Table of Contents
SLIVER OF SILVER
Acknowledgements
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
SLIVER OF SILVER
A Blushing Death Novel
SUZANNE M. SABOL
SOUL MATE PUBLISHING
New York
SLIVER OF SILVER
Copyright©2013
SUZANNE M. SABOL
Cover Design by Rae Monet, Inc.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Published in the United States of America by
Soul Mate Publishing
P.O. Box 24
Macedon, New York, 14502
ISBN-13: 978-1-61935-210-0
www.SoulMatePublishing.com
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
To my Mom and Dad
You never once told me that I couldn’t do something.
I appreciate that more than you know.
To my editor, Debby
You are an incredible person.
Your faith in me and in all of us keeps us going.
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank my beta reader, Shahreena Shahrani. When you didn’t speak to me for two weeks after this one, I knew I was on the right track.
Last, but definitely not least, I would like to thank my husband, Ross. You trudged through this one even though it was filled with “emotional stuff” and I appreciate it. You gave me brutally honest feedback and whether you believe me or not, I do actually listen to you, most of the time, anyway. I love you!
Chapter 1
I ran as fast as I could. Branches whipped against my face and arms, scratching my skin as I moved through the brush and trees. The leaves and twigs on the ground were hard beneath my bare feet but I didn’t care. I wasn’t scared anymore. The moon shone down on me as I ran and that felt right. The moment I got to the clearing, I’d be home. Excitement spread over me and my skin tingled with energy. Anticipation made me run faster until the muscles in my calves and thighs burned with exhaustion. The skin on the bottom of my feet ached as the harsh forest floor tore through my delicate flesh.
My heart raced and my throat burned with each warm breath filling my lungs. Up ahead, I could see the clearing through the trees. The pale light of the full moon shone down on the long blades of dew-covered grass, reflecting the moon’s light as if each were made of crystal.
I burst through the trees, gripping the long, cool, damp blades of grass between my toes and stopped. I took a few soft, careful steps forward into the clearing.
Danny was there, encased in the moonlight like a work of art behind glass.
He stood in the center, waiting, watching the moon above him take its course across the night’s sky. In a pair of ragged jeans and no shirt, the dark, tanned skin of his chest was luminescent in the silver light of the moon, reminding me just how beautiful he was. Was!
Danny’s hair was longer than I’d remembered, like he’d gone too long without a haircut. A warm breeze wrapped around him, blowing his hair in the wind around his face. He turned to face me. Before I knew I’d moved, Danny’s hands cupped my face with light tenuous fingers as he’d done so many times before.
His mouth moved but no sound came from his lips. Standing in a void of white noise, I struggled to break the bubble of silence. I wanted to hear Danny’s deep, husky voice just one more time.
His fingers tightened in my hair, pressing his fingertips into the skin behind my ears. A look of pained surprise overcame him, widening his eyes and turning his full lips into a thin, bleak grimace. I glanced down at my hand lodged in his chest and gasped.
My bottom lip trembled and my heart beat a frantic rhythm, thumping against my rib cage hard and painfully. His heart beat a squishy cadence at the tips of my fingers and I forced back the bile that lodged in my throat. I tugged my hand from the gaping hole in his chest. His still-beating heart was clenched between my fingers.
Darting my gaze up into his hazel gray eyes full of the betrayal and disappointment I had always feared, I shivered. I hadn’t meant to hurt him. I hadn’t meant to kill him. I’d never wanted any of that. He grazed my mouth in a light caress with his thumb before collapsing to his knees in a lifeless heap at my feet.
I screamed at the top of my lungs as the bubble of white noise burst around me. Danny’s faint echo of a scream mirrored my own.
My eyes bolted open and I jerked up on reflex. My chest heaved with each heavy, painful breath that burned my lungs. I was in Patrick’s room at the mansion, alone.
It was only a dream. Thank God, it was only a dream.
I raised my hands to brush the hair from my sweaty face and stopped. My fingers were clenched into tight fists of white-knuckled tension. Opening my trembling hands, my fingers ached from the pressure and blood pooled in the palm of both hands.
I’d killed him. I’d ripped his heart out.
I couldn’t have done it. Danny was dead, had been dead for months. As my mind worked through that realization again, as it had almost every night over the last six months, the screams died in my throat.
Patrick had stopped running up the stairs to check on me months ago. There was nothing he could do and the helpless shadow in his dark eyes made me feel worse.
I stared back down at my trembling hands, at the blood pooling in my palms. Perfect, crescent-shaped wounds burned in my skin, red and irritated. I’d dug my fingernails into the palms of my hands so hard that I’d broken the skin.
The blood was mine. Thank you God, the blood was mine.
I scooted out of the bed on my ass without touching anything. I didn’t want to leave a blood trail, not in a house filled with vampires. Anyone in the house probably already smelled the rich, iron odor circulating through the ventilation. With a few scoots across the orgy-sized bed in Patrick’s master suite, my bare feet touched the
cold, hardwood floors.
Gooseflesh shot up my legs as a chill spread through me. The house was cold, even for the middle of July. Patrick kept the house at a cool 60 degrees, not quite meat locker temperature but to those of us with warm blood in our veins, it was pretty damned cold.
I tiptoed into the master bath. White marble floors and countertops lightened the room, but also made it seem cold, antiseptic. Bamboo slat benches and pristine white towels decorated the large room, like walking into a spa.
I turned on the hot water in the sink with the back of my hand and ran my hands underneath the steady warm stream. The heat felt sinfully good after the rush of chill had seeped into me as I stepped from the bed. I dared to glance up at myself in the mirror. My eyes were dark and vacant. I hadn’t been sleeping. I was pale, even more so than usual. I’d lost weight too, not just weight . . . muscle. I looked like a weakling, like I was sick, and starving.
I flicked the water off when it ran clear off my hands and grabbed a handful of toilet paper. Pressing my hands together, I applied pressure to stop the bleeding. I took in one deep breath after another, trying to get my heart to stop pounding. All I saw in my mind’s eye was Danny’s heart beating in my grip, and his blood on my hands.
I’m losing my mind.
I tossed the toilet paper into the bowl and flushed, bandaging myself up quickly and expertly. I’d had a lot of practice with triage.
The house was quiet with the exception of the television in Patrick’s office a floor below. He kept it on CNN 24/7 trying to block out the sound of voices. After he discovered I could hear everything they said in his office from the bedroom through the vents, the television was turned on.
I stopped when Alex’s voice carried from the office below.
“At least the screaming’s stopped,” she said in a reassuring tone.
“For now.” Patrick’s deep, velvety voice sounded hopeless, sad. I swallowed hard, forcing the lump in my throat down.
“It’s no wonder this house is empty until just before dawn. It’s hard for us to take,” Alex said. “They don’t know how to help her and the entire colony wants to. She’s crumbling before our eyes, Pat.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Patrick snapped. His voice was sharp and angry. “They don’t know how to help her? I don’t know how to help her. I’m watching her waste away and I can’t do a damned thing about it. Alex, I don’t know what to do anymore.” His voice quaked and the first hot tear of regret slid down my cheek. I’d done this to him.
“The other regional Lieges feared us; they feared her,” she said with concern making her R’s roll off her tongue. “Have you heard anything?”
“I’ve had several requests to send emissaries into our territory and specifically to our colony. It doesn’t bode well for us. They’re looking for weaknesses. They want to see her, see if she’s as terrifying as they’ve heard. If they find her in her current state, she’ll become a target,” he said.
“We’ll all become a target,” Alex corrected.
“I can’t refuse their requests indefinitely. They’ll know something’s amiss.”
“We’ll think of something and Dean will help. He’s your friend,” Alex said. “Don’t worry.” Her voice was comforting and so unlike the Alex I knew. “They’ll never know something’s wrong. We won’t let anyone find out.”
“I don’t care if they know,” he roared. “I’ll know. It’s killing me to watch her disappear into someone I don’t recognize and know there’s nothing I can do to stop it!”
I backed away from the vent, horrified. I’d thought my suffering had been in silence, that I wasn’t hurting anyone but myself. I could hear the pain in Patrick’s voice and the anger in Alex’s. I didn’t know how to make this guilt, this pain, this deep void in me go away. I had an open, festering wound that wouldn’t heal. I’d never heard helplessness in Patrick’s voice before but it was there now.
I had to get out.
Slipping into my clothes, I grabbed my bag. I’d walked these halls a thousand times and felt as much at home here as I did in my own house. Tonight, I felt like an invader.
I descended the stairs, taking each step in a silent, delicate tread as if the stairs would crumble beneath me. I felt fragile and on edge all the time.
I just want to sleep and not dream.
I stepped across the foyer with the same light steps I’d taken down the stairs in the hopes of avoiding them. The beating of my heart, the smell of fresh blood, and the empathic bond between Patrick and I gave me away. Their conversation halted and Alex jerked the door open. Her dark, chocolate eyes were grim and angry.
“I’m a . . . I’m gonna go,” I whispered.
“Dahlia, it’s almost 4 a.m.?” Patrick questioned from deep in his office, behind Alex. Nudging Alex out of the way, he clutched the edge of the office door in his hand as if it was the only thing holding him up. Worry crept across his stark features, making him seem older than his 35 years. The skin crinkled at the corners of his dark eyes and concern made his brow furrow.
I’ve done that to him.
“It’s all right,” I placated. “I have to get up and go to work anyway. No big deal.” I slung my bag up over my shoulder and turned to leave.
Patrick’s large, strong hand gripped my shoulder, almost in desperation as his fingers dug into me. I turned to face him.
His dark eyes bore into me. If he could’ve, I think he would’ve tried to peer into my very soul. He was desperate to make this right, and I didn’t know how to help him.
“Weren’t you going to say goodbye?” he whispered, cupping my warm face in his cool hands. It’d been hours since he’d fed or he’d be warmer, not much, but warmer. I tried to shove all the hurt, guilt, and pain down deep so I wouldn’t burden him with it. The empathic wall between us was useless. My emotions leaked all over him when I couldn’t hold them in. He physically cringed as my remorse, and my sadness washed over him.
“Come back to me,” he whispered. “Please, Sweetheart. I can’t take it,” he begged, searching my eyes for signs of life.
“I’m right here,” I said with a small, useless smile. I was trying. I really was even though I knew in my gut it was a lie. Resignation shone as bright as the sun in his eyes, it was heartbreaking. Tears welled in my eyes again. I was tired of crying, tired of feeling adrift. As I blinked back the tears burning behind my eyes, he lowered his forehead to touch mine.
“I wish I could believe that,” he whispered just before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss on the tip of my nose. He released me reluctantly.
He didn’t know how to make me better and I sure as hell didn’t know how to make this guilt go away. The only thing I could do to make his life easier was to stay out of his way. So I did.
Striding out into the humid, summer night, I took a deep breath of the uncomfortable, thick air enveloping me like fog. The full moon was only a week and a half away and I felt the pull of the moon in my bones like the tide coming in, like Danny had been able to feel the moon. I felt a lot of things the way Danny had since I’d taken his heart into me.
Midnight Ash had taken Danny’s still-beating heart from his body and shoved it down my throat. I hadn’t become the werewolf Danny had been and by this point, Dean was pretty sure I wasn’t going to shift at all. But the abilities I’d gained were frightening. I sensed the stages of the moon, heard the call of the Pack at the full moon, and my healing increased exponentially. I could see, hear, and smell things I shouldn’t be able to as a human.
I tugged the gauze from my hands without concern. My palms were healed; scabbed over. By morning, there would barely be a scar. I’d gotten all the perks and none of the drawbacks from the transfer. I felt as if I was on the outside looking in on my life, belonging to nothing and no one. I didn’t feel like me anymore.
I h
opped on the motorcycle Danny had left me, leaving the uncertainty to the hot summer wind and drove home. I didn’t want to think anymore.
Chapter 2
The telephone rang on my nightstand, blaring a harsh digital tone in my mind. I rolled over and glared at the clock . . . 6:10 a.m. I had ten more minutes before the alarm was supposed to go off and I’d only been asleep for an hour. I reached, slamming my hand into anything and everything on the nightstand in my attempt to answer the ringing phone without opening my eyes.
This better be good.
“Hello,” I gruffed.
“Did I wake you?” Derek’s voice boomed over the line, loud and clear. I yanked the phone away from my ear to keep from going deaf. He was way too chipper in the morning.
“Yeah,” I growled, not sounding very nice.
“I need you to come look at something,” he snapped before shouting to someone else.
“Now?” I snorted.
“Yeah, you got some place better to be?”
“Actually, yes. Work.”
“Well, you’re gonna be late. I need you to examine a body, so get your ass up here!”
If he wasn’t my friend, I would have hung up on his cranky ass and that sharp tone. I don’t respond well to orders, especially from assholes before dawn.
“Up where?” I asked. My voice clearing as my eyes and brain adjusted to being awake. “I’m not driving all over God’s creation just so I can look death in the face first thing in the fucking morning.” I felt better giving him a little shit but I was already out of bed and heading to the bathroom.
“Just south of 270, near the 23 off-ramp. Don’t worry, you can’t miss it,” he said and the line went dead. He didn’t even say goodbye.
Sliver of Silver (Blushing Death) Page 1
