The Ravana Clan Vampires: a Young Adult Paranormal Romance (Complete Series)

by E. M. Moore

  Her mouth dropped. I let what I said sink in and then I winked at her.

  “Whoa,” she breathed.

  She could say that again.

  The End

  Can’t get enough of the Ravana world? Read the first in the Ravana Clan Legacy Series, A New Genesis. Click here.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  USA Today Bestselling Author E. M. Moore loves everything paranormal--especially witches. She's visited Salem more than a few times and can't get enough of their ghost tours and witch museums. She's written in every major genre, but fantasy is her first love. She currently has books out in Paranormal Romance, Urban Fantasy and Witch Cozy Mysteries.

  * * *

  www.emmoorewrites.webs.com

  Order of the Akasha Series Preview

  SUMMONED BY MAGIC

  CHAPTER ONE

  The point was to watch them, not get sucked in. I failed. Holy fuck, this guy was hot.

  I always was a sucker for tattoos and guns. Not the kind of guns that shoot things. Guns, as in thick, muscled arms I could sink my teeth into.

  I blew out a breath. For heaven’s sake, I needed a cold shower. It might even do these cramps some good. How the hell did I even end up here? Well, technically, I knew how. A long ass bus ride with people who weren’t always the cleanest and some men who I could tell didn’t have the best of intentions. The more appropriate question was why I ended up here.

  I’d been getting cramps—I know, TMI—and a yearning in my stomach for something “other”. Something that wasn’t in New Orleans where I’d lived my whole life. The pressure was like a pull, and when you grew up with my grandmother, you tended to want to follow your instincts because that’s what she hammered into you day in and day out. Don’t trust someone? Don’t. They’re probably an axe murderer. Feel like you shouldn’t go to school today? Don’t. Who knows what shitty nonsense could happen? Don’t like that guy around the corner? Neither do I, he’s a dick.

  I smiled to myself remembering Granny. She hated that name, but I called her it, anyway. She was a forever young person stuck in an old woman’s body. And, she just so happened to be the local Voodoo Priestess, revered—and feared—by many. Yeah, my childhood was a smash.

  The too-loud pop music in the bar where I’d been enjoying my eye candy stopped suddenly. Shoved into the present, I dropped the straw that allowed me to suck down my Amaretto Sour like it was Kool-Aid and turned. Wow. What a dive bar. The absence of Bruno Mars’ Uptown Funk and the house lights exposed the thick layer of sticky grime on the bar and the off-brown checkered tile that led to the small stage at the back of the place.

  The tall, lanky guy who lived with the Adonis I’d been lusting after since I got to Salem two days ago stood on the cramped stage. He tapped the microphone tentatively, sending a buzz through the air that made me cringe. “Sorry,” he muttered, while pushing his glasses back up his nose. He stood there awkwardly for a few moments, shifting his weight from foot to foot while I—and everyone else in the bar—watched. He wasn’t used to being the center of attention, that much was evident. My heart went out to him as his face blanched. The blinding white lights all turned on him and he stood there like a surprised animal getting caught taking food.

  He was adorable, actually, in a dorky kind of way. All the guys who lived at the apartment I’d been drawn to were good looking in their own way, surprising and confusing me all at the same time. Before I could get sucked back down the rabbit hole of why I was here, he finally cleared his throat and spoke. “Uh, hey.” He waved awkwardly, then put his hand above his eyes to ward off the spotlights. “Just wanted to send a happy birthday out to my friend, Randy. Um, guess I should’ve brought a drink up here with me to toast or something, but uh…”

  One of the other guys from the apartment, the blond one who looked like he stepped off a sports magazine cover when he left for practice in the morning, ran a drink up to the front. “Bottom’s up,” he winked.

  “Thanks, Gabe.” The lanky one bent over so his lips were almost on the microphone as he raised his borrowed glass in the air. “Happy birthday, Randy.” The microphone buzzed and squeaked as he stepped away.

  The blond one—Gabe, apparently—stepped right up after. “Cheers, Mate!” He threw his own drink back, and stepped away from the mic, encouraging the lanky one to do the same with his. He did, his face immediately puckering, and then gave a quick shake of his head as he finally swallowed what was surely some strong, hard liquor.

  I leaned against the bar and took a drink of my own. Following them to the bar tonight had been a good idea. I’d just learned two of their names—Gabe and Randy. I also knew that Gabe was apparently British and that it was Randy, Mr. Hot as Fuck’s, birthday.

  I eyed the two as they made their way back over to the bar a few feet from where I stood. The same pull tugged in the pit of my stomach when they were all together. I moaned deep as the feeling became overwhelming. There was definitely something about these four. Was I supposed to know them? Was I supposed to fear them? Nothing seemed off. They were four regular guys. Three of them went to college at Salem State while Randy spent most of his time at the gym and a tattoo parlor.

  Frustrated, I pulled the straw from my glass and downed the rest of my drink. I was just about to place it back on the bar when a deep, gruff voice said, “I hope that was in my honor.”

  My eyes widened, and I almost sputtered. The guy I’d been lusting after since I got here just spoke to me. Holy bananas. Now that he was six inches away, I got to check him out up close. It was easy to get drawn in. He looked sexy as sin wherever he went. He was either dressed for the gym, showing off his sexy as fuck muscles, or sporting tight ass t-shirts on his way to the tattoo parlor he worked at. Tonight was the same tattoo parlor look, jeans that hugged his hips with a black shirt that looked like it was tailor-made just for him. What I hadn’t noticed from watching him with what was usually a street distance between us, was his dark eyes. They were deep brown, teetering on black. A shiver rocked my spine.

  Suppressing my inner freak out, I blinked up at him, doing my best to appear interested. Appear? Who was I kidding? I was interested. “Of course,” I answered. “Randy, is it?”

  He nodded in assent before taking his time perusing my body. My insides clenched, a more potent feeling than I’d ever had before as his eyes raked all over me. I hadn’t brought much of anything with me from New Orleans, including clothes, since I didn’t know what I would find here. Tonight, I’d just tied off one of my black shirts right above my right hip, showing a little midriff. It was about as “bar appropriate” as I got, even when I was home. Coupled with the tight pair of jeans I’d brought with me, I didn’t look half bad in the small ass motel mirror I’d checked my reflection in before making my way here. I’d followed them to the bar and then decided I had to go back to the room and do a little mini wardrobe makeover before heading in after them and seeing what I could find out. It couldn’t help to be as sexy as I could while trying to feel them out. At least, that’s what I’d thought, and it was working too. Randy was actually standing in front of me, his eyes gliding over my skin as if his only thought was what he could do to me.

  I swallowed and yelled at myself to stop it. The tug in my stomach hadn’t brought me thousands of miles away just to sleep with the guy in front of me. Voodoo didn’t do shit like that. Hell, if it did, I wouldn’t have resisted it for so long when I was younger.

  His dark eyes latched onto mine. Before long though, a tinge of amusement colored his face. His lips moved, and I watched as they separated in succession, drawn to them instantly. When they cracked into a wider smile, I was thrown back into reality. He wasn’t just standing in front of me so I could ogle him, he’d been saying something. “Sorry, what?”

  Instead of smiling this time, his intense eyes froze. “Your name?”

  “Norah.” Inwardly, I kicked myself. I’d intended on using a fake name if we ever got to this point, but the way he looked at me made me lose all my
senses.

  He pulled a curl of my hair off my shoulder and fingered it. “Norah,” he said, as if he was testing the way it sounded on him, and damned if it didn’t sound amazing, panty-melting amazing.

  He dropped my hair and turned toward the bar, breaking off my current train of thought where I climbed on him like a monkey and felt every inch of his chiseled body. He was hot, and he knew it. He also knew I thought he was hot. I no longer had the upper hand. Like, at all, and I had a feeling I never would with him.

  He slapped the bar a few times and held his finger up in the air. The bartender walked right up and shook his hand. Randy motioned in my direction. “My new friend Norah needs a drink.”

  The bartender’s lips curled up. He looked from Randy to me. “Another Amaretto Sour.”

  I nodded. “Please.”

  The bartender turned away and Randy once again turned his full attention toward me. “So, Norah, I haven’t seen you around here before.”

  His muscles bulged underneath his t-shirt as he shifted, but I refused to look at them. “That’s not really your pickup line, is it, Birthday Boy?”

  He smirked. “It’s the tamest one I got. I had several others in mind, but since I’ve already seen you blush a couple times, I wasn’t sure they were appropriate.”

  I stood up taller, accepting his challenge. “I can take it. What do you got?”

  Randy leaned over, his hot breath caressed my ear. I could just picture him smirking as my body flushed. He had me right where he wanted me. “I was wondering,” he said slowly, “If you kiss with that sexy as fuck accent.” Before I could tell him that he should try to find out, he pulled away as if he hadn’t just curled my toes. “Where is it from, anyway?”

  “Louisiana,” I told him, still trying to keep it together and apparently totally losing the fight to keep my identity a secret. “A little bit of Creole, a little bit of South.” My body wasn’t sending me any warning signals to keep my mouth shut. In fact, it was doing the opposite. It was practically humming in Randy’s presence. I’d never been so turned on just talking to a guy before. Every move he made, my body countered with him as if I were his shadow.

  His dark eyes flared. “Mixed beauty…”

  I’d always loved my soft brown skin. While other girls had to work hard to tan, mine was permanently there. He trailed a finger down my wrist, and I had to clench my jaw to not moan in ecstasy. For fuck’s sake, he had me pinned already.

  The adorable lanky friend put a hand on Randy’s shoulder, saving me from having to say something, which probably would’ve come out an incomprehensible mess. He pushed his glasses up his nose. “You told me not to let you stay out too late since you got the morning shift at the gym.”

  Randy’s shoulders bunched at the initial intrusion, but relaxed as soon as he heard his friend’s voice. “You’re being very rude, Liam.”

  Liam turned his head. Surprise riddled his features as soon as he saw that his friend stood in front of me. A heated red colored his cheeks as he took a step back. “S-sorry.” He looked away.

  “It’s okay,” I said immediately, hating that I was the reason he felt so awkward. He turned his attention back to me and I smiled. “I’m Norah.”

  I held my hand out, and he took it. A zap of static electricity passed between us and we both immediately pulled away. “Sorry,” he said again, then blushed as if he hated that he was once again apologizing, or maybe it was because he hated being so awkward. “Didn’t mean to shock you.”

  “It happens.”

  Randy watched our little interaction with raised eyebrows. He looked back and forth between us before settling his heated gaze back on me. Liam cleared his throat nervously. “You don’t care that you told me that earlier, do you?” he asked.

  Randy shook his head. “Not one flying fuck.”

  Liam turned as if he expected that as a reaction and left us alone again. As soon as he walked away, a hollow pang struck my core. I hadn’t realized until he left, but that yearning feeling had intensified while they were both in front of me, but had returned to the ache with just Randy.

  He stepped closer, nudging the drink the bartender must’ve left for me out of the way. “Thank you.”

  I looked up at him curiously. “For?”

  “Being nice to Liam. He’s my best friend, and for some reason, women treat him like he’s the dirt on the other side of their three-inch heels.”

  I peered over Randy’s shoulder and found Liam staring back at us as he stood with the two others. Gabe, the British one, and the one with the dark hair whose name I hadn’t learned yet. I swallowed down the sudden feeling of fullness as I stared at them and immediately turned back to Randy. “What can I say? Girls can be bitches.”

  “And what about you, Norah? What kind of girl are you?”

  I shrugged, not knowing how to answer. I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him the truth. Being a voodoo practitioner, I knew enough not to spout that kind of stuff when you first met people. They tended to shy away from you after that. And no one, well, no one except Granny, knew about the real stuff, the genuine power I had. The power that was passed down to me through a long line of voodoo priestesses. My customers back home guessed, but it had been a while since I’d done anything like my Grandmother had. The tourists didn’t want the real stuff, anyway. They said they did, but what they really wanted was the idea of the real stuff, so that’s exactly what I gave them in my voodoo shop. A show.

  I took a step toward Randy until the tips of my shoes met his. The closer I got, the more overwhelmed I became. The scent of maple hit me and I took a deep whiff, taking Randy all in. As he’d done with me, I whispered in his ear nice and slow, “I’m…impatient.”

  Randy made a low mewling noise in the back of his throat before his hand came up to settle on the bare skin at my waist. His touch sent a shockwave through me. I gasped at his large, rough hands as they made careful sweeping motions over my hip and up my back. When he got further, and further up, he stopped moving and swore harshly under his breath. I smiled to myself. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and he’d just found out.

  His hand lingered toward the side of my body and his thumb reached out, just barely grazing the side of my naked breast. “Holy fuck,” I breathed. I hadn’t meant to. I was supposed to be cozying up to one of them so I could get inside their place to look around and figure out why the hell I was so drawn to this place, but this was turning out to be way more than I bargained for.

  “God, you’re sexy as hell.”

  His hot breath caressed my neck before his lips sealed onto my skin. I went up on my tiptoes, losing myself in the feeling of his mouth on my flesh. It was as if there was a rope tied between us that pulled tighter and tighter the closer we got.

  His hands smoothed down my back and over my ass, pulling me closer. I gasped once his thick cock pushed against my leg. This was getting serious now. What was worse was my body’s reaction to it. I should’ve been appalled to get mauled like this at a bar, but I wasn’t. I loved it. Every last hard inch of it, apparently. The whole reason why I came here escaped me and it was just Randy and me. I pressed forward into him and his teeth nipped my neck. “Fuck, yes.”

  He pulled away, his hand reaching for mine and entwining our fingers. He shifted his glance to the still full glass of Amaretto Sour I had at the bar. I looked longingly at it, but knew that if I was ever going to follow through with what I came here to do, alcohol would mute my powers and I needed all I had to get through this. I shook my head and Randy eyed me curiously for a moment before pulling me alongside him. When he passed Liam, Gabe, and the dark-haired guy, he barked, “Don’t come home.”

  A thrill sent my nerve endings on fire. His hand squeezed mine, and I squeezed him right back. I couldn’t tell if I was excited because I was actually going to be alone with Randy and his body that was made for sex, or if it was because I’d actually found an in. When we got to the exit, I turned around and found Liam and Gabe gaping at us. The dark-haired gu
y crossed his arms in front of his chest, sending a chill down my spine. Damn. That guy needed a chill pill.

  A blast of cold air hit me as we stepped outside. A shiver made my body tremble and Randy, surprisingly, put his arm around me. His body sent off enormous amounts of heat, making me comfortable immediately. He led me to the corner of the parking lot and we stopped just behind a motorcycle. It wasn’t until then I remembered seeing the “muscled, tattoo guy”—what I called him in my head—on a bike and only on a bike and never in a car. Fuck me….

  “I intend to.”

  My face heated. Holy shit, I’d said that out loud. He thrust a helmet into my hands. I turned it over and over in my grip and began to put it on with his help. He took it by the straps and pulled down, moving my hair out of the way gingerly as he did so. This guy was an enigma. All signs pointed to him just wanting to get a piece of ass, but at the same time, he thanked me for being nice to his friend and made sure I wouldn’t cave my head in if we got into an accident.

  He straddled the bike before helping me on. In the next instant, the engine roared to life between my legs. Holy hell. What was I, in a fucking movie?

  Randy pulled my arms around his waist until I linked my hands together. He patted my hands as if in approval. Then, pointing down, to a spot next to his foot, I took the hint and moved my own foot there. Nestled with his ass in my crotch and my hands snuggled around him, I was completely at his whim. He walked the bike backward and then turned before gunning the engine and pulling his feet up in front of mine. My stomach flipped as the bike pulled us forward. Holy shit, this was amazing. Even though my arms tightened around his body, I peeked out from underneath the helmet and watched as the streets whisked by, Randy expertly maneuvering the bike through town.

  Since I’d been watching them for a couple days now, I knew they didn’t live that far away so the bike ride was short-lived yet exhilarating. We pulled to a stop in front of an old house that held two apartments, one for the guys and one for another set of college students. They shared a porch and Randy pulled the bike right up to the front steps. He put his feet down, leaned the bike, and shut the engine off. I stayed there, my arms still around him, unwilling to give up the feeling of flying with him.