FORBIDDEN
DARKNESS
Immortal Desire Series
BOOK 1
SCARLETT WEST
FORBIDDEN DARKNESS
Copyright © 2018 by Scarlett West
All Rights Reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
scarlettwestwrites.com
Cover Design by Melody Simmons
Formatted by The Book Khaleesi
Table of Contents
Other Titles by Scarlett West
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
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Dedicated to my Omi, who could not live in her country, Latvia, but always carried it in her heart.
And to my parents and siblings, who have always supported and inspired me.
Thank you forever.
Other Titles by Scarlett West
Entangled Darkness
(Prequel Novella)
Darkness Born
(Book 1.5)
THE IMMORTAL DESIRE SERIES
~ * ~
Surrender to the temptations of the night…
Two vampire houses at war. Dark alliances forged between enemies. And sexy vampire bachelors who love pleasing their mates. Enter the Immortal Desire universe, where hunky heroes and powerful heroines must make deadly decisions between saving their covens or romancing their mates. Steamy and thrilling, more than just lives are at stake in this paranormal world of romance and danger…
Each book is a full-length standalone novel connected to the series, all with HEA endings.
Chapter 1
Reinis palmed the nude woman’s forehead and rushed her into sleep. Agitated from blood thirst, he leaned close with extended incisors and grazed soft flesh. Her throbbing vein tempted his urge to feed, an act that violated duty protocols. Besides, the job was finished, and he hated staying longer than necessary. He shrank his fangs back as her bare breasts rose and fell. Duty gnawed on Reinis like a dog demolishing a bone but there was no end to his obligation in sight.
He covered the woman with a light blanket and drummed his fingers on his chest. No time to shower. With a deep growl he dressed, then heaped personal items into his messenger bag. The woman would remember the encounter. But his face? A blur.
The glass elevator ride displayed a staggering view of Old Town, Riga, Latvia. Silhouettes of ancient church steeples, brick buildings, and bridges spanning the Daugava River stood stark against the night sky. He stepped off the elevator and found Ako in the lobby.
“Let’s get out of here. I need a drink,” Reinis grumbled.
“Didn’t enjoy it?” Ako chuckled.
“Not in the slightest. Wish I could get drunk to forget.” They climbed into his black Audi. “What the hell’s so great about duty?”
Ako turned up the radio with a grin. “What’s not to like? A different woman night after night. Every male’s dream.”
“Guess I’m not every male.” He flicked off the music and drove through the capital to meet Velta at the dance club, Pulkvedim Neviens Neraksta—No One Writes the Colonel. He should look forward to a night out on the town, but he didn’t. Though the city was ancient and romantic, he preferred his village’s green countryside. Riga was overrun with vampires he preferred not to see. He came here to complete tasks. Period.
They grabbed a table in the crowded disco and he ordered a whiskey on the rocks. He checked his cell phone and tapped it against the table. Velta hadn’t called. Though they both disliked humans, nightlife had a special draw for her. If only she would hurry the hell up and arrive so he could split. Several women eyed him but he shifted his glance away.
“You need to relax, unwind, enjoy these ladies. Unless you're ready to join with a female, duty's always going to be a part of our lives. Might as well live it up before we're stuck with one female forever.” Ako slung his arm around Reinis' shoulder.
He tossed his arm away. “Lay off, Ako. You sound like an elder right now except you're a real piece of work. I never understand you. Maybe you’ll feel different later on.”
Over many centuries, wars between covens had decimated their population. As a full blood male vampire, the elders required he mate with humans. The women bestowers gifted his species with newborn children. Mind numbing and obligatory, the coven’s hierarchy decrees drove him to procreate. Survival propelled him forward on a night like this when he craved isolation.
“Not likely, but I’ll let you know. Let’s get another drink. My treat.” Ako beckoned the waitress over for another round.
Reinis rolled his eyes. “Great.” One of the twins strolled into the club, narrowing her eyes at him as she passed them. “I needed her appearance like a damn hole in my head.”
She perched on a bar stool and flicked a blonde strand off her shoulder. Which one of the pair was she? Witch or bitch? Their motto was “Trap and Torture,” after what they liked to do to their victims, human or vampire. He hadn't seen either of them in a long time and couldn't remember their names.
“Never mind. Guess that's my cue to roll.” Ako slammed the rest of his drink down and stepped off his chair.
“Come on. Stick around. The fun's about to start.” Reinis clapped his hand down on Ako’s shoulder and nudged his chin in the direction of his cousin who searched the room like she waited for someone.
Ako shook his head. “I've got your back in every way, except this. If I stay and she makes a move, I'll be too tempted to jump in.”
Reinis understood. Ako’s coven wasn't involved in the 500 year dispute and he wasn't authorized to drag them into the fight. “Catch you later, Ako.” He fist bumped him then returned to his drink. Oh yeah. He’d emptied the glass. He gestured to the waitress for a refill. That twin had stepped down from her stool. How did he lose sight of her? The hair on the back of his neck became taunt.
“Stay out of my territory, Reinis.” A sharp hiss filled his ear.
&nb
sp; “If we weren’t in a public place, I’d throttle you against the wall. And guess what, I already mated with a bestower your House hunted. So good luck with your territory.”
“We’re saving the best for last.” She strode away in her stiletto boots. He was sure she’d crushed someone’s throat with those at one point.
What he said was true but the sad part was, he didn’t really care either way. He kept up the front for his coven. With a refilled glass, he sipped his drink behind the whirling throng. So many women. Night after night, he seduced one bestower after the next, hunting them at the peak of ovulation. He wished to avoid females of any species for the rest of his life, to flee, but no hiding place from the elders and their decrees existed.
As he scanned the crowd, a rush of loneliness pierced him. Not the kind that made him long to be with someone. Rather, a frigid isolation that incited him to detach from everyone and everything he knew. Life was an empty routine—mechanical, repetitive, and devoid of emotion.
Keeping it scientific, Reinis received an assignment, met the target, had sex, distanced himself, and forgot the encounter. Monotonous. Besides, even if it weren't an automatic discipline, he never wanted a heartmate, especially not a human. It was just as well another decree dictated no pairing with humans for life. Apart from duty, he kept away, as if the women carried the bubonic plague.
~ * ~
Upstairs in their Riga apartment, Sarma sat on a chair in front of the bedroom mirror. Makeup spread on a small table, she readied to go clubbing for the evening. It was her first vacation in her parents’ homeland. Her cousin, Marita, rented the flat from family friends and offered to showcase the country at the height of summer. Sarma yawned. Tired from jet-lag, she didn’t want to go out. But Marita hadn’t been to Latvia in several years, so Sarma agreed.
Although Sarma’s mind crawled into bed, she slipped into the sexy black number and heels she’d snuck into her suitcase. She checked her makeup. Black eyeliner emphasized her chocolate-brown eyes. Her straight, chestnut hair highlighted her creamy complexion. Her ex-boyfriend wouldn’t approve of them hitting the nightclubs—especially in the outfit she chose to wear. Derek was against the trip. He had always told her what to do. If he had valid reasons, she might care to listen, but his ideas rang like excuses to control her, not like he looked out for her well-being.
“You about ready?” Marita called from the bathroom.
“Almost,” Sarma answered. She peered out the window and counted the hours back as she dialed Derek’s number. The view of summer was magical this far north, but she wasn't used to it. Already 9:00 pm, the sun shone as if 6:00 in the evening. At midnight, the sky’s color resembled a dark, foggy day.
Derek’s phone rang and rang. He didn't pick up at the house or on his cell phone. Probably at work. Though Sarma broke up with him before leaving, she couldn’t help wanting him to know they’d arrived okay. It was only right. Besides her mom, he was the only other person who knew they made the trip.
“He's always busy,” Marita quipped, ducking into the room.
“It's fine. He has stuff to do.” Sarma took a last glimpse at herself in the mirror and appraised herself from the side. Her round butt made up for her small, perky breasts. The dress, which accentuated her backside and long legs, made her feel sexy.
“Too busy to answer a call from you?”
Sarma shrugged. It was true but she hadn’t told Marita they’d split up.
“You’re dangerous in those heels. Derek would be pissed if he knew you were going out in that dress.” Marita flicked her eyebrows up and down. Her full cleavage peeked out of a plunging forest-green top.
“Yeah, yeah,” Sarma replied. “But he doesn’t, does he?”
“Ready?” Marita grabbed a jacket.
“Let’s do this,” Sarma said, trying to muster up some enthusiasm.
They stepped into the brisk evening and headed to Old Riga, an area Sarma hadn't seen yet. She yawned again and shook her head to wake up.
Throughout Sarma’s life, her mother, Gunita, had tried to convince her not to visit Latvia. Even as recently as a few days ago, when Derek brought Sarma a bouquet of roses, Gunita had thrown a fit.
“A dozen roses?” Gunita gasped. “Even numbers are for funerals only. For the dead. You know this. It’s bad luck. Do you want to send Sarma to the grave? What if something happens to her now?”
Derek chuckled. “Really, Gunita?
“You laugh, but you’ve placed a dark omen on this trip.” She turned to Sarma. “Please. Please, for your mother’s sake, I beg you don’t go.”
Sarma had taken Derek aside so Gunita couldn’t hear. “This trip has been planned for several years, but my mother is right, the roses were a bad sign. I’ve been wanting to say this for a while, but we can’t be together anymore. I’m breaking up with you.”
Of course she didn’t really believe in her mother’s superstitions, but things with Derek had added up over time and she didn’t want to think about splitting up with him during the entire trip. She would have thought about the pending news everyday instead of enjoying herself. The annoying thing was they’d have to live together when she got back. Good thing he’d agreed to stay friends. Derek had never expected it and she didn’t want to hurt him, even if she had strong suspicions he had cheated on her. Prolonging things would only make everything worse, especially after he hinted he wanted to propose.
Heading down Brivibas Boulevard, Sarma admired the Freedom Monument—a womanly figure whose arms extended to the sky. Three stars, in the shape of a triangle, hovered in her upturned hands. To one side of the statue, an elegant, older woman sat on a wooden bench. As they passed, she glared at Sarma and muttered something in Latvian.
“Geez, did you hear that woman’s tone?” Sarma asked. “What did she say?” She didn’t speak Latvian.
“Who cares? She’s talking to herself,” Marita replied.
“No, she looked straight at me when she said it. C’mon tell me.”
“Something like ‘watch for two that look like one.’” Marita shrugged.
“Weird. What could that mean?” Sarma frowned.
“Don’t know. Maybe she’s nuts—talking to herself and shit.”
“Maybe.” Gunita's warning echoed in her ears. Don’t go to Latvia. Nothing good will come of it. Determined not to allow her mother’s fears to ruin her trip, Sarma shook her head and brushed the thought away
Sarma and Marita strolled into Old City through narrow, cobblestone streets lined with medieval stone and brick buildings, bars, and restaurants. Few cars drove through the throngs of people heading off to dance or dine.
First stop, a thumping club with techno and top hits blaring through the speakers. They pushed their way through the quaking crowd to the bar and ordered vodkas. Sarma sucked hers down, shuddering at the burn in her throat. Marita ordered another.
At the end of the bar, twin blond women eyed them. They would have blended in if they weren’t staring so intently. When Sarma glanced at them, one woman frowned and narrowed her eyes then turned toward the other twin.
“Let’s dance.” Marita grabbed Sarma’s arm, and they hit the floor. The crowded dance floor bumped with bodies. Sarma noticed the twins mixed in with the mass of people.
After a few hours, Marita recommended another hot spot on her list. Outside the stuffy club, the night air cooled her. Amid a street full of partygoers, Sarma’s high heels clicked down the cobblestone street. She swore the twins trailed behind them. She mentioned it to Marita, but the blondes had already ducked into the crowd.
Watch for two that look like one. Did the old woman mean the twins? Sarma’s lips tightened into a grim line. Were the twins tracking them? Chills crept down her arms, as she followed Marita.
When they rounded a corner, Marita stopped at a gray, brick building. In bold letters, the words, Pulkvedim Neviens Neraksta reflected from a creaking sign that rocked on its chains above the entrance.
“One of Riga's oldest and fi
nest. Very different from the last place,” Marita announced as she shuttled Sarma inside.
Smaller and more casual than the first joint, its black-stone round bar stood between bright-colored walls. Sarma’s shoulder, already tight from an old sports injury, stiffened as the blondes entered the building after them. One of them spoke into the other twin’s ear and pointed at Sarma. When Sarma caught her, she moved her hand up, covered her mouth, and pretended to laugh. But Sarma knew what she saw. Her stomach turned sour.
The music shifted between reggae and hip-hop. She stood by the bar and ordered a Melnais Balzams while Marita drank more vodka. Covertly searching for the twins, she savored the herbal-alcohol drink that warmed her from throat to chest. She sipped the last drops, inhaled deeply, and exhaled as they entered the throng of dancing people.
With some guy at her side, one of the twins cropped up next to Sarma and Marita. The other twin still sat at the bar. Each time the blonde stole a glimpse, Sarma’s stomach tensed. Watch for two that look like one.
In the dim room, her skin tingled. Uneasy, she scanned the area, vision blurred with sweat. She blinked to clear her eyes. Neither twin paid attention to her, yet she still felt scrutinized. Sarma searched the crowd for the source.
The revolving lights lit up the nearest wall where a tall man in the shadows studied her—jaw held tight and a frown on his alabaster-hued face. Their eyes met, and his brow smoothed. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though his mouth remained straight-lined. He side-glanced at the woman next to him who had the same skin tone as his. Her wavy, raven-black hair cascaded down her tall, curvy body. They were both striking even with their simple but chic attire.
He returned his focus to Sarma. His blatant attention caused her cheeks to burn. She shifted her eyes but couldn’t help checking him out a second time. He hadn’t removed his pointed gaze. His high cheekbones and sharp jawline were peppered with short stubble. He cocked one eyebrow and ran a hand through his black, tousled hair. Dark, pressed slacks and a button-up dress shirt clung to him leaving no question he was cut. The perfect mix of classic and rugged.
Forbidden Darkness (Immortal Desire Series Book 1) Page 1
