Flame's Embrace

by Pillar, Amanda

  “You’re unwavering loyalty. No matter what I say, you’ll do it. Your life and Lorn’s life depends on it.”

  “The Queen won’t ever know,” I answered, desperation filling me.

  The grey-haired woman just smiled and shook her head. “I got bigger things to worry about other than one randy, jealous bitch like that.”

  Bigger things? I swallowed hard. “Go on…”

  She took a step closer, opening her hands as if to say, I won’t hurt you. “The first thing I’ll offer you is a job. Work with me, and you’ll never have to drive around pompous fucking mortals again. You’ll just have to drive around pompous fucking immortals. But you’ll get to call the shots, and earn a damn lot of money doing it.”

  The excitement inside me sped. “And the second?”

  Brown eyes glinted as she stepped closer again, until she was right in front of me. “The second is the truth about my granddaughter.” She motioned me down with the crook of her finger.

  I yielded, bowing my spine until her lips almost touched my ear…and as she whispered, as she revealed the truth, I knew there was no going back now.

  Not back to my world.

  Or back to the man I once was.

  And that truth plunged deep inside me, shaking the foundations I stood on.

  “I’ll do it,” I whispered and lifted my head. “Whatever you need, I’ll do it.

  And the old woman smiled, reaching out her hand. “Welcome to the Circle.”

  Dive into Lorn and Redemption’s world.

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  Prologue

  “You gonna cry?”

  Shadows moved against the sun. Chubby fingers clenched around my wrist and shoved hard against the concrete walk. We were alone here, out of sight from the house, where no one would hear me scream.

  “Go on…cry.”

  Another’s hand over my chest, until I couldn’t breathe. His fingers searched, pinching the tiny pink nub as he licked his lips and sneered.

  Daddy, where are you?

  But no one was here to save me. No one but me.

  I swallowed the pain. They’d caught me off guard. Next time I’ll know better.

  “You tell no one, got it?” He pinched harder.

  But I didn’t nod, not even when the tears came. They were supposed to be family. Supposed to be my friend.

  Next time, I won’t be so powerless. I’ll run…I’ll fight…I’ll survive.

  Next time, I’ll save myself.

  Maybe then I’ll win.

  Chapter One

  Laughter filled the back room of the Jewel.

  Deep, growling, raucous laughter that boomed from almost every seat at the table in the most exclusive bar this side of the river.

  Crystal sparkled and champagne flowed.

  There were mostly men, apart from the odd sparkling handbag; women who served no other purpose than to hang off the arm of their boyfriend, or gentleman friend for the night, and smile.

  The women were few and far between, and they never stayed long. Long enough to show off their brand new breasts and sparkling Cartier, before they were gone, waltzing through the bar, with the doors closing behind them as the men stayed here.

  Then there were no more women…except for me.

  The rich were here…but that wasn’t what got them an invite. Power was the commodity these men traded. Power, money, drugs, and women. These were powerful men. I winced at the roar, and they were also fucking loud.

  I singled out Dad’s laughter; deeper than the others, as though a single tone could epitomize the man. He was deeper, like a river carved through the belly of this city, stronger, and more powerful than any other man sitting here—and they all knew it.

  Secret smiles for him. A nod of the head, first draw of the fat Cohiba Behike cigar while they all watched, eyes alight with ravenous hunger.

  I glanced at the other side of the room, to the empty tables waiting for the other half of Crown City’s most elite, and felt my stomach clench. The ones who ran the ‘other side’ of the river.

  The other side.

  The words lingered as I stared at the three tables; three tables with six seats each. One for the Wolves, one for the Unseelies, and one for the Vampires. I’d heard that there were only three heads of each of the Immortal Mafia. The name made me wince, the M word. We didn’t say it in our house, not gang, or Crime Syndicate. Nothing that trashy.

  We were businessmen—I glanced around the testosterone-drenched room—and woman.

  I stared at the empty tables. Three heads of each breed and three other chairs. I thought they’d show. Thought they’d grace us mere mortals with their presence. Thought I’d get my first look at those monsters in the dark.

  Maybe our whiskey wasn’t good enough for them…maybe our blood a little too tempting?

  My stomach tightened and my blood ran cold as Dad threw his head backwards and clutched the white napkin. Something Irish said made him shake with a pent-up roar, like a volcano ready to erupt. And he did, spitting out small white plumes of the vile cigar smoke, until the laughter turned into something else.

  A dry hacking cough gripped him, turning his face redder than laughter ever could, until he fought for a gasp of breath.

  “You okay?” Sol called across the table.

  “Hey!” Irish’s sparkling green eyes darkened with fear as he stood and slapped Dad on the back. “Denny? You all good?”

  It was the same savage cough I’d been hearing for weeks now. The same one I’d fought with him over, making appointment after appointment with the doctor, only for him to have some lackey call behind my back and cancel.

  He nodded, tears streaming down his cheeks as Irish gave him another thump on the back, shaking whatever shit was inside him loose.

  Dad gulped in air and nodded, blue eyes sparkling as he looked at me. His hand rose from the table, fingers splayed as he patted the air. I’m okay, don’t call a fucking ambulance, kid. I’m okay.

  His words rang inside my head as clearly as though he was standing next to me. My heart hammered, hands clenched around the end of the bar.

  I watched them, had spent my entire fucking life watching them, actually…my focus mostly on Dad as he tried to follow that gulp of air with another and glanced at me once more with a nod. I’m okay, Ruthy.

  The good ol’ boys’ club. If you wanted to take the crime rate down a notch in Crown City, then this was the place to bomb…on a night like tonight.

  I hated the hacking sound, hated the laughter, really. I liked the quiet, and the cold. I liked it when I could fucking think. A smile in place of a wince. I gave a nod as every now and then someone at the table glanced my way.

  I stood here as Ruth Costello, daughter of the most powerful man in Crown City. But no one really knew me. No one knew the woman screaming to get out, to be free, to be anything but the ball-busting, cold-hearted bitch they saw.

  I was a product of my environment, a leather-leashed dog in the most vicious, vindictive dogfight this city has ever seen. I just needed to keep on fighting, keep on being the bitch they all saw.

  “Another?” the bartender slid a tumbler my way.

  Amber sparkled at the bottom, inviting. “Why the hell not,” I muttered, and grabbed the glass, downing the contents in one swallow and held it out once more. “Another…on second thought.” I lifted my gaze to the good-looking guy. “Leave the bottle.”

  One slow nod. He glanced toward the table, then back to me. “You waiting?” He jerked a glance toward them. “They might be a while.”

  His gaze slipped to the plunging neckline on my top. Cocky bastard. “Yeah, I’m waiting.” Waiting for my fucking turn at the table. Did that count?

  “So, are you exclusive? I mean, escort-wise?” His gaze skimmed the tops of my breasts, I
was bare under the shimmering material, bare and raw and savage.

  The sonofabitch thought I was a hooker? He must be goddamn new. I leaned forward, grasped the bottle, showing him just a little more. “Depends on what you mean by exclusive?”

  Chairs scraped behind me. There was a grunt, and a joke…a vile fucking joke. Still, I never turned away from the delicious morsel in front of me.

  “What I mean is,” he smiled, showing me perfect white teeth, and gripped the bar with both hands, arms flexing, showing me the power I could enjoy with a simple, do you want to fuck me?

  A hard, full-handed slap tore along my ass, stinging and burning.

  “Get us two more, will you, love?” Underland never waited for an answer, just gave me a greasy smirk, showing nicotine-stained teeth, then a wink with his beady black eyes. “That’s a good girl.”

  Anger plunged deep, swallowing the burn of my ass with a frigid touch. I rose, looked at the foul, fucking lackey who made every fucking attempt to put me down and met his stare. “How about you get your own fucking drink? Or I’m gonna take this bottle, smash the end, and glass your goddamn face. How ‘bout that?”

  He froze, and the roar of laugher inside the room quieted. I didn’t have to turn my head to see all eyes were on me. Ice cold cunt. Fucking frigid queen. I knew the names they called me. If not them, then the men under their rule, the ones they allowed to spread the hateful names.

  Underland’s little black eyes widened. The hitch in his breath trembled the jowl of fat that hung under his chin. “Jesus Christ, Ruthy. I was only making a fucking joke.” One glance behind him and a jerk of his head my way, and the room rocked with howls and hoots of laughter once more.

  Only this time, a little louder. I shifted my glance to my father. He never laughed, only smiled. A secret smile. One just for me, as he nodded his head and turned back to them.

  The powerful.

  The elite.

  “Just a joke, Ruthy.” Underland turned to me once more and smiled his greedy fucking smile.

  It was always just a joke. Always just a brush of the hand. Always just a boys’ club, and if you want to fit in…then do what we say.

  I glanced at the barman. His eyes were wide and he was no longer smiling. Now he just looked at me like every other asshole in the city did—with fear.

  “I’m s-sorry,” he stammered, and swallowed hard. “Didn’t realize you were…”

  Didn’t realize I was what exactly? A woman. One who deserves a little goddamn respect, regardless of her profession? “Forget it.” I looked away and grabbed the bottle once more.

  Two glasses hit the bar. Gin splashed the bottoms.

  “What is this, a fucking AA meeting?” Underland snapped at the barman and jerked his head toward the glasses. “Fill ‘em up, dipshit.”

  I left them then, left them floundering, one asshole nursing his stinking fucking pride, and the other a desperate need to keep his goddamn job. I grabbed my glass and my bottle and headed for one of the empty tables.

  The Wolves weren’t using them, so why the hell not?

  Fucking Wolves. I can’t believe they wanted them here. I’d been asking the same damn questions since I arrived, and all I got in return was tight smiles and a pat on the back of my hand. I looked to Dad, sitting there amongst his followers, smile wide, blue eyes shining. But I could tell it was a lie. Something was up, something he didn’t like.

  Something he wasn’t telling me.

  The door to the private room opened.

  “Sir, you’re not permitted back here!” growled a guard from the door.

  The Jewel was glamor, and prestige. The most exclusive bar this side of the river, you didn’t pay to get into a place like this…you earned. Earned a name. Earned a reputation, and I wasn’t talking street-level though, with a Glock against his palm like it was a second cock. I meant dealings, power play. I meant the kind of acquisitions one makes with a simple nod.

  Yeah, shit like that went down in the Jewel on a weekly basis. This place was more than velvet-backed chairs and the finest liquor you can buy. It was sacred…and also known to every two-bit gangsta thug who thought he was entitled to a piece of the damn pie.

  All heads turned toward the commotion. Movement came from the side, from the row of tables set aside for the muscle. Hands went to hips, some were already lifting their hands, muzzles carving through the air.

  Trouble would be one of them, one with his gun in hand. One stepping to the forefront, not giving a shit who he had to shoot in his way. I swallowed and searched the room for him.

  There he was, quick brown eyes, muscled physique under his open jacket. He relaxed a little when he saw his opponent…or opponents. Five of them entered, dressed in baggy jeans with the crotch hanging somewhere near their knees. White, black, Hispanic, it didn’t matter. They weren’t one of us.

  They weren’t born into it, didn’t forge it out of mud and blood with their bare hands. They were the babies of this pyramid of power. Infants still sucking on their momma’s tit.

  The leader jumped and danced with a swagger that reminded me of someone with a disability, then pushed his way into the room.

  “Sorry I’m late, Pops.” He glared at Dad when he said it. “But I seem to have missed my fucking invite.”

  Movement came from the side again. Trouble, pushing forward. One wave of Dad’s hand stopped him. The napkin was set down in front of him, and Dad carefully rose to stand.

  Power rippled around the room…deadly power. I could almost hear the hiss. I lowered my hand, fingers curled, sliding it under the rim of the table in front of me.

  “You didn’t get your invite because there was none sent,” Dad answered.

  The thug snorted laughter, looked behind him to his little harem of fuckboys and hangers-on, and shook his head. “I don’t think you understand who you’re talkin’ to, old man.”

  “I know exactly who I’m talking to, Nathaniel Lorcrombe.” Dad’s tone lowered, cold steel, cutting edge.

  The kid flinched at the name, the smile disappearing from his lips. There was a spark in his eye as his hand rose, fingers dancing near the waistband of his jeans. One wrong fucking move and the room would light up like the Fourth of July. “No one calls me that’round here. I’m Skull. I run these streets.”

  “You run what we allow you to run,” Dad answered coldly. “Remember that.”

  I reached a little further under the table, until the cold steel kissed the tips of my fingers. The movement drew the thug’s focus. His gaze slipped from my father’s as he turned toward me. “There’s spare seats there,” he said, dark eyes shining with the curl of his lips.

  I swallowed a shudder of revulsion as his gaze skimmed my body, lingering at the open neckline of my top. “Plenty of seats. That bitch don’t need to be here. Move, bitch.”

  Shadows shifted behind him. Soft, heavy steps echoed, blurring all around me as I crept my fingers along the gun. My heart thundered as a deep, guttural snarl came from behind the piece of shit. “Exactly what I was thinking, move, bitch.”

  Fear crept along my spine as those shadows moved closer. Silver eyes glinted from the darkness. But it wasn’t me the Wolf was looking at. It wasn’t me his words were meant for. The mammoth male stepped closer, looming over the thug, curled lips revealing long, thick fangs.

  The Wolves.

  Two more stepped closer, flanking either side. They were just as big, hulking muscles straining the buttoned-up shirts they wore. Their hands were by their sides. I was gripped by the sight of the thick, calloused, curled fingers, and perfectly trimmed nails.

  Were their claws just waiting? One thought and they’d shift into beasts and tear this entire room apart?

  Panic seized me, tearing through my nerves.

  Immortals.

  I caught the whisper from my uncle to my dad, and pieced together the careful glances and quiet nods. They’d invited them here, those monsters. Vampires, Fae�
�Wolves. I’d seen those silver-eyed beasts only once, years ago as I waited in the back seat of dad’s car. I shivered now just as I’d shivered then, staring at the hulking shadows, too terrified to move.

  “You want me to ask twice?” the Alpha sneered, and leaned closer to the mouthy piece of shit. “I never ask twice.”

  “Phantom’s right, he never asks twice,” one of the other Wolves explained, then lifted his hand to stare at his nails. “Usually just rips your head off and throws it across the room.”

  “He has a temper,” the other Wolf added.

  Jesus, it was hard to tell them apart at first. The middle one, the Alpha of the three, had a scar that ran down the length of his cheek and cold dark eyes that shone with silver when they moved.

  He was gorgeous, and totally not my type. Too…Wolfy.

  And as though he heard my thoughts, he lifted his head and directed his cold, calculating gaze my way. The kid shrank from the beast’s presence, jerking a panicked gaze around the room as a deep, rolling, chilling sound reverberated from the men.

  “Now…,” Phantom snarled, and glanced at the thug once more. “You going to make me ask again, or do you want to lose your fucking head?”

  There was a whimper, and then a shuffle. But no swagger, not anymore, as the thug stumbled out of the Wolves’ way and scurried for the door.

  “That’s what I figured,” the Alpha snarled, his hungry gaze finding me again, as they turned to the real reason they were here—Crown City’s most powerful men.

  Dive into this dark Mafia Vampire world with the first book in the series Vampire’s Kiss and start reading today. Available in Kindle Unlimited!

  About Kim

  USA TODAY & Amazon Bestselling Author of Dark Paranormal & Urban Fantasy Romance!

  Do you love dark stories, powerful characters, and a thrilling storyline? Then, I’m the author for you.

  I’m a Aussie girl who loves stories about the underdogs and the things they’ve done to survive. Nothing is off limits in my books. I love writing bad guys just as much as the heroes and finding that point of no return. My books are usually hot, action-packed, and always... always dark.