Devil's Cut: Immortal Keeper Vampire Paranormal Romance Series

by L. A. McGinnis

  However, I also didn’t see a way inside these imposing gates.

  A faint buzzing to the left drew my attention, as did the red, blinking light on the speaker box that hung by two wires from its mount. “Leave the delivery at the gates. Thank you.”

  I didn’t see a button to push, so I leaned in. “I’m here to see Bastian Forge.” I brandished the bottle in front of the derelict speaker, as if they could somehow see it.

  “Name?”

  “Selena Langston. Tell Mr. Forge I’ve come bearing gifts.”

  The best thing about whisky was nobody ever turned it down, and when the gates creaked open, as if they hadn’t moved in years, I stepped through, positive my plan was off to a good start.

  One last lingering look at my ten-year-old Civic, and I started up the overgrown driveway. Older-than-dirt trees bent over the driveway, casting long shadows across the weed-filled gravel drive. When the house came into view, though, my steps faltered.

  “Holy shit.”

  The house—monstrosity—that rose before me out of a small grove of saplings could be the setting for every scary vampire movie ever. It was a Gothic mix of grey stone covered in ivy with a steeply pitched roofline and dark, arched windows. The building’s wings stretched out to my right and left, as far as I could see. The dilapidated garage was missing a door, and inside, a lone mid-century car languished on flat tires.

  Was I really any smarter than any of those idiots in every horror movie ever?

  Stubbornness pushed me forward another few steps, until my feet faltered in front of the tall door with peeling black paint. Before I could talk myself out of this foolishness, I rapped hard, as if daring him to ignore me.

  It shouldn’t have surprised me when the thing swung open and nobody was behind it except for an inky, unfathomable darkness. The place smelled empty, of dust and closed-up rooms and food gone bad. The scent was strong enough to be overwhelming. I could have just turned around right then. I could have marched back to my shitty little car and signed the papers and started over, just like Holloway suggested.

  But deep inside, a light glowed yellow, so I stepped inside and shut the door behind me. I could barely make out the form of an imposing man as he emerged from the lit doorway, then the shadows swallowed him up before I got a good look. His buttery-smooth voice floated down the hall to me as he murmured, “Selena Langston.”

  “That’s me.” Internally I winced at my flippant tone, but I kept my back straight. I was a Langston, damn it, and I had nothing to be embarrassed about. It wasn’t my fault the company was drowning in debt, and if I could just convince this guy to…

  I sensed him approaching through the shadows, but I couldn’t see anything in the darkness. For a breathless few seconds, he was nothing but an ominous shadow gliding silently toward me, and then Bastian Forge stepped into the light. That was the moment I realized I was completely in over my head.

  At first glance, he was everything my family had warned me about, and then some.

  I didn’t have much experience with vampires, but he was enormous. Tall and rangy, he stalked toward me, making the spacious entry seem claustrophobic as he filled it up with a pair of broad shoulders and a bad attitude. I deduced this by the half-snarl curling his lip—and his eyes. I couldn’t see the color, but I swear to God, they glowed. My heart stuttering, I couldn’t have run if I wanted to.

  There was no doubt it was Forge.

  Every line of his handsome face—the one I’d stared at longer than I should have—was exactly like the old painting. But unlike in the artwork, his high, sharp cheekbones and sweep of black hair were accented by an aura of careless arrogance. He filled the air with power—it seeped from him like a drug, intoxicating and frighteningly seductive, and despite my best efforts, it affected me. But it wasn’t his size or intensity that had me reevaluating my sanity; it was his cold, impassive tone.

  “Miss Langston. I assume you were warned against contacting me? Which means you are not only reckless, you are incapable of following orders.”

  I was neither of those things—mostly not—and bristled at his accusation.

  “I’m perfectly capable of following orders, as you call them, but not when my company is on the line.”

  His skin was paler than I’d imagined, so the painting wasn’t one hundred percent accurate. Or he’d spent the last few centuries indoors.

  “Nevertheless, your ancestor swore an oath to me,” he said. “I expect that promise to be honored.”

  “That was two hundred years ago. Surely there’s a time limit for honoring an agreement?” I plowed ahead, fueled mostly by fear and desperation, because maybe, if I got the words out fast enough, somehow, he might actually listen. “I’m losing the company. It’s about to revert to the board of directors, who will dismantle it and sell it off to the highest bidder. Langston-Forge is all I’ve got.” I raised the bottle so the amber liquid caught the light. “Except for this. Once I decant this batch in six months, L&F will be liquid again. Literally. All I’m asking for is a short-term loan.”

  “Get out of my house.”

  I bit my lip, probably a no-no when in present company, but I couldn’t help myself. “Please. I don’t have anyone else to go to.”

  Menace flashed across his face before he schooled it into a calm, detached mask. “They don’t have banks these days?” Hostility emanated from him, filling up the hallway, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. This was not a vampire to be trifled with, but I was looking at my very last hope. God, I wish he wasn’t so pissed off.

  “But…what about the note? You left me a note offering your help.” My brain seemed to have slowed down.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about, but let us assume that concludes your business here.” He took another step toward me, and this close, I had to look up to see his eyes. The hostility in them was nothing short of frightening.

  My lungs contracted in fear as I debated my options. None. I had no options. This was it.

  “No, it doesn’t conclude anything,” I said. The hand holding the bottle was slippery with sweat. I hoped I didn’t drop it on his floor. “I found a note on my desk. Signed by you.” My brain grabbed on to bits of information like they were life rafts. “You contacted me first. Aren’t you interested in saving the company you founded?”

  “Not in the least.”

  His answer threw me for a second before I recovered. “Why not?”

  He frowned down at me, his eyes narrowing. “Because I was never interested in the business, not like your ancestor. Ambrose took my money and built his company, and the only thing I asked for in return was to never be bothered. You are bothering me.”

  “Fine.” I shoved the bottle forward. “Taste this and tell me it’s not the best you’ve ever had. If it isn’t, then I’ll go away.”

  For a second, we stared at each other, then his top lip inched up, revealing a glint of a fang.

  Infernal humans. It’s a wonder they’ve survived this long.

  That was Forge’s grumpy voice, in my head. I looked around, convinced I was losing my mind.

  Incapable of following simple instructions.

  That was definitely Forge speaking, even though his lips hadn’t moved and he was still staring at me like I was a fly he wanted to swat. His voice rang in my head, and not like a reverberation or an echo. It was as if he was speaking directly into my consciousness.

  It’s no wonder I’ve never found one I liked half as much as Ambrose.

  I snorted. “I might be an infernal human, but I’m also a Langston—just like Ambrose. I’ll save my own damn company and take your name off the building, you pompous asshole.” I drew a deep breath, trying to come up with a pithy parting shot. “I don’t need…your help.”

  Not exactly the scathing jab I’d been going for. I cradled the bottle so it didn’t slip from my hands. “Like I said before, I’m perfectly capable of following instructions. When they make sense.”

  Whirli
ng, I made for the door, the whisky safe and my temper on fire. No way I’d waste anything this good on Forge and his glowing-eye freak show. But when I tugged on the knob, the door didn’t budge. “Open the damn door,” I growled over my shoulder at him. “Open it or I swear…” I yanked the handle again while balancing the precious bottle.

  I wasn’t even scared, which really said something about my self-preservation instincts, but damn was I mad. Before I could get out another word, Forge appeared beside me.

  “You heard my thoughts?”

  “If you mean the freaky insult thing you just did inside my head, then yes, I heard you, loud and clear. I hate to tell you this, but you aren’t a huge prize either, hiding in the shadows in your enormous house.” I kept my hand on the knob. “Let me out.”

  Ambrose came to me with a proposition. How much did I loan him?

  “A thousand pounds sterling,” I snapped, and his face changed, ever so slightly. “Happy? Can I go home now?”

  Impossible.

  “Weird, but clearly not impossible.” My mind was spinning. I could read vampire thoughts. Over twenty years and this had never happened to me before. Of course, I’d never been this close to a vampire before, either. I would have pondered this further, except I had to get out of this damn house.

  “I’ll help you.”

  “Too late. I don’t want your damn help. Not after hearing your opinion of me.” Dad would say I was just cutting off my nose to spite my face, and maybe I was. But damn it, after months of trying to fix Brandon’s fuck-up, after losing Dad, after trying to earn the board’s respect—and failing—I was tired of defending myself to men. Vampires, I decided, were even worse.

  “I will provide you enough working capital to last you six months and pay off all outstanding debts.”

  My hand fell away from the door as I weighed his generous offer. I was still pretty pissed off, though. “That’s a lot of money. I can’t pay you back until—”

  “I don’t want your money,” he said abruptly, the eerie glow sparking in his eyes. “All I want in return is a favor.” He went still as I considered my answer. So still that I was tempted to poke him to see if he was still alive.

  I eyed him suspiciously. “What kind of favor?” He didn’t look quite as frightening anymore, but there was something in his tone that made me hesitate. “I think I’d rather repay the loan.”

  “I have a very delicate meeting to attend in a few weeks, and I have a lot riding on the outcome. If I knew what my adversaries were thinking, it would give me an edge in the negotiations. Accompany me, and I’ll forgive your debt entirely.”

  “Nothing is ever that simple,” I said. “What’s the catch?”

  “It’s called Assembly—a meeting of the high vampires in my clan.” He cocked his head, as if sizing me up for dinner. “I can’t read their minds.” This time when he smiled, I got the full-fang treatment. “But you can.”

  4

  As I waited for her to respond to my offer, it struck me that the girl was the spitting image of her ancestor, right down to her curly blond hair and slanted emerald eyes. For the first time in a long time, I felt a twinge of…curiosity toward a human.

  Whatever desperation had brought her here, it was her gutsy determination that convinced me she might be of use to me—if her ability was real. Once I determined that, I’d still have to train her, which I wasn’t holding out hope for. She couldn’t be more than twenty, and I briefly wondered why she was shouldering this burden by herself.

  Selena tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned her eyes on me. She was suspicious, but there was a kernel of hope growing in her gaze. “Where is this meeting?”

  “Scotland.” The same place I’d met her ancestor, but I saw no need to mention that. Not until she agreed. Even if she did…

  “Why do you need to know what everyone else is thinking?”

  I almost laughed. “Obviously, you haven’t sat through many negotiations.”

  “Enough to know that reading people’s thoughts is like…”

  As she floundered for the correct word, I helpfully supplied it. “Dishonest?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Nonetheless, will you help me?” Her thoughts were everywhere, fluctuating between dismay and optimism as she weighed my offer against her fears. Watching her internal debate was fascinating, and when she chewed her bottom lip—when those white teeth closed over her pink lip—my cock twitched against my pants. Well, well—that’s a surprise.

  “When is this mysterious meeting?” She was clutching that bottle like a lifeline, so I took a step closer, noting she didn’t shrink back, although her heart rate sped up. I held my hand out for the bottle, and she obligingly slid it into my palm, the glass warm from where she’d been holding it.

  “Let me explain everything, then you can decide. In the meantime, tell me about this.” I gestured to the bottle.

  “It’s a special blend. This”—her face brightened as I held the bottle up to the light—“will transform Langston-Forge.” She had a breathy way of speaking when she was nervous, and her scent was musky, tinged with sweetness. She was exquisite.

  “A bold claim,” I said evenly. Her ancestor had said much the same, and while Langston-Forge was a respectable enough distillery, its product was hardly groundbreaking. American whisky was still just whisky. I should know.

  “Do you even drink whisky?” She licked her kips, and again, I closely followed the flick of that pink tongue before I pulled my attention away. “Or do you drink…you know…blood?”

  “I happen to enjoy both.” Seeing her slight wince, I added, “But whisky will do for now.” I motioned her to follow and flicked the lights on in the kitchen. “Let me get two glasses.”

  After setting them out, I let her do the pouring, and her hand stayed steady, despite the misgivings she must have. But desperation gave people courage, and right now, Selena Langston would take on an entire army to save her company. I wasn’t an army, but I meant to take advantage of her desperation, as well as her ability. While she fussed with the liquor, making sure both glasses were filled evenly, I sized her up.

  She was small and willowy, but her stance was confident, and her jaw was set in stubbornness, much the same way as Ambrose. Pale blond hair flowed down to the middle of her back, and she had a faint dusting of freckles on her nose. A bonny lass, I might have called her once. Now, as lovely as she was, Selena was just a means to an end.

  “Cheers,” she murmured as our glasses touched, then she raised it to her lips and swallowed, closing her eyes in bliss. Her throat was a long, pale column, her lashes lay dark against slightly flushed cheeks, and then there was that wild tumble of silky hair. Just looking at it made me want to tangle my hands in it, see if it was as soft as it looked.

  I wiped all lascivious thoughts from my head—in case she could hear them—and sniffed the whisky. A vampire’s smell is so acute that we can pick out individual ingredients, processes and age with the barest inhalation. This particular combination was divine—rich, but subtle, with only a hint of human-world smells.

  The second the whisky hit my palate, I knew her claim was correct.

  I’d never tasted anything like it, not even in Scotland. It was the perfect blend. The woody balance was superb, the burn exquisite, and where some whiskys were overbearingly fruity, this one was not. No, this flavor was more complex, deeper. It reminded me of long ago, when everything was still done by hand. I tasted a hint of peat, which was a surprise, given we were far from Scotland.

  “What do you think?”

  I’d been completely lost for a moment. I looked down at my empty glass. “It’s…indescribable.”

  “Good. That’s what I needed to hear.” She set her glass on the counter and braced her hands on the edge. “When is this meeting?”

  Straight back to business, which I had to admire. “Two weeks.” I tipped another three fingers into my glass, then savored my next taste, perhaps even more than the first. “But be
fore you agree, know that you will need some coaching.”

  “I suppose you’ll be the one doing the coaching?” Her tone—a mix of sass and arrogance—made my cock jump again. Obviously, isolation took its toll, since I was attracted to the first female I’d seen. Seeing how this might get complicated, I almost withdrew my proposal, but much like Miss Langston, my options were short.

  I poured her another glass as well. “Only if you wish to succeed at eavesdropping,” I said slowly, feeling out her reservations. Interestingly, she didn’t seem scared—she seemed intrigued.

  “Given that I’m only doing this—not that I actually am—at your request, it’s hardly eavesdropping. It’s more like spying.”

  “Exactly,” I agreed, grateful that she saw the difference. “You don’t want the others to suspect you.”

  “What? Or I’ll get eaten up?” All I saw were laughing eyes over the rim of crystal. At some point, when I didn’t answer, realization dawned on her face. She shook her head. “Oh, no way. Why can’t I just repay the loan?”

  “Because your ability to read a vampire’s mind is more valuable than any currency,” I explained patiently. “Now that I know what you can do, I don’t want your money. I want you at that meeting.” With her by my side, I’d discover why the Elder had summoned me to this ridiculous meeting, especially seeing the crimes were so very old.

  But this could actually work. Formal Assembly was held so seldom that there were always new faces amongst my old clan. And there was precedent for my offer to train Selena. A reason no one at the meeting would question. A reason that could be easily explained.

  As part of the Ouroboros Society, it was my duty to protect humans with special abilities or gifts. Despite all my time on Earth, I’d never had the opportunity to exercise my membership benefits. While I’d never expected to find one waiting on my doorstep, I would certainly use this situation to my advantage. Even if she was descended from the only human I’d ever considered a friend.

  “Let’s say I actually agree to do this…thing. The loan will be considered repaid, and you won’t expect me to do anything else for you?”