Wild Thing
Blueblood Vampires Book Two
Michelle Hercules
Infinite Sky Publishing
Wild Thing © 2020 by Michelle Hercules
All rights reserved.
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 the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: Michelle Hercules
Photographer: Michelle Lancaster (@lanefotograf)
Model: Lochie Carey
Editor: Theresa Schultz, Marginalia Editing
Proofreader: Cara Quinlan
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
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Also by Michelle Hercules
About the Author
1
Aurora
My mother told me to stay away from the catacombs, and what she says must be obeyed without question. Once upon a time, she used to be kinder, but that was before my father passed away. Then, I think the demands of her job stripped away any lingering softness from her. And since I’m her oldest child and destined to take her place as the High Witch, I get her worst.
But I’ve never been one to follow orders, and tonight, I’m sticking to my rebellious side. I want to know what the hell she and Solomon are hiding under the institute. I overheard the conversation between them after she came back from a meeting with King Raphael. They’re going to attempt to trap the deadly ghost again, and I’m not going to miss it.
That wraith was a vampire once, and my guess is she was a Blueblood, maybe even first generation. She felt powerful but also malicious, evil. More so than Boone, and that’s saying a lot.
But I can’t simply follow my mother at a distance and hope she won’t notice me. I’m taking precautions—and by precautions, I mean I’m using a concealment spell strong enough to fool even the High Witch. She would never approve of it. I acquired the potion from a member of the rogue mage guild, after all.
It would have been impossible for me to find them if the idiot who created the poisonous fog on the day of Boone’s attack hadn’t left behind a piece of his clothing. It was easy to cast a tracking spell with it. A bit harder to convince the guild to assist the daughter of the High Witch. Rogue mages can be hired, and some of them are powerful, but they’re all cowards. I had to resort to blackmail to get what I needed. They’d had no idea their fog job would assist in Lucca’s murder attempt by Boone. I promised them I wouldn’t rat them out to King Raphael if they cooperated.
Maybe it was stupid of me to waste such a trump card just to get a concealment spell, but I’m desperate to know my mother’s secret. I’m prone to making impulsive decisions. I hope this one doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass like my previous one. I have the guild by the balls, but I can’t keep blackmailing them. It’s amoral and also dangerous.
I drink the bitter potion and then head for the catacombs. Everything is eerily quiet, and the small hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Shit. Could the ghost have overpowered my mother and Solomon? I stick my hand inside my bag and pull out an enchanted crystal. It’s used to ward off vengeful ghosts, but it will only keep a vampire ghost at bay for a limited amount of time.
My heart is thumping hard and slow against my rib cage. It’s impossible not to feel the weight of fear when I know what’s on the loose down here. The silence is broken suddenly by a terrifying shriek that sends my heart spiraling up to my throat. Fuck. That’s the ghost. I freeze for a second, but then I hear my mother’s voice. She’s reciting a spell.
I walk faster, still mindful of being stealthy. Just before I reach the spot where my mother is, I flatten my back against the wall and stick my head around the corner. My mother and Solomon have the vampire wraith trapped in an orb of green light. She’s as freaky as I remember. I never knew vampires could turn into ghosts.
“You can’t keep us trapped forever,” the ghost wails. “The Nightingales have returned. We will get our revenge.”
Shit. The ghost is talking about Vivienne.
“You will return to your prison, Madeleine.”
“Madeleine?” The ghost laughs. “Madeleine has ceased to exist. Lost in her madness, she made a deal with me. I control her body and her soul.”
Solomon trades a glance with my mother. She nods, and together, they send the ghost back to the secret chamber. Her prison.
That’s it?
I’m pissed. Not only didn’t I get any intel, but I also wasted my leverage with the rogue mage guild in the process.
I quickly retrace my steps before my mother finds me. That would be the cherry on top.
When I get back to my apartment, I make sure all the lights are on. I hate that I can’t open the shutters and let sunlight in. Designed for vampires, they close automatically and won’t roll up again until nightfall. I sit on a high stool, leaning my elbows on the counter.
I’m not sure what I was hoping to achieve by spying on my mother. To gain a sense of control maybe, something that’s clearly absent in my life. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t be at Bloodstone, I wouldn’t be studying to take my mother’s place, and most importantly, I wouldn’t be promised to a douche canoe from an important magical family.
Running my hands through my hair, I yank back the strands. “Fuck.”
The sudden knock on my door makes me jerk on my seat. What now?
“Who is it?”
“Aurora, it’s me, Saxon.”
A string of curses runs through my head. I don’t want to deal with him, but at the same time, I could use a punching bag.
I cross the room with long strides and then open the door with a brusque movement. “What do you want?”
His hand is braced against the wall, and he looks positively ill. With a grimace, he replies, “The potion you gave me didn’t work.”
“Impossible. That should have worked.”
“Well, it didn’t.” He stands straighter, imposing, feral. “You’re still my damn mate, and if you don’t fix this, you’re going to be a widow before you exchange vows with your betrothed.”
&nb
sp; 2
Aurora
A month before
Incredulity. Disgust. Rage. All those feelings compete for space in my head as I park my car in front of Havoc. Growing up, I’ve always known I wouldn’t have much control over my life. As the oldest daughter of the High Witch, much is expected of me. There was never time for play; studying witchcraft was my only priority. Responsibility and sacrifice were the bywords repeated constantly by my mother.
And damn, the woman can’t complain. I’ve always done what she said, even if I broke her rules in secret. I enrolled at Bloodstone Institute, a school for vampires—and the last place I wanted to be—without offering resistance. But what she’s asked me to do now is brutal.
Mother dearest wants me to marry a douche canoe from a prestigious magical family. Apparently, not only do I have to pledge my life to serve the ruler of vampires, King Raphael, but I also have to make sure my offspring will be sufficiently gifted to carry on our legacy.
I left her house fuming, but I couldn’t return to Bloodstone. I wanted to scream and break things. What would those bloodsuckers do if they saw the future High Witch losing her shit? I drove for hours until I saw the sign welcoming me to Boston. I could have simply spent the night in the big metropolis, but that wouldn’t change my reality.
It wasn’t until I was back in Salem that I made the last-minute decision to stop at the popular vampire club. I’ve never stepped foot inside before. I have my fill of vamps at the institute, after all. But I’ve heard stories about the place. Things can get wild in there and tonight that’s exactly what I need.
I pull the visor down and check my reflection in the vanity mirror to make sure my makeup is not smeared. I cried tears of rage earlier, which I’m not ashamed to admit, but I don’t need to flaunt the raccoon look. Surprisingly, my makeup survived the ugly crying. Hooray for waterproof mascara! I ditch my severe jacket and button-down shirt, glad that I forgot a bag from my latest shopping trip in my car. What I have isn’t by any means club attire, but I’ll take the tank top with the sassy quote any time over a lame combo meant for working in an office. Who knows, maybe the pissed-off unicorn saying “Back the fuck up, sparkle tits, or you get shanked” will deter vampires from annoying me.
There’s already a line of humans waiting to get in. It’s so long, it goes around the block. I veer straight toward the bouncer at the front—a tall, mean-looking regular vampire who is attired in a black suit and an earpiece. He glances in my direction, already sporting a frown, but before he can open his mouth to send me to the back of the line, I flash him the ring on my finger that bears the royal insignia of King Raphael. In an instant, his expression changes to one of respect. He nods, and then lifts the red velvet rope to let me through.
He must have alerted his coworkers inside because I’m ushered through the VIP entrance without having to pay the entrance fee. Finally, I get to reap the benefits of my association with the king.
The music is obnoxiously loud. I can feel the bass vibrations deep in my chest. It’s definitely not the kind of soundtrack one can enjoy sober, so I head straight for the bar near the main dance floor. It’s hard not to wrinkle my nose as I’m blasted with the scent of blood and sex in the air. That’s what vampires do. They feed and fuck whenever the urge strikes. No false modesty with them.
I elbow my way through the throng of writhing bodies, getting nasty looks as I go. One stupid vamp skank hisses at me when I shove her to the side. Not a Blueblood, but even if she were, I wouldn’t give a damn. Despite her lack of status, I sense she wants to start a fight. Not tonight, bitch. I let the magic run freely through my veins, which makes my eyes glow with a white light. Immediately, the vampire backs down. No surprise there. They’re taught not to mess with powerful witches.
Thanks to my little demonstration, I have no problem getting a spot in front of the bar. A tall and extremely attractive vampire is busy mixing a cocktail. Judging by the ingredients he’s pouring into the shaker, he’s making something for a human. None of these regulars would be able to handle a Bloody Mary.
He looks familiar, but it’s not until he speaks to another patron that recognition hits me. Derek Blackwater, the last vampire made before the Nightingales went away, and owner of Havoc. No wonder I didn’t recognize him right away. He’s not wearing one of his expensive custom-made suits and he has scruff on his face.
Without lifting his gaze to mine, he says, “I’m surprised to see you here, Aurora. I thought you didn’t like to party with our kind.”
I flatten my lips to prevent an angry retort from coming out of my mouth. I have to be careful about what I say to Derek. He’s only a regular on paper. In reality, he’s just as powerful as any Blueblood I’ve met, and equally lethal.
“I’m pissed at my kind. So, I figured I needed a change of scenery.”
He raises his piercing eyes to mine. “Received bad news?”
Watching him through slits, I ask, “What do you know about it?”
He chuckles, switching his attention to another drink he’s mixing. “I’ve only heard rumors that there would be an important engagement announcement soon in the magical community. You’re the High Witch’s heir, twenty-one, and single. It wasn’t hard to guess.”
I keep the glower in place, but it’s not aimed at Derek per se. I’m still riding on the anger triggered by my mother’s news. If it were up to me, I’d never get married. I don’t see any good reason to shackle myself to any man. But tonight, I’m determined to forget the shit storm that’s waiting for me in my near future.
“Hit me with your most powerful stuff,” I say.
He seeks my gaze again, raising an eyebrow. “You can’t handle my most powerful stuff.”
The corners of his lips twitch upward, and his deep green eyes become lighter. My spine turns rigid in an instant. Did Derek just flirt with me? He’s definitely a sexy vamp, but hell, I’m smart enough to not go there.
“Oh, gag me. Save the innuendos for the blow-up dolls crawling in your club.”
Grinning, he replies, “I don’t need to waste any inferences on them.”
“I bet you don’t. Just give me a bottle of Patron and I’ll get out of your hair.”
He shakes his head. “No can do, baby girl. I don’t need an intoxicated and pissed-off witch on my premises.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t plan to drink it alone.”
Derek’s posture doesn’t change as he opens his mouth to no doubt tell me no again. But someone interjects before he can.
“Just give the little witch the bottle, Derek. I promise she won’t misbehave.”
I turn, coming face-to-face with Saxon Hellström, a cocky Blueblood that I’ve had the misfortune to interact with on a few occasions. I never understood the allure of vampires until I met him. He had me tongue-tied and blushing like a schoolgirl until he opened his big mouth and ruined everything. The almost five-hundred-year-old vampire has the maturity level of an eight-year-old boy. Now he’s watching me with eyes that are filled with glee and a shit-eating grin on his lips. And yet, my traitorous body does a number on me. My pulse quickens just being in close proximity to him.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” I ask.
“No reason at all.”
Derek sets a sealed Patron bottle in front of me along with two shot glasses. “She’s your responsibility now, Saxon. She hexes my place, I’m coming for you.”
He reaches over, grabbing the bottle and glasses before I can. “She’s in good hands.”
What an arrogant ass. There are so many things I want to tell him, but I save it for when Derek can’t hear us. Saxon turns away from the bar with my drink in hand, leaving me no choice but to follow him.
He chooses to cut right through the dance floor. The crowd parts to let him through, gawking at the blond vampire like he’s some kind of deity. Women and men alike ogle him with clear desire in their eyes, but Saxon doesn’t seem to notice or care.
We reach a set of wide stairs, which a
re currently roped off and manned by another bouncer in a dark suit. Silently, he lets us through. Saxon goes up the stairs two steps at a time, reaching the second floor in the blink of an eye. I race to catch up with him, and the little bit of cardio only adds fuel to my growing irritation with the male.
He’s sitting casually in one of the couches by the time I reach the landing and has already poured the shots. Damn vampires and their supernatural speed. Still watching me with amusement, he offers me one of the glasses when I stop in front of his table.
I take his offering with a jerky movement, maintaining eye contact with him. Saxon seems to be fighting down a smirk. Asshat. My irritation expands, and it feels like an itch on my back that I can’t reach. It’s a prickling sensation under my skin. Getting alcohol into my system becomes the number one priority. I throw my head back to swallow the shot in one single gulp. Immediately, warmth spreads through my body, but it’s not nearly enough to make me relax. I need more.
“Feeling better now?” he asks.
My answer is to sit down on the chair opposite him and pour myself another shot. It’s only after I drink the fifth one and have a nice buzz going that I reply, “Yes.”
Wild Thing: A Vampire Paranormal Romance (Blueblood Vampires Book 2) Page 1
