Spencer lurched back with a laugh. “Whoa, buddy! Ya scared to die?”
“Not as scared as you.” Custo’s voice was gravel, the sound rumbling from his chest.
“I’m not the one who peed my pants.”
The sour-sweet smell lifted into the room and burned through the coppery scent of blood.
“You”—Custo put his tongue to his loose tooth—“you turned coward the moment you sided with the wraiths.”
The wraith woman winked. “On the contrary, takes nerve to be in the same room with a hungry one.”
Spencer ignored her. He gave a huge sigh and rolled his eyes heavenward. “You just don’t get it, Custo. You never did. There’s no fighting immortality. Adam and I have been over this a million times. What the wraiths do may not be pretty—feeding on the life essence of their human forebears—but it is a natural evolutionary step toward conquering Death. I merely read the writing on the wall.”
“You got scared. I always knew you were chickenshit.”
“I got smart.” Spencer’s tone rose with anger. “Who are you to talk anyway? I know what you’ve done.”
What I’ve done?
“Heinrich Graf for starters.”
Oh. The German bastard who’d had a contract out on Adam’s life. A shot at long distance had taken care of him. “Scum.”
“You seduced his daughter to discover his whereabouts. Scum, yourself.”
“I didn’t suck out her soul.” Custo’s gaze darted to the wraith.
“Splitting hairs. You used her to kill her own father.”
A mistake, and not the worst of his wrongs. Some things simply had to be taken care of, and Adam couldn’t do it. Didn’t have enough of the dark side in him to see it through. But yeah, if there were a God, there’d be no mercy when this was through. Just more hell. Once there, at least, he could scream. Not here. Not for a piece of shit like Spencer.
Bad life. Good death. He’d settle for that.
“Where’s Adam?” Spencer repeated. “You’ll tell me before we’re through.”
Custo gave him his best, bloody smile. If Spencer and his wraiths hadn’t found the emergency escape, he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him. Not even to save his own life.
Custo gathered the saliva and blood that coated his mouth and spat in Spencer’s face. Got the asshole’s chin and neck.
Spencer drew his sidearm. He touched the hard tip of the gun to Custo’s forehead while he wiped himself clean with his other sleeve, a sneer of disgust stretching his face.
The wraith woman sat up on the bed and whined. “If you’re giving up on your questions, let me finish him. I’m hungry.”
Spencer’s eye twitched. “No. He’s mine.”
He drew his arm back. Struck. Knocked the sight from Custo’s eyes.
Pain wedged through his cheekbone to split his skull. Custo blinked hard against a thick film obscuring his vision, and yet, strangely, he was able to see perfectly: The room changed, brightened. Long fluorescent lights glared overhead where the bedroom had been lit by recessed cans. A sense of constriction bound his chest in a different, suffocating kind of discomfort. Thick, earthy smells of blood and fluid and sweat filled his nose.
A man masked in soft blue-green stared down at him and commanded, “One more push!”
Oh, dear God. His birth.
Then a cry, the squall of an infant, offered up from his own throat.
A nudge under his chin brought Custo back to the bedroom in the loft.
Spencer leaned in and Custo could feel his breath on his face. “You can die fast and easy or slow and miserable.”
Custo’s heart labored while he refused to inhale—no used Spencer air for him, thank you.
“It’s your choice,” Spencer said. He scratched his cheek with the barrel of the gun.
“Schl—” Custo’s jaw wouldn’t work right. He tried again for slow and miserable. Give Adam time.
“Let me have him,” the wraith complained. “Adam and the girl are probably long gone anyway.”
“No. And stay out of my business,” Spencer answered.
The wraith stood, hand on the doorknob. “What a waste...”
Spencer brought his gun-heavy hand down again.
A crush of blackness hit Custo and jarred his memory to sudden clarity a second time. A private library, wood shelves gleaming. A young man in a dark suit sat behind a wide desk, while Custo perched on a hard, striped sofa, feet swinging in the air above the floor, trying not to—what word had his mommy said?—fidget. One of his shoelaces had come undone again.
“I said I’d pay for his schooling, but that’s it.” The man’s voice was cold.
“He’s your son,” his mommy answered. She was wearing the shirt that showed her bra today. Custo hated that shirt—why didn’t she fix that top button?
“He’s my bastard—it’s a little different—and I want nothing to do with him.”
Reality tumbled back into Custo’s consciousness, Spencer slapping his cheek. Custo tried to lift his head, but his chin only bounced on his chest. His ears were full of the rush of ocean and wind, which made no sense in the middle of the city.
“Adam wouldn’t do the same for you,” Spencer said. “He has to know you’re here and what I’d do to you. Last chance.”
Not even if it were his first. “No.”
“You can’t save him, you know. Not even if he gets away today.” Spencer leaned in to Custo’s ear. “A little secret, just between you and me...there’s someone else at Segue who sides with the wraiths. Someone you both trust. The minute Adam turns his back...”
Spencer reared back for effect, swung, and the world split again. Custo was in a school yard surrounded by wide white buildings and the strong scent of honeysuckle. That first day at Shelby Boys’ School.
Some pansy blue blood planted a fist to his face.
Custo shook off the surprise of the blow and looked for the assailant. The kid was tall and skinny, face flushed, blue eyes bright with fear as a bunch of other boys egged him on.
“Fight! Fight! Fight!” the rest of the boys chanted.
This should be easy. Custo ducked to the side when the pussy threw a wild punch, then clocked him on the jaw.
The boy fell in a sprawl on the ground.
Custo stepped forward, shifted to plant a kick in the boy’s gut—a reminder to everyone what would happen if they dared put their hands on the poor, stupid new kid again—and got hauled back by his collar. The fabric burned at his throat.
“He hit me first!” Custo yelled to whatever teacher had made it to the grounds in time to stop the fight. They couldn’t expel him on the first day, could they?
“And you got him back. Enough.”
Not a teacher. An older kid. Well, Custo could take him, too. He dropped his weight and spun. Buttons popped, but the other kid hung on.
“I’m Adam Thorne,” he said, seemingly unperturbed, “and we’re going to be friends.”
Custo wrestled against Adam’s hold. He stamped on the older boy’s prissy loafer—a baby trick, but Adam was keeping him too off balance to do more.
“Best friends,” Adam amended in grim, low tones. “The rest of you, move out. Not the time or place, men.”
The skinny kid scrambled up from the dirt and milled away with the rest of group. Custo lifted his chin to their backward looks. Just try me.
Adam saved his life that day. Another expulsion would have sent him back to the streets. Permanently.
Spencer’s earbud buzzed through the cloudy murk of Custo’s memories.
“Repeat,” Spencer said, “Adam’s here?”
Custo’s heart clenched. Goddamn stupid hero.
“Guess we don’t need you anymore,” Spencer hissed darkly in Custo’s face. “This was way too easy.”
No! Wait! He had to warn—
A white thunderclap of pain and Custo’s consciousness spread like water running from a dropped clay vessel, his life falling in so many pieces around him
. The expanse of the loft was laid open to his understanding, a sixth sense that strengthened exponentially in the sudden absence of all others.
In the great room beyond, Adam and Talia held their ground near the elevator, darkness billowing out in silken waves from Talia’s position. She stood at the brink of Shadow, one foot in mortality, one beyond, compelling the Other darkness to obscure the room, to hide them from capture.
Custo’s mind clouded with Shadow as well. The darkness flickered with lightning strikes of memory. His first lay, Janet Summerton, with her peachy breasts and ginger hair. University, still on his father’s buck, dorming with a geek on scholarship. Adam’s frantic call for help when his brother Jacob had gone insane—turned wraith—and killed their parents. The flashes of memory advanced with each trembling heartbeat toward the decision to enter the loft’s building to meet Adam and Talia, when the place had so clearly been compromised.
And Custo would do it again. My life for his.
Spencer crossed the room and stood, his back to the bedroom door, gun ready at his chest, and utterly oblivious to the murky forest of dark trees that grew in place of the dissolving walls. Black trunks and skeletal limbs stretched into a violet sky through which brilliant stars blazed, each with a skittering comet’s tail streaming the passage of time.
A gray wind lashed through the room just as Adam kicked in the bedroom door and plugged two bullets in the wraith’s head. She went down with a wide-eyed thump, but she wouldn’t, couldn’t, die. That was her trade—a life of monstrous soul feeding in return for immortality.
Adam and Spencer spoke with angry gestures, but the words foundered on the hiss and whip of the crowding shadows. Spencer ducked out of the room when Adam caught sight of the ruined body in the chair.
Adam, there’s another traitor at Segue, Custo said.
But Adam didn’t signify he heard the warning. He fell on his knees before Custo’s chair.
Adam! Listen to me!
The trees grew to maturity, their boughs forming a dark tunnel to God knows where.
Adam!
Custo looked back, one last time, into mortality. His body had been cut free and Adam was struggling to haul it to the bed, his face contracted with rage and grief.
Not necessary. Not worth it. Never worth it. But, of course, Adam couldn’t hear him.
The blackness shuddered, shade upon shade. Something was coming.
From the deep, a gleam of silvery metal arched into a wicked crescent moon. A scythe. The harried shadows parted and a figure emerged, wrapped in a cloak of blackness. Shadowman was partially hooded, but his face caught starlight. His features glowed with fantastic beauty, but his eyes were wells of loneliness. And no wonder—his was an existence filled with solitary, grim work. Custo couldn’t blame the tortured soul for stealing a human moment to love, even if that moment had allowed a demon into the world to raise an army of wraiths. If anyone could find a way to kill the demon, it was Adam and Shadowman’s daughter, the banshee Talia.
I have to warn him. Please.
Shadowman was immovable, his expression as unforgiving as stone. Hand gripping the scythe, he slowly swung out his arm, as if opening a gate to oblivion.
Death. Then Hell. Custo gathered what was left of his courage, clamping down on the naked quake of fear at his core. No sniveling allowed.
He moved out of pain and into uncertainty, the tunnel of sharp branches lengthening to a bright point of light. Probably a white-hot fire to burn at the blood staining his soul for eternity.
On either side of the dark path, whispers. Eyes flashing. Magic gathering to lure strays from the way. The tunnel led to a primeval shore where a narrow skiff waited to carry them across a gray channel toward a high, great gate. The light of the surrounding walls shifted through the varied spectrum of the rainbow, at once blue and yellow, then azure and verdant green.
There must be a mistake—even Spencer knew the truth.
Shadowman delivered him to the gleaming portal, which opened in welcome. The light was blinding. A song of piercing joy rose to cheer an addition to the Host.
Custo turned to Shadowman, but Death was gone.
So not Hell. Worse. A cosmic joke. A bloodied soul to be numbered with the angels.
He was a liar, a murderer, a thief, but never a hypocrite. He didn’t belong here.
The shining gate closed behind him, clanging shut like a Sunday church bell.
Custo braced his hands on the spectacular surface. There had to be a way out. A way to open the gate and a way to warn Adam.
Custo banged a fist against the entrance.
Or if not, good people died every day. Death would be back eventually, and damn if Custo wouldn’t be ready.
Thank You!
Thank you so much for reading...for being a reader! If you enjoyed SHADOW BOUND, I would appreciate it if you would help others enjoy this book, too.
Lend it. This e-book is lending-enabled, so please, share it with a friend.
Recommend it. Please help other readers find this book by recommending it to friends, readers’ groups and discussion boards.
Review it. Please tell other readers why you liked this book by reviewing it at your favorite bookstore site. And once again, thank you!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Erin Kellison is the award-winning author of the Shadow series, the Shadow Touch novella series, and the Shadow Kissed series, all of which share the same world, where dark fantasy meets modern fairy tale. RT calls her latest, Soul Kissed, “a dark fairy tale with a twist, perfect for readers who love passion with their fantasy.”
You can find Erin at:
Website: www.ErinKellison.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/erinkellisonauthor
Twitter: www.twitter.com/ekellison
Pinterest: www.Pinterest.com/ErinKellison
Goodreads: www.Goodreads.com/ErinKellison
For the latest news on upcoming releases, subscribe to Erin’s newsletter.
Read more excerpts at ErinKellison.com
BOOKS BY ERIN KELLISON
Shadow Series
SHADOW BOUND
SHADOW FALL
SHADOWMAN
Shadow Kissed Series
A spin-off novel series set in the Shadow world
FIRE KISSED
SOUL KISSED
UNTITLED
Shadow Touch Novella Series
A novella series set in the Shadow world
SHADOW TOUCH
SHADOW PLAY
SHADOW HUNT
UNTITLED FOURTH NOVELLA
Hotter On The Edge Anthologies
Anthologies of science fiction romance novellas
HOTTER ON THE EDGE
HOTTER ON THE EDGE 2
Seduce
by Felicity Heaton
Bloodlust runs in his veins, a dark master waiting for the day it will reign over him. Now a woman with a pure soul and wicked intentions has him in her sights and is determined to crack the ice around his heart, and she might just save or damn him.
Antoine stands apart from the world around him, a dangerous and broken soul who must maintain rigid control at all times or risk his dark addiction finally seizing hold of him. The shadows of his past haunt him and he sees his bleak future each night when his brother wakes screaming, his blood addiction turning him savage. He cannot allow himself to feel, but when Sera walks into Vampirerotique, the erotic theatre he runs with three other vampires, to audition, she awakens dangerous desires in him—hungers that could spell the end of both of them.
Sera has wanted Antoine since the night she first saw the gorgeous aristocrat vampire. She can’t ignore the deep carnal hunger he stirs in her or the ache to know the heat of his touch. With the help of her sire, an ex-performer at Vampirerotique, she sets in motion a game of seduction, one designed to thaw the ice in Antoine’s veins and make him burn for her.
When Sera discovers the shocking truth about his past and the darkness that lurks within him, will she be st
rong enough to seize his heart with both hands and win him forever or will she lose him to the ghosts that still haunt him?
Book 3 in the Vampire Erotic Theatre series
Table of Contents for SEDUCE
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
About the Author
Books by Felicity Heaton
CHAPTER 1
Sera’s attention wasn’t on the show. While her sire sat beside her in the sumptuous red velvet seats of the dark stalls, her focus fixed on the erotic acts playing out on the stage of Vampirerotique, Sera’s gaze was elsewhere, drawn to a man who had been on her mind since the first time she had set eyes on him over a year ago.
He stood to her right at the edge of the theatre near the front row, shadows clinging to him as though they too were drawn to his lethal beauty, his own gaze on the stage. Not once did it stray from the performance—not even when she prayed under her breath every second that it would come to rest on her—and never did the intensity of it lessen. His pale icy eyes scrutinised everything, watching closely, as though he was studying it so he could give a blow-by-blow description of it to someone after it had ended. Perhaps he did. He often disappeared as soon as the show reached its climax with the bloodletting, heading through the double doors that led backstage to an area she could only imagine.
Her sire, Elizabeth, had described it for her a few times but she had always been more interested in learning more about the enigma that was the vampire who ran the theatre.
Antoine.
His name was as exotic as his looks. The deadly combination of lush chocolate brown hair, those intense pale blue eyes and his lithe figure that just screamed he would look like a god naked, was too much for her. The more she saw him, the more she wanted him.
Dark and Dangerous: Six-in-One Hot Paranormal Romances Page 88
