The Supplicant
by Michelle Marquis
Amira Press
www.amirapress.com
Copyright ©
First published in 2009
NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others.
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CONTENTS
Dedication
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
Epilogue
About the Author
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The Supplicant
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Copyright (C) September 2009, Michelle Marquis Cover art by Amira Press (C) September 2009
Amira Press, LLC
Baltimore, MD 21216
www.amirapress.com
ISBN: 978-1-935348-65-8
No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and e-mail, without prior written permission from Amira Press.
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Dedication
To the vampire fans.
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Chapter One
"I had an affair, but it's over now," Dennis Peoples said.
Sindiswa Miller, or Sin to her friends and enemies alike, stood in the kitchen with a cup of steaming coffee in her hand. It was all she could do not to chuck it in the face of her longtime thug of a boyfriend, Dennis. "You had an affair," she said in a flat monotone. It annoyed her even more that she wasn't more shocked than she was.
Dennis nodded. "But it's over. It's been over for a month."
"I see."
"It was a stupid thing to do, and I'm very sorry, Sin."
"So the hell am I," she said. Sin lowered the cup of coffee to the kitchen counter so she wouldn't do something she'd later regret. Or not. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but this isn't the first time you've . . . slipped up."
Dennis hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck.
"No, baby. But I swear to you, Sin. There won't be any more!
I'm done with other women. I've made up my mind. All I want is you."
"Is that right? Well now, isn't that touching?"
"Why you bein' so cold? Yell at me, scream, do something," he pleaded.
"No," Sin said with an exasperated sigh. "I'm done being upset over you and your bullshit. In fact, I'm totally done with you, Dennis. You're like a little boy I have to feed, clothe, and watch out for all the time, and I'm just sick up to here with 6
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it," she said, raising her right hand up to eye level. "This ends right here. I want you out."
Dennis stared at her with his mouth agape. "You're throwing me out?"
"You don't work; you don't clean house; so frankly I'm not sure what you do with your time all day," she said, watching Dennis's face grow slack with worry. "Except that you always seem to find time to hang with your no-good friends and screw around. Now that's stuff you do have plenty of time for.
Well you can write your blues songs and hook up with all the women you want in your own place." She dumped the coffee into the sink and grabbed her jacket with the highway patrol emblem on the sleeves. "When I come back off duty in the morning, Dennis, I expect you and your stuff will be gone."
Dennis rushed forward and was just about to grab her arm when she gave him a venomous stare. It was her best no-nonsense cop stare, and it always worked, especially on Dennis.
"Sin, baby, you can't mean that," he groaned. "We've been together a damn long time."
"Too long. I should have had my damn head examined,"
she said, heading for the door. "Good-bye, Dennis."
"But, Sin, I love you, man. Can't we work this out?"
Sin opened the front door and stared at Dennis. "You should have thought of that when you were dipping your wick in every willing female you could find. No, there is no way to work this out. I'm done with you. You've been sucking the happiness out of my life for the past two years, and frankly, I'm over you."
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She turned to leave, then had another thought. Sin turned back around. "And don't take anything out of this house that you didn't bring into it, or I'll bring you up on theft charges.
You hear me, Dennis?"
Then, satisfied she'd put the fear of God in her boyfriend, Officer Sin Miller climbed into her squad car. She keyed the radio with her thumb. "Dispatch, this is Officer Miller. I'm ten-eight."
"Ten-four, Officer Miller," replied the dispatcher. "You're ten-eight at ten-o-three p.m."
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Chapter Two
The primer grey pickup raced past Sin's squad car so fast that it rocked the whole vehicle. Sin, who was parked on the side of the road finishing up a report on a speeder, looked up from her laptop and squinted to see the license plate.
Unfortunately, it was too late. They were already almost gone, the pickup's taillights fading in the distance.
Sin closed the laptop and hit the police lights. She glanced in her rearview mirror to make sure the road was clear. To her amazement, yet another car was barreling up the road even faster than the first one. The new vehicle was a black stretch limo, an elegant car and not one usually seen on this side of the city. Out here, it was all beat-up Chevys and pickups.
Sin let it roar past her before stomping on her gas pedal and taking off in pursuit. Her police radio chirped with transmissions from other officers updating dispatch on their various calls. Pushing the accelerator to the floor, Sin picked up her radio and called in the details of her pursuit.
"Dispatch, this is Officer Miller. I'm in pursuit of two speeding vehicles. One is a grey Ford pickup and the other, a black Cadillac limousine. We are just passing the intersection of State Road Fifty and Fort Christmas Road," Sin said. "Be advised I need backup." As she narrowed the distance between her and the speeders, she noticed the Cadillac catching up to the pickup. Maybe they're drag racing.
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Sin's radio crackled to life as dispatch summoned her backup from all over the area. "All units, all units, officer needs assistance in the vicinity of State Road Fifty and Fort Christmas Road. Pursuit in progress of two speeding vehicles, one described as . . ."
Sin ignored the rest of the transmission and focused on getting right behind the limo. Her lights were going, so she flipped on her siren too. She fl
inched as it screamed into the early morning quiet.
The Cadillac's rear lights glowed brightly as its driver tapped the brakes preparing to stop. The pickup, however, situated in front of the black car, only sped up. It pulled away with astounding speed. The black limo abandoned its plan to slow down. Its big engine roared as it fell in behind the pickup again and pulled a good forty yards away in front of her.
The white lines on the road blurred as Sin pushed her cruiser harder while trying desperately to catch up to the other cars. Up ahead, an intersection's light turned red, and Sin knew both cars were planning to run the light. A few cars passed through the light just before the pickup and the limo entered the intersection.
Sin bit her lip and held her breath anticipating a crash at any moment.
A silver Honda entered the intersection at the same time as the speeding vehicles and screeched to a halt, barely missing the pickup. But the near miss startled the pickup's driver. He overcorrected, lost complete control, and sent his vehicle into a violent tailspin.
It took Sin only a second to realize she was in big trouble.
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The pickup's headlights flashed in her eyes, temporarily blinding her, and then there was a horrible crash. Sin's body was slammed around the squad car's interior despite her seatbelt. The airbag deployed, smashing into her chest and knocking the wind out of her lungs. The noise of the crash seemed to go on forever, and when the squad car finally stopped rolling, there was pain—horrible and consuming pain all over.
Sin blinked and tasted blood in her mouth.
Next, she tried to move, but her body just wouldn't obey her. The radio hissed to life, and then the dispatcher's voice called her, asking her to respond. Sin tried once again to move, willing her hand to reach out and grab the radio, but nothing worked.
A handsome blond man with the most extraordinary silver eyes crouched and looked inside the mangled squad car. Even as foggy as she was, Sin could tell he was huge—tall and muscular with features that were very Germanic. The grim expression on his face told her just how badly injured she was.
Sin summoned every ounce of energy she had to speak.
Something burned and obscured her vision. It took a second to realize that her head was bleeding and the blood was running down her face. She blinked a trickle of gore out of her eye. "Please help me," she croaked.
Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed, but Sin knew it was too late for her. She had suffered catastrophic injuries.
There was no way she was going to make it. Already she was growing cold as her body went into shock.
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The blond man crawled into the wreck, pushing twisted steel out of his way like it was so much tissue paper. Sin was so astonished by his strength she thought she must be hallucinating. The man grabbed a handful of her uniform tunic and heaved her out of the wreck. Sin lay as still as death on the cold asphalt. Her body screamed in pain, and she vomited a little blood. It's too late, too late. I'm going to die. I can't feel my arms or legs.
The man placed his arm around her waist and pulled her to her feet like a broken doll. Unable to stand under her own power, the man held her up and squeezed Sin against his chest. The sirens grew louder now, filling her head with their shrill din. Sin's lips moved, but no words came out. Her savior ran his tongue along her lower lip, licking the blood from her mouth. Then a new agony came, exploding from her throat, and Sin was sure this stranger had stabbed her in the neck in a strange act of mercy killing.
Sin wanted to be angry, but she wasn't. Instead, she was relived. So this is what it feels like to die. Like most stuff in this fucked-up world—so overrated. Heat flooded her body, ushering in a comforting calm. Then Officer Sin Miller let her mind go and rolled over into the sweet nothingness of death.
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Chapter Three
It was dusk, and the cemetery was empty.
The grass was still damp from the day's rain. Leftover rainfall had collected in tiny puddles around the worn areas by a few of the graves. Melancholy headstones stood vigil over the empty yard, a mute testimony that the people beneath them had ever existed at all. In the distance was a new grave sheltered by a dark green canopy. The aluminum canopy was placed there earlier to keep the rain off those attending the funeral. Resting on top of the damp earth were several bouquets of white and blue flowers.
Krysis grabbed a canvas duffel bag from one of his companions and tossed it over the fence. It hit the ground with a muffled thud and a clang of metal. Then he scaled the ten-foot-tall wrought-iron fence with as much ease as a cat does climbing a thick oak tree. He jumped to the bottom and glared ahead, his bloodlust quickening like a fever under his skin. His three companions, Blackjack, Razor, and Kat, followed him over and gave him a curious look. If anyone wanted to question him, no one would dare. Krysis was well known for being dangerously unpredictable, a reputation he earned and cultivated with care.
That newest grave was the one he was looking for.
His beloved might even be awake already.
Krysis moved across the cemetery toward the new gravesite with long, commanding strides. He didn't want his 13
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new mate locked in her coffin too long. She'd be traumatized enough as it was from the accident.
It had been a long time since he'd had a fresh supplicant, and he was looking forward to coaxing this one into the fold.
If she agreed, she would be a good addition to their small group. He could tell, he could feel it, and he was never wrong.
As he drew closer, their bond grew, and his hunger for her became more primal, more savage. He moved his tongue over his canine teeth and felt their long, curved menace, and immediately, he thought about the police woman's unique taste. Like ripe fruit on a hot summer day.
Finally, he reached her grave.
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Sin woke up in darkness. She expected to feel pain, but there was none, only confusion. The first thing she tried to do was move. She lifted her hands and touched something soft about ten inches from her face. It was padded fabric, and the truth of where she was exploded in her brain like a grenade.
Oh my good God, I'm in a coffin! I've been buried alive!
Now, fueled by new and building terror, she raked her hands down the front and sides of her enclosure. "Hello?" she screamed. "Can anyone hear me? Hello! "
Everywhere she touched was silken fabric. The whole thing was so surreal, like a dream that quickly turns into a nightmare. Frantic to escape, Sin moved her legs, bumping her knees over and over against the narrow sides. The surprise that she could even move her legs at all was quickly overshadowed by her current predicament. She could have 14
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sworn that both legs had been badly broken in the crash.
"Someone help me, please! " she called, pounding her fist against the coffin lid as hard as she could.
Sin heard scraping on the roof of the casket. It sounded like shovels, and relief flooded over her. Oh, thank Jesus!
Someone must have heard me! With a new sense of purpose, she banged harder on the lid praying whoever it was wouldn't stop digging her out. Within minutes, the top was lifted, and the damp night air greeted her. Hands reached in and grabbed her arms, lifting her up and onto the casket edge.
Sin was so happy she wanted to cry. Dirt fell onto her face and chest as she scrambled to climb out. The hands let go.
Gripping the side of the grave, Sin hoisted herself out as if emerging from the edge of a swimming pool. Exhausted from the ordeal, she rolled onto her back and blinked at the sky as ghostly clouds moved across the full moon. Then she realized her benefactors were staring at her.
"Thank God you came when you did," Sin said, panting and trying to calm her racing heart. "I thought I was a goner."
"God had nothing to do with your rescue," someone with a deep voice said.
It belonged to a tall, commanding white man who Sin was sure she recognized. Getting to her feet, she carefully studied his face. Then there was a white-hot minute of recognition, and she trembled. She lifted a finger and pointed at him. "You were the man at the crash."
"Yeah," he said. And he was just plain drop-dead sexy. His handsome face was the model of masculine perfection: wide 15
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cheekbones, a well-proportioned, curved nose, and a subtle hint of cruelty around the lips. His skin was a warm parchment white, and his blue eyes seemed to glow with a cool intelligence. Sin's palms started to sweat, but she resisted the urge to break eye contact with the attractive stranger.
She looked down at the grave as a creeping sense of dread overtook her. Then the hunger came. Like a violent storm, it darkened her soul and tore the reason from her mind. Any hint of fear blew away, and in an instant, Sin could smell the salty sweetness of the stranger's blood. She moved her tongue out and stroked it along her lower lip. "Who are you?"
she said softly.
"I am Krysis," the pale man replied, his eyes sweeping boldly down her body in a naked show of lust.
Like a rope tied around her waist dragging her in, Sin was pulled closer to him. Every step heightened the hunger a little more until it pounded a savage rhythm inside her head.
"Krysis." She said his name like a guilty secret. "You're so familiar to me."
"He saved your life," a woman said. "By giving you a new one." She was a startling beauty with long, wavy, dark hair and reddish-brown eyes. The woman was dressed in a black blouse and faded blue jeans. She was standing a few feet back watching Sin's exchange with Krysis.
"I don't understand," Sin replied. Krysis was so close, so close. The exquisite scent of rushing blood was intoxicating, inviting. She stared at the thick artery pulsing in his neck and fought the urge to pounce. "Why am I so groggy?"
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