Leashed (Dark Underbelly Book 3)

by Candace Blevins

  Leashed

  Dark Underbelly, Book 3

  Candace Blevins

  eXcessica publishing

  LEASHED © October 2017 by Candace Blevins

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. 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 permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

  This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  Excessica LLC

  P.O. Box 127

  Alpena, MI 49707

  To order additional copies of this book, contact:

  books@excessica.com

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  Cover design © 2017 Willsin Rowe

  First Edition August 2017

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Contents

  Candace loves hearing from readers!

  Blurb

  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

  Also by Candace Blevins

  Only Human

  Excerpt from Only Human

  About the Author

  More From Excessica!

  Candace loves hearing from readers!

  You can find her online at:

  Website – candaceblevins.com

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  Facebook group – Candace’s Kinksters

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  Blurb

  Abbott is dealing with the fallout of becoming Master of Maryland and must figure out what to do with the few dozen blood-bonded shapeshifters he inherited.

  One of the wolves catches his eye, but if Abbott learned anything from his brief time with Kirsten, it's that he's long had relationships with people obligated to do his will and he needs to change the pattern. Still, he moves the young man into his home to begin learning some of Abbot’s soon-to-retire housekeeper’s duties.

  Spencer was abducted at twelve and turned into a pleasure slave — bitten to become a wolf who could stand up to abuse and live, but he’s never had to control the animal inside him. His Master kept both Spencer and his wolf on a tight leash. Spencer’s new Master has different rules and expects Spencer to think for himself — a scary prospect for someone who’s done nothing but follow orders for so long. Still, he’s ordered to help people instead of harming them, so Spencer does everything he can to please his new Master.

  Abbott can see an iron will and high morals in Spencer, but releasing the blood-bond enslaving him is impossible — the boy’s never even met his wolf and would have no hope of controlling the feral animal inside him. However, Abbott won’t take things past a cordial relationship with the just-turned eighteen-year-old while he’s still a slave.

  1

  Abbott

  Assured the bar I’d stopped to check on was as raucous and crazy as it was supposed to be on a Friday night, I stepped into the crisp night air and walked through my city. The humans laughing and cutting up didn’t know it, but I kept them safe from my kind as well as other supernaturals. I was the top of the food chain and Master of the City. All non-humans living in my territory did so under my rules. My code of ethics.

  The city’s human leaders tried to keep the homeless away from tourists, but I smelled them hiding out in the park from a few blocks away as I neared the business district. One scent stood out, and I altered my course. I inhaled and analyzed each smell. The Fae essence was hard to pick out under the meth, but it needed investigating.

  Fae blood is mouthwateringly delicious and can be addicting to vampires. Most of my kind lose control when they drink Fae blood, which is why vampires aren’t allowed in Faerie without special permission from the reigning Queen. I no longer worried about losing control, but it shouldn’t be an issue with this woman. She was perhaps ten or twenty percent Fae — likely enough to give her blood the out-of-this-world taste and thrill without the loss of control or addictive properties.

  Detoxing young people from meth is a bitch, though. Most meth junkies don’t stay clean. I have excellent methods to help young people break the habit of most other drugs and move on to find fulfilling lives, but meth is in a category all by itself.

  I walked over pine needles and through a small wooded area, and stood over the girl. She was propped against a tree, sitting in the dirt, and I shook my head at the life she was choosing to squander. Blonde hair mussed, eyeliner smudged around the eyes of a too-slack face. She wore recently laundered jeans, a skin-tight shirt over an ill-fitting bra, and athletic shoes so old the tread was nearly gone. Her heart rate was fast for a human, but not so far out of the normal range to cause concern.

  She had no idea I was standing over her, and she didn’t rouse when I opened her small satchel and rummaged around. A cursory glance showed three pennies and a nickel, a hairbrush, eyeliner, mascara, eye shadow, face powder in a half-dozen shades, lipstick, and a half-full bottle of water. Something was wrapped in a red bandana, and I opened it to find a meth pipe. Shaking my head, I opened the small inner pocket and found a thin straw and a small empty baggie. The makeup was cheap and most was nearly gone. No wallet, cellphone, or extra clothes. She likely had clothing somewhere and wasn’t able to make it back to wherever she was couch-surfing or staying for sex. The make-up told me she still wanted to look presentable, but her teeth were in terrible shape and I couldn’t imagine she pulled it off after she opened her mouth.

  No identification, and she could’ve been anywhere between sixteen and twenty-five. Now that I’d looked through her things, I felt obligated to protect her at least until she was awake. A quick look into her head told me her name and age. She wasn’t a minor, or I’d have called my contact with the foster care system and had her set things in motion to get her to a family capable of helping her.

  I telepathed instructions to an underling vampire, and stood watch over the girl while I waited for the car to arrive.

  One never knows how important a new person will be until time tells the tale. Kendra had been in rough shape when I’d pulled the young vampire into my fold, and she was now a dear friend and one of the reasons I’d amassed so much power. My friend Aaron had taken the new Lion King under his wing eight hundred years ago, and the two were now best friends and business partners of a lucrative security business.

  I’ve pulled vampires and supernaturals into my inner circle for centuries, and have created a team who helps ensure my territory runs as I wish. It isn’t perfect, but it’s likely as good as
it’ll ever get.

  As many friends as I have, my enemies are also numerous. Most despise me for the way I seem to almost accidentally amass power sometimes. They don’t believe it isn’t carefully planned. Sometimes it is, but often a situation falls into my lap and I have no choice but to act.

  Once upon a time, I didn’t believe in karma, but millennia have taught me that good deeds eventually come back to you. Not all of them, but enough it can’t be coincidence. Treat people well who haven’t harmed you, destroy those who have in a spectacular fashion designed for maximum impact. It’s a simple philosophy, but it works for me so long as I’m careful with the grey areas in between. Sometimes compassion is necessary, other times it’s necessary to make your rivals fear you.

  I looked back to the human on the ground. Would this too-thin girl pass in the night, or would she become important to me? My mind wandered to one of the young men I’d recently acquired — a blood-bonded wolf whose very soul called out to mine.

  A few weeks prior, a human in my territory brought things to a head between my people and the Strigorii Master of Maryland. As a result, I’d inadvertently added a state to my territory, as well as my former counterpart’s property, holdings, and titles when Gavin — my second in command — killed him. In this case, property included a few dozen blood-slave wolves, and I was debating the best course of action for their assignments.

  Gavin didn’t need any more money, and he already owned an indentured blood-slave and wasn’t interested in another. I’d gifted him with a hundred grand in cash as well as his pick of the jewels and vehicles. Gavin had chosen the black Ferrari. No surprise there.

  Kendra — my third in command — was in Maryland, cleaning up the mess and explaining how things work in my territory. From what I was hearing, she was making her point as only Kendra can when vampires don’t fall in line as she orders. I hadn’t wanted to take on another state, but I didn’t regret a thing. The Master of the City had been part of a child slavery ring and the Concilio had done nothing because the group had only taken human children and weren’t drawing the attention of law enforcement. Thanks to the human woman who dug in and wouldn’t stop investigating, some of those children had been returned to their families, and the criminals had been shut down. For a little while, at least.

  Thoughts of child abductions reminded me of the problem at hand — what to do with the blood-bonded wolves, many of whom had been abducted as children and young teens from the foster care system. I’d kept them at my home the first couple of days, so I could properly exchange blood to switch their bond to me. Also, so I could take my time to get to know them and see into their heads. They were all at the coterie house now — on cots in the underground bunker, with Chromebooks so they could learn their lessons while I figured out the best places for them.

  I’d set two free of their bonds and handed them over to the local wolf Alpha. They’d known how to control their wolves before being blood bonded, and had a chance of surviving as free men in the local Pack.

  However, freedom wasn’t an option for the rest. The bastard had ordered them bitten as young children, and he’d blood bonded them and controlled their wolves for them. They’d never met their wolves, who were feral, wild animals living inside them and now tethered by me.

  One of the wolves would go to a married couple who’d been loyal to me for centuries. They were having problems and I hoped sharing a blood slave between them would help. Only one vampire can safely feed from a human on an ongoing basis, but shapeshifters can feed more than one vampire without risking their health. There was no guarantee the young male wolf would solve all the couple’s problems, but I hoped he’d create a starting point.

  Several of the wolves had been in positions of power within the Maryland political structure, and I was still looking through their memories to figure out whether they’d fit into my power base. They’d done horrible things in their Master’s name, but he’d controlled their will and they’d had no choice. I could see their regrets so I’d give them a chance.

  However, some had taken great joy in doing their Master’s bidding. I’d stripped them of all autonomy and sent them to work in a position where they’d never make another choice on their own again. The were-hyenas I let live were given the same fate. There’s no place in my territory for pure evil.

  And the blood-slave who called to my soul? Against my better judgment, I’d had him brought back to my home after sending him to the coterie house with the others. Or, perhaps it was good judgment. Resonating with someone usually means you have something in common with them, and I had a hard time keeping my eyes off the boy when he was in the same room. I wish I could call it lust and get it out of my system, but it was more. I’d been all through Spencer’s head, and now I wanted to take the time to get to know the young man.

  Once blood-bonded to a Strigorii vampire, it’s impossible for all but the strongest wolves to exert willpower and disobey orders. However, Spencer had found ways to follow orders and yet… not. The boy had found the least injurious way to follow his Master’s orders, even when he risked dire punishment for doing so. However, he was crafty enough it seemed he usually pulled it off without drawing attention to his actions. He’d had a hard life, and yet he’d kept his optimism. Spencer had strength of will, compassion for others, a superb understanding of the politics inherent in vampire society, and the boy was bloody brilliant.

  Yes, I very much wanted to get to know the beautiful young man better. Common sense told me a relationship couldn’t work with someone bound to do my will, but the heart doesn’t care about logic.

  2

  Holly

  My eyes opened and I looked around. I had no idea where I was, but that wasn’t terribly unusual. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve awakened in a strange place.

  However, this room was different. Tan walls, no windows. My heart fell into my stomach at the toilet and sink mounted on the wall. This looked a little like a jail cell — but if so then it was a luxury prison because the mattress was comfortable, and I spotted a small refrigerator near the door.

  The door had a small, barred window though, which seemed to verify I’d found my way to jail again.

  My head throbbed when I sat up, but I ignored it. My satchel was on a small table, and jails never let you keep your stuff. Maybe I’d landed in another rehab facility? I looked down to see what I was wearing. A soft cotton nightgown. Ultrasoft. Expensive.

  A flash of red caught my eye, and I moved my foot. Someone had painted my toenails. Also, my feet were clean.

  I searched backwards for my most recent memories. It took a moment, but I remembered needing a hit so bad I’d hurt. I’d stolen three hundred dollars from my brother’s daughter’s bedroom, and then called a dealer I knew would come get me. He’d taken me to a party in town. I remembered screwing a few people but couldn’t recall their faces. I knew I’d been there at least two nights. Or was it three? Everything blurred in my head and I wasn’t sure. Why had I left? I couldn’t remember that, either. My next memories were of walking around downtown, and I must’ve really been out of it. Traffic was scary, like the world was moving and I had to focus to stay on it.

  So how had I ended up here? Had a cop seen me stumbling? No, they’d have taken me to jail. If I was in jail, my bag wouldn’t be here.

  I tried standing but my legs didn’t want to hold me up. I stumbled on the way to the refrigerator, and the sharp pain of my knee against a hard tile floor helped me focus. I scooted the rest of the way to the fridge and opened it. Water, a few kinds of cola, several flavors of sports drinks, and orange juice. I grabbed a Coke and drank most of it down while sitting on the floor with my head in the fridge.

  The door opened and I quickly closed the refrigerator and did my best to keep from looking like the drug addict on the floor. There was no way to keep from being humiliated — trying to stand would’ve only proven I was in bad shape.

  One of the men was in a fancy suit with a tie my eyes coul
d get lost in if I wasn’t careful. The other was in jeans and a plain white t-shirt. He was hot, and just my type — so skinny you could see the outline of his bones, but this guy had some muscle on his thin frame. Likely a recovering addict who’d come to talk to me about my problems.

  “I’m Abbott,” said the taller man in the suit, “and this is Spencer.” His words were fancy. Okay, the words weren’t, but his tone was. How can a tone be fancy? Heck if I knew, but that tie was something else. The bluest of blues in bits and pieces as they hid behind black and charcoal. It was like an explosion of math. No, not math. What was the word? Geometry? Geometric. Yeah.

  Spencer squatted down and I almost fell into his blue eyes. God, what was with all the blue?

  “You like Master Abbott’s tie?”

  “You’re barefoot.” My brain processed his words a few seconds later. “Master? What the heck are you calling him master for?”

  “You don’t have any shoes on either.” His eyes were kind but I wished his smile wasn’t so sad. “I wasn’t sure what color you’d like, so I painted your toes and fingers red. Your nails were in rough shape and I couldn’t just leave them. We can change the color if you don’t like it.”