Midnight Orchids
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Foreword
Dedication
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Other Books
About the Author
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Foreword
Dedication
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Other Books
About the Author
Midnight Orchids:
Book Three of the NOLA Shifters Series
Angel Nyx
Angel Nyx Publishing, LLC
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidences are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.
Copyright 2018 by Angel Nyx. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Angel Nyx Publishing
Cover design by Najla Qamber Designs
Logo by WildSpiritDesigns
Foreword
The NOLA Shifters Series is set in the Louisiana Bayou. Many of the characters you will meet are Cajun. Their speech patterns reflect this. Too often, authors are leery of using a dialect that is specific to an area or to a group of people. I feel it would be an insult to anyone who is Cajun for me to make my characters Cajun while having them speak perfect English. I hope you enjoy this little glimpse into their world!
This book is dedicated to my father, Andrew David Blackwell, Jr. The first time I told him I was finally writing my own books instead of just fanfiction, he made me laugh. To quote my father 'It's about damn time!' You're right, dad, it's about damn time.
Prologue
Every little girl dreams of growing up and finding The One. It didn’t matter if she was human or shifter, she dreamed of finding the man of her dreams, to sweep her off her feet and make her feel like a princess. Kylie Bishop was no different. She grew up outside of Frenchville, Maine, on the border between the US and Canada. Her father was a lieutenant in the Night Stalkers Pard which afforded her a bit of luxury growing up. Not much, but enough that some of the other, younger Pard members were envious. Others wanted to get close to her in order to gain the notice of those in power. One such leopard was Ezra Strickland. Ezra was a smooth talker. He said exactly what he knew she wanted to hear in order to woo her and in so doing, he impressed her father, who in turn brought him to the attention of their Alpha.
Things started out really well between her and Ezra. He was good to her: attentive, passionate, all the things a girl wanted from the man in her life. It wasn’t until her father died in a freak accident during a snowstorm that things started changing. It started with little things like pinching her arm to get her attention, or slapping her ass hard when he thought she wasn’t moving fast enough. Slowly it became worse. He’d get angry for no reason and slap her, then he’d beg for forgiveness and promise to not do it again.
The worst, as if being hit wasn’t bad enough, was what he did to her in the bedroom. Kylie wasn’t allowed to tell him no. If she tried, she regretted it. There were so many nights where she cried herself to sleep after he’d found his release in her not-so-willing body. He didn’t seem to notice she wasn’t into it. Or if he did notice, he didn’t care. He got himself off and then left her alone until he felt the urge again.
Kylie had always told herself she would never be the kind of woman who let a man hit her. Her father raised her to stand up for herself and to not put up with something like that. Yet, by the time Ezra was really hitting her, she’d become so isolated from everyone, she didn’t see any way out. She didn’t have a car, she didn’t have a job so she had no money, and the only time she saw anyone in the Pard was when Ezra was at her side. The one time she knew their Alpha saw his abuse, the man turned a blind eye to it.
Five years. That was how long Kylie lived like that. Five years of hell. Five years of never knowing if something she said or did, or didn’t do, was going to set him off. Five years of fearing that next time he might not stop. The night she finally got up the courage to leave Ezra, he came very close to not stopping until it was too late. She’d fixed dinner for them while he was at work, and when he didn’t come home right away, she put it in the oven to keep it warm. She waited and waited for him—she wasn’t allowed to eat without him—but by midnight, when he still hadn’t come home, she gave in to the hunger gnawing at her belly and fixed her plate. She was halfway through it when he finally came home. Ezra flew into a rage and Kylie soon found herself curled in a ball, trying to protect her stomach and face from his foot. When he wrapped his hands around her throat and cut off her oxygen, she was certain she was going to die.
“If you ever break a rule again I’ll kill you, do you hear me?” Ezra snarled in her face once he let go of her throat.
“I’m sorry,” she croaked out. She stayed there on the floor when he stalked away and grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. In that moment she knew, if she didn’t find a way to get away, he was going to kill her.
At four in the morning, Ezra had finally passed out and Kylie took advantage of his drunken state to finally leave. She quietly shoved as much as she could carry into a backpack, took all the cash he had in his wallet, and pocketed the keys to his car. She drove until she got to Van Buren where she abandoned his car and bought a bus ticket to Philadelphia. She was smart—she paid with cash—and once she got to Philadelphia, she purchased temporary hair dye and her red hair turned black. From Philadelphia, she went to St. Louis, Missouri where she stayed, briefly. While there she did something a bit wild. She got a tattoo—something to celebrate her taking control of her own life. She’d looked over a bunch of designs before she settled on one of dark blue orchids. It was beautiful and she loved the way the ink looked against her pale skin.
Kylie wanted to get as far from Ezra as she could as fast as possible. Looking over the bus schedules, she picked the one that was leaving in less than half an hour. Destination: New Orleans. It was about as far south as she could get and she hoped he would never find her there. After all, she’d grown up in the cold and snow; why would he think she’d willingly go someplace that was so damn hot all the time?
Chapter One
Kylie
Kylie was exhausted and beyond sick of being on a bus by the time she finally reached
New Orleans. She’d spent way too many days on buses the last couple of weeks. At least she’d finally reached her destination. When she stepped off the bus, she could have been pretty much anywhere. Depending on which direction she looked in, she saw overpasses and tall buildings. Maybe, with any luck, she could get ‘lost’ amid all the people there even if Ezra figured out where she’d gone.
She grabbed her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and headed into the city. She had to find a shelter she could stay at, at least for a few nights, while she looked for a job. It was scary as hell being out on her own with no support system, but the alternative was even scarier. She valued her life too much to stay where she was.
Spotting a police officer, Kylie bit her lip and approached slowly. “Excuse me, Officer? Can you direct me to the nearest shelter?” One never knew what was going to happen when they approached a police officer these days.
The officer looked her over before he directed her to the Salvation Army’s Center of Hope on Claiborne Ave. It was the one that she had the best chance of getting into on an emergency basis.
“Thank you.” She turned in the direction he told her to head and walked away. Her steps were light, despite the fact she was almost broke, she had no job, no food, and no roof over her head. She was alive, and she was sure she’d find a job quickly.
A lot of homeless shelters now had waiting lists. When she reached the Salvation Army’s Center of Hope, Kylie found it was the same thing there. However, when she explained that she was running from an abusive boyfriend, she was immediately referred to the Crescent House. It was a domestic abuse shelter and given Ezra’s violence toward her, she was given shelter. She didn’t want to bring up the abuse because she didn’t want to talk about it, but now that she knew she wasn’t going to have to sleep on the streets, she was glad she’d opened up a little.
The shelter had a common area for the women to gather in and there Kylie found that day’s newspaper. She grabbed the classifieds and curled up in a chair to read through it. Maybe she’d get lucky and find something that caught her eye right away.
Drink Mixologist Wanted!
Do you know the difference between Jim Beam, Johnnie Walker, and Crown Royal?
Can you make a mean Martini, a smokin’ Hot Southern Night, or a sweet-and-sassy French Kiss?
Do you like the musical stylings of Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald, and B.B. King?
If so, Scarlet Flux just might be the place for you!
We’re looking for a full-time Drink Mixologist who knows their way around a liquor cabinet and has excellent taste in music. If you think you’ve got what it takes, stop on by between noon and 4 p.m. any day of the week and ask for Emelise.
“No freaking way,” Kylie said when she read over the ad. Until her father had died and Ezra forced her to quit her job, she’d been a bartender back in Frenchville. She loved that the owner was calling the position a ‘Drink Mixologist’. It was definitely more eye-catching than the boring old title of ‘Bartender wanted’.
She glanced at the clock and sighed. She would have to wait until the next day—it was almost four now—but that would give her time to rest and shower before she headed over to apply.
The biggest problem was going to be providing work references. If they started digging, Ezra would no doubt find out where she was and come calling. She couldn’t afford that, but maybe if she explained her situation, the owner would give her a chance to show them what she could do. She didn’t know if this ‘Emelise’ was the owner or just the person in charge of hiring. The only thing she needed to do now was go out and get something she could wear to a potential interview at a club.
The following morning, as soon as she’d showered and dressed in the outfit she’d snagged at a thrift store, she approached one of the volunteers at the shelter. “Excuse me? Can you give me directions on how to get to the 200 block of Decatur from here?”
The volunteer did better than that. They got out a map and showed her exactly how to get there and what public transit routes would get her close to her destination.
“Thank you so much,” Kylie said. She took her bag with her because, well, it held the only things she owned now—she wasn’t going to risk something happening to it—and headed out for the day.
Emelise
“This is a total nightmare,” Emelise said as Lily helped her put away stock in the VIP lounge. “I should have known something would happen to rock the boat; everything was going too damn smoothly.”
“Eme, you’ll find another bartender. Don’t stress.”
“In three days? I’ve had the ad out for over a week now.”
“Have faith. If all else fails, I’ll come help out. I might be a little slow at first, but I’m sure I can pick it up. It can’t be that much different from fixing all the different coffee drinks we fix at the shop.”
Emelise laughed. “You might regret that offer if I have to take you up on it,” she joked and tried to stop worrying so much. Lily was right—she had to have faith that someone would come in and meet the requirements she had for the position.
Kylie
That morning, waking up at the shelter, Kylie wasted no time in getting into the shower. The water ran dark for several minutes after she rinsed the shampoo out of her hair, and she wrinkled her nose. The temporary dye she’d put in was washing away. At least it had covered her red locks until she was far away from Ezra. She dressed with care before she shoved the clothes she’d taken off that morning into her backpack, slung it over her shoulder, and headed out into the warm Louisiana morning sun.
Kylie arrived at Scarlet Flux and ran a hand through her hair to smooth it down before she took a calming breath and opened the door. There was a guy behind the bar putting away bottles and she approached him before she cleared her throat. “Excuse me? I’m looking for Emelise?”
The man behind the bar turned and nodded toward the steps. “She’s upstairs in the VIP lounge. You can go on up.”
“Thanks.” VIP lounge—fancy. The bar she’d worked at back in Frenchville definitely didn’t have one of those. She made her way up the stairs and again took a deep breath to calm herself. You’ve got this, girl. Just be yourself, she silently coached herself before she approached the two women she found up there. “Excuse me, are one of you Emelise? I was told I could find her up here.”
The two women by the bar turned at her voice. “I’m Emelise,” Eme said and moved around from behind the bar. “What can I do for you?”
Kylie blinked when the dark-haired woman introduced herself. She was obviously pregnant and, judging by the weariness in Emelise’s eyes, it was starting to take it’s toll on her. “My name’s Kylie Bishop. I saw your ad in the paper, for the Drink Mixologist—awesome name for the position, by the way—and was wondering if it was still open.”
“Thanks, I thought it was pretty awesome too,” Emelise replied. As soon as she got close enough to catch the other woman’s scent, Emelise arched a brow. “It is still open, yes. Let’s have a seat, Kylie,” she said and motioned to one of the tables. “Can I get you something to drink? Some water, maybe?”
Kylie sat and folded her hands in her lap. “Water would be great, thank you.”
Emelise grabbed three bottles of water and handed one to the other woman before she motioned for her to join her and Kylie at the table. “This is my best friend, Lily—she’s going to sit in on the interview, if you’re okay with that.”
“Um, sure,” Kylie replied. Her nostrils flared and she blinked. The other woman was a wolf and she almost said something but stopped herself.
“So, what brings you to New Orleans, Kylie?” Emelise asked once they were all seated. “Did you know when you moved here that New Orleans was Pard territory?”
Kylie tensed a little. “I just decided I needed a new start in my life and this is where I ended up,” she hedged. “No, I had no idea there was a Pard in New Orleans.” She frowned at the look Emelise and Lily shared but again, she said nothing about it.
Emelise nodded at her. “Okay. What kind of experience do you have that you can bring to the job?”
“I worked as a bartender, back home, for three years. We didn’t have a VIP lounge but I made all sorts of drinks. It wasn’t just beer and whiskey.”
“Do you have any references I can check with?”
“No, I don’t. Name a drink, any drink, and I’ll make it. I swear I know what I’m doing, but I can’t…I can’t supply any references.”
“Who are you running from?” Lily asked softly.
Kylie jerked at the question. “What? How did…how did you know?”
“Been there, done that, bought the fucking T-shirt,” Lily replied. “Me, it was my father, because he was trying to force a pair bond I didn’t want.”
“As long as you’re not running from the cops, you don’t have to worry,” Emelise interjected. “You don’t have to go into detail with me, but when you meet with Caine, the Pard’s Alpha and my mate, you will have to give him something. His first priority is the safety of the Pard, so if whatever you’re running from will put the Pard in danger, he needs to know about it.”
“I’m not. It won’t. It’s nothing like that,” Kylie insisted.
“Okay, let me tell you a little about the position then. You’ll be working up here, in the VIP lounge. We’ve been open a month so far and we’ve already had one celebrity, with his entourage, come through, a couple of big names in sports, and even a politician’s kid. You have to be able to serve whoever comes up here in a professional manner. That means no fan-girling and asking for autographs.”
“I would never embarrass myself, or this club, by being unprofessional.”