by Chloe Adler
Radiant Light
Tales from the Edge - Book 2
Chloe Adler
Contents
Copyright
Signum
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
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
About the Author
Also by Chloe Adler
Author Musings
Copyright
Radiant Light by Chloe Adler
Book 2 - Tales From the Edge
Copyright © 2018 by Signum Publishing
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Criminal copyright infringement including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
ISBN: 978-1-947156-06-7
© 2017 Cover Art by Cora Graphics
Editor: Elizabeth Nover - Razor Sharp Editing
Dear Edgy Signum,
This is book 2 in the series - Tales From the Edge. It's the continuing journey of Iphigenia and her Reverse Harem, following romance expectations.
If you’d rather read stand-alone’s - please check out my other series - Love on the Edge where each book follows a different “couple” with no cliffhangers.
This book follows Iphigenia Holt - the youngest of the witchy sisters. The love scenes do scorch and are appropriate for ages 18 and above.
Please sign up for my newsletter, The Edge - to receive free and sale books, promos and author musings.
And now… let the show begin!!!
High Flyin' ~ Chloe
“Nothing can dim the light that shines from within.”
– Maya Angelou
Chapter One
Iphigenia
Dominic stares at me spread eagle on the couch, his brother Caspian and his cousin Rhys firmly attached to my body. My lungs are still laboring to catch my breath after a spectacular orgasm, my heart still pounding in my chest. How can I trust my emotions right now? They’re a complete dichotomy, screaming at each other in confusion. Seeing Dom standing there in the open doorway, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, would have shamed the old Iphigenia Holt into a cave from which she’d never emerge. But to the new me, it is an unwelcome turn-on.
Even more so after I pick up on his thoughts and realize despite the jealousy and anger and hurt—it’s a turn-on for him too.
As soon as the emotion registers, it’s gone again. He whirls around, giving me his back, facing into the night. “Hey guys,” he says aloud. “Didn’t realize what I was walking into.”
What is wrong with me? Other than being an empathic witch who can sometimes read other’s thoughts, I mean. I just got nailed by two men and I want a third? Not that there’s anything wrong with that for other people. But not me. I’ve barely even been a one-man girl, let alone two or three or more.
“No worries, man,” Caspian says. “She’s decent now.”
But in this moment, there’s nothing worry-free or decent about me.
A few minutes later, the men have left me to compose myself and I’m alone again, wriggling into a dress. Three men and a dragon wait patiently for me outside. I stop to check myself in the full-length mirror on the inside of the bathroom door. They thought of everything in this tiny home, the one they’ve dubbed “the Palace” and leant to me.
I can’t stay here.
The unbidden thought is a whisper, just loud enough to be heard.
Instead, I focus on the escaped ghoul and the task at hand. We should be celebrating tonight. After all, we got Nolan back. Rhys, Nolan’s brother, had been searching for Nolan for months, ever since Nolan’s name came up in connection with some suspicious disappearances from New York City to Seattle. Can’t beat Thorn’s cop connections. Rhys, with the help of his cousins, Caspian, Dominic and Thorn, came to the Edge seeking Nolan, but Nolan found me first. The poor man was in a horrible state, feral and out of his mind . . . and turning people into ghouls with his bite. But we got him back. I got him back, thanks to an amulet I whipped up to return him to himself. Now that he’s free of the magic enslaving him, we all hoped that Nolan would have answers, but of course things didn’t turn out so easily, and now there are ghouls—ghouls Nolan turned—running around the Edge and attacking people. Finding Nolan should have been the pack’s happy ending, but instead, we’ve got more questions, more problems, more people to save.
And here I am in the thick of it, spoiling their reunion, driving a wedge into the family when they should be pulling together.
I turn quickly to the sink, splashing some cold water on my face and patting down my hair, the golden ringlets a frizzy mess. There’s no way I can hide my freshly screwed look and it doesn’t really matter anyway. They all know, except for the sleeping dragon and Nolan. Nolan—what a difficult position he’s in, basically responsible for creating the ghouls in the first place. This is not the time to primp, Iphi.
I square my shoulders, take the few steps out of the bathroom over to the front door and pull it open. “Ready. Thanks for waiting.”
Caspian and Rhys, the cousins who are so close they share everything, including me, are sitting on the porch. Their feet dangle over the side, their legs swinging together in unison, their faces unlined and eyes clear. Dominic stands as far from them as possible, leaning on the wide railing, eyes narrowed and shoulders pulled up to his ears. Thorn perches on the railing between them in his minidragon shift, still asleep. It’s been over an hour, but whatever spell Nolan cast, it’s still affecting Thorn.
The seated pair scramble to their feet while I meet Dom’s eyes. He doesn’t hide his interest in me, and even if I couldn’t read his mind, I can plainly read the feelings he wears on his face. And then, just like that, the mask moves back into place.
He scoops up Thorn and starts across the field toward Rhys’s tiny home, the Cliff, where Nolan is staying.
Caspian and Rhys quickly flank me, each one reaching for a hand, and though my body and even a large part of my mind want to comply, I need a little space.
“You guys go ahead,” I say. “I’m going to walk behind and think for a minute.”
“Is everything okay?” Rhys’s brows stiffen and Caspian sucks in a breath.
“Yes, more than okay.” I stand on my tip-toes and kiss each one on the mouth.
Caspian nods and pulls Rhys forward. I follow several paces behind but Dominic stops and turns around to wait for us. When I pass him, without a word, he takes up position behind me as though he’s my bodyguard. A light breeze blows across the meadow. We’re only a mile or two from the ocean but being situated on a hill, it blows more here than it does down at my mother’s house.
Rhys arrives at his house first and waits for the rest of us to catch up before flinging open the door. Nolan sits at the kitchen table, slowly gnashing his fangs. He looks as unwell as he did before I placed the amulet on him. Poor Nolan has spent the last several months in servitude to some kind of monster, a puppet master of unknown origin who’s been pulling his strings. Somehow he transformed their packmate into a ghoul-making machine but no one knows why.
“Nolan?” Rhys says.
The vampire lifts his head, baring yellowed fangs tinged with blood, and I gasp. The amulet I made him, his protection from the evil, is gone, no longer snug around his neck. The transformation back to a conscienceless killing machine is complete.
I grab his arm without thinking, without concern for myself. “Where’s your amulet?”
“Master takes your girl for his bride,” Nolan wheezes, lunging for me.
I scream and scream and scream.
Dominic
“Get her off him!” My own scream dies as Rhys jumps at his brother, aiming for his throat, but Iphigenia dangles precariously in his claws, which are wrapped firmly around both of her arms.
“Careful.” Caspian’s voice exhibits the calm that I should have right now. But at this point all I want to do is tear Nolan’s head off. Me, the man who does anything to keep from fighting. The one who talks everyone down. But he’s got our girl.
“Nolan.” I bark his name through clenched teeth.
Those rabid eyes turn to me before shifting to Rhys and then back to Iphi.
“Nolan.” Iphi’s voice is so small, fear pouring off of her. “Please, Nolan, let me go. We’re friends. We can work this out.”
He shakes his head slowly, deliberately, and his eyes shift like a shutter covering a camera lens, then open up again. His master is looking out now. There’s nothing anyone can do to bring him back.
Without waiting for my brothers I leap onto his back and wrap my arm around his neck, cranking it backward with more force than I knew I was capable of. Guess those years letting Rhys train me in jiujitsu weren’t a bad idea after all. Gone is the man who abhors violence, a near pacifist. It’s like all those years reining in my caveman and learning how to combat conflict with talk and understanding and mindfulness have simply never happened.
Iphi falls from his grasp and Caspian catches her before she hits the floor. Rhys is in front of Nolan, punching him in the face over and over. I understand his reaction. He was always a battering ram, especially if Thorn was incapacitated. Old habits don’t die; they just punch new ones into bloody pieces.
“Stop, Rhys!” Iphi cries out from Caspian’s grasp, turning her face into his shoulder to hide from the gore. The violence. “Please.” Her voice is soggy and soft, hinting at tears.
Rhys ignores her and keeps hitting his brother. Our packmate.
“Thorn.” Iphi’s voice takes on an almost otherworldly tone, deep and strong, like it’s a tide of will that carries all in its wake. And the sleeping dragon awakens.
How did she do that with just her voice? Did she do that with just her voice?
“Stop him,” she hisses and the dragon takes flight. Iphi goes limp in Caspian’s arms, then rigid, her eyes softening as if her gaze has turned inward. Or, my psychologist brain screams, as if she’s disassociating.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. It takes three wing beats for Thorn to cross over to our packmate and rain down a torrent of fire. A direct hit to Rhys’s face. He puts his arm up to block and the fire scrubs over that too. His mouth is open but he doesn’t scream.
Instead, Iphi does. “Nooooo, I’m so sorry. That’s not what I meant.”
Caspian’s hands are full of Iphigenia, who clutches at him like he’s a raft and she’s been lost at sea for days. Her blue eyes are squeezed shut, those beautiful features twisted into a grimace, before she buries her head in Caspian’s chest once again.
My turn.
“Thorn, down boy.” I use the voice I reserve for panicking clients—deep, clear and commanding. It works. The dragon backs away, coming to a hover near the ceiling.
Rhys returns to Nolan, fangs bared, and I launch myself over him, covering Nolan’s body with mine. It’s a stupid move but it’s instinctive. I forget Nolan is a ghoul, hell-bent on destruction, not acting out of free will. Did I do it in hopes of winning Iphi’s favor or because she has already won mine?
Rhys’s fists still bludgeon, except now I’m the target, having laid myself over his brother, who writhes beneath me. The pounding continues, a few more punches, and I roll off Nolan, sprawling next to him. Rhys has broken my nose. Again.
Iphi tears herself away from Caspian and crouches next to me. “Dom, are you all right? I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. Dom, please . . . say something.”
I don’t understand why she sounds so frantic. Of course I’m fine. I try to speak, to tell her so, but I can’t. I gasp and gurgle instead, my mouth filling with liquid. Iphi starts to blur but she wraps her arm around my head, lifting me up, and the liquid pours down my T-shirt. Blood, dark and hot.
Nolan groans, no doubt smelling the blood, and tries to claw his way over to me and Iphi. Caspian lunges at him, grabbing his legs. Rhys holds his waist but his eyes are locked on my freshly painted tee and he licks his lips. Shit. Bleeding in front of two vampires, one rabid, is not ideal in the least.
“Caspian, stop them!” Iphi cries, her voice an anguished shriek as Rhys lets go of Nolan and leaps at me. Too late. Nolan kicks Caspian in the face and bolts for the door a moment before Rhys has me pinned to the ground, digging his fangs into the tender flesh of my neck.
Chapter Two
Iphigenia
Caspian and I carry Dominic back to his log cabin. We basically drag him through the center of the Grove, Caspian taking more of his weight. Why did I call for Thorn, make him hurt Rhys? And then, oh gods, Rhys hurt Dom. Am I that out of touch? That out of control?
“Why did Rhys attack Dom?” My voice is strained with tears, and I do nothing to hide it. But I know perfectly well why Rhys attacked him. My emotions are getting the best of me because seeing Dom like this physically jabs at my heart like tiny nicks opening up a thousand tiny wounds.
Dom’s head lolls from his neck and if I were stronger, I probably would have punched Rhys back for beating up on all of his brothers, but violence begets violence and all that.
“I don’t think he’s eaten in over a week and—”
I gasp. “He hasn’t?” My heart jumps a little in my chest, like a short fall on the fabric. Why would he starve himself like this?
But with a sinking sensation, I know the answer before the question is fully formed. A vampire drinking from a donor is beyond intimate. He must be starving himself for me. My chest constricts and bile rises in my throat. I don’t want him to drink from anyone else, but then I have only myself to blame for his sudden attack on his brother.
I never asked him outright not to drink from anyone, but before we fell in love he had weekly donors. And now he doesn’t, so there’s no question he’s done it for me. I make a mental note to talk to my sister Chrysothemis and ask her how she handles it when her beloved, Rhys’s half-brother Carter, drinks from people other than her. If she can handle it, maybe I can too. But the thought of him licking and sucking on another girl’s neck sends more bile flooding my throat.
“I think he wanted to hold out for you but didn’t know how to broach the subject,” Caspian says, shifting Dom’s weight over on
to his shoulder.
There it is. It’s both what I want and what I should never ask or expect from him. Holy Goddess. This was all my fault. Truly. I don’t even have ignorance for a defense. Having Burgundy in my life for so long, I understand the needs of a vampire.
Poor Rhys, he couldn’t control himself and whose fault was that? Mine. Punching Nolan was his protective urge toward me rearing its head. Punching Dom was a reaction to Thorn burning him, which I set in motion. And then Rhys, out of his mind with hunger and violence, lost it. And I felt every agonizing moment of his rage like it was my own. The sensation clawed at me like an abandoned baby bird, starving in the nest. He couldn’t control his hunger, his inner animal, his basic biological needs.
I have buried my secret for so long, I don’t know how to dig it up. And now it’s worse, morphing into something bigger. Worse than feeling what others do. Worse than stripping minds of their privacy. So much worse. I’ve become just as evil as the puppet master who controls Nolan. But how? Is it because I’m so connected to the men? This is new territory and I hate it. If any of them find out, they’ll abandon me. It wouldn’t be the first time. And I can’t blame them. I would, too, if a freak like me could crawl into my very mind and take control.
