by Jasmine Walt
“Roger that. I can round up a bunch of willing participants. I’ve got friends everywhere.”
“I’ll bet you do.” She gave him an affectionate smile. “Anything else we need to deal with, Hung?”
“Other than the huge problem of dealing with a shadow shifter, can’t think of a thing. You’ve thought of everything. I’m impressed.” Hung grinned at her.
“Honestly?”
“Would I lie?”
Chia stared at him long and hard. “I don’t know, Hung Durand. Would you?”
Epilogue
“You want me to wear what?” Chia spluttered, glaring at her vampire roommate, standing in the doorway to her bedroom. “This see through bit of cloth?” She dangled the lacey drape designed to hang off one shoulder, revealing the top of her breast. “No! And these stockings?” She spun the silken stockings around and around. “There’s no way I’ll dress in anything like this. Not my style. Nor will I wear a garter on my thigh or a velvet choker around my neck.”
“It’s only for an evening, darlin’,” D’Raynged drawled. “I saved these garments for centuries. It will entertain, delight, and you’ll be off the hook for everything you owe me.”
“By dressing like a hooker?”
Deftly avoiding the question, he said, “How did your town meeting go, by the way?” He smoothed his perfect blond hair with his elegant hand.
“It went well. As you know, several days ago, I got an emergency injunction declaring true self-defense holds up in court in Charming. That allowed me to appoint several townspeople to hold those positions. That’s job creation.” She grinned. “They, in turn, swiftly gathered jurors and Hung and I were tried and found innocent today.
“Big relief, right? Several shifters testified on our behalf. Apparently, some of those stuck in animal form witnessed everything.” She glanced down the hall toward the living room. Hung, Cecil, a few shifters and several vampires from the reaches of Alaska sat, drinking, laughing, and chatting by the fireside. “My wilderness preserve status was granted as well. It’s even going to be presented to the President of the United States, posthaste. Turned into a national treasure. I appealed to Joseph Asheroc’s political self, telling him this would increase jobs in the area, and give him a leg up in his campaign. You know he went for that line of reasoning, right?”
“A politician is always a politician.”
Chia laughed. “Besides me telling him that if he didn’t grant me a few favors I’d ruin his reputation. I happen to know why he likes to come to Charming and what her name is. His wife would be pissed.”
“Clever. Blackmail. It works every time.”
“Back to the present. So I’m supposed to entertain your guests by dressing up like a tart…”
“By dressing like a courtesan from my time of origin, yes. Those girls knew how to strut their stuff.” He inclined his head and scrutinized her. “I wish you’d do something about your hair, though. It looks like a child’s botched haircut.”
“You’re responsible for the haircut. I tore it out with duct tape, remember?” She waved a hand at him.
“Aw, yes. Fun times.”
She scoffed. “And everything will be off the table? I won’t owe you a single favor?”
D’s eyes slid evasively away from her. He swallowed and licked his lips. “Most everything.”
Chia groaned. “What will I still owe?”
“I think it’s something we can mutually benefit from.”
She squinted. “And what’s that?”
“Your blood. I’ve grown rather fond of it. I’d hate to merely take from you. I prefer when you give it to me. It’s of remarkable essence and quality. It makes me feel incredible, especially when given so freely.”
“Does it now?” Chia filed this away in her mind under “power moves.”
“Don’t think you’ll hold power over me,” he said, arching an eyebrow. “You might experience cravings now and then, yourself.”
“Seriously?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Chia threw back her head and groaned. “You should have told me you have side effects! Not fair, vampire!”
“I never dreamed you’d do such a thing.” He lifted his crystal goblet filled with his bloody drink and sipped.
She sidled away from him. “How are things with Sultana? Gone stale by now?”
“Not in the least.”
She sighed. Might as well get this over with. “I managed to get Hung to agree to not kill her for a while…I’m going to keep working on it.”
“Don’t be such a kidder. Hung and I already made agreements.”
“You what?” Her jaw fell to the floor. “When?”
“When you were in the hospital. He agreed to not kill her…yet.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“Turns out, sugar, she’s here to spy on me for the competition.” He smoothed his linen shirt along his flat abdomen.
“What competition?”
“The serum concoction I told you about. Ours is superior to all. Her company got wind of it and sent her to get secrets from me. I’ve been feeding her lies.”
“Because you knew her for a spy?”
“Because I never share trade secrets, especially with a woman. I do enjoy her, though, so when I found out, Hung and I spoke and he agreed to let me take my fill of her while she’s in town. When she’s up in Fairbanks…well, child, I can’t be held responsible.”
Chia felt like flames would shoot from her head. The ghost of rage turned a bright red and rocketed for her gut. She waved her hands frantically to shoo him away. “Hung’s a dead man. I thought he made a promise to me. I’ve been sweating telling you this for days.”
“Relationships,” D’Raynged said, acting like a co-conspirator. “Aren’t they a lot of work?” He scoffed. “Well. I’d like to see to my guests. You’ve got a show to do.”
“I’m not doing it. The deal with Sultana ended up being a done deal. I owe you nothing.”
“Oh, child. There’s the locked coffin.” He tapped his index finger. “The dirty house.” He tapped his middle finger. “The…”
“Okay, okay, okay. Get out of here and let me dress.”
“I knew you’d come to your senses.”
After he left her bedroom, she put on the skimpy clothing, grabbed her down coat from the bed, added her fur cap and wool scarf, and for good measure, added leg warmers. Maybe I can add hot peppers to Hung’s beer. Or make him my love slave all night. He’ll have to call me mistress and…nah, he’ll enjoy that too much. And he probably loves spicy food. I’ll think of something.
She regarded her slowly circling ghosts, all six of them. “No one said I couldn’t dress warmly. This is, after all, Alaska. Even courtesans had to bundle from the cold.” She couldn’t tell if they were laughing, smirking, or ignoring her. She didn’t care. She’d deal with her inner demons and bad deeds in good time.
For now, as long as He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not stayed inside her, she could live with the rest of it. She had a good feeling that he loved her, if not now, then someday, and she might love him sometime soon, too. In the meantime…
THE END
Join Calinda B’s newsletter to find out when new books come out:
http://calindab.com/newslettersignup.html
About the Author
Calinda B is a bestselling author who crafts erotic short stories and paranormal, sci-fi and contemporary romance novels. An avid adventurer and outdoor enthusiast with a quirky sense of humor, she's always finding ways to torture her characters, and to entertain her long time love, her two cats or her kids and friends. She lives in the breathtaking Pacific Northwest, a place that soothes her soul and gives her plenty of time to write, scuba dive, work, write, bike ride, write, kayak, write and write some more.
For more information on Calinda B:
@calindab1
CalindaBauthor
www.calindab.com
[email protected]
&nbs
p; Read More from Calinda B
http://www.amazon.com/Calinda-B/e/B005DHC69S
Silenced
N. R. Larry
Silenced © 2016 N.R. Larry
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Created with Vellum
About the Book
Silenced
The end of the world doesn't need heroes--it needs monsters.
Pike Richards would do anything not to work with Compound Six, but they have his only weakness--his daughter, Sadie. They want the cure to a virus that has devastated humanity, a cure that only Pike, one of the last descendants of the gods, can retrieve from its mystical location known as the crossroads. Led by a ruthless woman from the Compound, Pike and his small team battle their way across the landscape filled with terrible creatures.
As the loss and sacrifice grows, Pike is forced to confront his inner monster as a magical being designed for killing. When he falls in love with his fiery teammate, he dreams of a future for the first time. The only problem is, no descendant has ever returned from the crossroads.
1
The Enforcers of Compound Six throw a body part into my cell each time I say no. On day seventy-two, it sounds like a rotted arm. It lands on a fleshy pile with a light thud. Means it’s petite. Possibly female.
I’m in near constant pain, but at least I’m a body part savant.
Fifteen ticks later, my cage floods with white light. The blinding kind in long stretches of desert. The kind that is unending. I try to blink it out. Two ticks later, metal clamps force my eyes open. I sputter, trying to inflate my lungs, but the air stings. Breathing was easy before I had a titanium mask strapped around my face.
The constant torture doesn’t help much either.
I wonder why I’m not dead for five ticks. Then, I remember my life is about numbers and my ticks haven’t run out.
My eyes prickle, unable to get moisture under the blazing lamps. Red orbs swim above me, until all I see is a crimson smudge. Even without my sight, I know how many claw marks float above the white light.
Seventy-two slashes on the ceiling of this cage. All left by me.
That means I only have eight days left.
A click clack sound distorts in my ears, echoing like drunken footsteps. The clicks are high pitched. Heels this time, not boots.
The lights dim, and I try to blink. Pain rips into me and I make myself stop before the clamps rip off my eyelids. I’m about to fail when soft hands remove the jagged metal, and I blink for the next thirty ticks. It almost feels good until thirst burns my throat, and I crave the salt water in my eye sockets.
“You need fluids, Pike.”
Juliet’s pale, oval face floats above me. Her ice blue eyes are calm. She smiles down at me, the angel of bullshit. A gesture of mercy after Boomer and the twenty lash whip. I want to taunt them, my tormentors, but hunger is eating my insides. My back feels like hamburger meat.
Metal shrieks against the floor of my cage. Juliet has pulled up her silver stool. She sits beside me like a nurse. “Pitch was scheduled for this slot, but I switched with him because you’re not sweating. You need fluids.”
Exhaustion takes away any smart-ass comment I might normally make.
“I’d like to remove your muzzle so that you can drink and eat. Do you think we can do that? Or do you prefer another IV?”
Thirty days ago, my fists would have balled up. Right now, in Juliet’s sixty-minute slot, I could give a shit about fighting back. I go to my head, the only safe place here, and fantasize about Juliet on her knees. The thought rushes through me for twelve ticks. It’s enough. It means my mind is still here. They won’t get to me.
I hope.
“Well, what’s it going to be, hon?”
I blink three times.
“That’s my boy.” She stands, click-clacks to the corner of my cage, and knocks three times. There is a whip of wind from the small chute in the cage door, then the clang of the golden key.
The evil bitch floats back to my side. She cradles my head like a mother before she reaches around to unlock the facemask. As she pulls it off I choke on copper. She coos to calm me down, and yanks three wires out of my throat.
I want to be stoic, but I hack and wheeze. My cell smells like shit and dead bodies. I almost ask for the fucking mask back. Instead, I’m thrashing against the wrist and ankle restraints and gagging. Juliet rushes to unlock the cuffs. As the last one on my right ankle falls open, I arch my back and spew vomit everywhere.
Juliet doesn’t even make one of those noises girly girls like her make when nasty shit comes out of their men. She cleans me up with a bright smile and does more cooing. She props me up and holds the lip of her metal water canteen to my cracked lips. As soon as I gulp it down, my spongy throat needs more. I make myself sip the third canteen.
Then, I feel almost human again. Well, not human, but what the fuck ever. I sit up on the sleek board they strapped me to. My muscles go numb, then scream with the tingle of a dozen wasp stings. Juliet is beside me, looking down at my swollen feet like a wide-eyed dove. Innocent. So sweet, this little demon wench.
The hunger in my stomach growls and claws at my insides. I grunt food at her, and she pats my shoulder. She stands. Three knocks. The thud of hard bread. Then she’s back at my bedside. I tear into the bread, eating like a berserker, spraying hard crumbs all over the ivory cage and into Juliet’s hair.
She actually giggles while she shakes it out. Then smiles at me like I’m her little man, and touches me. My eyes slide shut as she traces designs on my arms and over the lashes on my back. God, I hate how good this bitch’s touch makes me feel. I miss that tingle. Human touch.
Human life. Even one as twisted at Juliet’s.
She is a stone cold liar, but her hands are fresh air on my skin.
“Fuck.” I shrug away from her hands and chuckle. “You’re good at what you do, Juliet.” I glance sideways at her.
She pretends to enjoy me praising her. She reaches out to stroke my face. Her fingers brush through my snake-like dreads. Her voice drops down, husky. “I can stay tonight, you know.” Then, she flips her goddamn hair. “All you have to do is change your mind. You don’t belong down here in this cage.”
“No, shit,” I shoot back, giving my best retort to the only Enforcer that lets me get away with lip.
“Then, why?”
I almost sneer at the false innocence in her question. What a bad actress. We both know why. I smile over at her. My lips split and blood pools into the cracks. I lean over and plant a red kiss on her milky forehead.
“I don’t remember the question.” I rub my blood into her skin. Her shiver is the only genuine moment she gives me during her slot. “Ask me again.”
“Are you singing?” Juliet’s breath is heavy.
“Of course not. You made sure I can’t.” I stroke her flushing face, and offer my best smile. “What do you want from me, Juliet?”
Her eyelids hang slightly open. “I want you to go to the crossroads and bring back the cure.”
I want to roll my eyes at the word “cure,” but I stretch my smile wider instead. “And, why do you want me to do that?”
“Because…” Her eyes fly open. She’s hard n
ow. Done putting on a show. She stares down at me, her eyes like a blazing storm. “The cure he has will save us. I want you to save us, Pike.”
We stare into each other for twenty ticks. I want to piss her off, but know I can’t. Nothing shakes this evil bitch.
I sigh into her face. “Can I ask you a question, Juliet?”
“Of course.”
“Do you think you deserve to be saved?” I ask her like I’m asking if her shoes are comfortable. I stare at the stark wall in front of me. I don’t need to look at Juliet any longer. I know she’s iced over. Mercy isn’t going to work on me.
Again.
Even though I don’t want to, I shift my gaze to her. “Because I don’t. And I hope my blood lasts long enough to watch those animals rip down your walls and do things to your flesh that will follow you to whatever hell evil whore rags go to.”
She dashes to my cell corner, grabs a rotting arm no longer attached to its owner and I take a second to be pleased that I was right about the body part being a female arm. Then, she smashes it into the side of my face. I crash back against the table. The grip of metal clamping across me makes me laugh maniacal clown style.
She throws the arm and smiles down at me. All I can do is laugh as I slowly lose my shit. Then she flips her hair and says, “Shock the black off his mythological ass.”
