Scarlet Tempest, #1
Page 1
Scarlet Tempest
Scarlet Tempest: Book One
Juniper King
Contents
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
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
About the Author
Scarlet Tempest
Scarlet Tempest Book One
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Copyright © 2021 by Juniper King
www.juniperkingwrites.com
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All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations for review purposes.
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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, or events is purely coincidental.
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Cover Design by Eddy Shinjuku
https://www.artstation.com/eddy-shinjuku
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Editing by Jaime Powell
https://reedsy.com/jaime-powell
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ISBN 9798201922931
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Content Warnings. This book contains: mature themes, imprisonment, torture, attempted rape, violence, and foul language.
Scarlet Tempest
Scarlet Tempest Book One
Juniper King
1
I tried to hide my wince. The man’s breath—a veritable cocktail of alcohol and halitosis—assaulted my nostrils as I hovered at the edge of their table. His mercenary friends watched on in intoxicated silence, smirks plastering their faces as they awaited my response.
“So what d’you say, sweet thing?” He coaxed again, showing off a row of filthy, misshapen teeth in a lopsided grin.
I slapped a practiced smile on my face before my revulsion could show through. “While I appreciate your… generous offer, I’m afraid I’ll have to respectfully decline.”
The drunken mercenary stared at me, the wheels of his brain clearly in motion. I could almost see the little wisps of smoke coming out of his ears.
“That means ‘no’, Tam.” One of his friends explained, while the other snickered.
The merc took a moment to scowl at his friends before turning back to me with what I assumed he thought were bedroom eyes. “What, you got a boyfriend or somethin’? Come on,” he drawled.
I sighed inwardly, he was just like so many others, too many drinks and too much bravado spurred on by a table of friends. There was no sense in snapping at him and causing a scene just from a few lewd comments. Plus, I still had a slim chance of getting a tip from him if I didn’t reject him outright.
“Thank you, but I’m just exhausted after a long day on my feet,” I gave him another polite, slightly demure smile. Come on, buddy, take the hint.
“Well, if you’re looking for a place to sit,” he leaned over the table, bracing himself on his forearm, and pulling his lips into a voracious smile. “My face is available.”
Ugh, I think my brain just vomited. The muscles in my face strained to stay impassive. Forcing a weak, patronizing chuckle, I avoided any further eye contact. My patience had already been wearing thin after a long day on my feet, but this guy was really testing my limits.
“After all,” he rambled on with a slight slur to his words, “mercs like us keep those nasty little supes outta town’n keep nice, fuckable girls like you safe. You really oughta show some appreciation.” He enunciated the word carefully as if the syllables were too difficult to string together in his inebriated state.
His friend thumped his glass down on the table. “You’re being—” he belched, “rude, Tam. You don’t say ‘fuckable’ right to a girl’s face, you say ‘screwable’. It’s whatcha-call-it, more gentlemanly.” He glanced at me with a self-satisfied gleam in his eyes like I might congratulate him for being chivalrous.
I ignored that part of the conversation. “Well, if you’re just looking for gratitude, then a heartfelt ‘thank you for your service’ should be more than enough.” I reached over to grab the empty glasses and plates from their table and Tam took the opportunity to ogle my chest.
“You don’t know what you’re missing, babe,” he said in a last-ditch attempt to woo me. As if a comment like that had ever worked on any woman.
I sighed through my nose. I’d tried being polite, I’d tried being civil, but guys like him never seemed to take the hint. “I know exactly what you’re offering, and I’m not missing a damn thing,” I mumbled under my breath.
He grabbed my wrist as I reached for his empty glass. “Wha’d’you say?”
I started at his sudden, violent reaction, but this, unfortunately, wasn’t the first time a muscle-headed mercenary got handsy with me. His ‘sensual’ smile had swiftly turned into a hostile sneer, something in his eyes suggesting he was more than just a harmless, drunken lech. Had we met in a darkened alleyway rather than a crowded tavern, I would have been a bit more nervous. His filthy fingernails dug deeper into my wrist, the sharp pain making me wince.
I clenched my hand into a fist, pulling away on instinct. “If you don’t get your disgusting hands off me, you’ll not only be spending the night alone, you’ll be spending it in the street.” I cautioned him, keeping my voice low so as not to cause an even bigger scene.
We glared at one other, the tension steadily grew among his friends as neither of us were willing to back down. The merc’s ruddy face and beady eyes were scrunched into a hard glare. He broke eye contact for only a moment to glance at the bar where, at this point, my boss was likely watching the situation unfold.
The merc looked back at me, holding my gaze for a moment longer. “You ain’t worth it,” he mumbled, tossing my wrist aside.
I finished collecting their dishes, determined to exude an air of poise and confidence, and not appear as if I were running away with my tail between my legs. Jess could deal with them for the remainder of the night, I was done.
I walked away from the table but was still well within earshot of his last remark.
“Who’d want to fuck some hybrid cunt like her anyway?”
Fighting the urge to turn around and smack him over the head with my tray took every ounce of willpower I had.
Instead, I took a breath, unclenched my teeth, moved to an empty table across the room, and tried not to slam my tray down and broadcast my agitation to everyone in the tavern. I pulled out a rag from my apron pocket and began wiping down the table, covertly keeping my focus on the merc.
Leaning back in his seat, he had one beefy arm slung over the backrest, scouting the tavern for new prey. He rocked back and forth on the back legs of the chair, unafraid of his fat frame tipping it over.
This guy was larger than my usual targets—much larger—but I also had gravity on my side. All he needs is a little push…
With a slight push from me, the back legs on his seat suddenly jolted forward, throwing him ass over teakettle. His legs smacked the table, showering him and his friends with food and beer as it toppled over wi
th a resounding crash.
Oops…
I smirked to myself as I picked up my tray and cloth and continued to the bar.
“What an idiot.” Branek watched on with a merciless glare as the merc and his friends righted the table, grumbling and cursing at each other the entire time.
A pang of guilt coursed through me when I saw Brandon, the new busboy, bring out a mop for the floor.
“You okay?” Branek’s tone suggested he was ready to protect my dignity if need be and throw the men out. I doubted he’d actually heard Tam’s last comment; if he had, he wouldn’t be asking for my approval before kicking him out on his ass. Branek was a large man and, though he was no mercenary, he was fully capable of going toe to toe with one if the occasion called for it.
“Great,” I mumbled. My wrist still stung where the mercs nails had left little pink crescents.
Branek was the owner, bartender, and bouncer of The Sluggish Nymph, the only inn in our small, forest-nestled town of Woodburne. Travelers, merchants, and mercenaries often frequented the inn’s tavern, treating it as a public house where they could grab a drink, shoot the shit, and gossip with locals. With such high levels of testosterone and alcohol in a confined space, it often created the kind of situation I had just escaped from. Though things didn’t often escalate as far as they had tonight, I’ve had my fair share of advances. Actually, more than my fair share.
I supposed by conventional human standards I was decently attractive; long red hair, a slight frame, and fair skin. But the blame for most of my unwanted attention lied with my unusual heritage. More specifically, my pointed ears.
I’m human, just not completely.
Truth be told, my heritage was actually a complete mystery. All I knew was I was half human and half… something.
Chances were a human woman had a one-night stand with a supernatural creature and I was the resulting mistake. It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last.
Given the grim alternatives, all of which I was pretty sure I’d thought of at least once in my twenty-four years of life, I was grateful that I had been left at an orphanage. Having grown up in a secluded town like Woodburne, however, where I was the only resident with any kind of supernatural blood, I became a bit of a celebrity.
For better or worse.
“If you need to take a break, just say the word,” Branek said as he placed a freshly poured mug of beer on my tray.
“You know I’ve got thicker skin than that,” I said with a smile.
“I know you pretend to have thick skin.” He returned a smirk of his own, his brown eyes gleaming.
I shook my head, the smile still on my lips. Branek looked like a hard ass, but he was sweet as a puppy once you got to know him. I certainly couldn’t hide much from him anymore. After eight years of working together, he knew me too well.
“I caught Jess a minute ago and asked her to take care of them for the rest of the night.”
He grunted his approval with a nod as he filled another tankard. Though he had a big heart, he was not a man of many words.
“Back to work,’ I announced after he had filled my tray with draughts. I carefully slipped out from behind the bar, ready to get back to all of my patiently waiting patrons.
My feet were killing me, aching like I’d just run laps around the entire tavern. Only a couple more hours to go.
I took a short reprieve behind the bar to catch my breath, wiping my brow with the back of my arm. All of the tables were full tonight, ranging from raucous groups of people to regular drunkards sitting alone with a pint.
Branek was at the opposite end of the bar dealing with one of the latter who was animatedly recounting a harrowing story. Branek nodded, a polite smile hidden behind his scruffy, blond beard, but clearly not interested in the tale.
Looking around the tavern, my gaze landed on a table in the back corner harboring the only two supernatural beings of the evening, one large and one slight, seated together with their heads down in quiet conversation.
Supers were often easy to spot due to their inhuman features. These two had pointed ears like mine, though much more prominent. I’d noticed them as they came in about an hour ago—many of the patrons had—but they weren’t seated in my section, so I hadn’t been able to chat with them at all.
Supers stood out in Woodburne, but most people were generally fine with them passing through. Quiet, well behaved ones like this generally didn’t get the mercenaries’ panties in a bunch. Still, it didn’t happen often, if I got a free moment, I’d like to ask what brought them to our humdrum little town.
“Would you quit daydreaming and help me?” an annoyed voice chided from beside me.
I looked to my right and saw a tower of trays and empty mugs walking towards me. “Sorry, Jess.”
I helped her set her burden on the counter behind the bar. She let out a sigh of relief and brushed the stray hairs from her face.
Though most of the attention I revived came from my outright genetic weirdness, Jess was simply stunning. She was several inches taller than my five-foot zero stature, with short black hair that just brushed her shoulders, and beautiful sapphire blue eyes. In contrast to my slim and less than shapely form, Jess was perfectly voluptuous in all the right places and always had men drooling over her.
“What are you doing just standing around back here? We’re completely swamped,” she said in a huff.
“I only paused for, like, thirty seconds,” I said as I filled another mug with beer.
“Well, Meghan called in sick this evening —again—so it’s just you and me. So get your butt out there and help me,” she snapped.
“Yes ma’am,” I said with a chuckle. I knew Jess wasn’t actually angry with me, just annoyed by Meghan’s less than stellar work ethic.
I loaded up my tray with tankards filled to the brim and slipped out from behind the bar, determined to not have Jess berate me again within the course of the evening.
Gradually, patrons began filtering out of the tavern into the darkened streets or moving to their rooms for the night. There were only a handful of people left, quietly chatting, or in one man’s case, lying face down on the table with a half empty mug still clenched in his hand. Branek could handle that one.
I had looked around the bar for the two Supers about half an hour ago, but it seemed they had already slipped out. Too bad.
I continued cleaning tables, scrubbing a particularly sticky spot, when the bell above the door jingled announcing a new customer. I was close enough I could feel the cool night breeze rush in with them.
“Welcome to The Sluggish Nymph,” I chimed without so much as looking up from the table.
“I can’t say ‘sluggish’ is a term I’ve ever heard used to describe a nymph. ‘Insatiable’ perhaps, but never ‘sluggish’.”
Goosebumps erupted across my skin as my attention was drawn up to the newcomer’s silvery voice. I thought my eyes might be playing tricks on me after such a taxing shift.
Two men stood together side by side just in front of the table I was cleaning. They didn’t look like mercs; clean-shaven; no leathers, no air of arrogance or brutishness about them. They were each other’s perfect counterpart, one brunet and olive skinned, the other blond and fair. Together they were a striking combination. But Perhaps the most striking; the blond was a satyr.
Satyrs were naturally beautiful creatures, most well known for their affinity with woodlands and love of all physical pleasures. Not to mention their outright deviancy.
He seemed to enjoy the blatant attention I was giving him; his bewitching amber eyes smoldering down at me as I devoured his features. Unlike the other two Supers from earlier this evening with their dramatically pointed ears, his were much more subtle like mine. His tousled hair was fashioned in a careless spiky style that fell over his left eye, with the area above his right ear braided tightly to his scalp. The golden blond contrasted beautifully with the two short, black
horns poking out of the top of his head. I could understand why women were so drawn to these creatures.
My eyes broke free from the satyr’s overwhelming presence and drifted to his friend standing beside him. Though he was much more plain looking by contrast, there was something about him that drew me in. He looked human, but the air around him seemed to shimmer, like heat rising from hot asphalt. I squinted; sure it was my eyes playing tricks on me after a long shift. His clover green eyes met mine and we held one another’s gaze for a moment. It must have been a moment too long for his comfort because his eyebrows drew together as if he were put off by my stare.
“Do you shamelessly gape at all your clientele?” The satyr’s words snapped me out of my stupor. His voice was as lyrical as his soft facial features would have suggested.
“I wasn’t gapping,” I snapped.
“Pretty sure I saw some drool.” Two silver rings in the corner of his lower lip glinted as his mouth pulled up into a smirk.
My hand reflexively flew to my mouth. His melodic snicker at my expense sent a shiver through me and a pleasant warmth flooded my abdomen. I stiffened, both at his cocky attitude, and my own body’s reaction to him. “Can I help you with something?”
The golden flecks in his eyes danced in the low light of the tavern. “I was actually thinking we could help each other.”