Iniquitous: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Marked Book 3)

by Bianca Scardoni

  INIQUITOUS

  THE MARKED BOOK 3

  BIANCA SCARDONI

  Copyright © 2017 Bianca Scardoni

  All rights reserved. No part of this ebook may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without express written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in an article or book review.

  Thank you for purchasing this ebook and for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All characters and events depicted in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-0-9948651-9-9 (paperback)

  ISBN: 978-0-9948651-8-2 (kindle)

  For my son, Jaxon, on his birthday.

  As long as I’m living, my baby you will be.

  And for his daddy, Jeffrey,

  for all his dedication to us.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  PREFACE

  1. DEAD GIRLS DON’T CRY

  2. BAD COMPANY

  3. A DEADLY GAME

  4. BONDED BY BLOOD

  5. THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN

  6. TRUTH AND CONSEQUENCE

  7. EAT PRAY BLOOD

  8. PRETTY LITTLE LIAR

  9. KISS OF THE VAMPIRE

  10. SECRETS & LIES

  11. BLOOD IN, BLOOD OUT

  12. ARMING THE GIRL

  13. THE SISTERS OF RODERICK

  14. HELL IN A HANDBAG

  15. THE UPRISING

  16. BLOODY SKIES

  17. ALL ROADS LEAD HOME

  18. BADGE OF DISHONOR

  19. RUNAWAY TRAIN

  20. BREAKING THE BOY

  21. FALLING SANDCASTLES

  22. KNOCKING ON HEAVEN’S DOOR

  23. IMPLOSION

  24. A ROUND PEG IN A SQUARE HOLE

  25. HAWTHORNE

  26. VAMPIRE STATION

  27. UP IN THE AIR

  28. SIDEKICKED

  29. TALES FROM THE CRYPT

  30. DARK MATTER

  31. TRUTH BE TOLD

  32. PUSHBACK

  33. DEAD GIRL TALKING

  34. WICKED DEEDS

  35. DRIVEN UNDER

  36. THE TIES THAT BIND

  37. MOTHER’S DAY

  38. BLACKBURN FAMILY VALUES

  39. LIFE UNEXPECTED

  40. ANGEL’S PEAK

  41. BODY SNATCHERS

  42. THE BEGINNING OF THE END

  BONUS MATERIAL

  GLOSSARY

  ANAKIM INDEX

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  For there to be light,

  you must first suffer the darkness.

  PREFACE

  The end came at me jagged and skewed like puzzle pieces to a game I didn’t know I was playing. There was a distinct method to the madness, every move propagated to force my hand, to lure me out of hiding with the sweet promise of finality. I took solace in knowing that something better waited for me on the other side, something as pure and deep as the ocean itself.

  Unbeknownst to me, the battlefield had shifted from the underworld to the trenches of my heart—bending me in ways my body was not built to withstand. My enemies faces had not changed, only the masks with which they played their roles. Every step was designed to move me—to lull me towards my final hour.

  But there was no end in sight.

  No peace to be found.

  The end was only the beginning.

  1. DEAD GIRLS DON’T CRY

  The light from the torch flickered around my cell like prison guards mocking me with the freedom I no longer had. It had been days since I’d seen the outside world. Days since I’d spoken to another soul. My stomach rumbled from hunger pangs and my throat burned from dryness, from desiccation. It was the kind of thirst that split my vision in two and made things appear before my tired eyes. Things that weren’t really there, like hope and sunlight.

  And Trace.

  His beautiful face constantly flashed through my mind like tiny snapshots on a broken movie reel. I could see his iridescent eyes looking back at me through the darkness, see those dimples winking at me in perfect unison. Sometimes, if I listened close enough, I could even hear his loving whispers in my ears, telling me everything was going to be okay, even though I knew that it wasn’t. It wasn’t because I was trapped in some underground dungeon, being held against my will by a murderous Revenant who held the only key to my freedom.

  And nobody knew it but me.

  I’d paced the small cell for hours, for days, counting and recounting my steps as I waited for someone to come for me. To talk to me. To feed me. But no one did. As the days went on, the hours began to fade into each other, painful and crushing at first, and eventually numbing and hollow, until the days and nights disappeared altogether. It was as though I had been sucked into some big, black hole where time no longer existed. It was just me and my own living hell and it was being played back to me on an infinite loop. Each rotation pulling me further and further away from myself—further and further away from the fragile grasp I had on my sanity.

  I imagined the waiting was just part of their game. A way to break me down before the real torture began. Unfortunately for them, they were too late. I was already broken. Already tortured. Tortured by thoughts of the boy I loved and everyone else I’d left behind in Hollow Hills. The suffocating darkness had already descended on me and was infesting every inch of my soul as I feared never seeing him again. Nothing they could do to me would be worse than that, worse than the crippling ache that was already in my heart, killing me from the inside out.

  And so, I waited.

  Always waiting.

  My skin was still slick with sweat and dirt and dried blood from that awful night in the woods. No matter how hard I rubbed my palms against it, I couldn’t get the tragic reminder off my skin. The truth was, I still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened to me; who attacked me in the woods that night or how exactly I came back from it. I had a dozen different theories running through my head, but none of them had amounted to anything concrete.

  With my back pressed against the steel-enforced wooden door, I picked up the ruby red stone and zip-lined it across the chain that was still lassoed around my neck. The Amulet was supposed to be a protective hedge. It was supposed to keep its wearer from peril, and I’d watched it do just that that night at the church with Trace and Dominic, but it was becoming painfully obvious that it wasn’t working anymore. It was broken. That, or there was something wrong with me that was preventing it from doing what it was supposed to do.

  But then how did I come back? How was I still alive? My neck had been slit from ear to ear—bleeding me out far past the point of unconsciousness. Yet I didn’t die. I woke up.

  And now here I was.

  My eyes roamed the concrete room, still unsure of where here actually was. There were no windows or telling signs. No markings or trap doors to escape into. Just a dirty, blood-stained mattress against the stone wall, and a grimy makeshift toilet in the back corner. And I didn’t dare touch either one.

  The air was thick and damp, like being in some old, dilapidated basement on a rainy day, and there was a putrid smell stinging the inside of my nose. It smelled a lot like mildew and death, and something else. Something metallic and ominous. Dirt and decay covered the floor beneath me and dripping water fell from the ceiling like rain—pouring down on me and my tomb from an angry, vengeful heaven.

  Welcome to your final resting place, I thought to myself dryly
and then slammed my lids shut to chase away the terrifying thought.

  “You’re not going to die here, Jemma.” Trace’s deep baritone voice surrounded me like a warm, protective blanket. “You’re stronger than you think. Don't give up.”

  I shook my head and covered my ears, searching my mind for better days, better moments in time—searching it for him. A sob crept up the back of my throat, searing my insides with the unbearable agony and loss.

  No matter how hard I had tried to block him out, to push him out of my mind for my own sake, my heart wouldn’t allow me to let go of him. It held onto his memory like a saving grace, a lifeline. But I couldn’t reach out to it, I couldn’t grab a hold of it, and somehow, its lingering remnants only served to push me deeper and deeper underwater. Making it harder and harder for me to take in air.

  Tears burned under my lids as I wondered if I’d ever see him again. I wondered what he was doing…thinking…saying. Was he still looking for me? Did he think I left him by choice? Did he think I was dead? My tears immediately ceased and were quickly replaced with broiling anger as I wondered if Nikki was by his side, playing the role of the innocent as she offered herself up to him—a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold…

  God knows what else.

  Rage prickled under my skin, festering through me like a flesh-eating virus. My hands curled at my sides as I recalled the icy glare in Nikki's eyes when she handed my ass to my enemy on a silver platter. That rotten bitch had set me up. She'd made sure I saw her fluttering around the edge of the woods, knowing I would think she was trying to mess with the protective barrier. She knew I’d protect my friend. She knew I'd walk right into her trap. And I did. I followed her because, two weeks ago, the worst I'd ever expected from her was some catty high-school confrontation with her and the rest of the bitch-squad. Instead, she pulled out a ballpoint pen and signed my death certificate right in front of my nose.

  And if I ever got out of here alive, I vowed to return the favor.

  My momentary burst of vengeance-fueled energy soon tapered off into nothingness as the weight of the world sat heavy on my lids, begging me for sleep again—for reprieve, and I succumbed to the exhaustion without the faintest sign of a fight.

  In my dreams, I was always free. I was happy, and I was with him. Rays of warm sunlight poured over my body like a sweet comforting lie as his mouth found mine under the powder-blue sky of a better world. Blades of grass tickled my skin as I reached up and eagerly pulled him in closer to me. Closer, but never close enough.

  His dimples blinked at me as he moved his lips from my mouth to my ear and then down the hill of my neck. It was always heaven like this with Trace. My own piece of paradise within the burning inferno.

  He pulled away from me suddenly, propping himself up on his elbow beside me. “It’s time to wake up, Jemma.”

  “No!” I clutched his waist like a madwoman hanging on to her sanity. “Please,” I begged. “Don’t leave me again.”

  “You have to go back.”

  “I don’t want to.” I shook my head as tears began to build behind my lids, blurring away the blue sky around us. “It’s always dark there, Trace. I can’t take the darkness anymore.”

  “You have to find your way inside the light.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” I answered as tears slid down my cheeks in despair.

  His beautifully shaped lips continued to move with speech, but there wasn’t any sound now. He was slipping away from me again, going back into the light where he belonged. I wanted to be there in the light with him, but I didn’t know how to get there.

  Wake up, he mouthed and then snapped his fingers. The sound of it echoed through my head like a gunshot.

  My lids snapped open and the darkness of the dungeon quickly enveloped me once again.

  Pulling my knees up to my chest, I parted my lips and swiveled my tongue around my mouth, searching for a drop of moisture to quell the overbearing thirst. But there was none to be found. My stomach roared back at me beneath my filthy dress, urging me for nourishment—threatening me with a total system shutdown if I didn’t comply with its demands. It was turning on me too, I imagined, just like everyone else in my life.

  Click. Click. Click.

  My head shot up at the distant sound. I crawled away from my cell door and stared at it, listening more intently.

  Click. Click. Click.

  Footsteps.

  Someone was coming.

  2. BAD COMPANY

  “W-who’s there?” I called out, my voice shaky and hoarse from not being used in far too many days.

  No answer.

  More waiting.

  “I said who’s there? Answer me!”

  My demands were ignored as the steps continued to get closer at an alarming pace. I scrambled up to my feet and pushed my face up against the small peeper window, pressing my left cheek against it as I tried to steal a glimpse. A figure dressed in black emerged in the shadowy corridor, though I couldn’t make out any of his features. I quickly backed away from the door, staggering unsteadily and almost tripping over the disgusting mattress in the process.

  “Well, hello there, Princess of Darkness,” he said in a mocking tone as he approached my cell door.

  I tried to place the voice, to match it to someone’s face, but came up empty.

  “Engel’s requesting your company,” he went on as a set of keys jangled outside the wooden door.

  My heart pounded like bone drums. This is what I’d been waiting for; my one chance.

  I held my breath and listened as he turned the lock and pulled back the door in a loud, shrieking sweep. It sounded like brick and mortar being pulled in two directions. It sounded like freedom. The flickering light from the passageway illuminated my cell as the unknown man stood at the entrance. Arms by his side, feet at shoulder width. His menacing shadow casting a black cloud of panic over me.

  His pointy eyebrows pulled together. “I really suggest you don’t try any—”

  I didn’t think; I lunged at him. My feet kicked off the ground like two cannonballs, my arms extended before me, hands ready to claw and tear and maim. His own arms shot out in front of him as he tried to block the impact, but it was futile. I hit him like a ton of bricks and knocked him to the ground in a pile of tangled limbs. Like a feral animal, I straddled his torso with my legs and clawed at his face, ripping at his skin with my jagged nails as he bucked and grunted beneath me. All my pain, my sorrow, my anger, my fear—it all came raining down on him like a thunderstorm of blazing asteroids.

  I was determined to make him suffer the way I'd suffered and I wasn't going to stop for anything. No more waiting. No more crying. I was reborn inside the moment, breathing in life as I fought to take away his. And then, amid the chaos of swinging arms and flayed flesh, he pulled his arm back; his hand balled into a tight fist.

  It was the last thing I saw before he struck me with it.

  I woke up to the sound of my feet scraping against the concrete floor as two men dragged me down a narrow, barely lit passageway. My hands were tied behind my back and my vision was inky and blurring at the corners. I was already weak from days of famine, but that massive blow to my chin just accelerated my decline into uselessness.

  “Welcome back, bitch,” said the one who clocked me earlier. His hair was dark and unkempt and he had a smug grin on his face like it was something special to be able to knock out a starved, seventeen-year-old girl.

  Douchebag.

  “Where are we?” I struggled against gravity to keep my head up long enough to make out my surroundings.

  “Bag her,” said the taller one with the deep voice and the slicked-back, blond hair.

  “Wait—” A burlap sack descended over my face before I could finish the plea.

  As if I wasn’t at enough of a disadvantage.

  We walked the rest of the way in silence; or rather they walked and I got dragged along against my will. We made our way up a never-ending staircase, confirming that
I had indeed been underground. Keeping my body limber, I conserved my energy and let them do most of the heavy lifting as I tried to figure out where I’d been taken and if I’d have another chance to attempt an escape.

  “This way,” said the dark-haired one. “Engel’s expecting her in the great hall.”

  I felt my body being pulled to the right, towards the great hall. Whatever the heck that was. They dragged me along for a few more paces before coming to a full stop.

  “Stand,” ordered Deep Throat, and they yanked me up by my arms. A moment later, the burlap bag came off.

  My lids fluttered as I acclimated to the harsh light and then quickly surveyed the room, trying to take in as much of the space as possible. It was a massive rectangular room with high ceilings and arched windows lining each side. There was something very cathedral about it, almost regal. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I'd almost think we were in a castle.

  An old ass one.

  My eyes immediately fell on Engel who was seated in a red velour, high back chair with two men planking either side of him. Slightly more to the right was another man. One I recognized.

  Dominic Huntington.

  He shook his head tersely. It would have been unnoticeable had it not been for the stare-down I was giving him.

  Not trusting my eyes anymore, I blinked him in and out of sight to see if he would disappear.

  Stay calm, love. Don’t draw any attention, he said to my mind, making it feel like something was crawling through my brain. Even though he was a Revenant now, he had retained his Shifter abilities which included telepathy—his irritating ability to speak to my mind.

  “Welcome to my humble abode,” grinned Engel, his arms outstretched as though inviting me to take a look around.

  I didn’t oblige. I kept my eyes pinned on him and his oversized forehead. The only thing I was interested in doing was pouncing on him and knocking that self-satisfied grin off his face. Unfortunately, the two Rev’s death-clutch around my upper arms made that fantasy an impossible one.