The Serenity Series: Box Set: Books 1-3

by Marissa Farrar

  Sebastian walked the circumference of the roof until he faced the opposite building.

  He lifted his face to the night sky.

  Blood hung on the air tonight.

  Another of his kind hunted in the city; maybe more than one. Sebastian grew uneasy. Vampires were uncommon and, like other large predators, hunted alone. Their solitary nature made them unnoticeable. Los Angeles was his city; he didn’t need, or want, another of his own moving in on his territory.

  Without another thought, he leaped into the night, one leg outstretched, arms raised. He soared through the air, relishing the moment of weightlessness before hitting the concrete roof at a run. The impact jarred his bones, muscles tightened to breaking point, but he felt no pain.

  He moved stealthily, leaping from building to building, heading home. If he stayed anywhere near her, he would go back.

  Sebastian owned a house in the hills; a luxurious, eight bedroom mansion with a pool and an acre of grounds. He never had any trouble procuring money; rich people—especially those who had grown rich doing something they shouldn’t—left huge amounts of cash in their homes and never reported it stolen. Of course, a few centuries ago acquiring property had been an easier process. Simply knocking on the owner’s door and offering a disgusting sum of money had sealed the deal. Now he had to deal with ‘identity theft’ and ‘fraud’. Luckily, he’d purchased his house before celebrities decided the hills were the place to live. At least many of those celebrities kept the same timetable he did.

  Los Angeles was one place where night-living went completely unnoticed.

  Chapter Five

  Serenity lay in bed, fully clothed, waiting for him to come to her.

  The nurse at the hospital sent her away from Jackson’s bedside, saying she would be better off at home. She would be more use to her husband by getting some rest.

  Sleep, however, eluded her.

  An unread book lay discarded at her side and the bedside lamp cast a warm glow across her pillow.

  The bedroom window stood wide open. The night’s air hung thick and muggy around her. Jackson always hated to sleep with the window open, so why not? Doing so defied Jackson; at least so she told herself. Serenity refused to admit the real reason for lying in bed with her clothes on at two-thirty in the morning. She ignored how every fiber of her soul listened for her stranger; every tiny creak, scratch, or thump making her leap out of her skin and sit up in anticipation. Her whole body ached for him and the open window invited his presence.

  Didn’t she think it strange how she didn’t listen for the doorbell instead? She didn’t want to face the obvious questions, like how he knew where she lived and why he’d been in her house? To any outsider, wouldn’t this man look like a stalker?

  Serenity sighed and rolled over, resting her hand beneath her cheek. What was wrong with her? A married woman shouldn’t act this way. No matter how bad the marriage, she’d made a promise when taking her vows, one she had intended to keep.

  What about him? a voice whispered in her head. What about Jackson’s vows? Do you think he cares about them when he’s smacking you around?

  Serenity clung to the hope that she stayed because she might still love a part of Jackson. If things were good, he made her feel like the most special person in the world, but a long time had passed since he’d instilled such emotions in her.

  When she first met Jackson, Serenity thought he was the solution to her problems. She’d been desperate to get out from under her stepfather’s roof and Jackson had told her all she wanted to hear; she was beautiful and he would take care of her. So she moved out from one man’s roof and straight under another’s. At first, everything had been great. He hadn’t laid a finger on her until nearly a year after their wedding day.

  The first time happened shortly after their first miscarriage. They had been so excited about the baby, but then she woke up one morning with blood in her underwear—too much blood—and a visit to the doctor confirmed their worst fear, she had lost the baby.

  The physician told them miscarriage was normal and gave them some worryingly high statistic how one in every five pregnancies miscarried before twelve weeks. He said losing the baby wasn’t her fault; she couldn’t have done anything to cause or prevent it. Of course, his reassurances didn’t make her feel any better and she replayed the last few weeks over in her mind. Did she lift something heavy? Did she accidently eat something with raw egg?

  Serenity kept blaming herself and saw the accusations in Jackson’s eyes. Ruining one of their pans while cooking dinner was enough of an excuse for him to take his loss out on her.

  Afterward, he’d been so apologetic. They cried in each other’s arms and he promised it would never happen again. Except she would hear those words over and over.

  Then she fell pregnant a second time and, once again, lost the baby. With the next she managed to reach twenty weeks gestation but, at their twenty-week scan, the technicians were unable to locate a heartbeat. That one had been the worst. She gave birth to the child, an impossibly tiny, doll-like baby her body had killed.

  The next time she became pregnant, Serenity couldn’t even bring herself to tell Jackson. When she lost that one at eight weeks, she sobbed in private and tried to act like nothing was wrong.

  Her life had no meaning. Incapable of nurturing a child inside of her, what was the point in her existence? Her body killed her babies; as though she was poisonous, toxic. Serenity hated herself.

  Consequently, the beatings she received on a regular basis were nothing less than she deserved. She couldn’t blame Jackson for hating her. After all, her body denied him a family. She wondered, if they had children, would their lives be different?

  Would she still love her husband? Would he love her or continue to hurt her?

  So now she lay in her marital bed, with her husband in the hospital, praying another man would come to her.

  Serenity’s emotions churned; a guilty, sick feeling, with a spark of something else—hope?

  You don’t even know his name.

  Almost imperceptibly, the air moved around her, a tiny change in the molecules, like the air right before thunder rolled across the sky. She held her breath, too scared to turn around in case she had imagined things, but knew she must.

  He stood framed in her bedroom window wearing the same long overcoat she’d first seen him in. His shock of dark hair set off his serious green eyes. The hard set of his jaw erased the usual playful teasing expression he wore.

  Even though she had expected to see him, the sight of another man in her bedroom shocked her and she pulled the sheets closer, as though they might protect her.

  Serenity dared to speak. “What are you doing here?” She wanted to be brave, but the shakiness in her voice betrayed her fragile state. “You can’t just come barging into my bedroom in the middle of the night. Do you have any idea how creepy that is?”

  For a moment, he didn’t answer. Did his stern expression mean he was still angry? But then he smiled and took a step toward her.

  “I couldn’t stay away,” he said.

  “Don’t you like to use the front door?”

  He smiled again, glancing at the floor, as though hiding a joke from her. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I should have used the door. Sometimes I forget these things.”

  He gestured to the end of her bed, “May I?”

  Serenity looked at the empty space, the sheets smooth and undisturbed, and nodded.

  She couldn’t tear her eyes from him as he crossed the room with an unworldly grace. He sat down beside her, his weight creating a dip in the mattress.

  His presence was so intense and took up more physical space than normal people. The overcoat he wore stretched across his broad shoulders. His hands, large and inviting, lay folded in his lap. Beautiful and strong, his face betrayed nothing.

  She wanted to grab hold of him and never let go.

  “What’s going on here?” she asked in a hushed voice. She was scared, both of th
e stranger who had suddenly appeared in her room, and of her husband finding out. Though her common sense told her Jackson lay in the hospital, miles away, the fear continued unabated. Would he somehow sense another man had been in their bedroom, or would her stranger leave something for her husband to find?

  “You need to explain what’s happening?” she said.

  Her fears amounted to nothing in this man’s presence. Nothing existed except for him. Intensely aware of the space between them, she longed to close it. She wanted to reach out and touch him, explore every arch and curve of his skin with her fingertips.

  “What part should I explain?” he said. “Who I am, or why I’m here?”

  “Everything. I need to know all of it.”

  “I’m not sure I can.”

  Serenity lifted her eyes to his, her lower lip trembling. “I don’t believe you. You’re hiding something from me.”

  He pressed his lips together. “I’ve never done this before. I don’t know where to begin.”

  “At least tell me your name.”

  He smiled. “I can do that much,” he said, and then, as though they were being introduced at a formal party, held out his hand. “Sebastian,” he said. “Sebastian Bandores.”

  She smiled back and took his hand. His fingers were cool from the night, but she didn’t drop his hand; she didn’t ever want to let go.

  “Serenity,” she told him. “My name is Serenity.”

  “I am honored to meet you, Serenity.”

  “Your accent?” she asked. “You aren’t from here, Los Angeles.”

  He laughed. “I cannot believe I still have an accent. I was born in Spain, but I have spent many, many years in America.”

  Serenity took the nugget of information and stored it inside her heart.

  “And what about your name? Serenity,” he said her name slowly and carefully, as though tasting each syllable. “Unusual, but beautiful.”

  She shrugged and glanced away, unable to take the compliment. “My mother was a modern hippie,” she said, by way of explanation. “The kind that liked to interpret free love as being a slut, and smoking weed as taking and drinking whatever the hell she could get her hands on.”

  Serenity couldn’t hide the bitterness in her voice.

  “What happened to her?” he asked.

  “Drug overdose when I was fourteen. She went to a friend’s house for a party and I never saw her again.”

  “I’m so sorry,” he told her. “What about your father?”

  Again, she shrugged. “I never knew who he was. I don’t think my mother did either. After she died, my stepfather took charge of me, but I was nothing more than a housekeeper to him. He was free and easy with his fists if I didn’t do things exactly the way he liked. I counted myself lucky he didn’t want anything else other than cooking and cleaning from me.”

  Sebastian shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

  He reached out and touched her thick, dark hair. Her curls ran through his fingers like silk. “You have no idea how beautiful you are?”

  She turned her face away, embarrassed. Serenity had never seen herself as beautiful.

  “My husband will be out of the hospital tomorrow.” Mentioning him filled her with embarrassment, though Sebastian already knew she was married. “I can’t stand the thought of spending another day with him.”

  “Then you understand what must be done.”

  Adrenaline surged up inside her; the thought of leaving more petrifying than anything she had ever done. Taking years more of beatings terrified her less.

  He reached out, fingertips barely brushing the soft skin of her cheek.

  “Take me with you!” She threw out the request, a crazy appeal to someone who was little more than a stranger.

  “I can’t. You have no idea what you’re saying.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “I don’t care. You must want me, too. Why else would you be here?”

  “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  “Stop saying that! I’m not all right!” Tears flowed down her cheeks. “Isn’t that obvious? I’m so fucking far from all right I don’t even know what it means anymore.”

  “Whatever you’re doing with your life, it can’t be worse than the hell I live in.”

  Angrily, she wiped at the tears and stared at him in amazement. “Then enlighten me? Explain why you came here, yet you’re willing to let me go back to my old life?”

  He looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “It’s impossible. I will never make you happy and however bad your life seems now, it can be worse.”

  “Why? Are you married?”

  He laughed—a small, cold, frightening sound.

  “I want to take you with me, Serenity. I want it more than anything but, the damage I would cause is much worse than anything he ever managed.”

  “So let me make the choice!” she begged. “If you want me,” she moved closer, closing the gap, the air between them crackling. “You must let me make the choice.”

  She sensed him wavering for a moment, a second of indecision, and then he pulled away. “I won’t,” he said. “I can’t.”

  He stood up and stepped back, taking with him time, space, and everything between.

  Sebastian disappeared.

  “No!” she yelled at the empty room. Throwing back the sheets, she leapt to her feet. “Come back! Please come back.”

  The room was empty, the drapes flapping in the breeze, as if he’d never been there.

  Serenity fell to her knees, sobbing, from shock, partly. The rest of her hurt; mourned the loss of him. How could he come into her life and leave again so quickly?

  Who was he?

  They hadn’t so much as kissed and already he held her heart in his hands. The thought of straying from her marriage never crossed her mind before, no matter how bad things got. Of course, she’d thought of leaving Jackson. What sane woman wouldn’t? Never for another man, though. No one else had so much as caught her eye.

  Sebastian. His name whispered through her mind like a caress. This whole thing was crazy. She needed to get a grip.

  After all, wasn’t she ignoring the obvious? How did he move like that? To be in one place and then suddenly, no longer be there? People didn’t do that. Not without a stage and props and a whole heap of people backstage helping make the illusion work. Tricks were the only explanation; a combination of smoke and mirrors and distraction, not real magic.

  Did Sebastian disappear in such a way using tricks? Or was Serenity admitting she believed in magic?

  She laughed into the empty room and clamped a hand over her mouth.

  The laugh, too close to the hilarity of a crazy person, scared her.

  Crazy…

  The idea flickered in her mind, a dangerous flame lighting a fire of self-doubt. Perhaps Sebastian didn’t even exist? Maybe her sick mind conjured up his strange way of moving and her obsessive attraction to him?

  Her heart tripped a beat. She didn’t want to go there, but her mind pulled the idea closer. She thought back to times she’d seen him. Had anyone else been present? Had she witnessed him interacting with another person?

  With relief, she remembered the woman in the hospital canteen. He had spoken to her and she took money from him. Serenity knew she hadn’t imagined the woman. Then she remembered the coffee he bought and how it burned her mouth. She hadn’t imagined that, had she?

  Suddenly exhausted, Serenity tugged her sweater over her head and pulled off her jeans. She dropped the clothes over the edge of the bed and slid under the covers. The sheets were smooth and cool against her skin and she sank into the mattress with pleasure. Her bedroom window stood wide open, the drapes pulled back. A light breeze swirled around the room, gently lifting the material. She knew the morning light would wake her, but she was too tired to get out of bed to close them.

  At least tomorrow she wouldn’t have to worry about Jackson questioning her about work or call
ing her there. She would tell him they gave her an emergency family day to take care of him. He would believe the excuse and it would buy her another day.

  Another day to figure out what the hell was going on with her life.

  Serenity reached out and flicked the switch on the bedside lamp. The room plunged into darkness and she quickly fell into a deep, troubled sleep.

  Chapter Six

  The sound of a bell ringing dragged Serenity from a deep sleep. She tried to ignore it but the insistent jingle forced her awake. She opened her eyes, heavy-headed and disoriented, trying to figure out where the sound came from.

  The telephone.

  Sebastian! The thought got her moving. Not even pausing to pull on any clothes, she scrambled out of bed and raced down the stairs, praying the phone wouldn’t ring off. She ran bare footed across the carpet and into the living room, crossed to the telephone and snatched up the receiver.

  “Hello?” she said. Her voice came out thick with sleep and breathless from the brief sprint.

  “Serenity?”

  Her heart dropped with disappointment. The voice didn’t belong to Sebastian but to her ex-boss.

  “Yes, Peter,” she cleared her throat. “I’m here.”

  “I’m sorry to call you so early,” his voice came through the receiver, not sounding the slightest bit apologetic. Serenity flicked a glance at the clock on the DVD player. Almost eight-thirty.

  “I’m glad I caught you before you went out,” he continued.

  “I don’t have anywhere to go now, Peter,” she reminded him. “You made sure of that.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence from the other end and a smiled touched her lips, pleased she’d made him feel awkward.

  “I take it you’re not calling to offer me my job back.”

  “I’m sorry, Serenity, office protocol. You were on your third warning.”

  Fuck your protocol, she wanted to say, but held her tongue.

  “What can I do for you, Peter?” she said instead. “I’m assuming this isn’t a courtesy call.”

  “I need you to come in and clear your desk out. You left some things.”