DARKNESS UNLEASHED
(SKY BROOKS SERIES BOOK 6)
MCKENZIE HUNTER
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
MESSAGE TO THE READER
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
McKenzie Hunter
Darkness Unleashed
© 2017, McKenzie Hunter
[email protected]
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.
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ISBN: 978-1-946457-84-4
CHAPTER 1
Ethan kept his eyes on the computer screen, occasionally looking up from it, anticipating another question. I’d been questioning him since the night before, when I’d watched Steven get arrested. Ethan returned his attention to the laptop. He was calm, which should have soothed me. It didn’t—he was too calm. My irritation flared. Fourteen hours had passed since Steven’s arrest. Every time I thought about it, I remembered the look of desperation and fear on his face. The haunted look in his olive-green eyes, the vulnerable and trapped way he’d looked when they’d placed him in handcuffs. And now he was probably locked in a cell, a cage, waiting to be formally charged.
I clenched my hands so tightly my nails dug into my palms. “When do you plan on going to get Steven out?” My voice was strained, irritated.
“The answer hasn’t changed since you asked me thirty minutes ago. They have to process him. Once he is, I will be there to post bail,” he responded in a low, even tone, biting back his annoyance.
I considered sitting next to him and watching the evidence against Steven: a video clip, no longer than four minutes, showing him killing three men. It had gone viral right after his arrest, and anyone could view it on YouTube or any social media site. To most, it depicted a calm Steven approaching three men and their dog. What others thought was an incipient argument that became inexplicably explosive was actually an altercation between were-animals over territory. Most viewers didn’t know that when the men tensed up, it was an act of aggression. When they stiffened and moved back as if they were cowering in fear, they were actually giving themselves room to shift to their animal forms. And the so-called dog Steven killed was in fact a shifted canidae, but at a glance, which was all the video allowed, I couldn’t tell which type. The clip ended before the canidae could revert to human form, as shifters did in death.
When I finally tired of pacing the floor, I took a seat next to Ethan. “You really need to get some sleep. Once his bail is set, I promise I can go get him. He won’t be there a minute longer.”
“This isn’t the first pack arrest I’ve dealt with,” he said.
“Who else has been arrested?”
“Sebastian, Gavin, and—” He paused. “Me.”
He must have thought his being arrested would shock me—it didn’t. I would have been more surprised if he hadn’t landed on the list at least once.
“And every time, the charges were dropped,” he said confidently.
“Were they murder charges? Was there a video of the murders?” I spouted back, my voice coarser than I would have liked. Anger and frustration were making it more difficult to control. “Did they have a jerk with extensive resources?”
“It will be okay,” Ethan said, his hands covering mine, but his words didn’t possess the same confidence that they had earlier. Perhaps he’d realized the magnitude of the situation. It was Dexter who had become a pain in our ass. Not only had the mage aligned himself with the witches to create a formula that would nullify were-animals’ immunity to magic, but he had also orchestrated Steven being filmed because we’d dared to stop his plans. Thinking about it piqued my anger.
Winter’s head snapped back when my fist connected with her jaw, and she retreated a couple of steps and then grinned—a prideful display that had an undercurrent of sadism and the same adoration and lust for violence that was innate in most were-animals. That was where our differences were most notable. I didn’t revel in the barbarity of fighting but they did. Something about fighting, exerting dominance, defending themselves against any threat spoke to them on a primal level where the beast dwelled. I just didn’t want to die. That was my sole purpose in learning to fight. Feeling weak and preyed upon was something I never wanted to experience again.
It wasn’t about protection today; I wanted a distraction, and defending myself against Winter’s violent onslaught was just the thing. I couldn’t think about Steven and his predicament. Nothing seemed to keep Dexter out of my head, and the rage he inspired fueled my assault on Winter. She was a special type of strange—she seemed happy that a roundhouse kick had landed her on her back several feet away. I glanced at the window in the door of the room where we always sparred when we weren’t at the pack’s house. I preferred being at the pack’s house, where people rarely watched us; if they did, it certainly wasn’t with the wide-eyed, morbid intrigue or ardent disgust our aggressiveness drew in this place.
It was one of the few gyms that had the type of room we needed. Upstairs contained the latest and newest equipment, areas for CrossFit, classes, and plenty of endorphin-junkie members and people just attempting to lose those last ten pounds or so. Winter and I didn’t have any interest in the beautiful equipment and always went straight for the door at the far corner of the gym that led to the basement, which was rightfully referred to as the dungeon. It was dark and dingy, and it was obvious minimal work was put into its upkeep. Dull white walls had large patches of exposed drywall—the owner had given up on trying to repair the damage. A boxing ring took up part of the room, and in the corners were heavy punching bags. Free weights cluttered the floor; no one really followed the rules of returning the equipment. Upstairs, hints of sweat, cleansers, soaps, and body sprays wafted out of the locker rooms. The smells of sweat, blood, and aggression dominated the dungeon. People used it to spar, practice martial arts, and fight. Some members joked that it was where gladiators were made.
Winter was great at teaching me how to survive. If I could walk out of a session with her on my own two feet, I was more than likely going to hold my own with someone else.
“We have an audience again,” I said, positioning myself into a ready stance. I was always on the defensive with Winter and prepared for anything.
“Don’t we always? We’re the women who have ‘something really wrong with them.’” She grinned, using the back of her hand to wipe the blood from h
er lips from a strike I’d delivered just moments before the kick.
I forced a chuckle, but there wasn’t enough levity in me to make it convincing. I moved toward her and threw a jab; she blocked and countered with a hammer strike, which I subverted. I dropped to the ground and swept her leg. She hit the ground, and I moved back before she could retaliate. I’d learned the hard way to never let her get me to the ground. She was fast. She whipped into her holds so quickly she made me think that somewhere in the process she’d shifted to her animal—a snake. It wasn’t vampire speed, but it was faster than any were-animal I’d seen.
The movement back cost me precious time, and she recovered, stood, and attacked with a series of kicks that caused me to retreat and go on the defensive. The room became nothing more than the sound of aggressive parries, strikes, kicks, and loud thuds from our falls and tosses to the ground. I landed a hip toss, hard, and before she could get back on her feet, I was over her, delivering several strikes. She blocked most of them but finally said something that struck me harder than any blow she could have delivered.
“I submit.” She pushed the words through clenched teeth. It was barely a whisper, but I heard it. I’d just defeated Winter for the first time ever—and I had that pain in the ass Dexter to thank for it.
Once she was on her feet, she grabbed a towel and patted her forehead dry. If I looked anything like she did, I needed to prepare for the stares and abhorrent looks we would get when we left. On the bright side, these looks stopped most of the people in the gym from wanting to spar with us. We were usually smeared in blood and covered with bruises when we were finished, but onlookers weren’t aware that in a couple of days, there’d be no evidence we’d been in a fight. Which was why we alternated session times, hoping we wouldn’t run into the same person during any one week. Sometimes we did, and we were met with expectant, inquiring gazes. I often wondered if they thought we knew secret makeup tricks.
“You might want to close your mouth,” she suggested, strolling toward me.
I snapped it shut as I repeated her words—I submit—over and over again. I memorized the tone and the lilt of them. I committed it all to memory with the assumption that it was the first and last time I would ever hear those words from Winter. I was pretty sure I’d be considered a bad winner if I did my happy dance and maybe even broke into song.
“You have a lot of aggression in you. You’re kind of hot. I totally get Ethan now.”
I frowned. “What’s wrong with you? That isn’t something you should find sexy in a person. Ever!” I said with an exasperated huff.
She shrugged. “A woman who can possibly kick my ass is sexy.”
“Why are you all so disturbed?” I took a drink from the bottle of water I’d grabbed out of my bag. “We have a pack therapist. He’s there for a reason. You should consider a daily visit. He’s there for us, you know.”
Her lips lifted in a sly grin. “I don’t think I need it.”
“Trust me, you do. Because a woman punching you in the face is considered assault by most people’s standards, not the prelude to a romantic liaison.”
“Different strokes,” she said dismissively leaning against the wall, a smirk playing on her lips.
“No, it’s not. Let’s play a game. Let’s say two women want to show they are interested in you: one person punches you and the other person buys you a drink. Can you tell me which one is a chargeable offense and which one is a nice social gesture?”
She shrugged. “It really depends on the spirit in which each is delivered.”
I exhaled a breath of defeat as I realized that was who she was. I added another page to my “something is wrong with you” mental profile of Winter.
Laughing, she asked, “What’s got you in a mood?”
I assumed she knew the difference, but it was a lesson I fully intended to address later. “I’m worried about Steven.”
She studied me for a long time. “Don’t be. This isn’t the first time one of us has been arrested.”
I slanted my eyes in her direction. “How many times for you?”
The fact she needed time to count indicated it wasn’t a small number. “Arrested about ten times, actually charged four. But they were dismissed each time.”
“How many of them were for first-degree murder or manslaughter?”
“How do you know what he’s been charged with?”
Warmth brushed my cheeks and the bridge of my nose. “I’ve been on Google and Wikipedia researching the charges he could get based on the video.”
Her face relaxed into a sympathetic smile, and when she spoke, her tone matched. “They have an altered video and, thanks to Josh, no evidence that Steven was even at the crime scene. If that’s not enough, Ethan is an outstanding attorney. Believe me, I don’t have any charges and I probably deserved at least two of them. And the last one I was so guilty, I’m really surprised the charges were dismissed.”
She hit me lightly with her towel, and her smile widened. “It’s only a matter of time before you and Steven are hugged up, giving each other little kisses and spouting your love for each other. And the annoying duo of Skyven can continue once again.” She rolled her eyes and mumbled, “So annoying.” She grabbed her bag and started out the door of the dungeon.
“Don’t pretend you don’t miss him!” I yelled after her.
She stopped and considered my response. “I do. I bet not nearly as much as you, though.”
When I reached the pack’s house, I parked behind Ethan’s car, the gray Hennessy Venom GT, which awed most people. Each time I saw it, I stared, trying to figure out what I was missing. I stood to the side of it, brows furrowed, looking over the sleek lines of the body, custom paint, large tires, and soft, buttery leather seats.
“It’s just a car,” I muttered, tilting my head to study it again.
“You’ll never get it,” Ethan said behind me.
I turned to find him at the entrance of the house, nearly twenty feet away, leaning against the doorframe, a smirk lifting the corners of his lips.
Freak.
The smile faded as I approached, and his gaze traveled over the patches of raspberry and muddled blue marks on my face and arms. His fingers lightly traced along a fading bruise on my cheek.
“You and Winter play too rough.”
“We do, but guess who got Winter to submit,” I said.
He leaned in, his breath warm against my lips as his tongue slipped out to taste them before he spoke. “Really?” he asked. Heat radiated from him. His hands slid around my waist, and he pulled me closer. I could feel him, all of him, as he responded to violence the way weres often did—with an odd attraction.
“You know that psychologist is here for us. Maybe you and Winter can go back to back so he can block out his morning for the same type of crazy,” I suggested.
He stepped in again; I sidestepped and slipped past him into the house. Grabbing hold of the back of my pants, he tugged me back against him, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed my hair. “Congratulations, Sky.”
I was happy about it—he seemed ecstatic, a little too enthusiastic. I could feel his “enthusiasm” against me. I pulled away, narrowed my eyes at him, and tried not to be disturbed by how much my winning fights excited him. It was weird. Ethan liked self-reliance, formidability, and strong fighting and self-defense skills. He’d never made a secret of it, but there was more to it than that. “You know I’m never going to challenge anyone, right?”
He gave me a solemn look. “Sky, why would you? You’re a Beta now.”
“What? Beta—what are you talking about?”
His solemn look melted into a frown of incredulity. “How did you pass orientation?”
“I took the test and made a passing grade like everyone else.” I shrugged, returning his incredulous look. “And if you all ever consider making changes in the pack, you should start with that two-hundred-question final exam. It’s really unnecessary.”
“Well, if you’d listened
instead of watching animals performing tricks, stupid human stunts, and a lion cub trying to roar for the first time, and yes, we all heard about it”—he gave me the same disparaging look he’d given me so often it had lost its effectiveness—“you would know when someone is mated, they assume the same rank. Which is why a lot of were-animals vie for the affections of an Alpha.”
I knew that, but since Ethan and Sebastian were so effective at toeing the line between questionable and ethical behavior, guarding the pack’s secrets like a troll at a bridge, using the tactic of “getting people to see the reality they want them to see”—in layman’s terms, lying—and keeping the pack safe, I couldn’t imagine them delegating those responsibilities to anyone else.
The idea of not being expected to challenge anyone was a relief. I didn’t have it in me to do it, and I really didn’t want to be a ranked pack member. But coincidentally, now I was.
“You know, I didn’t mate with you for your position.”
He chuckled. “Believe me, I know that.” He strode past me and started down the hall.
I wished I was above doing something as petty as sticking my tongue out when he turned his back but I wasn’t.
“Real mature, Sky,” he said, his back still to me. When he turned, his lips were kinked into a condescending smirk. “As I’ve said many times before, you occasionally surprise me, but most times, you are quite predictable.”
He continued down the hall with a slight limp from when the East Coast Alpha had crushed his ankle during a challenge a couple of days ago. It was almost healed and probably would’ve healed faster if he’d actually adhered to Dr. Jeremy’s protocol. But if Ethan was nothing else, he was stubborn to a fault. He was headed to the new addition to the house. Or rather, the converted room that was now the new headquarters of the pack formerly known as Worgen. The Worgen pack had been absorbed into ours when Sebastian decided he would no longer allow fringe packs in his territory after one had attacked and almost fatally wounded me. Of the people who’d joined our pack, the Worgen had proven to be our greatest asset. In the past, we’d used them if we needed anything IT-related done. Gavin and Steven called them the geeks. I’d thought it was a term of endearment, but after walking into the room one too many times when they were playing their games or speaking Klingon, I’d learned it was more than apropos. They were a different type of were-animal. I wondered what information they were getting for Ethan now as I followed him down the hall to their new office. Sebastian called my name before I could get there.
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