Creed (New Vampire Disorder Book 5)

by Marie Johnston

  Malachim fell, taking Creed with him. The floor was slick with black blood, and so was Creed, but Creed popped up, still gripping the red horns. She was helpless. What was left of her power wouldn’t work on Malachim.

  The knife caught her eye. With the last shreds of power she could summon, she summoned roots to lift the knife until it dangled by Creed’s hand. He didn’t hesitate, but snatched it and stabbed and hacked at Malachim’s leathery neck while he held onto Malachim with the other. It was like watching a grotesque version of bull-riding. Creed hanging onto Malachim, blood flowing freely.

  Creed hissed as the blood singed his clothing and seared his skin. He dropped the knife and twisted at Malachim’s horns with both arms. Not one quick jerk, but a continuous motion that tore ligaments and tendons. With his vampire strength, he wrenched Malachim’s head from his mighty body.

  Creed didn’t hesitate over his kill. He whipped around and met her dying gaze.

  She summoned the rest of her strength for a weak smile. “And here I was the one who underestimated you.”

  Her eyes drifted shut despite Creed’s pleas to stay with him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Creed rushed to Melody’s side.

  Quution and Stryke had encased her powers, preventing Malachim from being the greedy receiver, and now that Malachim was dead, to prevent anyone else from getting them. After Melody had passed out, Quution kept her heart going, using his energy like a demon defibrillator.

  “Spells are nothing more than a manipulation of energy,” Quution commented as he concentrated on containment.

  “Then why did Malachim need one and not just find himself another energy demon?” Fyra asked. Creed had dimly listened, his slimy hands gripped Melody’s limp one.

  She stepped over Barkle’s shattered remains. Bishop had refrozen him and Fyra had heated him until he’d broken apart like a glass pot on the stove.

  Stryke explained, his voice terse from concentration. “Because the energy’s a steady flow and until it’s altered or interrupted by a spell, we can’t jump in and steal someone’s.”

  “Can you give them back to her?”

  Quution exchanged a look with Melody. “She never affirmatively said she’d like them back.”

  “Bullshit. She wants to live. And she’s the best one for them.”

  The brothers exchanged another look and Creed wanted to scream. Just do it.

  “I happen to agree. I think she’s a boon for our side.” Quution’s brow crinkled as he focused. The same with Stryke.

  The amount of energy coursing over Melody raised the hair on Creed’s blood-stained arms. Please, live. Please, live.

  “Stay with me.” If he repeated it enough, would she hear it?

  Her body jerked as the demon brothers lowered their hands. She twitched, jerked, a groan escaping.

  The sudden disappearance of electrified air quieted everything. Melody went deathly still. All five of them stood around her, their eyes on her chest.

  A slight rise and fall could be seen if they looked really hard.

  Stryke withdrew his hands first. “All we can do is wait.”

  ***

  Creed laid with his hands folded over his chest, the fingers of one hand tapping a rhythm against the other hand.

  He suffered through the waiting game again. Two weeks had gone by. Would Melody survive? It wasn’t a transition she suffered through, but a grievous injury to the very core of her being. Would her body accept everything that’d been done to it? Would she thrive like she always did?

  The slab they rested on was much more comfortable than last time. They were in her cave that had been ferociously protected by Santi, Rell, and Zerta when Malachim’s second-tiers arrived to overtake and destroy the place.

  “I’ve been waiting twenty years to mess with their heads,” Santi had growled before dealing with them.

  Now they stood guard outside while he refused to leave Melody’s side. Her flowers had wilted and were dying, the fruit on its way to rotting. He’d cleaned it all out. Quution had brought the freshest water he could find to wash up, and new clothing for Creed.

  Quution reminded Creed of Demetrius. Some males were born protectors and the underworld would need Quution’s guidance through the second-tier upheaval.

  He won admiration from second-tiers everywhere when he’d strode around as himself. The second-tier who’d fooled them all. He was orchestrating second-tier takeovers for the spots that Vita, Malachim, and Barkle’s deaths had opened up. That’d give the Circle six second-tier and seven purebreds who still thought Quution was one of them.

  They had to find second-tiers who possessed sensible mental faculties and not the deranged thought processes of purebreds, but were strong enough to defeat a purebred, and was trustworthy as far as the underworld went.

  All the while, Creed waited.

  ***

  Melody drifted in the darkness. Memories bombarded her. Nightmares of sinister horns and a jeering face. A male with tusks who sought to use and abuse her.

  She brushed it off. They hadn’t.

  Her best friend had wanted nothing to do with her after her transition.

  Sadness ebbed into the darkness. Yes, that was depressing. But then, Grace wasn’t really her best friend in the first place. She’d make new friends, like Fyra, who’d rushed into battle for her.

  A bright image formed around her. She was hidden in the trees on the land she’d hunted with her dad. He was ten feet away at his post. Her heart wanted to melt with sadness. When had she last seen him so clearly? If she could, she’d tell him not to go hunting with his buddies that drank more than looked for deer.

  “I told all the guys you were a better shot than them,” he said.

  “For a girl?” she’d replied.

  His eyes crinkled at the corner. “For a hunter, Brownie.”

  If she could tear up, she’d be bawling. Why hadn’t she remembered that? Because her bitterness hadn’t let her. Her dad had been proud of her, no matter what.

  She drifted along as more memories bombarded her.

  Her mother. Why can’t you dress more like a girl?

  Poor Mom. So unhappy and unsatisfied through life. Looking back with clarity, she interpreted her mom’s cutting comments as jealousy. Jealousy that her dad spent all the time with the girl he didn’t want than with the woman he’d chosen to marry. Instead of joining them, even if it was just traveling and staying at hotels, Mom had lashed out in bitterness.

  But she had tried to save Melody a little heartache in the end.

  She was almost reaching the end of the darkness when the worst of the memories surrounded her, of Creed telling her she wasn’t strong enough to be with him, her humanity a detriment. Creed stating that she wasn’t worthy of Hypna’s powers, she couldn’t control them.

  Where was the rage?

  And you can obviously defend us both.

  He’d said that before she’d knocked him out to wait out her poison. How had she not remembered?

  I’m the one not good enough for you. She’d thought it was the sweetest thing anyone had said, but she hadn’t truly believed that he believed it.

  Don’t fuck with my Meladonna. Well, that said it all.

  Her eyes fluttered open.

  I am enough.

  The comforting scent of her male enveloped her. She sunk into the sensation as she looked for him, moving nothing but her head. Fatigue still weighed heavily on her.

  Creed was next to her, watching her closely. She tried to smile, had no idea if her face moved. He feathered his fingers along her jaw. She drank in his touch like a plant getting watered for the first time in weeks.

  “You made it back,” he said.

  If this were last time, she would’ve bitten his head off, literally. She would’ve assumed he meant that he didn’t think she’d make it back.

  Now she knew better. He’d been scared that she either couldn’t because of the severity of what she’d been through, or that she�
�d chosen not to.

  “You called me Meladonna.” Her raspy voice grew stronger with each word.

  He nodded, a smile touching his eyes. “You’re my Meladonna. And you’re still my Melody. You always will be.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “I don’t think it. I know it. You’re my Melody because you conquer every problem thrown at you, yet you’ll still ramble up a storm when you’re anxious. You’re my Meladonna because you’ll throw down with any demon stepping on you or others.”

  She wanted to throw her sluggish arms around him and hug him close, but she held back. “I won’t ever be human again.”

  He nodded and caressed her cheek. “That doesn’t bother me. I feel selfish for being grateful, worried it means you were given a lot of responsibility that’ll put you in danger, and so damn proud.”

  “You’re proud of me?”

  “Fuck yeah.” He cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her lower lip. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I turned your parents over to Demetrius.”

  “Good. The Synod is probably going to ash them.” He dropped his gaze. “I don’t think I’ll go. They’ve been dead to me for years.”

  She lifted her hand to clasp his. “I feel like my arm is made out of lead.”

  His eyes heated to a molten blue with a hint of ruby. “I can nourish you.”

  Desire wiped out her fatigue and her body warmed in all the right spots. Around them, blossoms perked up.

  They both looked at each other and then around them.

  “The green in your eyes is glowing, but you don’t seem ready to kill me.” Creed shot her a smile that sent her insides coiling into a ball of anticipation. “Wanna see what else we can make them do?”

  ***

  Melody gripped Creed’s hand tight as they transported back to her place in the compound.

  Strength cascaded through her body. After hot blood and even hotter sex, she was stronger than she’d ever been. She and Creed had stolen one more night in her cave, then she’d met briefly with Santi and Rell before they’d come here.

  They were going to talk to Demetrius about giving up her place at the compound. She and Creed would split their time between his place and hers. It wasn’t perfect, but their commute was only a blink.

  “Ready?” Creed asked. “Or should we give the bed one last go before…” She was hauling him to the bedroom when there was a knock on the door.

  “Melody!” Grace called. “I smell brimstone, I know you’re back. I’ve been waiting forever.”

  Melody frowned at Creed. He lifted a brow. Waiting forever?

  She started for the door, but Creed tapped her shoulder.

  He gestured to her body. “I like the view, but you might want to get dressed.”

  “Just a minute,” Melody called as she scurried to her room. Throwing on the first things she could find, her shorts and a “The buck stops at this girl” T-shirt, she mentally thanked Creed. He was wearing clothing Quution had brought—a flamboyant blue Hawaiian shirt and board shorts—but she had planned to dress as soon as she arrived, not expecting visitors.

  She rushed out and opened the door to a pale Grace and an irked Rourke.

  “She’s not joking,” Rourke said, his mouth flat. “I couldn’t get her to leave once she heard you’d come to.”

  “Why? Are you okay?”

  Melody studied Grace. Along with her pallor, Grace’s hair was pulled back in a band and she wore rumpled sweats, like she’d rolled out of bed and hobbled here.

  “No. Yes, fabulous actually. I wanted to explain.” She craned her neck around Melody. “Can we come in?”

  Melody couldn’t say anything, but she stepped back. She should say something. Tell Grace how hurt she was that she hadn’t even tried to circumvent Demetrius and Rourke and dialed a damn phone. She could say all that. It was the new her. But she didn’t. It was obvious Grace was distressed and had her own words to say first.

  Deciding not to be blunt wasn’t a weakness. It was like controlling her power. Restraint was necessary at times.

  Creed wrapped an arm around her and steered her to the chair. He sat first and pulled her down on him. Rourke made sure Grace was settled on the sofa before he perched next to her.

  A flush crept up her face. She anticipated disapproving looks from Grace and Rourke, but Grace’s mouth tilted in a smile.

  “I’m pregnant,” Grace blurted.

  Melody gasped and sat forward the same time Creed did, almost dumping her off his lap.

  Creed banded an arm around her. “Pregnant?”

  Grace’s smile was tremulous. “I’m really sick, though. It’s worrying Rourke. That’s why he was crankier than usual when he came to get the boys. The guys told me to stay away when you were here because they didn’t want anything to happen while you were adjusting, but I wanted to call. I’m just… I feel like shit and got lost in my own happy misery.”

  “Grace, I’m so sorry. I mean, congratulations! But I’m sorry I thought the worst of you.”

  Grace waved a hand. “No, I understand. You were terribly hurt. I should’ve called.”

  “A baby?” Creed croaked. “Dude.”

  Rourke dipped his head, his expression grave. “She’s only a month along, but her morning sickness is debilitating. We haven’t told anyone yet, but it was important to her that Melody knew why she was incommunicado.”

  Grace grasped Rourke’s hand and wove her fingers through his. “I’d like to be farther along, but Rourke’s been by my side twenty-four/seven. I think the others suspect something.” She laughed nervously. “Can you imagine? Rourke with his busted bonding ability is the first to procreate.”

  Rourke’s ability had been destroyed when one of the thirteen tried to possess him as a child. Melody patted Creed’s arm and he released her. She scooted to Grace and threw her arms around the female.

  Yes, her scent had definitely changed. A ray of sunshine shone through and mixed perfectly with Grace’s lemonade sweetness.

  Grace whispered in her ear, clutching her tight. “You’re important to us, Melody, to my whole family.” They pulled away and Melody jumped back onto Creed’s lap. Grace’s gaze danced between the two of them. “You two are good?”

  “Amazing,” Creed said.

  “So good,” Melody added.

  “Good,” Rourke said matter-of-factly. “You were being a dumbass.”

  Another knock on the door interrupted them.

  “Mels-bells,” Ari called from the other side, followed by Madame Blanchette hushing him.

  Melody tensed and glanced at Grace. Her friend nodded her encouragement. Before Melody could get up, Creed was lifting her as he rose and setting her in his place.

  “You sit,” he said. “I’ll get it.”

  Melody fisted her hands, her heart kicked up its pace. Things were going so well, it’d be hard not to grow some roots in some walls if this went south.

  Creed opened the door. The boys moved to rush her, but Madame Blanchette barked an order.

  “Request permission!”

  The boys stopped. Ari spoke carefully. “May we come inside?” He glanced at his Ma B. She nodded in the regal way only a prime can.

  The boys rushed her. Melody giggled with them and hugged them back. She cast a questioning look at Madame Blanchette.

  Grace’s mom dipped her head. “I came to apologize, and—” she grinned, “—the boys couldn’t wait to see you again.” Her expression grew serious.

  Melody’s gut churned. She’d said apologize, but Melody couldn’t lie to herself. Being rejected by Ma B would burn worse than she’d feared.

  When she explained, all of Melody’s stress drained away. “You know the history of my children, Melody. I may panic faster than some others. I may even be a little hesitant around you yet, so I ask for patience.”

  “I was scared you didn’t want me around the boys anymore.”

  Madame Blanchette gave her a wry smile. “I doubt I could keep the
m away.”

  Creed pulled out a chair for Grace’s mom and came to sit on the floor by her and the boys. Grace and Rourke relaxed into each other, and the boys played semi-quietly on her lap while they all chatted about recent events.

  Melody brimmed with various emotions. She felt them all, experienced them all, no more mental pit throwing her curveballs. She’d come out of hell on the side with an even bigger support system than before, and the male of her dreams.

  _______________

  Thank you for reading. I’d love to know what you thought. Please consider leaving a review at the retailor the book was purchased from.

  ~Marie

  For new release updates, chapter sneak peeks, and exclusive quarterly short stories, sign up for Marie’s newsletter and receive download links for the book that started it all, Fever Claim, and three short stories of characters from the series.

  About the Author

  Marie Johnston lives in the upper-Midwest with her husband, four kids, and an old cat. Deciding to trade in her lab coat for a laptop, she’s writing down all the tales she’s been making up in her head for years. An avid reader of paranormal romance, these are the stories hanging out and waiting to be told between the demands of work, home, and the endless chauffeuring that comes with children.

  mariejohnstonwriter.com

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  Also by Marie Johnston

  The Sigma Menace:

  Fever Claim (Book 1)

  Primal Claim (Book 2)

  True Claim (Book 3)

  Reclaim (Book 3.5)

  Lawful Claim (Book 4)

  Pure Claim (Book 5)

  New Vampire Disorder:

  Demetrius (Book1)

  Rourke (Book 2)

  Bishop (Book 3)