by Ever Coming
Fallen
A Blood Courtesans Novella
Ever Coming
Michelle Fox
Contents
Synopsis
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
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Ever Coming
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Likenesses to any people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please do so through your retailer’s “lend” function. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text not covered by fair use, please contact the author at [email protected].
Needed, A Blood Courtesans Novella. Copyright 2016, Ever Coming and Michelle Fox incorporating the world created in the publication Blood Struck (c) 2013 by Michelle Fox under the brand “Blood Courtesan,” republished as Reborn in 2016 and used under license.
Cover Design by Monica La Porta
Fallen
Prominent Family – Check
College Education – Check
A Cushy Trust Fund Waiting for Me – Check
Perfect life – Not Even Close
To the outside, I grew up in the perfect family and was poised for an even more amazing life. It was all a lie. Between my abusive father, his cult-like church, and one horrible, fateful night, my existence was far from perfect. Then it got worse.
I’m on the run with my sweet baby girl at my side. I’d give anything to make her safe, including my blood.
If all goes well, I’ll be a Blood Courtesan by nightfall. I’ll sell my only asset to the highest bidder and hope to earn enough to stay one step ahead of my past and keep Daisy safe. I will be a blood whore.
Enter the world of the Blood Courtesans, where money flows only as freely as the blood.
1
Now Hiring: Looking for a select few discreet women and men of all ages with good health, willing to work flexible hours, and—
“Mama, Mama, more bubbah, more bubbah.” Daisy’s sweet voice pulled me from the wretched paper I had spent the last hour staring at in the hope that an actual job lead would miraculously appear. It wouldn’t, though; it never did. The only “maybe” today sounded far from legal. Not that legality mattered much anymore. Technically, I was breaking the law every moment of the day.
My college degree was useless now that I had both a fake ID and social security number. All hopes of getting a decent paying job in my field flitted away the moment that Matt discovered the truth and I went on the run. This was not the life I wanted for my sweet little angel. Not. At. All.
I look down to see Daisy’s beautiful eyes staring up at me, her sippy cup in hand. My heart broke all over again as the reality that was becoming her childhood slammed into me once more. Moving from place to place, calling her Rose instead of her given name while living paycheck to paycheck wasn’t what I envisioned for my family growing up. White picket fence, handsome husband, and a minivan—that was the stuff I had dreamed of.
“After dinner, my little rose bud.” I couldn’t bear to actually call her Rose, an homage to her true name, my favorite flower. “It’ll spoil your dinner.” I wasn’t actually lying to her. It would, but that wasn’t the reason why I denied my little flower her milk. A quick calculation told me that if she had more now and more before bed then we would run out by morning, and in this neighborhood, getting milk after dark was less than prudent. Not that daylight was any better, but it gave the feeling of being safer, which worked for me.
“Okay, Mama.” Daisy handed me her cup before attempting to climb up onto my lap. I gave up trying to help her in this endeavor since she reached the “I do it” stage and watched her determination as she made it to her perch. “Mama colorin?”
She pointed the plethora of X’s and scribbles across the wanted section. I learned early on that if a company advertised in an actual printed paper, they needed employees badly, and that was the kind of job I needed. If the company could post on their social media they were hiring and get five hundred applications in that hour, my chances were slim to none, especially now that I had no resume to pass their way.
“I was, yes.” No use explaining to my almost three-year-old that the waitressing gig I currently held was about to end, thanks to the owners’ daughter coming back home from goodness knows where and needing a job. Not that I blamed them. Family comes first. Always. Or at least it should. But that was neither here nor there at this point because I still needed a job pretty darn quickly.
“Missed a spot.” Her little fingers pointed to the ad that caught my eye earlier, the sole job worth even researching. Did I miss a spot? Was this another dead end? I prayed not, because other than a strip club, which would probably laugh at me walking in there with my double digit clothing size and five-foot-four in heels height, there was nothing left to apply for.
“I left that open on purpose. I think it could mean better work for Mama.” I kissed the top of her head as I hugged her. She might be the catalyst for how I ended up in this predicament, but I wouldn’t trade one moment with her to make things go back to the way they were. Not one.
“I still go to Miss Martha papartment?”
Miss Martha, the elderly next door neighbor, was most assuredly sent from my fairy god mother. She befriended us the day we moved in, and like us, she was in a financial bind. Her social security payments barely covered her rent and utilities, her savings long gone. I gave her about a third of my take home pay and she hung out with Daisy while I worked.
It was good for both of them. Partially because of the money we pay her, but mostly because Daisy lit up her day and Martha was the family Daisy never got to have. I wished I could pay her more, but as it was, I paid her more than I could actually afford. If it weren’t for the free meals at the diner during my shifts, we would have been up a creek. No paddle.
“Of course,” I say with hope. I never asked Martha if nights were a doable thing, and flexible hours meant nights. I would cross that bridge when I got to it. For now, I needed to get the job, or any job.
“Good. I like Miss Martha.”
“I do too, little rose bud. I do too.” I picked her up and slid out from the chair before placing her back in the seat and grabbing the paper. “Want to color while Mama makes dinner?”
“Yes, Mama.”
Reaching behind me, I opened the junk drawer, which had become more of a Daisy drawer, grabbed a coloring book and handed it to her before searching for the remnants of her box of crayons. I made a mental note to pick up some more next time I passed the dollar store.
“I want purple.”
I searched and searched before finding victory in a tiny purple nub. Handing it to her, I placed the newspaper on the counter and began to prepare our gourmet meal of spaghetti and jarred sauce, our staple lately. Thankfully Daisy loved it and didn’t figure out it was all Mama could afford. I knew that day would come, but for now I was content to let her think that we were eating like kings, living in a grand “papartment
,” and safe.
I only wish any one of those were true. Especially safe. What I would do to finally make my dear sweet baby girl safe.
2
Deep breath in. Deep breath out. I could do this. I had to. Daisy counted on me.
Looking in the mirror, I hoped that I looked good enough. My old life had taught me all the tricks of how to make plain look good. My hair bounced off my shoulders in loose curls that hid far too much time between salon visits. My makeup was understated, yet held a hint of mystery around the eyes, and I wore a skirt that hugged my curves while giving a bit of twirl if I moved just so. It was one of Martha’s that she’d held onto from ”back in the day,” and since vintage was in, I hoped it would look intentional instead of the “too poor for good clothing” look my blouse shouted, especially if they noticed the one button didn’t quite match the others. It was a discount store clearance and the best I could do on short notice.
Investigating the job online filled me with both hope and horror. The job was legit. Scary as heck and possibly less than moral, but legit. But let’s face it, letting a stranger, or even a friend for that matter, sink their teeth into you before drinking your bodily fluids is creepy, gross, and terrifying.
The money though. Oh, the money. It would be enough for me to get an apartment on the good side of town and actually pay Martha a decent rate. Was it worth selling myself for those ends? At first the answer had been an adamant “Heck to the no,” and then I checked on dear, sweet Daisy while she slept and saw her little angel face all content and innocent, and the answer was clear. I had to do this. I had to try.
“You look amazing.” Martha startled me. I was in her apartment since she had a full-length mirror on her closet door. I only had the brackets for one gone long before I got our place.
“Thanks, Martha.”
Her beaming smile greeted me. “I’m glad I saved that silly skirt. I just couldn’t let it go. It was the first one I bought at an actual store with money I earned.”
“I can’t thank you enough.” I walked over and hugged the woman. This was not a piece of clothing, it was a memory. Martha never shared much about her past, but I knew her husband died young at a work accident before people actually got settlements for bullshit like that and she never remarried. I think that’s why she connected with Daisy so well. Martha never had children of her own, and Daisy loved her like family.
“Just go get that job. I know you’re hesitant, but it really is no big deal. Goodness, if I were forty years younger, I might give it a go. I was quite the looker in my day.”
I hugged her tightly, letting her words strengthen me. I pushed down the self-doubt in me that was started to sprout again. I could do this.
“I needed to hear that. It’s so outside … just it’s not what I had envisioned for my life.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s not exactly what your life needs, Paige.” Listening to my fake name rolling off her tongue set my guilt running high. Martha didn’t deserve my deception. No one did, but it was safest for everyone if no one knew the truth. Paige was my middle name once upon a time, and far from a good alias, but I needed something I could respond to automatically. No one would ever describe me as a good actress.
“From your lips, Martha. I’ll hurry back as quickly as possible. I brought over some sandwiches for you guys and left them on the counter. She should be fine with her coloring book and the new crayons I bought.”
“Stop your fretting. All will be good and take your time.” Martha gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before practically pushing me toward the door. “I heard about this place. If you do well, you might start as early as tonight with your training. If so, I’ll just make up the couch for her. No need to fuss or worry.”
“I’ll call you if I’m running late.” My throw away phone was not good at holding a charge, but it was currently on one hundred percent, and if all went well it would last for at least three hours if not used. I hoped that I was telling her the truth when I told her I’d call. This whole selling my body thing was wearing on me and had my head in a tizzy.
“How about this, just call if you are going to be later than eight am?”
I went to reply and she shook her head at me and gave me what I’d come to know as her “don’t you even” eye. She probably saw I was inwardly battling and was giving me an out. The woman pretty much never missed a thing. “I’d hate for the phone to wake her up.”
“You’re too good to me, Martha.” I checked my purse to make sure I had my documents, my phone, charger, and a few bucks for the cab ride home. I could take the bus there, but the evening interview meant there was a very real possibility that I would miss the last bus back. The city had a lot of great things to offer, but a decent bus system wasn’t one of them.
“You need someone who is good to you.” Martha squeezed my arm like the little old ladies in my old church back home always did. They must teach that in the “you just turned seventy” class I was sure they all took. As a kid, I convinced myself it had to be a thing. I logicked that without the class they wouldn’t know about smelly perfume, silly eye shadow, and arm squeezing. “Don’t think I don’t know you’re running from something. Not my business what for. We all have our secrets.”
Martha had hinted that she knew more than I told more than once. This, however, was the first time she outwardly said so. Probably for the best since I already trusted her. Had she said it so boldly even a month ago, I would have hightailed it to the next city without a second thought. Now, it oddly made me feel safer. Not safe enough to tell her everything, but safe enough to know she’d protect Daisy, Rose, if anyone strange came snooping around.
As if answering my unspoken question, Martha added, “I’m an old lady and have been around the block a few times.” That I didn’t doubt. She never said much about the things most people chatted about with strangers or new friends. I only recently even heard of her husband’s name. Goodness, I don’t even know what kind of work he did much less the accident it involved. I guess we both had our share of secrets.
“It’s best if you—”
“Shhh, dear. I told you it’s not any of my business. You and me and that dear sweet girl of yours are as close to family as I’ve had since my Martin died. The day we met was the day sunshine came back into my life, so just go get that job and I’ll make sure everything else is the way it should be.”
I fought back the tears, her words pummeling my heart. She was like the grandmother Daisy never had and the mother I wished I had. If I thought telling her about Matt would be safe, I would’ve told her right then, but it wouldn’t be. Matt was a crazy, narcissistic megalomaniac on the power hunt of a lifetime, and nothing, not me, not his child, and certainly not a little old lady with no family was going to get in his way. He’d made that abundantly clear the day he tried to murder me.
3
I was out of my element. The address they gave when I made my appointment sounded like the industrial part of town. As the bus got closer and closer I saw how incredibly wrong I was. We were entering Old Town, which was a roundabout way of saying, the part of town where the money used to be and where money was now coming back.
The beautiful architecture of the building in front of me was a cross between Art Deco and the sleek modern designs of new construction. I imagined they tried to restore what they could, but it was just too far gone so they created the mish mash of awesome that was before me. Sucking in three deep breaths and counting to ten, I readied myself for the task at hand.
From what I could find out, I’d be paid a ton to allow vampires to drink from me. Being a blood courtesan was blood for money. Done. Sex wasn’t involved, necessarily. That was the part that was sketchy. Every person sharing their tale included sex, but the website said under no circumstances would there be an exchange of money for sex.
I hoped beyond hope the website was correct. I’d had sex exactly one time and it wasn’t by choice. I’d ended up with my beautiful Daisy, and I can never sa
y I wished it hadn’t happened because that would be like saying I wished I never had her. She was my world and I was glad for her. I did, however, wish the circumstances surrounding her conception were beyond different. I only hoped she never had to learn the truth.
The door popped open in front of me and I stumbled backward. Out came a young woman, dressed to the nines. Her dress had to cost more than my rent, but that wasn’t what caught my attention. It was the scowl on her face. She was livid.
“Don’t bother going in there. Madame Victoria is a freaking snobby bitch.” The woman, visibly shaking with anger, stomped down the stairs. “Seriously, don’t bother. She said I didn’t have the look, and no offense, but you look like shit next to me.”
She stormed off, my stomach responding with knots and my panic flowing through my veins. The woman was gorgeous and the dress was something I would have dreamed about wearing in my old life, but that didn’t hit me as much as the “look like shit” comment.
The door opened again and a little older gentleman wearing a suit stuck his head out. “Well, are you coming in?”
“I guess so.” Honestly, if he hadn’t opened the door, I probably would have hightailed it out of there. My nerves were shot by the weird interaction.
“Is she good and gone?”
“Yeah, she stomped down the street pretty quickly for someone in heels that high.”
That must have been what he wanted to hear because he pushed the door open wide and stepped out, using his body to keep it propped open.
“She was an ugly, ugly woman.” He mumbled more to himself than to me. Whatever went down in there must have been intense the way he was going on.
“I thought she had a nice look.” I couldn’t place why I was defending her just then. I didn’t know the woman and in less than a minute she managed to pop the bubble of self-confidence I had worked so hard at bolstering up all day.
