by Lexi C. Foss
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Blood Heart
Copyright © 2018 Lexi C. Foss All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes.
Editing by: Outthink Editing, LLC & Jacy Mackin Cover Design: Phatpuppy Art Studios Typography: Methyss Digital Artist Series Logo: The Font Diva Published by: Ninja Newt Publishing, LLC
Digital Edition
ISBN: 978-09993709-0-2
To Laura—For still being my best friend despite my inclination to kill people. No, I mean characters. Right.
Oh, and for understanding the following words/topics: Bush. Tree. Wall. Yep. Infamous NYC Eiffel Tower. 47. Pig Latin. “Relaxing” vacations.
Please say hi to Stas & Lizzie for me next time you’re on 79th. <3 Pizza is forever; cheeseballs are too.
Contents
Immortal Curse Series Order
A Note from the Author
Glossary
Asset File: 4-7
1. Pepperoni Pizza Party
2. Bloody Good Times
3. A Blood Promise
4. “Not a Date” Is a Date, Except When It’s Not
5. A Game of Cups
6. When a Ghost Invites Himself to Coffee
7. Secrets and Lies
8. Playing Hide-and-Seek
9. Running Domestic Errands
10. A First Time for Everything
11. Breakfast
12. Angels and Demons at the Costume Ball
13. Let’s Play a Game of Truth
14. Was It a Dream?
15. A Free Spirit
16. The Treaty of 1747
17. A Self-Guided Tour
18. Trust and Conviction
19. A Lesson in Confidence
20. Flirtatious Behavior
21. Let’s Play a Game
22. Welcome Back
23. Move Your Ass
24. Resurrection in the Light of Disaster
25. Wall of Fire
26. Fractured Bonds
27. And So It Begins
28. There’s No One Like You
29. Pizza Is Forever
Epilogue
Angel Bonds
Immortal Curse Series
Music Playlist
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Lexi C. Foss
Immortal Curse Series Order
Blood Laws
Forbidden Bonds
Blood Heart
Angel Bonds
Blood Bonds
A Note from the Author
Dear Reader,
Blood Heart is the third book in the Immortal Curse series and picks up right after the events in Forbidden Bonds. It’s strongly encouraged, but not required, to read these books in order. For those new to the Immortal world, I’m including a glossary of key terms and definitions.
Cheers,
Lexi C. Foss
PRETERNATURAL BEINGS
Fledgling (noun): The child of a male Ichorian and a human female, who has not yet been reborn as a Hydraian; they do not typically possess supernatural or psychic gifts until their immortal rebirth.
Hydraian (noun): An immortal offspring of a male Ichorian and a human female, who possesses two supernatural or psychic gifts and does not require human blood to survive.
Ichorian (noun): An immortal being of unknown descent who possesses one supernatural or psychic gift and requires human blood to survive.
Immortal (noun): A general noun designating a being who does not age and is immune to natural human death.
Seraphim (noun): A being who belongs to the highest order of angelic hierarchy. No known Seraphim are in existence today.
KEY TERMS
Arcadia: Notorious Ichorian club in New York City that also serves as the primary meeting location for the Ichorian government.
Blood Laws: A series of ordinances created by the Ichorian governance board in response to the Treaty of 1747.
Catastrophic Relief Foundation (CRF): A global humanitarian aid organization headquartered in New York City with a secret paramilitary unit designed to destroy rogue supernaturals.
Conclave: The Ichorian governing board.
Elders: The original Hydraians who also serve as the Hydraian governing board.
Nizari: Ancient Ichorian assassins who hunt and kill fledglings.
Nizari Poison: A green substance notorious for killing fledglings and preventing their rebirth.
Sentinel: A soldier in the CRF unit designed to slaughter rogue immortal beings.
Treaty of 1747: An armistice agreement between Hydraians and Ichorians to cease fire and live in their designated areas. Those who opt to cross these boundaries do so at their own risk.
1
Pepperoni Pizza Party
Subject displays signs of unnatural beauty, a requisite of the program. Project benefactor is pleased.
—Entry Log 110.09.4-7
Bang.
Bang, bang.
Lizzie Watkins glared at the ceiling. Reviewing spelling tests for first graders was a daunting enough task without the gladiator theatrics going on above her.
She blew a raspberry. Clearly, the new owner on the third floor had finished moving into his condo. Lizzie hadn’t even known her upstairs neighbors had moved out until she saw the relocation company carrying boxes through the lobby for the new resident.
Crash.
She set the papers aside with a huff and climbed to her feet. Normally, she welcomed new tenants with cookies, but this one had touched her last nerve.
Thud.
“For crying out loud!” She slid on a pair of pumps by the door, grabbed her keys, and stomped off toward the stairwell.
One flight of stairs later, she stood outside the new tenant’s home and waited for the horrid song to change over before introducing her fist to his door. Repeatedly.
“Just a second!” The male voice sounded deep and masculine.
She tapped her foot while waiting, arms folded, eyebrow quirked, mouth ready.
“Sorry,” the voice continued as the door opened. “Had to finish my set.”
Abs.
That was the first thought that registered.
Because the man had greeted her shirtless.
A pair of navy gym shorts sat low on his lean hips, leaving his muscular physique on full display. The trail of moisture licking a path over his chiseled chest suggested he’d been working out. At least that explained the clanking and banging.
“Um…” Lizzie met a pair of soft brown eyes and faltered.
Milk chocolate, her cook’s brain supplied.
I don’t care what color they are, she snapped back.
Or that his gaze appeared to be roaming shamelessly over her body right now.
No.
Focus.
We’re here to yell.
Right.
She cleared her throat and leveled the attractive man with a look she used on her misbehaving students. “I live in the condo beneath yours, and your—uh—workout, is, well, it’s distracting me from my work.”
Yes, Liz. That’s a wonderful lecture.
“Is it?” He didn’t sound apologetic, and his gaze had yet to return to hers. He seemed fascinated by her breasts. Damn man.
“Yes, it is.” She inserted a
little more force into her tone, which only seemed to amuse him.
“Hmm, I’ll try to keep it down,” he murmured. “And I would apologize, but there wouldn’t be much truth in it.”
She gaped at him. “Excuse me?”
“Well, I can hardly feel bad about attracting you to my door, especially dressed like that.” He waved a hand over her body, causing Lizzie to consider her attire.
Black pumps, tiny blue sleep shorts, and a rose-colored tank top with no bra underneath. With her roommate out for the night, Lizzie had slipped on her pajamas before starting on her paperwork. And she hadn’t bothered to change before scurrying upstairs.
“Oh.” Her cheeks burned from mortification. Even her hair was a tousled mess. If her mother caught her out in public like this, she’d throw a fit. “Right. Uh, thanks for keeping it down. Nice to meet you.”
She turned to walk away, quickly, and cringed as his chuckle followed her down the hall. He probably thought she was nuts. Great. Well, she didn’t like him much, either, with all that racket.
“I’ll try to keep it down,” she scoffed, doing a poor impersonation of his deep voice.
She slammed her front door with more force than necessary, kicked off her shoes and wandered to the master bathroom.
“Awesome.” As she suspected, her makeup was fine, but the long auburn strands she always wore styled in public were a hot mess on top of her head. And her pink camisole top left nothing to the imagination thanks to her oversized boobs. No wonder he’d been so enthralled.
“At least we’re even,” she muttered. He’d given her an eyeful of his perfectly sculpted chest as well. “Can’t complain about that.”
Feeling naked, she pulled on her favorite New York University sweatshirt and tromped into the large kitchen to search for something to eat. Her parents had gifted her this condo on the Upper East Side after college graduation. She suspected it was a way to keep her at a distance. As if she would move back in with them.
Although, with her roommate working all day and spending almost every night with her new boyfriend, Lizzie felt lonelier than ever. She wanted to be happy for Stas, but she didn’t trust the Catastrophic Relief Foundation (CRF). The world-renowned humanitarian organization always struck her as wrong, and after Tom died on one of their missions—
Knock. Knock.
She blinked. “What now?”
Closing the refrigerator, she wandered over to the front door and groaned upon peering through the peephole. A now-clothed muscular giant stood in the hallway. She pressed her forehead against the wood and grumbled under her breath before calmly twisting the handle.
“Yes?” Not her most eloquent greeting, but the circumstances weren’t exactly favorable.
A pair of adorable dimples flashed at her as the man braced his forearms on the door frame over her head. “Do you like pepperoni?”
“Excuse me?” Apparently, that was her go-to phrase in this guy’s presence.
“Pep-per-oni,” he repeated slowly and arched a brow. “Well?”
“Who doesn’t like pepperoni?” she asked, flabbergasted. And why the hell are you asking me about it?
“My thoughts exactly,” he replied as he breezed past her into the condo like he owned the place. He kicked off his sneakers onto the mat beside the door before glancing around her living area. A couch, two big chairs, a coffee table, and an entertainment system. Nothing too extraordinary, but she liked it.
He seemed to focus on her curtains as he murmured, “It’s a little pink for my tastes, but otherwise nice.”
“Glad you approve,” she replied from the still-open door, startled. “Is there something I can help you with?”
Before I call the cops, she added to herself. Lizzie had half a mind to scream, but her manners kept her in check. He was a neighbor, after all, in an exclusive condo building with security downstairs. Still a stranger, but not quite, given their residential situation.
“Do you frequently barge into other people’s homes like this?” she demanded.
“Yes.” His dimples flashed as his eyes crinkled. “Do you have any beer or wine?” he asked as he started in the general direction of the kitchen. His navy shorts and white shirt looked very out of place as he crossed through her formal dining room.
Lizzie kicked the door closed as she chased after him. “What are you doing?”
“You’re not very observant, are you?” He grinned over his shoulder before opening her fridge. “Wine coolers.” He shut it with a shudder. “No, thank you.”
Her brain started working again as he went through her cabinets.
“Okay, mister, I don’t recall inviting you inside, nor do I even know you. So, if you could kindly leave…”
His responding chuckle silenced her. From anyone else, she might have enjoyed that sound, but she didn’t like it from him. She should have felt afraid, not irritated. But he kept using those dimples and chuckling.
Ridiculous charmer.
“I think we know each other well enough, Red.”
She bristled at the unoriginal nickname. All her life people had commented on her red hair and lack of freckles. “You can go now.”
“Don’t be like that,” he murmured as he found her wine stash. “Finally. I was beginning to think I lived above a puritan.” He pulled out a bottle of her favorite cabernet and set it on the counter. “Perfect.”
“Are you going to make me call security?” Because she would. The doorman downstairs was a good friend thanks to her obsession with baking. Lizzie brought him cookies at least once a week.
“Sure.” He selected two wine glasses from her cabinet. “I like Dennis.”
Great. Maybe I’ll invite him up here to drag your butt home.
Her gaze dropped to said butt. Pure muscle, as were his long legs. He had to be close to six and a half feet tall. Poor Dennis didn’t really stand a chance. Which should have terrified her, but didn’t.
It’s his smile.
A ridiculous reason to trust a muscular giant in the kitchen.
Fair point.
Okay, plan B.
“How do you feel about the cops?”
“Depends on the district,” he replied flippantly as he uncorked the bottle. “Are you a half-glass or full-glass kind of girl?” His chocolate gaze danced over her bare legs and sweatshirt. “Definitely a full glass.”
Her phone buzzed before she could bite off a response to that.
Where are you, Elizabeth? Her mother’s condescending tone underlined the text message. Tonight was the CRF’s annual gala. Her family went every year due to her father holding one of the highest positions within the organization, but Lizzie couldn’t stomach attending tonight. She used to look forward to the event because it meant seeing Tom.
Her heart ached with the sensation of loss.
No.
She refused to think about him or the organization he devoted his life to. Literally. Or the fact that Stas was currently attending the event in misguided support.
Fruity notes touched her nose as the stranger wafted the glass beneath her chin. His eyes grinned down at her, clearly oblivious to the turmoil stirring inside of her.
“Thanks,” she managed to say and took a healthy sip. Then she remembered that this was her wine in her glass in her condo. She shook her head and slammed the stem down on the marble countertop. “Okay, buddy, just who do you think you are?”
“Jayson Masters,” he replied without missing a beat. “And you?”
She blinked, taken aback. This… this… man acted like no other person she’d ever met. He was rude, arrogant, and pushy, gave her one hell of a headache… and was smiling at her with the most charming expression she’d ever seen.
She shook her head again. “You need to go.”
“Why?” he asked. “Do you have plans for the evening?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Are you expecting someone?”
“No, but that’s—”
“Have you eaten?”
/>
She frowned. “No, you interrupted me while I was trying to find something to cook.”
“Then my timing is perfect. Dinner should be here in about”—he checked the clock over the stove—“twenty minutes, give or take. Hopefully, you like San Dinos. I’ve heard good things, but it’s my first time.”
“You’ve never had San Dinos’s pizza before?” It was one of the best places in Manhattan. Everyone loved their New York style of thin crust, cheese, and light sauce.
“I’ve only been in the city six weeks, Red, and I’ve spent most of that time working.” He sipped his wine and murmured, “This isn’t bad.”
“It’s fantastic,” she corrected. “And stop calling me Red. It’s unoriginal.”
“Give me something else to call you and I’ll consider it,” he countered, reminding her that they didn’t know each other.
“I’m sorry, but why are you here, again?”
“Dinner,” he drawled. “It’s this activity where two people enjoy decent drinks and food and sometimes socialize. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”
“Of course I have, but why are we having dinner?” She gestured between them as if we needed a definition.
