Rose gasped sharply as an enormous sandy-colored wolf backed into trees not far from where she stood.

  Ollie...

  Rose rested her hand on a nearby trunk and scanned the area, searching for the cause of Ollie’s change. Not far from where she stood was a group of female bandits circling and closing in on Ollie. They moved, pushing him farther into the tree line. Blood seeped down his flanks, staining his shiny coat. Rose’s breath caught. They’d hurt her wolf.

  A woman with dark braids down her back prowled toward the wolf, blade out, ready to strike. She twirled the dagger between her fingers and took another step toward the giant wolf. Ollie backed into a tree, surrounded, and bared his teeth.

  Rose’s fingers grasped at her twin blades, unsheathing them. The cool leather hilt of her knives greeted her and without thinking, she flung one of her blades toward the woman advancing on Ollie. It skimmed her cheek and lodged into the bark above Ollie’s shoulder. The wolf’s eyes shot to her, recognition flaring in their depths. He snarled before focusing his attentio
n back on the bandits.

  The woman turned slowly. A crimson line ran down her cheek, stark against her dark skin. Rose sauntered down the embankment before stopping short of the group and placed her hands on her hips.

  “I believe you’re fucking with the wrong wolf, ladies. That one’s taken.” Though the woman was much taller than Rose, fear did not cross the heiress’s mind. She’d fought against tougher opponents in more dangerous situations back in the Pits.

  Ollie was panting hard in the background, fighting to change back and regain control. His torn clothes at his paws told her that his change was suddenly sparked. Anger tore through her. No doubt he had transitioned in hopes of keeping this threat from her.

  Rose flicked her tongue over her fangs and smirked. She took out her other blade and twirled it in her hand, mocking the way the braided woman had moments before. “I’d suggest you step away, now. He doesn’t take kindly to being berated by women. And I fill that quota on the regular, so…” Steel glinted and Rose casually turned her head to the left, narrowly missing the knife. Her heart sped up but she did not let on. A snarl ripped from Ollie’s throat as Rose held up a hand toward him.

  “I’ve got this,” she said. Ollie pawed impatiently at the ground, leaving long tracks in the soft earth. “Now, that was not very nice,” Rose pouted, dramatically poking out her bottom lip.

  “I never said I was nice, fangbanger. Just who the fuck are you?” the woman demanded, her shoulders rising and falling more quickly now.

  “I don’t see how that is any of your business.” A grin played at the heiress’s lips as she twirled her second dagger between her fingers. “But since you asked so nicely,” she said, piling on the sarcasm, “I’m Rose and that’s Ollie, and we really need to leave now.”

  “I’m Tora and these are my Black Widows, and you’re not going anywhere.”

  Dark eyes met hers but no recognition lit them, only sinister curiosity. Ollie shuddered behind her, a growl on his maw. Rose huffed a breath. “Please,” she added, rolling her eyes. She hated to beg. She hated to bow to these women, but Rose knew the change was painful and the sooner Ollie was back in his hunky form, the better.

  A wicked smile crossed the dark girl’s face. “I rather like this sick game. A vamp hoity-toity bitch gallantly defending her pet. How precious is this, girls?” Silence crept through the trees. There were no murmured agreements.

  Ollie rounded, moving faster than Rose had ever seen in the ring. His teeth snapped around the closest bandit’s neck, tearing out her throat. Blood splayed through the air, painting the trees with gore. It spouted from his maw as he lunged for his next victim, leaving the previous one to collapse to the ground in a heap of shredded carnage. His eyes glinted red with fever.

  Rose’s mind whirled.

  She needed to stop Ollie before he came for her next, and before he tore through every being here, leaving him to wake filled with guilt.

  “Out of my way, bitch,” Rose hissed. Bolstering her blade, she took in a nervous breath and shoved past the woman in front of her. She stood before Ollie and the girl. Ollie bared his teeth; no recollection of her peppering his features, not anymore. He was on the attack and she only prayed that her next move wouldn’t be her last. Ollie snapped in her direction but she put her hands out in front of her in a show of submission.

  “Ollie, it’s me. Look at me.” Rose’s breath hitched, her heart hammering against her ribcage as the wolf lunged forward again. Rose dodged to the right.

  “Dawson, you fuck!” Pushing her legs into overdrive, she watched Ollie barrel toward the bandit again, scraping a canine against Rose’s shoulder.

  “Shit,” she cursed under her breath. Hot liquid pooled from her shoulder, running a slow stream down her arm. “Damnit, Ollie, I loved this shirt!” She hoped that a spark of her personality would jar something in him; quail the beast with familiarity.

  Rose leaped into action, her legs screaming as she moved with immortal speed and lunged at the girl, tackling her to the ground. Air whooshed from her lungs as each girl gasped for breaths. Rose’s lungs screamed, and she shut her eyes. They were safe for the moment. Peeling her lids open, Rose pushed to her feet, pulling the bandit with her.

  “Get. Up!” She ordered. Tora doubled over, resting her hands upon her knees as she struggled to breathe.

  Ollie showed no hesitation as he whirled toward her again. He truly was unrecognizable in this form. Rose’s throat tightened, a lump catching within it. She feared she wouldn’t be able to shift him back, and if the girl left in tatters was any indication, this was not going to end well.

  “Hey, beastie boy!” the bandit shouted. Rose watched Ollie advert his attention, a grunt huffing through his nose as he whirled on her. The leader drew her own pair of twin daggers holstered at her hips and twirled them before catching them at the hilt.

  “This is going to be so much fun,” Tora muttered under her breath. “Does the puppy want to play? Catch me if you can.” Murder flared within Ollie’s eyes before he barreled toward her, flanks heaving.

  Tora smiled, her wicked grin widening across her face as she reeled back, releasing a dagger into the air. Rose heard the blade whiz by, burying itself into the trunk of a nearby tree, just inches from Ollie’s head. Anger bubbled within her chest. If this bitch hurt Ollie again, then Rose was going to hurt a bitch.

  Ollie continued forward, never faltering. He was in it for the kill. Tora rolled to the side seconds before Ollie was in her spot. Dirt flecked her hair and leathers, but the bandit didn’t seem to care.

  “Is that all you’ve got there, doggy?” she taunted. Ollie whirled again, snapping his teeth. Tora rolled, leaving a massive oak tree in her wake and Ollie hadn’t anticipated her dodge. His head made a sickening crack against the trunk, reverberating through the forest around them.

  Rose cringed, her heart skipping a beat as bile lurched its way up her throat. She raised a hand to her lips and closed her eyes. Sour liquid filled her mouth as she fought to push her nausea down.

  “Aww, puppy doesn’t want to play,” Tora snickered, sauntering toward the fallen beast. Rose’s eyes widened. Her breath hitched and mouth fell agape.

  Anger faded from Ollie’s eyes. Rose stood there, staring at Ollie as he started to change back into his human form.

  Naked, purely and wholly naked as the day he was born. Rose shifted her attention to Tora, who met her stare with a shrug. Her fingers danced with the dagger unsheathed in her hand. Tora turned, raking her eyes up and down Ollie’s body, a smile playing on her lips as she took in his manhood. She paused, and turning her back to Rose, said, “Get him out of here before he kills another one of my sisters.”

  Her gait was slow as she walked away from the pair. Rose watched in silence, unsure of whether she should count her blessings and flee with the wolf or stay and help bury the young woman.

  “Condolences on your sister. I, myself, am missing a sister. And it is no pain I would wish on anyone.” Rose rang her hands in front of her.

  Tora simply nodded, a solemn expression overtaking her beautiful face.

  13

  Gavin

  Gavin retreated to his chamber, not wanting to be around the halls in case Lorelei was lurking about. He’d had enough of her and she’d just arrived. His chamber was dark, the scent of his last cigarillo lingered in the air. Gavin fished his hand into his pocket and pulled out his matchbook and pack. Pulling a smoke, he lifted it to his lips. The taste of clove filled his mouth as he flicked a match to life and lit the end. Smoke invigorated his senses, calming Gavin’s nerves. He closed his eyes and sucked in a drag, slowly releasing it, before crossing his room to the hearth. He relished the drag, fumbling around with wood as he worked on stoking a fire. Flames licked at the timber, crackling in no time.

  Then, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his trousers, he paced and waited for a knock on his door. He’d asked the servants to bring him a bloodwhore, someone to quench his thirst and his carnal needs, but sh
e was yet to be seen. His fangs ached, and his balls throbbed. He stopped, his fingers trailing down to his pants button as they slipped it from his loop. He reached his hand down, as a knock sounded at the door.

  Just in time. He needed release and relief. Crossing the room, Gavin’s hand clasped the cool metal knob and he yanked the door open, revealing a young redheaded woman with freckles peppering her nose and cheeks. She wore a white dress, an uncommon color for bloodwhores to wear. Something that distinguished her from the rest, he supposed and smiled.

  “My name is Kail,” she replied. “I was sent from Madam Juniper’s Bordello.” Gavin remained silent, issuing her in. He knew the bordello well. Located in East Tatum, Madam Juniper’s was a high-end house for royals to frequent as they pleased. The Madam’s girls were always young and beautiful and taught how to please their guests in all manners.

  She walked with a swing in her hips that told Gavin that he was not the first royal she’d serviced and he’d hardly be the last. He closed the door behind her and turned on his heel. Heat rushed into his cheeks and nethers as his heart thrummed faster within his chest.

  An orange glow permeated the room, dancing and casting shadows upon the cold stone walls. Firelight flickered in the woman’s eyes and across her milky chest. The sound of crackling wood played low in the background, setting the mood. Gavin swallowed and motioned for Kail to take a seat on the crushed velvet loveseat before the fire. She obliged and Gavin took up next to her.

  There would be no formalities.

  No discussion.

  Just business.

  He leaned in, closing the space and nuzzled his face into her neck. He inhaled, noting the lavender soap that clung to her skin and trailed kisses up to her lips. He grazed his fangs across her bottom lip, nicking the skin enough for blood to pool along the creases. His tongue slowly lapped up the delicious liquid, noting the tangy taste, before he pressed his lips against hers.