by Raquel Lyon
DEVILBLOOD
Book One: To Hell and Back
Raquel Lyon
Synopsis
My name is Conner Lovell: werewolf and Hell escapee.
I wish I could say that meant I had my life back, but it would be a lie. Word got out about my return and the supernatural hierarchy weren’t best pleased.
Now I’m stuck killing demons to pay off a debt I didn’t even know I owed, alongside the one person I’d hoped to forget.
Oh, and to top it all off, turns out I’ve got a serial killer on my tail.
Yeah, my life’s a whole lot like Hell.
This book was written, produced, and edited in the UK, where some spelling, grammar, and word usage will vary from US English.
First Edition
Copyright 2019 @ Raquel Lyon
Cover image by Crooked Sixpence
Kindle Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter One
Blood dripped from the corners of my mouth and oozed down the crevice of my chest. I smeared it away with the back of my hand and leaned back against the rough bark of a thick tree trunk.
Being forced to rough it on the streets for a time, I’d grown accustomed to biting down on something tender, bloody, and still warm from the kill, and the addiction had grabbed hold of me and refused to shake. So had the drink.
I washed my meal down with a slug of whisky and blinked up at the morning sun spiking rays through the crossing tree branches as I lamented the comparison to be had between the twisted limbs and my life. But unlike each piece of wood fighting its way through the tangle to reach the light, I’d yet to find my path.
Before I died, I’d always been the follower, the obedient second, the carer—and let me tell you, resurrection isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It’s not that easy to slot back into a role when you’ve seen what I’ve seen. There have been times when I’ve almost wished I was back on the streets, working for the Devil. At least then I’d seen some real action. Instead, I’d been home precisely two months and it already felt longer than the three years the Devil stole from me: three years with no memory of who I was or where I came from. Maybe I should have stayed dead, but faced with the choice, I took a second chance at life. And now that I have it, I have no fucking idea what to do with it. My death was mourned, and my family had moved on without me. My unexpected return hadn’t changed that fact… much.
Me? I haven’t moved on. Maybe I could have, if the restoration of my previous memories had meant a wipe out of those from the last three years, but I was stiffed on that one, too. The Devil was good at that: twisting shit. The double-crossing bastard had made sure I remembered everything—every step I made, everything I did—even if it felt as though it all happened to a different man. A man whose thoughts and actions over the last three years play out like a movie in my head. A movie I can still feel, and one that refuses to switch off.
A soft whine drew my gaze back down to an expectant face.
Replacing my faithful companion from those dark years was probably not the best way to try to forget them. My hellhound, Saul, had never left my side, and, feeling empty after he was called back home, I’d stupidly thought that getting a lookalike would ease the loss. But Rust’s ordinary Alsatian eyes have never glowed red, and if he’s ever feasted on souls, he’s kept quiet about it. Still, he’s company, and he doesn’t nag me to get my life sorted. There’s something to be said for that.
Rust whined again and licked at the bloody trail on my chest. He wanted his share. Of course he did. Useless mutt. He was pathetic when it came to filling his own belly. Saul had never eaten anything but souls, and I still hadn’t got used to divvying out the spoils.
I pushed Rust away playfully. “All right, bud. Easy on the nipples. You’ll get your chance. Here.”
I cast the stripped carcass aside, where it landed next to a stack of clothes that had spent more time covering the grass than my body recently—not that I needed to remove them in order to shift. My magic had evolved to a point where clothing was included as part of my human form when I changed. I simply preferred being at one with nature, and our estate was so huge that no one noticed a werewolf bounding around or my bits hanging out when I reverted to human. If it were up to my family I’d be smartly dressed with a regular nine-to-five, but that’s not who I am. I’m part animal with an animal’s need to roam free. I can’t be contained, and only my abiding loyalty to those I love and the guilt of my betrayal keeps me within the boundaries of the Towers’ sprawling grounds.
Rust lay flat to chew on the bones, and my stomach rumbled again, dissatisfied by one skinny rabbit. Sure, I could head back to the house to devour any of the choices Sophie was probably cooking up, but it was unlikely that raw meat would be on the menu, and there was a certain satisfaction to be gained from hunting down and catching your own breakfast. Besides, being outside gave me a sense of freedom I couldn’t get with Sophie fussing around my heels as if I were about to be sucked back to Hell at any moment.
Was it any wonder I preferred the company of my faithful hound?
It worried me at first that Rust would find my half-man, half-wolf form frightening, but he accepted my beast with only a small bark and a curious tilt of the head—almost the same look as he was giving me now. Except this one was one of disgruntlement. Maybe I should have left more meat on those bones.
From beneath a nearby hedgerow, a bundle of grey fur hopped cautiously into the sun. Just a few more feet and it would be time for dessert. I watched it nibble on the yellowing winter grass as it inched forward, and then whistled silently to Rust and nodded towards the rabbit as I eased to my feet. “Your move, bud,” I whispered.
Rust understood and prowled closer to his prey.
The rabbit pricked its ears and stilled, eyes wide, sensing its attacker’s approach.
Steady, boy. Keep it cool.
Any good hunter would have known to pause and wait for the rabbit to relax again, but then no one would use the words ‘good hunter’ to describe Rust. True to form, eagerness kept his feet moving, and a tuft of white tail shot back into the undergrowth.
Idiot! Two months of training, and he was about as much use as an overweight bulldog.
He trotted over to me with his tail between his legs.
“Don’t look at me like that,�
�� I said. “It’s no one’s fault but your own. Maybe we should find a mouse instead. That might be more your speed.”
Rust bent to lick more evidence from my leg. At least he was good for some things. An ageing manor house like the Towers had many unusual design features, but outdoor showers wasn’t one of them, and Sophie hated me returning covered in confirmation of my carnivorous activities. She despised my slaughtering of wild animals, but then she wasn’t a werewolf, and she didn’t understand my need for the feel of raw flesh between my teeth. Even her husband—my cousin, Sebastian—had managed to curb that particular part of his appetite.
Steering Rust away from my leg with every intention of finding us both something more nutritious to chew on, I scanned the vegetation for any sign of animal movement—a chunk of venison would be good and fill both our bellies for the day—but I’d barely made it along the first treeline before my wolf ears picked up a sound from behind the Towers’ walls that ripped right through me.
Sophie’s scream.
Immediately, my stomach forgot it was still hungry, and my attention shot to the house. There were protections in place that should ensure no foe could enter, but my gut twisted with the thought that something terrible had happened to Sophie all the same. What if she’d chopped a finger in half instead of a grapefruit? Or fallen down the stairs? She was clumsy enough to. Or what if the protections had been breached? Anything could be going down. I had to get home… and fast.
My heart pounded as I abandoned Rust and tripped to the hallway. Being able to instantly travel from one place to another didn’t just come in handy for getting the jump on the enemy; it was a godsend in emergencies, too.
I exhaled a sigh of relief when I spotted Sophie through the living room doorway. Her auburn waves were unmistakable, falling over her pale face as she crouched to pick up the pieces of a shattered vase from the floor next to the sideboard. Thank Christ she was safe. Broken crockery, I could handle, a broken Sophie was another matter entirely.
I rushed to her side and squatted down to help.
Intent on her task, she didn’t acknowledge my arrival, and I was almost glad she kept her head down. If she’d raised it, I would have got that look again—the one that betrayed her worry that whatever secret I was keeping might cause her to lose me for a second time. She’d never spoken her fears out loud, never said so much as an anxious word in my presence, as if voicing her concerns would cause them to become true. But it was all too clear they were there, just below the surface… simmering. Every day I wanted to take her in my arms and kiss some sense into her, tell her that I’d won back my place in this world fair and square and that I wasn’t going anywhere—despite her constant mollycoddling driving me up the high walls of the Towers to escape sometimes—but something always stopped me.
I pinched up some of the smaller shards and looked up through my rather dishevelled and neglected dark bangs to study the freckles on her nose and the tiny mole just to the left of her Cupid’s bow.
I’d fallen in love with Sophie the moment we’d met. The fact that she was my cousin’s mate wasn’t an issue. Sharing is our way, but that one perfect night we’d spent together now felt like a lifetime ago. Of course, she’d welcomed me back with open arms and a warm bed, and, man, it had felt good to be there… right up until the movie rolled and the guilt had set in. I’d tried to ignore it, hoping to fit back into my old life as if I’d never left, but I couldn’t hide it from Soph. She knew there was something I wasn’t telling her, and our relationship had been going south ever since. I plan to get it back on track, but that won’t be happening any time soon with the threat of the Assembly hanging over my head, and the stupid fucking movie stuck on repeat.
After retrieving the last piece of pottery from under the sideboard, I dropped it with the others and decided there’d been too much silence.
“Was it one of yours?” I asked.
“You really don’t have a clue what I do, do you?” she said, clearly agitated by my attempt to ease the tension.
“It’s your thing, babe, not mine.”
“I’m a painter not a potter, Con, and you should know this vase has been in the family for three generations. Seb’s going to be so cross.” Her exasperation increased. “Do you think he’ll notice if I glue it back together?”
“It’s just a vase, Soph. Chill. We’ve got dozens of the things, and Seb’s not an ogre. He’ll understand. Better the vase than you. You screamed so loud, I thought some dude was trying to kill you.”
Sophie tucked her hair behind her ear and noticeably swallowed as her gaze travelled up my naked body before finally meeting my baby blues. “Is that why you rushed inside?”
I enjoyed the way she looked at me. The golden flecks dancing around her russet irises always hit me right in the gut, and the caution behind them reminded me of a time past when neither of us was sure how the other felt. Funny how life repeats itself.
“Haven’t I always had your back?”
Her lids fluttered low, and she fiddled with the fragments again.
“It was over three hundred years old, you know.” She sighed.
“And ugly as hell. Look on the bright side: your daydreaming has put an end to its misery.”
“I wasn’t daydreaming. I was startled… by them.”
A touch of fear marred her eyes as she raised her head and stared over my shoulder. I followed her gaze and turned to find three pairs of unamused eyes staring back at me from under raised brows. I shot to standing, immediately recognising the badges adorning the jackets of the men who had made themselves at home by the fire.
Crap!
That’s all I needed.
Chapter Two
Silence hung in the air until I mumbled into Sophie’s shoulder, “What the hell are they doing here?”
“I haven’t had the chance to ask. I heard voices and came downstairs to see if Seb was home and found them instead,” she whispered with a grimace before lowering her lids and frowning at my crotch.
I glanced down.
Shit! Way to introduce yourself to the hierarchy, dimwit. Sophie could have told me we weren’t alone. A hint would have done. I could have taken one. I wasn’t a total clod-head—though I was doing a pretty good impression of one right now. Not that I would normally have given a rat’s ass what this particular set of visitors thought of me, but standing butt-naked with dirt smeared into every crevice and sporting a haircut that was a month or two overdue wasn’t the smartest idea when facing a bunch of men who had the power to decide whether I lived or died.
I pulled a throw from the back of a nearby chair and wrapped it around my waist as I gathered my nerve and stepped towards the group.
“I take it you gentlemen invited yourselves in. Don’t they teach you manners at the Assembly?” I knew I was pushing it, but there was still a small chance they didn’t know about me, and I couldn’t let them suspect I had anything to hide.
“I hardly think you’re in a position to discuss politeness, Mr Lovell,” one of the men said.
“I wasn’t expecting visitors today. And if you’re here to see Seb, I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”
Sebastian had been gone for weeks on business, and he’d insisted I lay low in his absence while he devised a plausible explanation for my surprise resurrection to put to the Assembly. Dealing with the Devil went against Supe law, and as alpha of our pack, my cousin was all about kissing ass. His task shouldn’t have been difficult. After all, my father, Seth, had recently been found alive in precisely the same place that saw both our apparent deaths, and the Assembly seemed happy to assist him. Considering what my family went through to get me back, I would have expected Seb to be seeking a speedier conclusion to my predicament—but as he’s yet to send word of a resolution, it’s beginning to feel as if I’d been the missing piece in a puzzle, now abandoned and forgotten when complete.
“We came to see you,” the man said.
I clung on to a speck of hope that the Assembly’s arriv
al brought my much-anticipated closure, until a sly smile stretched slowly across the representative’s face, and my nerves began to stab. His less than friendly expression hinted that my cousin had failed to find a solution, and D-Day had arrived.
“Me? I’m flattered,” I said, still brazening it out. “What can I do for you?”
As if I didn’t already have a clue.
Technically, I was a criminal. Regardless of the reasons behind it, I’d broken the law, and keeping my head down and staying out of trouble hadn’t prevented them from finding me. My gaze ran over the three men, wondering which of them was sitting with handcuffs at the ready.
“We came to set up a meeting with you,” the man said, looking up and down at my dishevelled appearance.
A meeting? I wasn’t being arrested? My nerves eased as the outlook brightened somewhat, but something remained behind his smile that wouldn’t allow me to completely breathe easy.
“What about?”
His gaze drifted over my shoulder. “A matter we would prefer to discuss in private.”
“Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of Sophie. She’ll find out eventually, anyway. We don’t keep secrets around here.” Liar.
“Nevertheless, I have been instructed only to arrange the meeting, not to discuss the particulars.”
“And that takes three of you, does it? This arranging?”
“We are on our way to another engagement.”
I was about to say how convenient I thought that to be, when Sophie pushed in front of me.
“I may only be part of this family by marriage,” she said, “but I am informed enough to know that you can’t discuss pack business without my husband’s say-so. As the head of the family, he has to authorise all things relating to it.”
“You are quite correct, Mrs Lovell, but your husband is sourcing gems in Burma for his jewellery business, is he not?”
“Well, yes, but I’m expecting him home any day now. Can’t whatever this is wait until then?”
