All or Nothing [Shadow Creek 4] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove)
Page 1
Shadow Creek 4
All or Nothing
Mikhail Borreagous loathes anything paranormal. After witnessing the vicious murders of his older brothers in an attack that left him clinging to life over twenty years ago, he vowed to hunt and kill anything not human. That is, until Nico Montague crosses his path.
Nico is a wolf shifter and no stranger to Mikhail’s killing ways. The infamous hunter is his mate, but Nico will do whatever it takes to protect him against the lamabra. When a second attack from the vampire half-breeds goes south, Nico makes a crucial decision in hopes of saving Mikhail: return to Shadow Creek…with his mate.
Mikhail wakes up in the heart of the paranormal sanctuary his boss has dreamed of breaching. Caught between his fierce attraction to Nico and his loyalty to his leader, Mikhail has to make a life-altering decision: betray the creatures that have protected him despite his reputation, or risk his life to stay with Nico?
Genre: Alternative (M/M, Gay), Fantasy, Paranormal, Shape-shifter, Vampires/Werewolves
Length: 63,848 words
ALL OR NOTHING
Shadow Creek 4
Leah Blake

Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
ALL OR NOTHING
Copyright © 2017 by Leah Blake
ISBN: 978-1-64010-473-0
First Publication: July 2017
Cover design by Jess Buffett
All art and logo copyright © 2017 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
DEDICATION
Shouting out to the amazing support of readers and fans!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I grew up in New Jersey, a short drive outside of Manhattan. I was a busy kid, always somewhere doing something. Dance, gymnastics, swimming, you name it. Yes, I was one of those kids who didn’t come home until it was dinnertime, played with friends on the street, rode bikes like it was going out of style. My best friend and I used to “produce” our own movies and play wizards and witches on the playground at school. I’ve always had an imagination that ran wild, and when I was in my pre-teens, I finally put all those outlandish ideas packed in my head to good use. I started writing stories, horror/thriller stories, when I was eleven. Romance wasn’t even a consideration until I was in my early twenties. When I made the cross from horror to romance, I discovered exactly what I should have been writing all along, and I’ve been writing romance ever since.
Now, I live in Florida with my husband, our four children, and the parakeets, where I continue to make my dreams come true.
For all titles by Leah Blake, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/leah-blake
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
About the Author
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Landmarks
ALL OR NOTHING
Shadow Creek 4
LEAH BLAKE
Copyright © 2017
Chapter One
The curse of the past stung worse than the blade that left his forearm open, blood soaking the ruined fabric.
Mikhail Borreagous brushed aside the burn from the nick, ducked the next attack, spun his leg out, and brought his opponent to the ground. The platform shook beneath the weight and force of the man’s two hundred and something pounds of solid muscle slamming down, breath whooshing from his lungs. Mik stepped up to Jason, pressed the tip of the katana to his throat, and smiled over his victory.
“I thought they warned you not to bring real blades. I get cut and it pisses me the fuck off.” Mik held out his hand. Jason grunted, accepting help to his feet, and rubbed the back of his neck. Mik handed the katana back to his buddy. “Good practice.”
“Yeah. Good one.” Jason winced as he rolled out his shoulders. “Damn it. I’m gonna need a massage.” The man wagged his brows. “Wanna join me for a happy ending downtown?”
Mik snorted. “I wouldn’t waste my money.”
Besides, he didn’t go for the fairer sex, a point he kept to himself.
The cut on his arm flared to life. He groaned, separating the two flaps of fabric. Yeah, he was one of the few who practiced fully clothed. Out in the field, they were geared up. Getting used to fighting in nothing but shorts wasn’t beneficial.
Besides, he had grown tired of his comrades’ jabs pertaining to his smaller physique. He fought with the best and often bested the majority.
Blood oozed from the gash. He snarled at Jason. “You prick. I might actually need stitches.”
“Sorry, man.”
“Yeah. Wait until I pop a bullet in your ass and blame friendly fire.”
The jingle of Mik’s cell phone echoed in the small practice gym. He hopped off the platform and crossed the open space to the bench where he left his duffel bag, phone, and keys. When he read the caller’s name, he answered.
“Borreagous,” Mik grunted, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder and snatching up his keys. He threw Jason a wave and started toward the bathroom.
“Jude’s calling an urgent meeting. Something’s going down. Bad.”
Mik let out a long sigh. Anytime Jude called an urgent meeting, something was going down. Anytime they were dispatched, it was never good.
Mik kicked open the bathroom door and stopped in front of the sink. He twisted on the cold water. “Any details?”
“Not sure, but I heard something about lamabra.”
Mik froze, his arm a few inches from the fall of water. He stared, unseeing, at the pristine ceramic basin as ice flooded his sweat-sheened body. Lamabra. An invisible knife stabbed deep into his chest, robbing his lungs of air.
“Mik? You there?”
Mik cleared his throat, giving his head a small shake. “Yeah, yeah. Here.” He shoved his bleeding wound beneath the water. “We haven’t seen lamabra in over two decades. We were pretty certain they were wiped out.”
“There’s been a string of murders. Nothing connecting the
victims or leading to suspects except for the damage to their necks.”
“Human victims?” That was unusual. What Mik knew of lamabra—and he liked to believe he knew a bit since he watched one of those bloodsucking fucks tear apart his older siblings when he was twelve—they didn’t hunt humans unless they were young. Lamabra craved shifter blood.
Quite frankly, Mik preferred them attacking shifters. It made the shifter easier to kill.
“Yes. All eight of them.”
Mik gauged the cut on his arm. Yep. He’d need a few stitches for sure. Maybe a drink. Damn, he’d take an entire bottle of whiskey. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
“I’ll let Jude know.”
Mik disconnected the call and shoved the phone in his pocket. He tore off a ring of his sleeve already damaged by the blade and fashioned it into a tourniquet. He wasn’t pouring blood, but it wasn’t stopping either. A quick trip to the facility’s in-house physician would fix him up.
God only knew he’d need his strength about him in the face of his worst nightmare.
* * * *
The Bunker—a highly secured operation center and training facility—was ripe with activity. Keeping his gaze averted from the gruesome pictures displayed on the numerous monitors against the far wall, Mik dropped his duffel bag on the floor and took up the empty seat beside it. He found the milling group of his teammates vaguely amusing, their anxiety and anticipation both humorous and baffling.
“Oh, great, Mik. You’re here. You’re good now, right? This is going to be a hard one.”
Mik nodded to Gabe, Jude’s second-in-command, propped an ankle on his knee, and shrugged. “They’re all hard, aren’t they? We’re hunting shits that shouldn’t exist who are more powerful than we are. Nothing about being a hunter is easy.”
Certainly not having to face the murderous crazies, aka lamabra.
The Bunker’s secured steel doors opened and Jude Cristo entered. His presence demanded attention and he got every inch of said attention. The chatter silenced and the team of hunters settled into seats around the large, circular metal table. Jude, dressed in black tactical pants and a T-shirt that stretched across a wide berth of muscle, took his seat directly across from the wall of screens. Gabe stood beside him, a portfolio tucked in his arm and a remote in his hand.
“Some of our contacts from other organizations have been collecting information over the last few weeks regarding activities surrounding Beauty and Beast.”
Mik’s attention perked at the mention of the code names for the massive vampire estate and the shifter manor. It had been a couple months since they were last briefed about activity surrounding their top, and hardest, targets. After a miserable ambush that left a sickening portion of the hunter population either dead or resigning from their teams, Jude had decided to withdraw most of the local organizations in the New Jersey and New York area while they devised a new plan. Said plan included observation and scouting rather than hands-on fighting and destroying.
For three months, Mik itched to get back into the field and wreak havoc on those bastards. His heart ached to ash vampires and maim shifters. His soul craved their screams and howls in the seconds before they ceased to exist.
No longer a threat to innocent humans.
Ultimately, he thrived on protecting humankind against the raging infection of paranormals that walked among his people, scoping, hunting, and preparing to attack.
The largest screen in the center of the wall flicked on to a satellite image of a large forest expanse dotted with several red markers. Every man in the room had their attention on the screen, many as curious as he.
“Beast released prisoners over the last three weeks. Those who were captured during the failed ambush a few months ago. The men are recovering from severe malnutrition and the psychological effects of torture and magic. Whether they continue working for their local organizations remains to be seen at this time, but they are alive,” Jude continued.
“Death might be a better option after the torture Carney’s men are capable of. I’ve know men who’ve put bullets through their heads because of the damages those fucking beasts incur,” Jordan, one of the older members of this central circle of hunters, said. His voice filled with disdain as he spoke, his face twisting with disgust and hatred. “It’s better to go down by your own hand than to be captured by that dog.”
Jude’s stoic expression remained so as he let Jordan rant, Mik moved his attention between the two men, surprised by Jordan’s lack of respect and Jude’s fierce glower. His black eyes could burn like coals and cast a man’s soul to Hell with a look.
Ten years after Mik found a small hunter organization in Colorado, he sat among the most elite of all hunter organizations. No one knew the story about Jude Cristo. No one understood his drive to destroy the paranormal communities. Speculated, sure, but without facts. The man was hard and cold as ice when a hunt was on. He seldom hung with his personally picked circle of hunters.
Mik had been chosen to join this squad four years earlier because he climbed up the ranks of six smaller organizations and caught Jude’s eye. The offer was simple.
“I will train you to be among the best. You will never have to fear those beasts again. They will fear you, cower before you, beg you for mercy before you take their lives. You will hold power over them. All you have to do is say yes. Say yes, Mikhail, and you will be on the next flight to headquarters.”
Mik said yes. How could he not? He had dedicated his life to killing monsters.
Jude followed through on his promises. He kept Mik out of the field for the first year and a half, training him intensely until nothing could best him. He was the smallest of the men in this circle, but his smaller size gave him greater agility. He was fast on his feet, accurate with every hit. His comrades might tease him, but he was usually the one standing over their fallen figures after a match.
Bring a blade? Expect to be on the pointy end of it.
“I will not settle for any of you to choose death over captivity. I’ve trained each and every one of you to survive their tortures. Your minds are only as strong as you wish them to be. If my judgment of your character was wrong, I suggest you reconsider your position on this team. Each man sitting at this table has been trained to kill our enemies, not ourselves.”
Jude’s voice boomed in the steel-walled room. His face turned a degree harder, his eyes a few degrees colder. Nothing else gave away his increasing frustration.
A faint flush colored Jordan’s tanned cheeks and the man turned back to the screen.
“If any of you wish to discuss your doubts, I’ll be more than happy to chat after this meeting. Time is of the essence.” Jude held out a hand. Gabe placed the portfolio in his hand and used the remote to change some of the images from the smaller screens. “It has come to my attention that that vampire leader at Beauty has been terminated.”
The table erupted into whispers and gasps. Mik’s attention shot to Jude. Mallouch Cavanough, dead? Was that even possible? Who was the lucky bastard that won that kill shot?
Mik had salivated over that fantasy for a few years before he gave up hope of ever laying eyes on the powerful vampire.
“Details of his demise are unknown. There is also speculation about who has taken over the empire. I have men working to locate legal documents that may point to the new reigning coven leader and what that means for us.” Jude opened the portfolio and rummaged through some of the papers. “There has been increased activity between Beauty and Beast, leading me to believe that the alliance between the vampire community and the shifter community has strengthened. Or, shit’s about to go down. Which brings me to why I’ve called this meeting.”
Jude spread a few sheets out in front of him. Mik tried to get a peek at what those papers exposed, but failed.
“My scouts have been following strange deaths hitting a small town in rural Pennsylvania, not far from the New Jersey border and not far from our headquarters.” Jude waved his hand once. Gabe flic
ked a few more screens to photographs of corpses. Each victim looked as if an animal attacked them. More specifically, their throats. Two of the victims lost their heads to the severity of the mauling. Mik swallowed a fury-induced lump from his throat. His fingers curled into his palms.
Another spring evening like many before. The sun had set, and the sky was quickly fading from light blue to navy. He cheered on his two older brothers as they dueled in a mock battle that turned into a battle to survive.
The burn in his chest triggered him to take a breath. Weakness spread throughout his body. Jude’s voice filtered back into his head, and he refocused his attention on the screens.
“…police involvement. Although the men I have in the station are providing information to me, it’s limited. Only the top detectives are working this case in an attempt to keep details from leaking to media. I’ve learned through one officer that a utility worker stumbled across an area in the woods a few miles from the town where animal carcasses appear to be stockpiled.”
Jude motioned to the large screen with the red markers.
“These are the locations of the carcasses.”
“Vampires or shifters?” Kelvin asked.
“Neither,” Mik answered, drawing a dozen sets of eyes to him. He peeled his attention from the victims and turned to Jude. “Lamabra.”
The silence in the room weighed more than a hundred-pound weight crashing against his shoulders. The air grew thick with tension. Mik knew the last thing the guys wanted to hear was that they’d be hunting rabid vampire half-breeds. Lamabra were without conscience and, well, fucking nuts. The only way to put one down was a big ass explosive bullet between their eyes. If that didn’t blow its head to pieces, decapitation came next.