Dark Amour

by L A Kennedy

  Helping her sit up, he gently lifted her nightgown over her head. Her ivory skin lit up in the candlelight. Her breasts were small, yet voluptuous. They shone in the flickering light of the candles. Her little pink nipples were tight and hard, making his mouth water.

  Neri arched her back, inviting his mouth. Holding the back of her neck, he tilted her head back. Placing small kisses on her face and jaw, he neglected no part of her body, as his mouth made its way to her rosebud nipples. He took one in his mouth, and the sigh she released reassured him to continue.

  He pulled her hips toward him, laying her down again. His mouth stayed on her breasts, exploring every millimeter, as his hand massaged her hips. Her groans and the rocking of her hips told him to continue, to bring her the pleasure her body needed, to bring her the release her body craved. He could smell her need, almost taste it on the back of his tongue.

  Slowly, he moved his hand to her thigh, to find her stretching her legs open farther, inviting him to her core. Touching her had rocked his world. It was like being caught between a fire and ice. He needed to taste her. He needed to drink down that pleasure and fill his belly with her.

  As if she could read his mind, she pushed at his shoulders. “Zy, please, please.”

  Zylan dragged his kisses down her ribs to her hips and beyond. He dragged his tongue between her lips. Her wetness covered his tongue, drenching him in her scent. He breathed her in, the smell firing in his brain, sending shock waves into his cock. He almost lost it. Pressing himself into the bed, he focused on Neri.

  He sucked her clit into his mouth, flicking the tip with this tongue. He slid first one finger into her wetness then two, preparing her for his size. Flicking faster and curling his fingers over her G-spot, he had her bucking against his face. She held his head against her.

  With one long scream, her orgasm racked her body. He held her hips down, forcing her to ride it out. Not giving up on the sweet spot inside her, he massaged her until the waves of her intense orgasm subsided.

  Zylan climbed up her body, watching her face. As she settled, he withdrew his fingers. He couldn’t stop himself. He cleaned off his fingers with his tongue. He couldn’t allow himself to waste a single drop of her pleasure.

  “More,” she groaned, sitting up and pushing him to his back.

  She climbed onto his hips, pulling his upper body to meet hers. Kissing him and tasting her own orgasm on his lips, she lowered her body onto him. She growled into his mouth, taking his entire length into her, inch by inch.

  Zylan moaned as she rocked on his hips. He thought of only her and her pleasure, not of his own. She leaned back, slowly bouncing on his hips. The sight of her sent his brain into fits. He grabbed onto her and rocked with her. Lifting one hand to between her legs, he furiously rubbed at her clit.

  Fisting the sheets, she screamed. “Now!”

  As her orgasm slammed into her, his broke loose, and, like a starved animal, it ate. He came with so much force that he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think, and he couldn’t move. Neri ground her hips over him until he was a pool of liquid satisfaction.

  Pulsing inside her, he pulled her down onto his chest. Her ear pressed to his pounding heart.

  “Is it too soon to ask for more?” Neri giggled into his chest.

  And that’s all it took to start rounds two and three—and four. Round five came after a shower and dinner. They had spent the day locked away in the bedroom, dancing to classical music, feeding each other berries and whipped cream, taking a bubble bath and strengthening their bond. Nothing, not even death, would break it.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Like any storm that crashes down, the darkness eventually fades. But the damages left behind can be insurmountable. One month served in darkness, a punishment that Strain would always remember. It was crippling, like any storm would be. It would cement Strain’s hatred for the very blood that had given him life.

  Released back into the world—one that would kick his ass—he cursed his father. His men—or what was left of them—were scared shitless and wouldn’t come out of hiding. He couldn’t control his puppets, the only two remaining from the raid. He had no choice but to put them down. Every cache had been seized by the Slayers and the Netherworld Agents. Every compound and safe house was leveled. All assets and property were snatched by the Netherworld. Everything that was linked to the Rancor Order had been destroyed.

  When he read about the citywide raid, Strain’s revulsion had only grown. All his father’s punishment had done was create a chasm for him to fill with seething hate. There was nothing left of who he’d been, his accomplishments or his work. But he would rebuild. He would learn from his mistakes and not make the same ones twice. He may have been down, but he sure as shit wasn’t out.

  He didn’t care if he ended up spending years in that hellhole of pitch blackness. If he destroyed Cael, it would be worth it. Any punishment his father dished out would be worth it too.

  He still had The Hemlock. The papers weren’t public yet. From there, he’d make a new army, in his image. From his new digs, he’d slowly run Blood Alley and rebuild the Rancor Order—stronger, deadlier and crueler than ever before. There would be no forgiveness, not from him. The shred of humanity that he’d held on to, he’d left back in the darkness. His father’s punishment had created a human without a soul, like the rest of the men who found their way down Blood Alley.

  Deagon Jackston was back and would be front and center. Strain was gone, left to wither in the hellhole with his father. He had two targets—Cael, his brother, and the Genesys, his father.

  He closed the door behind him in his new office at The Hemlock, his ‘Plan B’. The Slayers had taken almost everything, like Strain’s father had. But he always had a backup plan. He wasn’t stupid enough to put his own money on the line with the Order. That’s one thing his father had taught him—always have a ‘get out of jail free’ card.

  Time with his brother had taught him how to fight and survive with nothing. He could also thank his father for that. It was him, after all, that had dumped him on the streets as a baby. He’d learned straight from the womb how to make it in a world that couldn’t give a fuck about you or your pathetic problems. There was always someone else with bigger problems and a shittier life.

  A soft rap at the door brought his attention from his hate.

  Prudence leaned in, her hair pulled into a high, tight bun. She was all business. “Deagon, the girls are ready for the night. Garm still hasn’t shown up for me to go over the rules. I’ve hired someone else. Sorry. I know you wanted your friend to be involved, but I can’t leave my girls unattended.”

  Deagon. He liked the sound of his name. “I agree.”

  He looked down the list that was on his desk, names of the ladies of his night. He stopped at one name in particular. “Send Des in.”

  It was short for Destiny, but he’d call her Des, for tonight at least. And as she proved her worth, bending over his desk, he screamed out her name… Des’ name. As he pounded every inch of himself into her juicy little cunt, he hated her. She represented everything he hated about himself. Each of them fucked the other. The only difference between his hate for her and her hate for him was that she made a few bucks off it.

  Strain realized, as he zipped up his pants and kicked the whore out of his office, even Deagon was a cock-sucking, hateful sinner of a man. Deep down, Deagon was worse than Strain. Perhaps it was Strain who was the sham, and Deagon was the mastermind who egged Strain on.

  You could dress it up and call it whatever made you walk taller, but a bastard was still a bastard, no matter what mask he wore that day.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Mable Wright?” Neri asked, as a woman pulled open a large oak door.

  Mable looked like she was in her late forties, until she stood in the sunlight. The sun kissed her skin in a way that removed the ages. It added youth to her eyes, which were puffy from many nights of tears. The lines in her face showed years of la
ughter and joy. Each line, Neri knew, was worn with pride. She could only hope to wear the same as her own badge one day. In the background of the house, the sounds of tiny feet and laughter filled the halls, mixing with Neri’s favorite classical music station.

  “Yes?” she replied, straightening her pink and yellow apron.

  Neri tried not to cry as she thought of the day Mable had been told of her husband. She had probably opened the door in the same way, with her kids running in the background, only to be told that life as she knew it was over. Every hope she and her husband had was gone. Every dream they’d shared would never come true. They would never hold each other again.

  “I knew your husband for the briefest of moments. During the raids, he saved my life but paid with his own. He gave this to me.” Neri reached into her pocket and pulled out the wedding ring.

  Mable breathed out, letting out a small laugh that sounded more painful than humorous. “That was my Walter, a good man, even in his last moments.”

  Neri placed the ring in her hand. “I have no words that will take away the pain that saving my life has brought to you and your family. Please know that you are in my prayers every single night.”

  Neri stepped off of the front porch and down the front walk.

  “Miss, you left your briefcase,” Mable called after Neri, who didn’t turn around.

  Inside the case, Mable would find Neri’s entire life savings, the deed to her house and the business card of a lawyer who would give her the paperwork she’d need. It was enough money to give her and her children a good start at the life they’d been robbed of. Neri could never repay the sacrifice, but she would give everything she had to a family that Neri had learned had nothing. They were on the verge of eviction and had needed the money more than Neri ever could.

  * * * *

  “I’m proud of you,” Zylan had whispered, when Neri had crawled into bed with him after her visit with Mable.

  “I’ll never be late,” Zylan said as he pulled her hips into his. He ran his fingers down her side and right to her swollen button. She was always wet for him, always ready to take him into her body.

  She turned her head to the side, pulling his head to her throat. His lips curled back and he fed from his Fyrvor. He was home—finally, home. You can’t run from fate. He couldn’t believe he’d tried.

  Glossary of Terms

  Aegys (n.): A protector, sponsor or guardian. The literal transition is “one who watches over another”, used between parents, lovers and close friends. It is pronounced “e-jis”.

  The Calyph (pr. n.): The leader of the Rancor Order, a powerful figurehead that targets the irregular, metaphysical and inhuman. Their main goal is the extinction of the Netherworld Government.

  Day Walkyr (n.): A human with Vampyre DNA, prior to their first death.

  Elysium (n.): The Overworld inhabited by departed souls, also known as “heaven” in human cultures.

  Fhade (v.): To disappear, to become free of physical substance, cease to have material character or qualities. To materialize and dematerialize.

  Fyrvor (n.): A term of endearment for a person you feel intense heat or love toward. It is a bond between two lovers. A bond felt by both, it is a continuous connection. Once broken, the wounds are for all time.

  The Genesys (n.): The origin and creator of the Rancor Order, neither dead nor alive. Their children are known as a Strain, called solely “Strain”. The Genesys is the first Prophetyc, the reason the Orygin has prohibited mating between angels and demons. The Genesys chooses the path of evil, activating the irregular gene within mankind.

  Hades (n.): The Underworld inhabited by departed souls, also known as “hell” in human cultures.

  Hellyon (n.): Coined by the Netherworld agents, used to describe a disorderly, troublesome, rowdy, or mischievous irregular, metaphysical or inhuman.

  Journeyer (n.): A member of Elysium, their purpose is to carry the innocents home to Elysium upon their death.

  Kler’voient (adj.): Having or exhibiting an ability to perceive events in the future or past, beyond normal sensory contact.

  Kler’odient (adj.) Having or exhibiting an ability to hear things no one else can hear.

  The Netherworld (n.): A powerful government organization that polices the irregular, metaphysical and inhuman. They are seen as neither good nor evil. Their main focus is to eradicate the Rancor Order.

  The Orygin (n.): The fountainhead of our existence, the leader of the Overworld, also known as “God” in human cultures.

  Proletaryans (adj.): A race of soulless animated corpses under the command of the Rancor Order. They are controlled by the son of the Genesys.

  Pergetore (n.): A place or state of suffering inhabited by the souls of sinners who are expiating their sins before going to Elysium.

  Prophetyc (adj.): The prediction come true, the birthed child of an angel and demon. They are half in and half out of this world. Their soul is jailed in Pergetore, as part of a deal to keep balance between sides, until they have earned their wings. Their paths can be good or evil. They, like mankind, are given free will.

  The Rancor Order (pr. n.): An order created to exterminate the irregular, metaphysical and inhuman.

  The Reaping (v.): To harvest the life of a higher born Day Walkyr, ending their first life on the thirtieth year of their birth. An event held to celebrate the rebirthing of a Vampyre, The Reaping is generally only held by the noble, royal or higher born. The consequence for noncompliance with this tradition is a black smear on the family name, banishment from society and possible death.

  The Rector (n.): The unknown leader of the Netherworld. Their identity is kept classified.

  The Ruynous (n.): The chief evil spirit, the great adversary of humanity, the leader of Hades. The Ruynous is also known as “the Devil” in human cultures.

  Slayers (n.): Trained assassins of the Genesys Project, who protect their race against the Rancor Order and the Genesys.

  Spekter (n.): A ghoul, an undead and reanimated corpse that exits their own grave when the ground becomes unholy or disturbed.

  Therianthropes (n.): Also known as shifters, weres, Lycans, Therian. Therianthropy is an infection of the blood, creating the ability to shift from human into animal or creature. This virus is highly contagious.

  Tryhal (n.): The examination of the facts before a tribunal, often including issues of law, customs, as well as those of fact. A tryhal is for the determination of a person’s guilt or innocence by due process of law and customs. This ritual is to restore honor. All verdicts are final and, generally, fatal.

  Vampyre (n.): A preternatural being, reanimated after the first death. Vampyres must drink the life force of living beings in order to survive. You cannot be turned into a Vampyre—it is part of your DNA. Upon your first death, you rise as a Vampyre.

  The Vestalis Maxima (n).: The chief Vestal Virgyn, who oversees the efforts of the Vestal Virgyns. The Vestalis Maxima is the most important high priestesses. Vowed to chastity and service, they live a primarily solitary life, never to mate or to marry, never to produce offspring. They are chosen from the original Vestal Virgyns. This duty cannot be relinquished. Their Reaping would mark the date of lifelong service to this honored position. Only true death itself can part them from their duties.

  The Vestal Virgyns (n.): Named after the virgins consecrated to Vesta, vowed to chastity, education and solidarity. Chosen only from the line of the Vestal Virgyns, they are committed to maintaining their virginity until the age of thirty. At the age of thirty, they complete the Reaping, their first born lives harvested, their Day Walkyr life extinguished. They mate only with the Royal Line. A failed Vestal Virgyn is condemned to death, entombed, forced to starve to death.

  Wardyn (n.): A key holder or gatekeeper in the Underworld.

  Watchyr (n.): A being from the Overworld, sent as guidance. They are unable to intervene in the paths of those under their charge.

  Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:


  The Genesys Project: Immortal Amour

  L.A. Kennedy

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  Midnight crime scenes… Of all of the crime scenes to be at, Des favored these ones.

  Darkness had this way of stealing the truth. Des was thankful for that, as she stared down at the ruined remains of what she thought had been a man. There was so little left. It could have been just about anything, including an animal carcass. She was pretty sure a small cow hadn’t been tossed off the beaten path, which left only one thing. The broadness of the shoulders, or what was left of them, told her it was a man—was, the key word. It once was a man. In the pitch blackness of the summer night, the blood took on a different color altogether. Black liquid tar pooled under the bloated remains.

  Desdemona Bloodworth—Des, to those who knew her—had worked her fair share of cases for The Netherworld, policing the little slice of in between, where life and death, man and monster, were as subjective as ivory and eggshell. Born a Kler’voient, a Prophetyc, she was born with a second sight. To her chagrin, her sight was limited to the past. They called it a gift, a rare and valuable talent, so she’d been told. She called it what it was—a burden and a curse.

  Her curse, like a coin, had two sides—one side for good and one side for evil. Should she choose the wicked and shiny side of the coin, Des could control thoughts, giving someone memories that made them jump off a bridge or into the path of an oncoming train. Alas, she chose the good side, the dull and virtuous. And there was nothing nearly as fun with the side that landed on morality. On this side, she was the one that was left with the memories and the desire to toss herself in front of a train.