by Claire Marta
FROSTBITE: THE HUNTER CHRONICLES BOOK 1
Copyright © 2016 Claire Marta
Cover Design © 2016 by Michael James Collett
mjcdesign.co.uk
Photography © 2016 by Rachel Willett Photographer
Edited by Michelle Fabio
http://michellefabio.com
The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be used, distributed or reproduced in any manner, including photocopying, recording or other methods electronic or mechanical, whatsoever without prior permission from the Author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
The book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Michelle my amazing editor for helping me make my dream of publishing come true. You truly are the best!
Tracy and Jamie thank you for your support, as you both joined me on the crazy ride to get your own books published. I love you guys and I am so happy to have you both as friends.
Thanks to Kate for knowledge as a seasoned author and encouragement.
Everyone in the Newbies group for all the positivity! Sending much love to you all.
Rachel and Michael thank you for doing an amazing job on my book cover. Your talent shines through and I love it.
And last Alessandro for his patience and support. I know I have been driving you crazy since deciding to get my work published.
Table of Contents
FROSTBITE: The Hunter Chronicles Book 1
Copyright
Acknowledgements
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
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty Nine
About the Author
Chapter 1
“Jasmine whatever you do, they can’t know we work for Scotland Yard.”
Twitch spoke in a low purr into her ear. So barely audible, she was pretty sure anyone who might be listening in on them would miss his words.
Jasmine swore low and long. She knew this could mean nothing good and it did not help her anxiety levels either. A sense of panic had already been gnawing at her gut for the last several hours. She was feeling pretty terrified, too.
They were huddled in a far corner, away from the door, their bodies inches apart. Jasmine glanced around the windowless, white-walled room again. A narrow bed was stuffed in one corner—the only piece furniture. A stark, bright light shone above their heads. A thick, metal door locked from the outside barred their way.
Their kidnappers had made sure there was nothing to use as a weapon. No way to get out. They were so screwed.
Jasmine turned back to her co-worker with apprehension. “What the fuck is going on, Twitch?”
He did not look well. Tall and slender, he was dressed all in black as usual, but his skin was unusually pale. The faded burn marks on his forehead and neck stood out more than normal. His mop of wild cinnamon curls was knotted around his shoulders.
Jasmine had the sudden urge to find a brush and work out the knots. Instead she curled her fingers into her palms. She doubted he would like her fussing over him. Twitch did not always like to be touched. She was actually surprised he stood so close.
So instead she sighed.
This was not how she had envisioned her Friday night going. Especially three days before Christmas.
One minute she had been driving the techno mage home from a celebration of a case well done. The next they had been rammed off the road.
The screech of brakes and rendering of metal was still blurred horrifically in her mind. Her fear had been almost blinding. There had been a brief moment she thought her pounding heart was going to explode from her chest. Her head still ached from where it had slammed into the steering wheel with force. The blow had been so hard she had seen stars. She was actually surprised she didn't have a concussion.
How they had survived the crash at all, she didn't know. It was a fucking miracle.
Being held at gunpoint when you were still dazed from a near-death experience was not fun. She was pretty sure shock had been swift to settle in. Even less fun when you were crammed inside a dark cargo container for hours on end.
Panic and nausea had been her constant companions. Jasmine hadn’t had a clue where they were being taken or by whom. The men who had grabbed them had been big and professional-looking. And they had never spoken a word.
Being an only child and with her parents both dead, there was no one to miss her absence.
Twitch had been sedated the whole journey and had only been awake for ten minutes. Jasmine had spent the whole trip clinging to his unconscious form in darkness. Those hours, she had spent shaking and praying this was all one huge mistake.
So far this weekend sucked.
Jasmine winced when gentle fingers touched her forehead. She knew there was a huge, nasty bump there. It was throbbing and painful. She could have done with a painkiller, but doubted she could be given one by their jailers.
Waving away the concern on Twitch’s face, she stared at him expectantly.
He hummed, his peridot green eyes wary. “Do you remember how Mark told you how we met?”
Mark was their boss. Detective Mark Cummings, head of their team in the SNC. It was a branch of Scotland Yard that dealt with supernatural cases. He was a fair man, but took no shit from his team members. The department had become public knowledge after vampires had announced their existence over a year ago. Literally overnight the world had been introduced to their existence, and suddenly they were everywhere.
There had not been as much worldwide shock as Jasmine had expected, though. Apparently the world’s governments had known for centuries about their existence. No big shock there, really—not with everything else they kept quiet. And Jasmine knew now there was so much more.
She had only been on the team for two months and so far, her tasks had been run of the mill for a rookie. Well as run of the mill as it could be when you were a sensitive.
Jasmine frowned. “Yes. He said you had gotten yourself into trouble with a supernatural black market. He saved you from some horrible people and you went to work for him.”
That was all their boss had said. He was always tight-lipped about his team member’s pasts, which was something Jasmine was grateful for. No one liked their secrets give out freely, Jasmine included.
An unhappy smile twisted the techno mage’s lips. “These are those fuckers.”
So Twitch’s past had come back to bite him on the arse. Nice.
Her look turned disbelieving. “How can you be sure?”
Twitch ran a hand through his hair in agitation. When his fingers became entangled in a knot he huffed, “I recognized them when they rammed us off the road.”
/> Jasmine swore again. This could not be fucking happening.
She watched for a moment as he roughly freed his fingers without yanking out his hair. The guy really needed a haircut.
“Can’t you use some magic to get us out of here? Don’t you have a gadget or something?” She glanced towards the closed door.
Twitch was a techno mage. He had the ability to fuse magic and technology. Normally he was found sitting in his lab, tables strewn with motherboards, computer chips, and a selection of musty, ancient tombs. Paranoid and a recluse, he barely left his lair. Last night had been the exception. It had been drinks down the pub with his colleagues after they had solved a rash of body-snatching. At least she now knew why he didn’t like to go out.
Twitch shook his head. “The room has wards to stop me using my magic and they stripped me of all my tech. I need a piece of technology for my magic to work anyway.”
Jasmine swore for the fourth time.
All she had was the ability to sense supernaturals. Physically she could do nothing to get them out of there. Sometimes only being a sensitive sucked.
She smoothed down the ruby red, satiny material of her dress with slightly shaking hands. It came to her knees, the bodice crisscrossing across her breasts. A long-sleeved, black, woolen cardigan covered her arms. Pretty, but not really practical. She had worn it especially for that evening’s celebrations. If she had known she was going to get kidnapped, she would have stuck with jeans. Her feet were also killing her in black high heels. Why the hell hadn’t she changed into her trainers in the car?
“Marcel Coupe isn’t stupid,” Twitch said. “He knows what I’m capable of and that’s why he wants me.” Twitch’s lips flattened into a white line. “He’s an arms dealer with big fucking plans.”
Jasmine didn’t like the sound of that. Not one bit. “What do you mean by plans?”
“You’ve seen what I can do with magic and technology,” Twitch said and then sighed. “Imagine that in the wrong hands—weapons of mass destruction, Jazzy.”
If her friend was right they were in deep shit. The things the techno mage could do when he put his mind to it was amazing. And more than a little scary.
The only upside to this situation was that their boss, Mark, would notice their absence quickly. Twitch was the team’s surveillance guy. His purr was like the voice of an angel, whispering in your ear when you had an earpiece in. The silence would start alarm bells ringing. Would they be able to trace them though? That was the problem. Jasmine had no clue where they were.
Twitch’s gaze skimmed over her for a moment. “I don’t suppose you're still wearing your…”
Before he could finish the sentence the door was thrust open.
Two goons stood in the doorway. Both men were walls of muscle with big, beefy arms. Their glares were meant to intimidate. And they did.
Jasmine stared at them nervously. It looked likely they were finally about to find out exactly what this Marcel character wanted, but suddenly she was not sure she really wanted to know.
Gesturing towards them, one guard said something curt in what sounded like French. Were they somewhere in France?
“Stay close and let me do the talking,” Twitch purred in her ear as he passed her by.
Biting her lip, she released one long, tense sigh. Unease uncoiled in her stomach. Why did she have a sudden sinking feeling this was all going to go terribly wrong?
Technically Twitch was in charge, as he had been on the team longer. She knew Mark would want her to follow what the mage said. It looked like she would have to go along with it. Eyes on Twitch’s back, she followed him out silently.
The two guards flanked them as they were directed along a sterile-looking corridor. The walls were white, no pictures or paintings hung on them. Everything just seemed so bare and stark. It was like it had been stripped of anything the prisoners might have found useful. Anything the techno mage might have found useful. This arms dealer really knew what he was dealing with by the look of it. He knew Twitch.
Twitch’s eyes roamed the area. They settled on doors for a second, as if he was taking a mental inventory. Was he looking for a way out, she wondered.
They reached the end of the hallway and one of the guards pushed open a door. With a sharp gesture of his hand he ordered them inside. They didn’t bother to argue.
This room was luxurious with two white leather sofas. A red carpet covered the floor. Three half-empty wine glasses sat on a low coffee table with two trays of what looked like finger foods that lay untouched. It had more life to it than anywhere else she had seen so far.
Glancing towards the dark panoramic view from the large window, she caught sight of the glittering lights of a city. So they were in France, possibly in a major city. At least that got them somewhere.
“Ah Twitch, good of you to finally join us.”
Jerking her eyes down, she regarded the three men sprawled on the sofas. The smug tone had come from a little fat man. His face reminded her of a toad. It was round and spotty with a self-satisfied expression. His beady eyes twinkled with amusement.
This had to be Marcel Coupe, the French arms dealer that Twitch had mentioned. Jasmine would not have called him threatening-looking. She knew, though, looks could be deceiving.
When her senses began to tingle, she knew they were in so much more trouble. The supernatural kind.
Chapter 2
Eric ran his gaze over the male as he entered the room. He was tall and thin, the set of his youthful jaw defiant. His nearly lime green eyes glittered with hostility through a tangle of long, reddish brown curls.
So this was the techno mage, the mind behind some of the most devastating pieces of magical tech that had been on the black market over a year ago. The one his prey had hunted for over a year now. This was the Frenchman’s obsession.
Marcel, it seemed, would have his hands full with this one. It was obvious by the male’s body language he was not happy. Perhaps he would not be so eager to help the arms dealer after all.
This would make Eric’s job a lot easier. He suppressed a pleased smile. It would mean one less problem to take care of.
His eyes moved to the female who had also entered the room. Her lovely jade green eyes glimmered with anger. Her heartbeat was thumping rapidly in his ears. It betrayed her fear. She had a painful-looking bruised bump on her forehead. The wounded flesh was red and angry, the blood already dried.
Who was she? The mage’s sister? Girlfriend?
She was a little thing, short, no more than five feet at a guess.
Her coppery red hair was cut in a bob-like style around her slim face. Rather than make her look boyish, it was feminine and soft. The length of her neck was bared to his eyes and a tempting sight.
Eric felt his fangs begin to ache in his gums. He could well imagine sinking them into the supple peachy flesh. His eyes roved over her silken clad form. She was slender, bordering on slim. Limbs long and lean, he suddenly had an image of them wrapped around him, as he thrust himself in and out of her welcoming body.
His cock hardened instantly.
Shock hit him hard. He never got distracted when he was working. Never felt desire for anyone attached to his targets. Never allowed himself to feel anything.
It was his rule.
But it had also been a long time since he had felt such desires towards a female. He had long grown bored with meaningless hookups just to satisfy an itch. What he was feeling right now, though, was no itch. Want hammered through him almost violently. He felt a hunger he had never felt before.
His eyes skimmed lower to her legs. He envisioned those high heels digging into his buttocks, urging him on. A little hum of excitement vibrated in his throat.
At his age, it was always a surprise when something stirred him anew. But this was not the time for such things.
Eric kept his expression cold. He could not afford to become distracted now. The girl would have to wait.
*
A sense of po
wer emanated off one of the men on the sofa. Jasmine could feel it pressing against her, tingling over her flesh. He felt dangerous. Her overactive sixth sense was ringing like church bells in her head in warning.
Darting nervously over each male, Jasmine’s green eyes clashed with a pair of ice blue ones. Fixed on them like a deer in headlights, she could not look away.
They were chilling, like shards of newly formed ice. Yet they were breathtakingly beautiful—in a lethal kind of way. A shiver ran through her, as the eyes examined her slowly from head to toe. Even though the room was a comfortable temperature, goosebumps rose over her skin. She tried to remember how to breathe.
The eyes crinkled at the edges in a smile, the coldness in them thawing the more she watched. Their growing warmth sent a zing of desire down her spine. A strange kind of heat began to pool low in her abdomen.
Abruptly freed, Jasmine dropped her gaze to the red-carpeted floor. She stared at it blindly for a moment.
What the fuck had just happened? Confusion ricocheted through her.
He was not human. That was for sure. What was he?
So far, she had meet werewolves, witches, mages, and even trolls. All of them had their own unique signature to her senses. This male was something new to her, whatever he was.
An air of authority and power clung to him. The word “alpha” screamed somewhere in the back of her mind. That made him more than dangerous. It made him deadly.
Jasmine edged closer to Twitch. She doubted her friend had picked up on the creature in the room. Her senses seemed to be more acute, sharper, than her co-workers'.
“You promised us weapons, mon ami,” the fat man said. “And we intend to make sure you fulfil this.”
He dabbed at his sweaty, bald head with a silk, white handkerchief. Perspiration kept springing up, which made Jasmine wonder if he was nervous. She guessed she would be to with an alpha creature sitting so close. It was downright nerve-racking.
