ALSO BY SHANNON MAYER
The Venom Trilogy
Venom and Vanilla (Book 1)
The Rylee Adamson Series
Priceless (Book 1)
Immune (Book 2)
Raising Innocence (Book 3)
Shadowed Threads (Book 4)
Blind Salvage (Book 5)
Tracker (Book 6)
Veiled Threat (Book 7)
Wounded (Book 8)
Rising Darkness (Book 9)
Blood of the Lost (Book 10)
Elementally Priceless (A Rylee Adamson Novella 0.5)
Alex (A Rylee Adamson Short Story)
Tracking Magic (A Rylee Adamson Novella)
Guardian (A Rylee Adamson Novella 6.5)
Stitched (A Rylee Adamson Novella 8.5)
RYLEE (The Rylee Adamson Epilogues Book 1)
The Elemental Series
Recurve (Book 1)
Breakwater (Book 2)
Firestorm (Book 3)
Windburn (Book 4)
Rootbound (Book 5)
Ash (Book 6)
The Blood Borne Series
(coauthored with Denise Grover Swank)
Recombinant
Replica
The Nevermore Trilogy
Sundered
Bound
Dauntless
A Celtic Legacy
Dark Waters
Dark Isle
Dark Fae
Contemporary Romance
High Risk Love
Of the Heart
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2017 Shannon Mayer
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by 47North, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and 47North are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503942103
ISBN-10: 1503942104
Cover design by Jason Blackburn
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
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER 1
“Alena, sister of mine, no matter what you think, no matter how much I love you, this is a damn bad idea you have. I think it’s stupid.” Tad slowed his steps as we approached the King County Courthouse and put a hand under one of my elbows. I wobbled in my heels as I glared at my brother, but I said nothing. What was there to say? We both knew the court system would be against me from the get-go—me being a Super Duper was all it would take to have the judge ignore me. But I had to try. I couldn’t just hand over all I’d worked for to a rotten apple of a man—Roger the Cheater. Never mind that we were technically still married; Roger didn’t deserve a single piece of my pie.
I tightened my hold on the stack of papers I’d put together over the last week. Sheet after sheet of proof that I existed, that I hadn’t died. To dispute a death record fabricated for the convenience of a government that didn’t want to deal with the messy reality of Super Dupers on the fringes of society. The fake death certificate floated out there in the sea of excessive—duplicate, triplicate—paperwork, and no doubt there was a notarized copy in Roger’s clammy, weak hands. I stared hard at the folder, and peeking out from the top edge was a piece of paper with my full name on it, barely legible in the dying light of the day. All my government papers, signature comparisons, affidavits from my father and grandmother that I was who I said I was. Not from my mother, though; that was too much to ask from a woman who clung to her hard-core beliefs even now that both of her children were quite literally on the other side of the fence.
As a Firstamentalist, my mom believed I was a monster, and if I was being honest, I couldn’t totally disagree with her. I mean, I was able to turn into a giant snake at will, and I packed enough punch in my fangs to kill with only a few drops of venom. Not exactly what I would call normal, even on a good day. But being a Firstamentalist meant that, for my mom, there were no shades of gray; you couldn’t love your own family members if they were turned into Super Dupers. You were either a good person who attended church—Firstamentalist church, to be clear—or you were going to hell. And if you were a Super Duper like me, you weren’t just going to hell—your soul was corrupted beyond repair and would corrupt anyone you were around. To say that the situation made family dinners awkward was a bit of an understatement.
The sun dipped low behind us, the cloudy winter day sucking it below the Seattle skyline with a single gulp. January was speeding by, but I barely felt the cold. A small perk to being my particular brand of Super Duper. I still shivered, but it had nothing to do with the weather.
Even with all the papers I’d so carefully put together, I knew it was going to be a huge challenge to prove that I existed—harder to do than making a ten-egg soufflé. Because the world didn’t see supernaturals as people. We didn’t exist, not in the eyes of the government, and that meant we didn’t need to have rights.
Which was going to make proving I needed a proper divorce and deserved half of everything from my jerk of a two-timing husband difficult, to say the least.
But I had to believe I could do this, that I could show the judge I was really here, and that it didn’t matter that I wasn’t technically human any longer. I refused to let Roger and his scheming girlfriend, Barbie, walk away with everything I’d worked so hard to build.
So I put on a brave face and straightened my back. I would not be the doormat my mother wanted me to be; I would not be someone Roger could just mow down so he could go on with his life as if I’d never existed. If he thought he was going to benefit not just from my death, but also from all my hard work and years at my bakery, Vanilla and Honey, he was about to see he was sorely mistaken.
“Tad, there is no way the judge can say I don’t exist, that I’m not alive, when I’m standing right in front of him.” I shot a quick glance at him as I navigated the steps.
“Yes, he can, because it’s the law, and you know it. And this is the human courthouse. We could start a riot just by being here.” Tad shoved his hands into his jeans’ pockets and hunched his head in his dark-gray hoodie, pretty much mumbling the last of his sentence. I snuck a glance around us at the humans flowing in and out of the large H-shaped building. No one looked our way; no one even paused at Tad’s words.
No one noticed they were walking next to two supernaturals. If they did, I knew pandemonium would ensue, and not for the reason most people would think. I mean, humans knew supernaturals existed. But that didn’t mean they truly knew. Vampires, werewolves, warlocks, and Greek gods walked next to them daily. The humans would panic if they knew just how many of us interacted with them on a daily basis. If they knew . . . I could only imagine just how fast they’d be pushing the government
to permanently put us on our side of the Wall.
The thing that frightened them, though, wasn’t the idea of claws and teeth, or shape-shifting and blood drinking. No, the thing that we represented more than any of that was a slow, painful death cut off from your family. The Aegrus virus had originated and spread via Super Dupers. To a Supe, the virus was a cold, a flu at worst. But to a human, contracting it was certain death.
The Aegrus virus was brutally efficient in its ability to kill a person within weeks. Your body slowly turned on itself, shriveling into a husk of what you once were, muscles atrophying; hair, teeth, and nails falling out; and all the while your mind staying as sharp as ever while you died in a shell of your own body.
Worse, the virus cut people off from those they loved. The quarantine protocols were such that uninfected humans were encouraged not to visit their sick family members. If they did manage to get through the red tape, they were required to wear hazmat suits and allowed only short visits. The infected were kept away from the rest of the city at a specially built hospital on Whidbey Island. Cut off by water and disease.
There was no cure, no way around the disease once you had it. Unless you made the choice that both Tad and I had, and you were willing to be turned into one of the monsters. That wasn’t common knowledge, though. Most humans didn’t even realize there was a possible cure—if you called being made a Super Duper a cure. Really we’d just traded one disease for another. I shivered at the direction of my thoughts.
Only a few short weeks ago I’d been human, or so I thought, and then I’d contracted the Aegrus virus. I’d learned that the only people who could actually contract the virus were those who had a little bit of supernatural blood in their genetics. Enough to make them susceptible but not enough to help them survive the virus. Which meant there was something hiding in my family tree. The virus had me on death’s doorstep in no time, and the only way to save myself was to make a deal with the devil. A deal that involved turning me into what Dahlia, my roommate at the hospital, called a Super Duper.
Long story short, I’d done it to live, and I ended up with more than I’d bargained for. Now I was like . . . a super Super Duper. As in supersize. As in superpowerful. I brushed a strand of long dark hair out of my face, exasperation flowing through me once more at the thought of what Merlin had made me. A Drakaina, of all things, a woman siren who could shift into a giant, venomous snake at will. That’s what I got for being prideful and subverting God’s will. At least, that’s what my mother and the Firstamentalists would say. My jaw tightened as irritation flowed through me.
“We aren’t infectious,” I said under my breath as I clutched my paperwork harder. I mean, I wasn’t coughing, I didn’t have a fever—two signs a Super Duper had the virus. Tad grunted and glanced at me, jet-black hair falling over his eyes, giving me just a flash of green before he turned away again.
“You don’t know that for sure, and worse, neither do they. I mean, I didn’t know I had it when I infected you. If they find out—”
“They won’t,” I snapped, my nerves already strung as tight as they’d ever been. Like frosting a giant wedding cake while the bridezilla leaned over my shoulder. And yes, that had happened. Okay, this was worse than that, but it was close. “I just have to get them to sign the divorce papers. Once it’s done, then everything is legal and they can’t reverse things. They can’t deny me my rights then.” I drew in a breath and tried to push the fear and anxiety out of my belly. That was what I was hoping for anyway. Sure, it was a bit sneaky, but I didn’t have much of a choice as far as I could see. Once the signatures were on the paper, it would be a done deal. Again, I was hoping, but hope was all I had left.
“They’ll throw us back behind the Wall, and that’s if we’re lucky,” Tad grumbled, bringing my attention back to him. I let out a sigh and shook my head.
“Who exactly is going to do that? The Supe Squad is in shambles and can barely lace up their boots, even with orders. And with Oberfluffel missing, there is no one to give said orders. The human police aren’t really interested in dealing with Super Dupers unless they absolutely have to.”
Tad pulled a face as if he’d swallowed a lemon. “Oberfall is not missing. He’s on hiatus, according to Dahlia.”
I grinned at him and took advantage of his mention of Dahlia to change the conversation. “Pillow talk again?”
His face flushed bright red and he looked away. “I’m just saying he isn’t missing. Don’t make more of it than you have to.”
“I’d have thought you’d be happy he’s gone,” I said.
My brother tugged at the edges of his hoodie. “Smithy is in charge while he is away. Oberfall is a dick, but Smithy is a complete hard-ass. He can’t be reasoned with. When it comes to being straitlaced, he’s as straight as they come. Problem is, the rest of the SDMP don’t see him as the leader yet; he has to prove to them that he’s worth following. Until that happens, they’ll be all over the map.”
I shifted my arms as my paperwork slid. “My point is the Supe Squad isn’t doing anything. They shut down, and with Remo and his vampires taking out the chip-monitoring machine, you and I are probably safer here than on the north side of the Wall.”
When you lived on the north side of the Wall, you were surgically implanted with a chip that allowed the local police to keep all Super Dupers under their thumbs. Said chips also had the ability to shock their recipients, furthering that ability to keep them in line. With the machine that monitored and controlled those chips no longer functioning, it meant the Super Dupers could just about do as they pleased. I wasn’t fully certain that was a good thing.
A man walking close to us in a dark-blue suit and a bright-red tie paused and glanced at me, his eyes worried.
“Wall Street,” I lied. “We were talking about Wall Street.”
His eyes swept me up and down, and a slow grin spread across his face. “Are you one of the new secretaries? I am in the market for one since my last secretary quit.”
“Oh.” I glanced down at the papers in my arms and the short black skirt I wore. “No, I’m here to finalize my divorce.”
“Really?” The man in the suit perked up even more and held out his hand. “Name is Bradley Froat, lawyer, specializing in divorce. I could help you be free of your husband in no time at all. I could open you up to move on to . . . other things.” He winked at me and made a not-so-subtle kissing motion with his lips.
I glanced at his hand and took a step back, thoroughly disgusted. Did he really think that his attempt at smooth talk and a kissy face was a turn-on? “Well, I’d say it was nice to meet you, Mr. Froat, but that would be a lie.”
“You aren’t even going to shake my hand? Didn’t your mother tell you it isn’t polite to walk away when someone else is talking?” He raised both eyebrows at me, as if I’d insulted him. Well, okay, I had, but that wasn’t the point. He’d started this.
I pinched my lips together, irritation sharp and zinging through my blood. The old Alena would have apologized and begged forgiveness. Probably would have given him a coupon for her bakery.
Not anymore.
“Three things, Mr. Froat: one, I am going to be late if I don’t hurry; two, my mother is the last person you should bring up in conversation with me; and three, I am not the nice girl you think I am, so don’t irritate me, and don’t make kissy faces at me.” I turned away from him. “May I also point out you’re as big a jerk as my brother for not even offering to help a lady who has her arms full of papers before you try and make a move on her.”
“Hey,” Tad barked, “you’d say no if I did ask.”
I rolled my eyes. “And this is why you were single for so long, and why if you aren’t careful, Dahlia will dump you. You have to ask, even if you know I’m going to say no. Give me the option.”
I hurried toward the courthouse, already putting Mr. Froat and his rude come-on from my mind. Tad, though, wasn’t moving on so easily.
“You are still the nice girl, Al
ena, even I know that,” he said softly.
“I’m not.” Too much had happened in the last couple of weeks for me to believe I was a nice girl anymore.
For starters, I’d killed people. Bad people, to be sure, people who would have killed me, but the thing is, nice girls don’t kill people. Ever.
And I’d kissed someone other than my husband before the divorce was final, which in some ways was worse. Because I’d wanted to kiss those lips that still hovered in my thoughts. I hadn’t wanted to kill anyone—that had been sheer self-defense. Even my mother couldn’t completely deny that I’d been fighting for my life.
Thoughts of said kiss warmed me from my toes right up to the tips of my ears in a flash of heat that had me struggling to breathe normally. I drew in three long breaths as I tried to cool my body and my thoughts down. But the remembered touch of Remo’s lips on mine was hard to banish. I fanned a few papers at my face, trying to cool myself.
“How can you be hot in this miserable weather?” Tad asked as we hurried through the building’s main doors.
I was not about to tell him that my face was flushed from my memories of a kiss that would have melted the ironclad panties off a nun.
Finally breathing at a more usual pace, I managed to get my heart rate and mind back to some semblance of normal. I needed to focus, not fantasize.
Ahead of us was a swell of bodies, people coming and going in the wide hallway and lined up against the walls, whatever chairs there were filled to the brim. Everyone was here for some form of justice, just like me.
I paused and shivered. The smell of body odor lingered heavily in the air along with stale smoke, bad breath, and too much cologne and deodorant applied in an attempt to cover it all up. I coughed and Tad shot a look at me, his eyes wide as he grabbed one of my arms.
He dropped his head so it was close to mine. “Are you sick?”
“No.” I coughed again, wishing I could cover my mouth with something, anything. With my arms full of paperwork, it was all I could do to tuck my face against the sheets. “It’s the smell. This many bodies stink.”
A grunt at my shoulder spun me around. The faint musk of bear rolled up my nose, making the Drakaina in me tighten in prep for a strike. The bear shifter nodded at me. “Humans do stink in large numbers. You’ll get used to it, though. Just don’t breathe deep.”
Fangs and Fennel (The Venom Trilogy #2) Page 1
