“No.”
“You want this power, Kara. You want this power and so much more.” At more, his hand trailed down to her breast and he squeezed it lovingly.
“I don’t,” she argued.
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be powerful,” Leibald said. “And I would be honored to be the one to make you that.”
Then his mouth was at her neck. Kata screamed, rattling the chains.
Kara screamed in the real world as well, springing awake and finding herself in an unfamiliar dark room. She caught her breath, killing the scream, and looked around herself. Slowly, shapes began to take form. It was a new place but one she knew fairly well.
Beside her, in bed, Jess sat up. “Oh my God, what is it? Were you having a nightmare?”
Kara swallowed. “Yes.”
“You scared me,” he said, laughing. “Are you okay now?”
“I think so,” she said. She was sitting up in Jess’s bed, naked. She could still feel Leibald’s hand on her chest and she shivered.
“Anything you want to talk about?” Jess asked sleepily. “Isn’t talking supposed to help with nightmares?”
“No, I’m good,” she croaked.
“Okay,” he said, lying back down and settling into his pillow.
Kara sat there in the darkness and stared at the walls. She rubbed at her wrists, expecting the chains from her dream to be there. What the hell was that all about?
But she knew. She knew very well: she was terrified of being powerless, of being in that position again. There was no way she was going to—
Her focus drifted as she felt something soft on her knee. She broke her attention away from her dream and looked down. Jess was there, kissing her on her knee and caressing her hip.
“What are you doing?” she asked with a sleepy laugh. She lazily slapped at his face.
“You look frazzled from the nightmare,” he purred. “Zoned out. I thought I’d help you relax.”
That said, his mouth moved up her leg and his grip on her hip intensified. As his lips reached her inner thigh, his grip became a forceful push downward. She hit the mattress on her back and she tilted her hips up to him. His mouth was waiting and he teased her, kissing and gently using his tongue around all of the softer areas, never giving her exactly what she wanted.
When she finally reached down and took his head in her hands, he submitted. He slipped a finger inside and expertly used his tongue. She grasped his broad shoulders guiding him and setting his pace. She bucked against him and looked down at his face as he went to work. They’d only had sex three times so far and she had not yet let him do this to her –it had always made her feel too vulnerable –but she was glad she had done so now. He went at it with a passion and she felt herself rising to orgasm before a full minute was out.
Kara gasped and dug her hands into Jess’ shoulders. When she arched and then collapsed, the climax coming and going, he still did not let up. He grasped her by her hips and held her down with just enough force to hear as she screamed in a mixture of pleasure and near torment.
“Too much,” she gasped, but within seconds her hands were back in his hair, urging him on.
Several minutes later, the orgasm was explosive. Every nerve in her body felt as if it had been drained. She wanted to roll over to return the favor but her body was just to limp. Instead, she relaxed against him and, with that intense pleasure dragging her to sleep, dared any nightmares to try to top that.
6
One thing Saul had learned during his short stint as a middle man for The Guard was that humans and vampires actually shared a remarkable amount of traits with one another. There was the anger, and then there was the territorial mindset that something that was never theirs to begin with was most definitely theirs, regardless of what anyone said. When the two traits mixed, things tended to get violent.
But there was also the preference to hash out any differences over several rounds of beer. This was why Saul found himself in a seedy back-alley type bar in Juarez roughly twenty hours after he had left Red Creek. He was sitting between two vampires—members of two separate clans. This was something Saul would never have been interested in before working for The Guard; he hated blending with other clans as it usually led to discussions and political diatribes over the ways that modern vampires should really be living. On that front, Saul had always just preferred to leave well enough alone and live in the shadows.
More than that, what they were doing in the bar was technically illegal in the eyes of The Guard. Whenever members of two clans were within several miles of one another, The Guard took notice. When there were three clans involved, that was punishable by execution under the wrong circumstances.
But Saul had The Guard’s blessing to do what was needed in order to resolve this little territory dispute. And now that he had helped to settle the differences, both involved parties insisted on taking him out for drinks. He accepted only because he knew that The Guard would have asked him to do so. They had asked him to always go the extra mile to make the parties of interest feel secure—to know that The Guard will forever have their best interests at heart.
The vampire to his right was Nethrop Poole. The Poole clan was much like the Bentons clan in that they were very small. There were only four Pooles left alive and one of those was beginning to stray from the laws set forth by The Guard. The vampire to Saul’s left was an older creature by the name of Barlow Crone. Crone had been the instigator in the situation but had been more than willing to patch things up when Saul had arrived. Word traveled fast in the vampire world and Crone knew that a visit from Saul was the last warning before The Guard actually stepped in and handled things themselves.
“So they keep you on the road quite a bit, I take it,” Crone inquired as he started on his second drink.
“Yes. It’s certainly an interesting way to see the world,” Saul said.
“And keep tabs on some of those older mysterious clans, I’m sure,” Poole added. “Have they sent you to visit any of the Clans of Origin?”
“I’m not at liberty to talk about my work for The Guard,” Saul said. It was an answer he had given at least half a dozen times in the last three months.
Poole and Crone had a laugh at this. That was fine with Saul; less than two hours ago, they had been ready to kill one another.
“Well, can I ask you something?” Crone asked.
“Sure,” Saul quipped. “But I can’t promise that I can give a satisfactory answer.” Saul was expecting a hard question from Crone. His family was fairly large and known for being cocky and very in-your-face.
“Well, I was surprised when I heard that you had decided to work for The Guard. I heard about what you and your sister did to the Greelys—hell, every vampire in the world knows all about it by now—so I’m sure they wanted you at their side some kind of bad. But I was surprised because I figured you’d be pissed about the hand they played in what happened to your father.”
The mention of his father from this stranger spiked an anger in him that Saul could feel like a hot coal in his guts. He took a large gulp of beer to sate it. Rather than remain quiet and let that anger fester, he figured it would be best to get to the bottom of whatever bizarre source this misinformation had come from.
“There’s no evidence at all to suggest that The Guard was involved in my father’s murder,” Saul stated. “In fact, I’d go so far as to say it’s a ridiculous notion.”
“With all due respect,” Poole said, “I agree with Barlow. I always thought there was something not right about how The Guard handled what happened to your father.”
Saul was close to snapping. If he gripped his glass of beer any harder, it would likely shatter in his hands. “I certainly hope you care to back up your accusations before I get angry,” he said very quietly and slowly.
“Look Saul, I’m not trying to ruffle your feathers or mess up what you have going with The Guard,” Crone assured. “But rumor always had it that you and your sister we
re left in the dark on a lot of things after your father died. Think about it this way—before your father, when was the last time a vampire was murdered in cold blood and The Guard didn’t go to great lengths to bring the guilty party to justice?”
“They tried. The Guard spent years looking into the matter. But they never found anyone.”
“Says who?” Poole puzzled. “The Guard? With everything that happened with Benali, just how secure and trustworthy do you think they are? Look…let me tell you a little story about The Guard. A long time ago, back in the 1850s, Benali used to visit my clan quite a bit. My father was getting sick and was unable to control his bloodlust. He killed several people before The Guard stepped in. Benali was a very trusted member of The Guard. To even suggest that he would be the member that would work against The Guard seems beyond comprehension.”
“What are you saying?” Saul asked.
“I mean that if Benali really did have a hand in this plot against the smaller clans, there is no way he did so without The Guard knowing he was going to do it. I feel like the entire group had something to do with it. And if they can be behind something like that, I don’t find it hard to believe that they would be completely forthcoming with details about your father’s death.”
Saul ignored this. “You said we were left in the dark on things,” Saul said to Crone. “What sorts of things?”
“Namely the fact that the huge search and investigation they put behind solving your father’s death was just a ruse. They kept telling you and your sister that they were following leads or whatever while in all reality, they were doing nothing of the sort.”
“And how in the hell would you know this?” Saul sneered. He finished the rest of his beer and sat it down hard on the bar. “What would be the purpose behind such a sham, anyway?”
Crone and Poole exchanged an uneasy look. Poole sighed and spoke carefully, as if sensing that he was treading on shaky ground.
“Your father was sort of like my grandfather,” he said. “I’m sure you know by now that my grandfather has started rebuffing any and all laws set forth by The Guard. When all the stuff went down with your family and Benali, it got worse.”
“My father respected The Guard,” Saul argued. “I never once heard him say a cross word about them.”
“Of course he didn’t tell his children his true feelings,” Poole said. “You’re a small clan. If you gripe enough, The Guard will take action. Working for them now, you should know this better than anyone.”
“Working for them now,” Saul said, “means that I should report these allegations from you to them.”
But he wouldn’t do such a thing. Instead, Saul let the ideas take root and then let them sit for a while. Sure, he’d experienced his own suspicious thoughts about The Guard all those years ago but had said nothing. The very idea that The Guard would kill a vampire for no good reason simply made no sense. And if they hadn’t tried hard enough to locate his father’s killer, what real reason would they have? Did they simply not care?
“Look,” Crone began. “I’m not saying I’m one hundred percent correct on this. But what evidence is there seems sketchy to me. In the entire history of The Guard ruling over all supernatural creatures, there has only been one other case where the killer of a supernatural being wasn’t caught and promptly handled. That was in the 1400s when it’s thought that a vampire killed a werewolf. A messy situation. Every other case after that—and I’m sure there have been at least fifty or so—they didn’t fuck around when it came to finding a guilty party.”
“Let’s say there’s something to it,” Saul prompted. “Why would they want my father dead?”
“To one day use it against you, maybe?”
“You know,” Poole said, “I’ve always wondered if some of them can see into the future. Maybe they knew how powerful you’d be—how you and your sister could destroy and entire clan. I don’t know…it’s farfetched.”
The bartender came by and refilled Saul’s glass. “Enough of this,” he said. “I thought you brought me here to drink…not talk about the death of my father.”
“Fair enough,” Poole said and raised his glass for a toast.
Saul finished his beer and even had another. At no point did the conversation turn back to his father or The Guard. But when he left the bar and headed back for his hotel, those roots that had grabbed hold of his thoughts started to twist.
Crone had been right. Benali working against The Guard without their knowing did reveal potential weaknesses in their supposedly perfect circle of power and trust. The alternative to that was The Guard had played a hand in it and that idea had huge implications.
And why hadn’t they given him any answers yet? When they had offered him that deal after the scene with the Greelys, they had all but told him that they did know the finer details about his father’s death.
Maybe there were stringing him along for reasons that he couldn’t fathom. Maybe they had devious plans, just as Benali had.
The more he thought about, the more wrong the whole thing felt. Still, Saul felt that he was closer to getting answers about his father’s death than ever before. He’d have to play things smart…he’d need to take some chances with his position with The Guard and maybe even cross some lines that were never meant to be crossed.
He slept through the sunrise and well into noon. The first thing on his mind when he woke up was not getting back home. It was getting back to Nikki who, in more and more ways, was beginning to feel like something more than home.
She’d be able to ground him in whatever quest lay ahead. And it seemed that it would be a long road indeed.
Books in the VEILED series:
Book 1: Monsters Within
Book 2: Darkness Rising
Book 3: Gathering Shadows
Book 4: The Marked Ones
Book 5: Revenge of Gods
Book 6: The Last Stand
VEILED - BOOK FOUR
THE MARKED ONES
Copyright © Laudanum House, LLC.
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Site 107
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CONTENTS
CONTENTS 5
CHAPTER ONE 7
CHAPTER TWO 38
CHAPTER THREE 62
CHAPTER FOUR 88
CHAPTER FIVE 124
CHAPTER SIX 137
END OF BOOK IV 163
CONTENTS 166
CHAPTER ONE 167
CHAPTER TWO 194
CHAPTER THREE 219
CHAPTER FOUR 245
CHAPTER FIVE 273
END OF BOOK V 295
VEILED - BOOK SIX 297
CONTENTS 298
CHAPTER ONE 300
CHAPTER TWO 324
CHAPTER THREE 357
CHAPTER FOUR 388
CHAPTER FIVE 417
CHAPTER SIX 427
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR 448
CHAPTER ONE
1
Paula Briarson was on the verge of quitting her stupid job. She worked at the Red Creek Burger Barn for nearly thirty hours a week while also working an occasional late shift over at the textile mill in Gilbert, a small industrial town twenty miles to the south. Whenever she left the Burger Barn, all she had to show for it was the scent of frying meat, a sore ass from the occasional pinch she received, and sticky sweat under her breasts.
But Paula needed the money—as little as it was—and she was really in no position to turn down such a simple job. Waiting tables and p
utting up with middle-aged truck drivers and mill workers wasn’t hard; degrading, maybe, but not hard.
This is exactly what Paula was telling herself as she locked up for the night. She tested the door to make sure it was locked, Red Creek dead around her. She looked through the glass door to the darkened diner and thought: Not much longer, Burger Barn. I’m too good for you.
Paula turned and started for her car at the back of the building. She knew she smelled of meat and frying oil, so she couldn’t wait to get home and jump in the shower. She thought about calling up a friend to come over and have a late night session of beer, pot, and a crappy chick flick—just something to make her feel normal.
Paula also wished she had at least one guy that she could call for a one-night fling but the only numbers she had were from the drunk assholes that slipped their digits to her on greasy napkins, joking that it was her tip.
It didn’t matter. She was too tired to even think about making that call to her friends. The thought of even picking up the phone seemed like too much. She’d pulled a ten-hour shift today and knew that she’d have to do it all over again at noon tomorrow. Anything extra tonight would just exhaust her.
Paula entered the small lot tucked behind Burger Barn and the equally depressing Red Creek Bakery, digging into her purse for her keys. When she looked up again, key in hand, there was a man standing by her car. He was rather handsome but still, creepy as hell in the darkness.
“Excuse me,” she said politely. “That’s my car.”
“Yes, I know,” the man said. “I was rather hoping that you could give me a ride.”
VEILED Complete Boxed Set Page 30
