Kill Knox, and it would slow down the search for a cure, but ultimately, he was replaceable. I didn’t like that thought, because Phineas had become more like a brother to me. It wasn’t something I ever acknowledged, but all my beliefs and opinions had been blasted to smithereens now that I’d lost everything.
But to touch her, to defile her virtue, to sully her very body—that was unforgivable.
No matter how hard I rode, or the many villages and towns I stopped at, the results were the same.
No one had seen her or the villain who had stolen her. There were no leads. No witnesses came forward, despite the generous reward I offered for information. I didn’t care how insignificant the news was, either. I was prepared to pay handsomely for a mere glimpse of her.
It had rendered me a desperate man, and that irritated me. What was needed now was force and ruthlessness. Instead, I acted like a panicked, lovesick male who’d lost his mind over a woman.
On and on I rode, chasing shadows until I had to finally admit defeat. I was tired. I was hungry. I had to return to feeding on stragglers late at night as they stumbled home from the local tavern. My impatience made me brutal—my thirst demanding its fill.
Yet, here I was again at Smithersby Field, alone.
Stabling the horse and leaving instructions with the boy I’d hired to care for the beasts, I headed toward the house, but found myself lured to the private glen in the woods.
The headstone seemed to glow beneath the moonlight, an eerie beckoning from the ghost that still haunted me.
Primrose.
It had all begun with her, and now another grave would be dug to hold my beloved Catriona.
It would be a testament to the two women I had failed terribly.
Sinking onto the bench, I buried my face in my hands and wept. Hot tears streaked down my cheeks, clinging for a moment under my chin before falling to the ground. I didn’t bother hiding the raw emotion consuming me.
I felt it—all of it.
“Marcus?”
The sound of my name made me jump with surprise. I hadn’t heard anyone approach, and while my soul rejoiced in hearing Knox speak, it couldn’t extinguish the sorrow that filled me.
My sobs grew louder, and as he wrapped his arms around my shoulder, I let go and fully gave in to my grief.
“I couldn’t find her.” My words came out in ragged breaths, my chest heaving. “I searched. I begged. I threatened, and it was all in vain. I failed her, and by not bringing her home, I have failed you, too.”
He didn’t speak, allowing me to purge the twisted feelings that had been buried inside me for so long. I didn’t bother wiping away my tears. There was no need for masculine pride. When I finally looked up, I instantly saw I wasn’t the only one who was caught up in misery.
His expression was one of absolute solemnness. He knew what it meant for me to bare my soul to him, to expose myself so completely that it would forever change our friendship.
We were no longer master and servant.
We weren’t really friends and comrades either.
We were family.
We were brothers.
All we had seen and experienced had forged an unbreakable bond, and as we fell back into silence, we mourned our loss together.
Eventually the cool air became impossible to ignore, and wiping my face, I let out an exhausted sigh.
“What have I missed in my absence?” Despite what had happened, the estate still required my attention. I hated it, but honoring my responsibilities would give me an outlet until I devised a new plan.
Catriona may very well be dead.
I would add her name to my list of grievances.
Knox reached into his coat and pulled out a sealed letter, handing it to me. “This came a few days ago with the strictest of commands that only you could open and read it.”
“Do you know who it’s from?” I asked, turning over the folded paper and lightly tracing the waxed seal keeping it together. The insignia wasn’t familiar, but that didn’t mean anything. Perhaps it was a petition from the nearby town for aid to make it through the winter. As one of the big houses and estates in the area, people often looked to me for help during the tough season.
I often refused them, or sent them meager supplies, but for Catriona, I would grant whatever they requested. She had changed me. I refused to dishonor her memory.
Cracking the wax, I slowly unfolded the letter, and started reading.
“What does it say?” Knox asked, peering over my shoulder. “Who is it from?”
I couldn’t answer as a lump formed in my throat, hope flaring within my chest. The second I finished the short message, I read it again . . . and again. Over and over as if it would somehow explain itself.
When I couldn’t keep quiet any longer, I crumpled the message in my hand and stood—a new excitement sweeping away my despair.
There was an emotion at the forefront, one I’d assumed I’d never feel again.
Hope.
“Come, we need to pack. I want to be gone within the hour.” I didn’t offer any other explanation, and to Knox’s credit, he acted immediately, following me back to the house.
We each retreated to our bedchambers, throwing clothes into trunks before meeting at the bottom of the grand staircase. I’d already left instructions with the hired help that would stay behind. Even though the message wasn’t from the town, I’d still asked that food from the storehouse be taken to the people there.
“Are you really going to keep me in the dark, Marcus? Where are we going?” Knox threw me an impatient look that warned me should I not include him in the mystery, he would take the letter and read it himself. Forcibly, if needed.
I didn’t answer. I offered him the letter that I’d placed in my pocket.
His lips moved as he silently mouthed the few words contained in the message. Nodding, he met my gaze.
We were united.
We had purpose.
We had a lead.
“Let’s go,” I said. Without a second thought, I walked through the door, unsure whether I’d ever return to my ancestral home, but not caring.
I didn’t know what dangers we might face. The future was as murky as ever, but for the small flicker of hope that now burned within my heart.
I was blood and damnation.
I would finally lay claim to what was mine.
I would become wrath and retribution.
I was Marcus St. James, and in my pocket, I held the key to the answers I was seeking.
Epilogue
One Year Later, 1879
With dust-covered clothes, we arrived at the designated place. I still wasn’t sure why there was a need for all the secrecy, but after traveling this far, there was no way I would be turned from my goals.
Lady Hannah’s note may have been short, but I chose to see it as certainty. This was where she said I would find the answers I was seeking. She was a celebrated seer—someone who was well known within the supernatural community for her accuracy. I’d asked, and she’d responded by using her gifts of foresight.
Glancing about, I was shocked to see that this was where our journey had ended. The rugged wildness of Colorado was breathtaking, and so different from the world I’d left behind in England. I could see why so many were flocking to the Americas—in particular to the land they now called the United States of America. People came in search of freedom, of finding their fortune, of changing the circumstances of their upbringing. The beauty that surrounded Knox and me right now, with majestic mountains and greenery—the fresh air a testament that it remained untouched by civilization—I could see myself joining the others in staking my claim here.
Perhaps if this lead failed to provide the answers I was seeking, Knox and I could remain and see where a new life might take us. No one would know us here. No one would know me. It could be a fresh start for a monster like me.
“Are you sure this is where we were to meet our contact?” Knox murmured, scanning the area
, looking to see if anyone approached.
I nodded, remembering the conversation we’d last had at the town miles away. After a week of asking around, of trying to find anyone who knew about the town Lady Hannah had named on the paper she’d sent, we’d almost given up and moved on.
Why would she send us on a wild goose chase across the ocean to a place that people had never heard about? Did such a town even exist?
Finally, after we finished our evening meal, a stranger approached us in the saloon where we were staying, discreetly asking us to follow him outside. Once we were out in the alleyway, he’d asked us about our queries, not once giving away whether he held the answers we needed or not.
If anything, the idea of being there in that alleyway—another one in another time and place—had given me the sense of coming full circle. Knox felt the same wariness, never once taking his hand off the concealed knife that he had strapped to his thigh. Desperation wasn’t an excuse to lower our guards. We hadn’t come this far to meet our end in the Colorado mountains.
The stranger had listened, and then with a sweeping look, told us to await further instructions. Sure enough, early this morning, I found a note slid under the door of our room with the directions for a secret meeting.
“We’ve come this far. Let’s see what happens next,” I replied, licking my lips nervously. There was a weariness about Knox, his expression tired from the constant traveling. I was grateful for his company, happy that he was standing here beside me.
There was a crunching sound that told us immediately that we weren’t alone.
“Be on guard,” I uttered beneath my breath. Knox touched the side of his leg, where the large knife was. I readied myself in case this was an ambush. If there was one thing I’d learned from my experiences with the gypsies I’d met, it was that it was deadly to walk into a situation unprepared.
“There will be no need for violence,” a deep voice spoke. A second later, a tall man appeared—one whose demeanor screamed authority. Whoever he was, he was a leader. “I called for this meeting so we could talk, not fight.”
I assessed him quickly—was he friend or foe?
He was neatly dressed with his dark hair slicked back. There was a small scar under his left eye—which was the darkest blue I’d ever seen. Sizing him up, I stepped toward him.
“My name is Marcus St. James, and this is my companion, Phineas Knox.” We both bowed our heads with respect, hoping that it would work in our favor.
I wasn’t the only one sizing people up. He gave me another once over and nodded. “My name is Roman Bishop. I understand you’ve been asking questions about my town.” There was a strong sense of pride as he spoke. “I hope you understand that I’m protective of the people I lead. I can’t let just anyone into our home.”
He definitely gave off a no-nonsense attitude. I knew it would work against us if I was completely honest and told him I was here on a mission of revenge. Half-truths would have to be enough for right now.
Wetting my lips, I answered. “I can respect that, Roman Bishop. I feel the same about my own kin; in fact, that’s what’s brought us here. My wife was kidnapped over a year ago, and our search has led us here, to your town.”
I watched him as I spoke, trying to gauge his response. I caught the flicker of anger at the mention of Catriona being kidnapped and the furrowing of his brow. It gave me hope.
Knox chose to speak up next. “We’re not here to cause any trouble. We’ve experienced enough during our travels. All we want is to find her so we can return home to England.” The earnestness in his tone was convincing.
Roman Bishop looked back and forth between us. “There are rules you will need to follow should you be allowed to enter my town. Do you agree to abide by the law?”
We both nodded. I knew I wasn’t the only one curious about the town now. “You have my word as a gentleman.”
I extended my hand in agreement and with only a slight hesitation, Roman shook it. His handshake was strong and firm.
“Then welcome to Havenwood Falls, gentlemen. May you find the answers you seek.”
Marcus St. James’ story continues in Wrath and Retribution, coming April 5, 2019.
We hope you enjoyed this story in the Legends of Havenwood Falls series featuring a variety of supernatural creatures. The series is a collaborative effort by multiple authors.
Books in the historical Legends of Havenwood Falls series:
Lost in Time by Tish Thawer
Dawn of the Witch Hunters by Morgan Wylie
Redemption’s End by Eric R. Asher
Trapped Within a Wish by Brynn Myers
Blood and Damnation by Belinda Boring
Fated Beginnings by E.J. Fechenda (September 2018)
Emeline by Katie M. John (October 2018)
More books releasing on a monthly basis
Also try the signature New Adult/Adult series, Havenwood Falls, and the YA series, Havenwood Falls High
Stay up to date at www.HavenwoodFalls.com
Subscribe to our reader group and receive free stories and more!
About the Author
International and #1 Multi-Genre Bestselling Author Belinda Boring is known to many readers as the Queen of Swoon and also the Queen of Cliffhangers. Her Mystic Wolves series has topped many charts, along with receiving several awards and nominations such as Paranormal Book of the Year, Best Debut Book, as well as being in the Top 3 Best Rated on Amazon. With additional titles like Wanderlust, Enchanted Hearts, Loving Liberty and Broken Promises, it’s easy to see why readers are captivated by this swoon-worthy author!
A homesick Aussie living amongst the cactus and mountains of Arizona, Belinda Boring is a self-proclaimed addict of romance and all things swoon-worthy. It wasn’t long before she began writing, pouring her imagination and creativity into the stories she dreams. Whether urban fantasy, paranormal romance or romance in general, Belinda strives to share great plots with heart and characters that you can’t help but connect with. Of course, she wouldn’t be Belinda without adding heroes she hopes will curl your toes. Surrounded by a supportive cast of family, friends, and the man she gives her heart and soul to, Belinda is living the good life.
Acknowledgments
I fell in love with Marcus St. James immediately. From the moment he stepped forward in my mind, I knew he had a story that would reach in and claim my heart. He’s not the typical hero. He’s a jerk, and there were times were I had to pause, cock my own eyebrow, and say, “Really? You’re going to be THAT kind of guy?” But what can I say? I love the broken hero, the reluctant hero, the hero who thinks he has it all figured out, only to realize he is CLUELESS. I hope you fall for him like I did. I hope that you can see his heart . . . it’s there, I promise. I like to believe that the harder someone falls, the greater their redemption is. He’s worth it—they all are!
I wanted to thank everyone behind the scenes who helped bring this story to fruition:
My husband and family, who are always so supportive and patient while I’m writing. I sometimes wish that brainstorming came with a frequent driving card or something because Mark and I totally racked up the miles driving about our small town. #LostWithoutYou
My beta readers who faithfully read each chapter and gave amazing feedback. You guys are invaluable to me so *lick* you’re mine FOREVER! Thank you for always being there and begging for more. Your comments made me chuckle! #StuckWithMe
My author coach, Jessica Gibson, who cracks that whip of hers with expertise! Thank you for keeping me focused and motivated, especially when I have a tendency to squirrel over a bazillion things OTHER than what I’m meant to be writing. Thanks for always being in my corner. #BabeBossForever
Lastly, I wanted to thank Kristie Cook and all my fellow Havenwood Falls authors, for being part of my journey. I LOVE Havenwood Falls. I LOVE the stories that have been shared and what each of you bring to this incredible world. Thank you for welcoming me with open arms and being part of my book world family. I�
�m proud to stand amongst you and call you all friends! #SappyBels
For those who love author insights, I wrote this entire story to one song: It’s Quiet Uptown by Lin-Manuel Miranda. I’m obsessed with all things Hamilton and when it came time to build this story’s playlist, this was the ONLY song I could write to. It sets the tone beautifully so, please, if you’re curious, have a listen to the music and see if it helps capture your heart.
Happy reading, everyone! Thanks for visiting Havenwood Falls with me. ❤
Belinda
xoxo
Blood and Damnation Page 10
