by Aliya DalRae
Sweet
Destiny
Aliya DalRae
Sweet Destiny Copyright © 2018 by Aliya DalRae
All rights reserved.
First Edition, 2018
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, organizations, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, locations, events or establishments is purely coincidental.
Cover Design by Tempting Illustrations
Image Contributor: Miramiska from Depositphotos
ISBN: 1987624564
ISBN-13: 978-1987624564
For Shelly
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to Angelica Mariano of Tempting Illustrations for yet another incredible cover design. I didn’t think Raven’s covers could be topped, but Jessica is absolutely stunning!
To my fabulous friends and family who have stuck by me through the entire Jessica Sweet journey – I am grateful for your support and patience throughout the process of bringing this trilogy to life.
To Sue, Jessica and Kelly – thank you for your edits and advice, for your opinions and proof-reading. Your time is invaluable, and I can’t tell you how much it means that you gave so much of it to the cause. I can’t even begin to thank you.
And to Kirk, my soul, my life—
When I thought the world had ended,
When I thought I couldn’t go on,
You were there to bring me back into the light.
Table of Contents
Prologue
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
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Epilogue
About the Author
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Also by Aliya DalRae
Prologue
T hanksgiving made Martin’s ass twitch. He watched in morbid fascination as people scurried around like festive ants, lugging huge dishes filled with their favorite holiday recipes to the annual celebration of human gluttony. The ones he really pitied were the poor bastards who got roped into hosting the dinner. Families forced to get together each year and pretend like they had anything in common besides a love for turkey and pumpkin pie. What a sham.
As he patrolled the downtown area of Fallen Cross, Ohio, Martin marveled at the futility of it all. Humans made such a big deal out of this one day of being thankful for everything they had, then spent the following weeks focused on all the things they couldn’t live without. Watching the news reports of Black Friday brawls was Martin’s idea of an annual event. He looked forward to it every year, made popcorn and everything.
Humans, he thought, shaking his head. A couple stumbled by, clearly inebriated, and Martin dodged to avoid the collision. You had to hand it to them, though. They knew how to party.
Continuing down Market Street, heading south of town, Martin kept his senses alert for reveling of another kind. When the humans let their hair down, they became a bit complacent, and that’s when ferals, bane of the Vampire Race’s existence, would come out to play.
Human holidays were some of the busiest times for Martin and the Vampire Legion. He’d been a Soldier for nearly a year now and had learned early on that ferals were a pain in the ass in the best of times. When the humans got stupid and made themselves easy pickings, it was up to the Legion to keep them safe, keep them from becoming a holiday meal for one of his orange-eyed brethren.
As he reached the edge of town, Martin gave the cemetery a casual glance. It was cliché, but sometimes ferals would drag their prey in amongst the tombstones to enjoy their midnight snack. Inhaling deeply, Martin was not surprised when he detected the smell of blood. It was faint, but unmistakable.
He turned in a slow circle, honing in on the source of the scent, raising an eyebrow when he realized it wasn’t from the cemetery. A minor shifting of perspective had him staring at the mansion across the street.
The Horror Mansion. That’s what the kids in town called it, though Martin was certain that at some point there had been another name for it. It was a three-story red-brick Victorian with high decorative gables and large porch posts, a monstrosity of antiquity that must have been something in it’s prime. However, for the past twenty years it had sat empty and fallen into a sad state of disrepair.
Martin couldn’t count the number of times they’d had to run off a brood of ferals who were squatting inside among the collapsed beams and splintered staircases. Something about the creepy old place just screamed “Vampire” to the wildlings. Looked like he was going to have a little fun tonight after all.
With a shoulder roll and a neck crack, Martin crossed the deserted street, walked up to the front door and let himself in.
The scent was stronger inside, but it wasn’t intense enough to have been from a recent feeding. It not only smelled of old blood but was rancid with overtones of rotting meat. So not just spillage from overenthusiastic ferals. There was a body here somewhere, and there wasn
’t a feral in town who would have been stupid enough to leave it behind. Not in this house.
Martin ventured further inside, ancient floorboards creaking beneath his shitkickers with each step. Broken furniture littered the downstairs: a grand table that sat catawampus due to two missing legs, and a sideboard with broken drawer fronts that hung from their slots at grotesque angles. A beam from the floor above rested atop a filthy velvet sofa in the parlor, and ashes from a long cold fire littered the grate in the fireplace that encompassed an entire wall. Several inches of dust covered every surface, which made the footprints easy to spot.
Martin followed the scuffed tracks up three flights of stairs and down a long hall, where they stopped in front of a closed door. Senses on full alert, he turned the knob and pushed the heavy door open, prepared for anything that might jump out at him. Other than a strong odor of death and decay and the sound of scattering rodents, there was nothing.
Martin entered what looked to be an attic that spanned the entire length of the house. He picked his way through the detritus, avoiding the holes in the floor as best he could, in search of the corpse that was stinking up the place.
An old-fashioned coffin lay in the middle of a stack of boxes. Martin reached out and flipped the lid off, exposing a skeleton inside. Not what he was looking for, though. This guy had been dead for decades, probably a relic left behind by the doctor who had once inhabited the mansion.
He was on the right track, though, as the scent was definitely in this direction. He looked left, then right, and there it was. The body was folded up in the corner, buried in a pile of ratty blankets. It looked as though an indigent had taken up where the ferals had left off, choosing the old house as a refuge from the coming cold. His pile of belongings was off to the side, the blankets that shrouded him in death most likely the same ones that had sheltered him in his pathetic life.
Martin lifted the covers a bit and exposed the small male’s torso, which was oddly devoid of any clothing. The cause of death was obvious. Dozens of bite marks littered the field of pasty white flesh, definitely Vampire, but smaller than that of your average feral.
Martin took a moment to cover the man, showing a bit of respect for the dead. Then he pulled out his cell phone and tapped the screen.
“Merlin,” he said, working his way back to the hallway and some slightly fresher air. “We have a problem.”
Chapter One
T hanksgiving this year was amazing. When my adoptive mother passed away, just a year after my dad died in a freak crop dusting accident, I was convinced that the first holidays without them would be gut wrenching.
Fast forward a few months and here I was, surrounded by family I didn’t know I had and friends-as-family both old and new. I was floating on a cloud of love and tryptophan, happier than I thought possible.
I stood in the barnyard with my actual birth parents and a little sister who worshipped me and hugged each one of them goodbye. They juggled their foil-wrapped dishes full of leftover Thanksgiving goodness as they wrapped their free arms around me, promising to call later in the week.
“Jessica,” Allie whispered, tugging at my t-shirt. I knelt to look my sister in the eye, crystal blue—the same as mine and our father’s. She patted my arm with the solemnity of a very old soul and said, “This was the best Thanksgiving, ever.”
“I was just thinking the exact same thing,” I said, and she threw her arms around my neck, burying her head in my shoulder. I brushed my hand through her silky blond curls and squeezed her tight before releasing her into the care of our parents.
“Let’s go, Allie,” Patrick said, ushering her into their truck and buckling her in.
“I don’t know why we have to go.” Allie crossed her arms and pouted as our father found his way to the driver’s seat.
“Jessica has other guests to get back to, and it’s way past your bedtime.” Maggie Dane, our mother, hesitated before climbing in the truck herself, then turned to me for yet another hug.
“I can’t believe we’re all together,” she murmured, and I swallowed a big lump.
“Me either,” I said, laughing a little as she pulled away. “It’s all so surreal.”
“It is, but I promise you, we will never be separated again. I’ll not let you go a second time.”
Hoo boy, that lump was getting bigger, and I hugged her again just to hide the emotion.
“Maggie, it’s late. Let’s go.” Patrick cranked the ignition, and my mother and I laughed as she settled in the pickup next to Allie. One did not keep the Alpha of the Fallen Cross Werewolf Pack waiting.
“Bye Jessica!” Allie hollered, and I waved both hands in the air as they drove off to their home and their beds. It was well past midnight, but when you are hosting Vampires for dinner, things tend to get started later than a normal human gathering would.
Speaking of Vampires, Raven stood on the screened-in porch attached to the front of my old farmhouse, leaning against the doorway as he watched me.
Despite my own recently discovered Vampire heritage, compliments of the lovely lady who had just driven away, I didn’t have Raven’s sharp vision. Still, I could tell his eyes were on me as I stared at the spot where the vehicle had disappeared over a rise in the dark road.
“You coming in?” he called and I raised a hand in acknowledgement.
“In a minute,” I said. The sky was crystal clear, the stars incredibly bright, and my heart so full that I wasn’t quite ready to return to the robust celebration still going on inside my home. I needed a moment to take it all in.
“Sure,” Raven said, and I could feel his smile. “But don’t be too long. I’ve half a mind to throw these freeloaders out and show you what I’m truly thankful for.”
I giggled as he turned and headed back into the house, knowing that he was probably kidding. Mostly.
Taking a deep breath, I inhaled the familiar scent of the country. The farm across the road brought with it its own peculiarly comforting perfum de cow and odeur de swine, smells that I would forever associate with home. But there was also the clean fragrance of the trees, the grass, and the fresh scent of dew already collecting on cars and outbuildings. November had been unseasonably warm, but the night was on the cool side. A light breeze kicked up and I shivered a bit as I stared at the stars. After the year I’d had, simple pleasures like these were worth taking a second to appreciate.
But I had guests, and I wouldn’t be much of a hostess if I left them to their own devices. With the little one gone, the alcohol consumption was bound to increase, and we wouldn’t want one of the Vampires thinking that sampling the humans was a good idea. Of course, I was thinking about Harrier.
With one last glance at the stars, I turned to the house and prepared to resume my duties. A shadow by the barn caught my eye. Recent circumstances involving Sorcerers and ferals hell bent on bringing about my demise had me spinning into a fighting stance. I was ready to put my karate training to use and take on whatever the world chose to throw at me next.
However, the figure that materialized out of the shadows was not my usual foe. This one was decidedly male, impossibly gorgeous, and categorically still on my shit list.
Malcolm strode forward, dressed in sweat pants and a t-shirt but lacking any kind of footwear. Given his recently rescinded position as the spy who betrayed me, I wasn’t surprised to see him lurking about my property. I was, however, a bit taken aback by his demeanor.
Usually laid back and relaxed, tonight Malcolm seemed revved up, on edge. His dreadlocks hung loose around his face, the scruff he now sported on his jaw giving him a sinister look. I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to see another bad guy sneaking up on me, but nope. This attitude was toward me and me alone.
“Malcolm,” I said, “what are you doing here?”
“Just keeping an eye on you.” His upper lip curled in a snarl, and I forced myself to hold my ground.
“There’s no need,” I assured him. “I’ve got a house full of Vampires, and th
e Werewolves just left. I’m more than protected here.”
“Right,” he said, as he continued to throw visual daggers at me.
“So, you can go now,” I added, since he didn’t seem to be taking the hint.
“You really have no intention of telling me?” he said, his shoulders dropping, as his posture transformed into something else.
“Telling you what?”
“I know.”
“Know what?” My heart was in my throat now. Had he somehow found out about my lineage? Did he know that I was descended from Vampires?
“Stop screwing with me, Jess. I can smell a lie as well as any of your other supernatural friends and I know you’re hiding something. You might as well come out with it.”
“Fine,” I said, “I am keeping something to myself, but it’s none of your business. I haven’t even told Raven yet, so I’m certainly not going to share it with you.”
“Told Raven?” he scoffed. “I wouldn’t think you had. He’s going to be royally pissed.”
“What? Why? What exactly is it you think you know?” We were obviously not talking about the same thing.
“You really don’t know?” he asked, backing off with the sarcasm. I threw my hands up in a no idea gesture and he softened a bit more.
His emerald eyes refracted in a slice of moonlight and he took a small step toward me.
“Jessica,” he whispered, “you’re pregnant. You’re carrying my baby.”
Chapter Two
R aven stood frozen in the shadows. Jessica had asked for a few minutes to collect herself, which was understandable, considering the sheer number of people gathered at her home for this holiday. A holiday, by the way, that he had never celebrated.
But the natives were getting restless. They wanted more pie, more turkey, more everything, and Raven was not used to hosting such an eclectic group of—ah, hell. He wasn’t used to hosting anyone.
He didn’t mean to intrude on Jessica’s alone time, but he needed backup, pronto.
