Ellowyn Found: An MM Vampire Trilogy Omnibus Edition Books 1 - 3

by Kayleigh Sky

  The sudden softening of Rune’s voice startled Wen.

  “I won’t let him wander unescorted when he’s mine.”

  The minute the words left his mouth, Wen regretted them. The softness vanished from Rune’s voice. “Jessamine will always be ours. You forget yourself, Prydwen.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I’m… I’m worried.”

  “You did your duty.”

  The call cut off with a ringing in his ear. Wen sat frozen for a few minutes, hoping the sun would warm him again. Losing Jessa wasn’t acceptable. Marrying him wouldn’t be much of a step up, but he’d belong to a family higher in rank than his. And Jessa was dutiful though taxing on Wen’s nerves. His devotion to those silly romances he packed with him everywhere was an embarrassment. Not to mention Wen didn’t appreciate the inklings of inadequacy that crept up on him whenever Jessa blathered on about fated love.

  With a shiver, Wen stuffed his phone into his jacket pocket and returned to his office, but when his gaze fell on the statue by the window, his thoughts returned to the cop, Otto Jones. He swallowed the bitterness that rose into his mouth.

  10

  Autopsy

  “Well, this is shaping up strange,” Prosper mumbled over a candy bar he’d gotten from a vending machine.

  Otto’s stomach churned, but he glowered from under his brows to hide it.

  Light blazed in the stark white hallway, the tang of chemicals and things he didn’t want to think about floating on the air, and a draft as chilly as the blast from a sub-zero refrigerator blew out of the vents in the walls, but Prosper chewed on a chocolate bar as though dead people didn’t lie beyond the swinging doors at the end of the hall. Well, why would it matter to Prosper? He was a fucking vampire. He drank blood.

  And ate chocolate in a room with a gutted body and the stench nightmares were made of only minutes earlier.

  Ate chocolate while steadfastly ignoring the past he shared with Otto.

  Back then Otto had dogged Prosper’s every step until Maisie’s case turned cold and forgotten. Prosper hadn’t cared a murderer walked the streets. All he’d cared about was rousting her skeezy friends and the vamps who’d sullied their blood by drinking from blood whores.

  As Otto strode down the hallway toward the elevator, Prosper’s steps a whisper behind him—light as a vampire’s—the walls blurred, and a vision of Maisie appeared. She stood in his kitchen again, wearing one of his T-shirts and drinking his coffee, strong as mud, the way she’d liked it.

  He slipped into the memory, the world forgotten for a moment…

  “Where’d you get that?” he asked, staring in bewilderment at a necklace that had to be hundreds of dollars above her means.

  He was staking everything on getting into the police academy. They sure as hell had no hope of relying on their father.

  She set her cup down, lifting the pendant in front of her. “What do you think it’ll get me?”

  “In trouble.”

  He loved her laugh. It was sweet and girlish, but she was tough and heartless.

  “It was a gift,” she said.

  A payment, he knew. And it had gotten her killed. The necklace hadn’t been with her body. Somebody had stolen it and left her dead in an alley.

  Now, ten years later, somebody else was dead, drained of blood, but everything Otto had thought he knew about this murder was blown to smithereens. Coming back to the present in the sterile hallway, he hit the button by the elevator with his thumb.

  Paper crumpled behind him. Prosper leaned sideways and dropped his candy wrapper in the trashcan.

  “So we’re looking at the murder of a true Ellowyn,” Prosper said. “I guess that changes things.”

  Otto snarled at him. “Changes nothin’. Who the fuck would pretend to be a drainer?”

  Prosper’s face turned wary, but he gave a grim smile. “Somebody who wanted human blood?”

  “But he didn’t get it, did he? Wrythin refused him.”

  A fake tattoo. Who would want to brand himself as a drainer if he wasn’t one? And, of course, Prosper would care about this now. For the same reason he’d never cared about Maisie or made any effort to solve her murder. To Prosper, drinking human blood was the mark of an Ellowyn. Yet, the need for humans was thought to be a weakness. With Synelix, vampires didn’t need blood anymore. Keeping humans around for a few drainers stuck in many a vampire craw.

  But a murdered vampire with a fake tattoo was a crime Prosper would apply himself to. The murder of a blood whore only Otto had loved had never been worth Prosper’s time.

  “One of you killed him,” Otto snapped, stepping into the elevator as the door slid open.

  Prosper followed him but stood at a distance. So what if Otto scared the shit out of vampires too?

  “If it was just one person,” said Prosper.

  “Vamps and humans working together?”

  “We do.”

  Otto snorted. “We’re never going to solve this. A fake drainer drained. No defensive wounds and only one small scratch on the neck. No car. No close associates. A list of clients from every district with no known personal contacts. An unidentifiable witness. A prince lurking at the scene, and a donor center that rightfully refused him service.”

  The elevator door opened and Otto exited. They were outside before Prosper spoke. “This was personal.”

  Otto paused on the sidewalk. “What are you talking about? There was no evidence anybody was pissed at him. No defensive wounds. He was practically clean.”

  Prosper shrugged. “Maybe not pissed, but it was insulting as fuck to drain him. Why shame a guy like that?”

  Otto went cold. Strips of clouds dimmed the sky and striped the pavement with shadows. “My sister was drained.”

  For a moment Prosper’s eyes went blank. Then he shrugged again. A quick twitch as though he had no reason to linger on the subject. “Humans don’t count.”

  Something burst in Otto’s eyes like a ricochet of light off the sidewalk. It pierced his brain, too damn dry to deal with his memories. He needed a drink. He needed the world to go back the way it was when he was thirteen and vampires only appeared on Halloween. This was a world his parents had created. Or their parents, busily draining the earth of its last stores of gas. But not him. Or Maisie.

  The world around him burst into white flames, and a heavy grunt thudded in his ears.

  Prosper stumbled backward, tripping over the lip of a square of pavement. He waved his arms to catch himself and glared at Otto. “What the fuck?”

  “Humans. Don’t. Count?”

  “I didn’t mean it that way.” He pointed at Otto. “Stay back, and don’t fucking hit me again.”

  “You piece of shit.”

  “Whatever. Fuckin’ human.”

  “Keep out of my way.”

  Prosper shook his head and jabbed his finger at Otto again. “Like hell. You stay away from the Senera family without me. I’m your ticket in, bub, and don’t you forget it. Get your head back in this ballgame. You’ve got issues I don’t give a fuck about. Leave it to a goddamn human to get all huffy over vampires. And by the way, we are Ellowyn. With our own world before you humans destroyed it. You were losing the goddamn war, remember? We allowed you to live.”

  The truth of that statement raced like lightning fire through Otto’s body and incinerated everything it touched. His memories. His hope. The kid he’d been with his bike and drum set in the garage. His wary, lustful dreams of a cock that wasn’t his in his grip. After the Upheaval, hunger had taken over his life. He’d rummaged every day for food and water. And the minute the sun went down… vampires. They’d hunted in the dark. They were stronger and faster, and they’d won. Now any point to the world was gone. Any point to him.

  “Fuck. You.”

  “Oh.” Prosper shook his head with a chuckle. “Good comeback. Why don’t you call it a day and go drown your sorrows. Pretty much all you’re good for.”

  Rocked by that, Otto said nothing and let Prosper go.
The sun waned, and the shadows deepened as he stood there, bleeding out inside.

  Yeah. A drink.

  But he didn’t need it, did he? He was stronger than that. Strong enough to go home and make a pot of coffee and sit down at his kitchen table with a notebook and list everything he knew about this case and listen to the clock tick and the cars pull into the driveways of the houses where his neighbors lived with their families.

  I’ll find something in the notes. A crack, a hint of something strange, something that leads the way.

  But nothing would lead the way because there was no way anymore.

  He got into his car. Maybe he’d make it home without stopping for a drink.

  Maybe.

  11

  Ello’s Lair

  Otto made it home where he drank a couple shots before he set out for Ello’s Lair. The club occupied an old Days Inn stripped of its interior walls to create a single space. It sat half a mile from a busy shopping center between a tire store and a hair salon. It wasn’t much to look at during the day—tinted windows in a single story grayish exterior. The roof was flat. The only door in front was metal and painted a slightly darker gray than the exterior.

  Otto parked across the street in front of a Safeway and leaned against the car, arms crossed over his chest while he stared at the activity near the club. He’d never been in it before. No reason to. Everybody going in was a vamp. Long loose hair, braided, or knotted. Skimpy skirts, spiked heels, bare chests. Otto drank to get from one minute to the next. He never celebrated, never relaxed and watched the show, never danced. But Ello’s Lair was a dance club.

  Every second Thursday of the month—which this was—was Jazz Night.

  Malia Senera, sister of Prince Rune, was a regular attendee at Jazz Night. The band performing was called Xylochord, and this was their first appearance at Ello’s Lair.

  Otto had no idea what he expected, if anything, but if she showed up maybe he’d get a feel for her before he met the family the next day. Prosper wanted to walk away from Rune, and Otto wasn’t far behind him. The possibility it was a vampire prince who’d drained Brillen Acalliona was remote, but Otto was also sure that wasn’t who’d run from him either.

  But seeing Princess Malia might give him an edge, and he’d take it before walking into their home territory.

  When the line in front of the club disappeared, Otto crossed the street, flashed his badge at the muscle at the door, and strolled inside.

  A red haze suffused the air washing over the bodies packed on the dance floor. The stage for the band in front of the bar was empty. The club was sectioned into thirds with the bar and stage in the center, flanked by a dance floor on both ends, though the one farthest from the entrance was smaller and half hidden behind an arched doorway.

  Watchful vampire eyes tracked him to the bar. He took a stool. One of the vamps on the other side of the counter stared at him.

  “Jack. No ice.”

  The guy nodded.

  A moment later, Otto took a swallow of his drink and looked around. The red light flowed from light to dark, deepening the shadows that surrounded the walls. Over the few windows red drapes hung from ceiling to floor. Urn-shaped lamps glowed gold on the tables and counter. Otto wasn’t sure how they did it, but the noise was strangely muffled around the bar. When he’d passed the dance floor, the music had been loud and throbbing.

  He finished his drink and ordered another. He was halfway through when she arrived with a handful of vampires in tow. Tall, in thigh-high boots with needle-thin heels that had to be six inches. All around her, heads turned. She wore black leather shorts and a filmy red blouse over a black camisole. Her dark hair fell in a single long braid over her shoulder. As she strode onto the dance floor, dancers reached to touch her arms and shoulders. Fleeting touches. She grinned in response, flashing a dimple in her cheek. The vampires who accompanied her stayed close. She pulled one of them near her and laid both arms across his shoulders.

  Otto froze with his glass halfway to his lips, his gaze on the guy dancing with her.

  Not a vampire. His hair was too light and not a wisp of menace wafted off him. A human.

  Otto drank, a long swallow that burned his throat.

  The guy swayed with his boots stuck to the floor. They were mid calf over skin-tight leather. His shirt was a plain pinstriped button-down that looked bizarrely sexy over the leather. But the guy danced for shit. The princess slapped him on the shoulder. His long hair, tied back by a few braids, was a mix of indeterminate color in the red light.

  Otto finished his drink.

  Another song began, and the human loosened up. He still wasn’t any good, but he made a couple moves that were limber as fuck. Otto grimaced at the images that sprang into his head. How bendy was this guy?

  “Another?”

  He turned to the bartender, who gestured to his empty glass. Otto pointed toward the dance floor. “Who is that?”

  “The princess.”

  “The guy with her.”

  The vampire shrugged. “Never seen him before.”

  Otto slapped two twenties on the bar. “Find out.”

  The vampire shrugged but pocketed Otto’s money. A minute later he set a new drink down. Otto picked it up.

  Now the guy was dancing with one of the vampires who’d accompanied the princess. He didn’t dance any better, and they were both laughing. The princess approached the bar. She was several yards away, and Otto froze when she turned her head and stared at him. The moment didn’t last long before she looked away again. Beautiful but ferocious. Otto preferred soft. Malleable.

  Bendy.

  He gazed back at the dance floor but lost sight of the human. The princess disappeared too. He sipped his drink, watching the band set up.

  It wasn’t until the band started playing that he spotted them again, this time the whole entourage, sitting around a table in one of the booths. It wasn’t long until the princess met Otto’s stare again, this time with a slight smile and a tip of her head. Otto returned her smile with a grin. She laughed, and the guy beside her leaned in. She said something to him, and he looked at Otto. Even from across the room, the dazed look on his face was apparent. It was a fairly average face with a thin nose and—

  Otto frowned.

  Familiar.

  “Hey.” Otto turned, and the bartender swapped his drink for a fresh one and said, “That’s the second prince. Jessamine.”

  Jessamine.

  That’s who it had been. The one in the field. Otto focused on him again. The princess was leaning in close, speaking into her brother’s ear. He nodded and she pushed him. Now he stood, and two of the vampires rose and followed him. He approached the bar not far from Otto, darting quick glances his way. Otto stared back, watching the color rise in the prince’s cheeks. A crossling.

  Otto had heard of another prince but had thought he was disabled and housebound. This guy looked like touching his toes bending backwards was child’s play.

  Otto took a swallow of his drink.

  Fun to see.

  Not that this guy did it for Otto. He didn’t tick off any boxes. But he was shy looking and that always set off Otto’s hero complex. He got another glimpse through the braids that had come loose from the guy’s tie.

  Disabled how? Mentally, maybe? Was he a serial killer who now and again escaped the castle?

  The eye peering between the braids flittered away again.

  One of the vamps with the prince bent down and straightened a moment later, scowling at Otto. He skulked down the length of the counter and loomed over Otto on his stool. Flashes of red from the lights pooled in his black eyes. The creature’s scowl cut lines in his face.

  “The prince wants a dance.”

  Otto glanced around him. The prince was staring at his drink. A drink with an umbrella in it. And then he wrapped his hand around the glass. He wore nail polish, maybe red, maybe black, it was hard to tell. Otto stared and flashed on a figure crouched in a parking lot, crammi
ng romances into a backpack.

  No. That had been another thin-nosed guy with polish on his nails. Had to have been. It was the only possible explanation because coincidences like that never happened except in…

  Movies.

  Romances.

  Otto recalled a thin nose, a startled stare. He looked into the dark eyes watching him. “Is he mute or something?”

  The vampire glowered. “Be honored.”

  “Fuck that,” he muttered, but he got up, feeling the whoosh of whiskey to his brain, stepped around the vampire, and approached the prince. When the guy jolted upright and stared into his eyes, Otto’s heart squeezed tight and stole his breath. What the fuck?

  Up close, near the whiter light behind the bar, the mix of gold, honey brown, and red in the guy’s hair stood out. His eyes were a close match.

  No, not pretty at all.

  Mesmerizing.

  Otto shook himself. “Dance?”

  The guy didn’t move, didn’t speak. Otto held out his hand. The prince looked down at it, slowly reached out and took it, and Otto tugged him toward the smaller dance floor past the alcove. Only a few couples danced in here, and the music was soft and faraway. The light was low and gold and no drapes covered the windows. Headlights winked on the glass.

  Otto pulled the prince in close and got a giddy laugh. The vamp chaperones stood on either side of the door. Otto focused on the prince.

  “Put your arms around my neck, and we can talk,” he said.

  The prince breathed out. Everything about him, his hair, skin, breath, was floral and woodsy.

  “What’s your name?” the prince asked.

  As he’d been earlier, he seemed stuck to the floor, though this time he was rigid too.

  “It’s Otto. Just sway.” They barely stirred the air, but Otto didn’t mind. The prince’s heat relaxed him. After a moment, he chuckled. “Is yours a secret?”