Vindicta (The Liquidator Wars Book 1)

by Kindra Sowder

  With a feeling of dread in her gut, Gwenyth turned. The spectacular Hollywood-style exterior lights of the manse crisscrossed over the upper third of the impressive structure. And then in the apex of the beams of light, in the center of the third-floor balcony that opened off Brynn’s chambers, she saw it.

  It was Ryder’s head, fastened to one of the talons of the iron dragon that graced Brynn’s balcony, crouched there as a ward for the manse, a gargoyle that was coiled to attack.

  Gwenyth’s scream was cut short when Brynn, standing slightly behind her, clamped a hand still soiled by battle over her younger sister’s mouth.

  “There he is, Gwenyth darling. Your traitorous lover! And there he shall remain until the last of him is picked away by the crows. He is not so handsome or charming now, is he?

  ...And yet you let him defile you! Well I, your older sister, avenged you! He shall never brag that he was intimate with you, or that he despoiled you! Not only did I sever his head from his body, I cut out his tongue! And you are to marry Tarren to cover up your idiocy, sister. You have no choice.”

  Gwenyth began quaking. As terrible a sight as Ryder’s head was, she felt frozen in place, unable to look away. Her knees felt weak, as though they might give way at any moment.

  Brynn removed her hand from Gwenyth’s mouth, but Gwenyth, filled with a horror that placed her beyond the capacity for all speech, did not make a single sound. Brynn reached her hand in between her sister’s small breasts, noticing the chain that held what was left of Ryder besides a corpse. Her fingers entwined in the gold, and she pulled it up and out of its hiding place under Gwenyth’s dress, bringing it up into the moonlight as she came around to stand before her, rage evident in her posture. With one quick jerk, the chain snapped from around Gwenyth’s slender neck as Brynn removed it with so much force the metal rubbed painfully as her flesh.

  “This is further proof of the disgrace you have caused our house, and you will not keep it,” Brynn chided as she closed the pendant in a tight fist.

  “But, sister…”

  Instantly, Gwenyth’s cheek stung and shock ran through her. Brynn had never touched her with such force in her entire life, always coddling her because of her deformity and how others treated her. With wide eyes, she stared at her older sister who had clearly had enough of her stupidity and her betrayal.

  “That is enough, Gwen. Enough! You nearly cost all of us our lives. I am not just your sister. I am your Queen, and you will do as I say or suffer the consequences. Do you understand me?”

  Gwenyth was stunned into silence but knew better than to answer. Brynn turned on her heel at her sister’s muteness and walked back into the mansion, leaving her young sister to watch in horror.

  ***

  “I think Gwenyth got the message,” Brynn said towel drying her hair as she emerged from her steamy and grand bathroom, with its Egyptian marble tiling and extra appointments like an enormous sunken bathtub and a bidet.

  She was wearing a fluffy white robe but had left it open in the front, and Creed, who had been lounging on her bed waiting for her to emerge, looked her up and down appraisingly.

  “I think you are breathtaking, Brynn, Queen Warrior of the Electi...and sometimes a bit harsh to be honest,” he told her, though his eyes were sympathetic. He understood the weight of responsibility that had rested on Brynn’s shoulders from an early age, and he thought he understood why she had developed a well-deserved reputation for cruelty.

  She had needed that reputation to keep her enemies at bay.

  Brynn looked into his eyes for a long moment, the golden sparkles in her crimson eyes were dancing in the soft light of her chambers.

  “You don’t know my younger sister,” she told him, “It will take all that and more to convince her that she is not capable of choosing a mate wisely. Her foolishness nearly cost us everything. I had to find a way to drive that point home.

  “I know that you think I am without compassion for her youth and inexperience, but you couldn’t be more wrong Creed. She and I are very different in our ability to judge character. I had more wisdom at the age of five than she has even now. We do share the passionate natures of the Daughters of the Electi, but hers is an open, yearning heart that will only invite wolves into our fold.”

  “And?” Creed said, patting the place on the bed next to him. He was losing focus, staring at the parts of her luscious body that were revealed beyond the open robe she was half wearing, and it was distracting him to the point of torture.

  “And so I told her she is to marry Tarren, and as soon as possible.” Brynn finished, allowing the beautiful robe to drop from her shoulders onto the floor.

  She stood there, more beautiful that the neoclassical paintings of Venus that graced the walls of the foyer of the manse, resplendently voluptuous in all the places that mattered.

  “Hmmmmm,” was the only answer Creed could make as his eyes devoured her and his manhood rose to tent the towel he had casually thrown around his hips alarmingly. He reached out his arm, and she took his hand and allowed him to pull her down beside him, into the shadow of his glowing, burnished muscular body.

  He kissed her longingly and passionately, her tongue snaking in between his parted lips. A masculine and animal groan forced its way out of his chest, Brynn responding with gyrating hips as she wrapped her legs around his hips and turned him so that he rested in the cradle of her body. She gasped as she felt his arousal push into her core, opening her crimson eyes to stare into his, smirking seductively.

  “Looks like someone is happy to see me,” she said, her voice low and husky with lust.

  “Oh, I’m more than happy,” he replied as he leaned down to nuzzle into the curve of her throat, biting hard enough to make her nails dig into his back and a soft sigh to leave her. His tongue flicked out and licked her earlobe, breaths coming hard and fast as he said, “I’m going to fuck you harder than you beat me, my love.”

  She gasped playfully and pulled away to look at him. The excitement was alight in her eyes, which only excited him even more.

  “Oh, I did not beat you that hard, you buffoon,” she giggled.

  He chuckled at her.

  “That’s why I said harder.”

  “Hmmmmm, you promise?”

  With one swift motion, he removed the towel from his hips, threw it to the floor, and turned Brynn over onto her stomach. The water from her wet hair made her skin glisten seductively. He leaned down and licked up her back, tasting the sweet fragrance she used in the rivulet of water running down her elegant back. He couldn’t wait any longer to be inside of her and knew that if he continued to play the small games she seemed to enjoy he’d finish without being inside of her for even a second. With his nose buried in the nape of her neck again, he found her opening with his erection. She was soft, warm and welcoming and so wet he could slip inside so easily.

  “Always,” he whispered into her ear.

  He slammed into her, barely taking a moment to think about doing anything other than being enveloped by her, completely and utterly. She cried out in pure ecstasy and reached back to grip his backside to pull him in deeper. He moved inside of her, giving her everything he had including his mind and soul. Everything belonged to her. Anything he could give her he would.

  Pleasure rippled through them both, and he felt her shudder underneath him and around him, rocking her hips as he rocked against her. Each stroke roared through his entire body and crashed into him like a tidal wave. He reached around and took one of her beautiful breasts in his large hand, caressing her nipple until it stood erect against his palm. His teeth grazed her shoulder, and he heard her growl, deep, feral, and rumbling. It made him want to move within her even faster and even harder.

  She turned her head slightly, and her gaze met his, alight with a ferocious lust that almost caused him to lose complete control of his faculties.

  “Feed from me, Creed. Take what belongs to you,” she purred as another stroke sent a delicious wave of pleasure thro
ugh the both of them.

  She closed her eyes and her lips parted. Without a second thought, the vampire inside of him roared to the surface and he sunk his fangs into the bend of her neck, the iron tang of her sweet blood hitting his tongue. Before he knew it he was on his back, and she straddled him, her beautiful body hovered over his erection as she did so. Brynn took him into her hand and placed his head against her, lowering onto him with such slowness he greedily grabbed her hips and shoved her down onto his shaft completely.

  Once he was entirely inside of her, she moved on top of his. Her breasts were high and tight with her arousal, and she bit her full bottom lip as she moved on top of him with a continuous swivel of her hips. They both rode the high of their passion in perfect sync as their bodies drove their actions.

  He watched with fascination as her hand traveled to stroke herself. She leaned her head back and sighed as her body contracted around him, another shock of pure and animal lust shuddering through him. Her breathing quickened in step with his own, and they climbed higher and higher until they both cried out as their passion came to its peak.

  Creed filled her with his seed as her softness convulsed around him. His hands gripped her hips, and he drove himself as deep into her as he could, wanting her to have everything he could give her. She collapsed on top of him as they both breathed and attempted to catch their breaths.

  And it wasn’t until that moment that Creed felt he had found where he actually belonged.

  ***

  Alone at last in her own chambers, Gwenyth stifled her cries by burying her face into one of her immense bed pillows. It was bad enough that Brynn had beheaded the first man to ever pay attention to her. At least that was somewhat understandable if what everyone said was true, that Ryder had been headed to Crimayne to pledge loyalty to King Uictore, but the fact that she was being given to Tarren before her wounded young heart had even had a chance to heal was another matter indeed.

  It just wasn’t fair. It wasn’t her fault to be born after Brynn, but she felt that she had paid for her unfortunate position of Younger Daughter all of her life and was still paying.

  Involuntarily, her fingers traveled to the place between her young breasts where the necklace Ryder had given her had rested the past few months. Gwenyth had used it as a touchstone. Just knowing it was there reassured her that she was desirable in spite of her withered arm and that she had won the heart of at least one male entity.

  Now it was gone. Brynn had ripped it off her neck as soon as she had returned, recognizing immediately that it must have been a secret gift from her former love Ryder. When Gwenyth had protested, she had struck her across the face for the first time in both their lives, telling her that she had nearly cost them all their lives.

  And also telling her that she was to be given to Tarren, a male entity that she had grown up with. Tarren was handsome, to be sure, and had always been kind to her, treating her as a big brother would treat a little sister. But she had always known he was in love with her sister Brynn, and that knowledge alone was enough to keep her from ever developing even a schoolgirl crush on him.

  At that moment in time, she only hoped that Tarren would understand her apprehension even though she was confident he felt the same way about the arrangement. Her eyes burned with tears of frustration, grief over Ryder, and genuine fear that he would reject her. Granted, she had never seen him in a romantic light, but being rejected hurt no matter who was responsible.

  She wiped one tear that escaped down her cheek with her gloved hand and hoped that, beyond the shadow of a doubt, her naiveté would disappear, and she could finally stand up to her older sister’s cruelty.

  ***

  Creed lay beside Brynn in the darkness offered by the thick curtains to protect them from the morning sunlight. A minuscule amount of light shone in a line just at the base of the thick fabric, but not enough to reach them.

  Brynn slept soundlessly beside him as he watched, her arms cradling her head and lying on her flat stomach. She had kicked the blankets off of her body leaving him to feel the lust roll within him like a brush fire once again. But he would let her sleep. She had gone through enough over the last few days and needed to prepare to endure even more with her stature as Queen of the Electi. And he would be by her side as her King.

  As gingerly as he could, he reached out and traced his fingers along her spine in soft caresses. She didn’t stir, not even as muscles twitched underneath his touch. He couldn’t help but think about how drastically everything had changed since he invaded the Electi’s stronghold, his dark and dominating obsession with the legendary warrior Queen turning to pure and unadulterated love that he felt so deeply it would never leave him.

  His father had known about his obsession long before the moment he infiltrated his own stronghold with Brynn at his side. Uictore had even hoped the call of battle would be enough to satiate that obsession, taking the place of it entirely, but there was no such luck for the Liquidator King. The man wanted nothing more than for the mighty House of Electi to fall under his power.

  Creed vowed to himself as he continued to watch his love slumber deeply after their lovemaking that he wouldn’t allow that to transpire. He would protect his Queen and her people, his people, with his life. And without hesitation.

  ***

  Some distance away, a forgotten being with a score to settle made its way toward the manse of the warrior Queen of the Electi.

  Sneak Peak:

  Petulance: The Liquidator Wars Book 2

  Chapter One: Ritual

  Gwenyth, younger sister of Warrior Queen Brynn, Leader of the Electi, smoothed her skirt for the thousandth time as she awaited the arrival of Tarren, a member of the Electi Royal Guard and considered one of the bravest and most handsome eligible bachelors in the Kingdom of Electi.

  He was a gorgeous, shredded giant of a man. Valiant and intelligent. There was only one thing wrong with him.

  Gwenyth knew that he was irrevocably and permanently in love with her older sister.

  Gwenyth’s tender heart, not yet healed from the betrayal of Ryder Perkins, the first real suitor she had ever had, the male that she had willingly and joyously shared physical intimacies with as they met clandestinely in the Labyrinth hedges of Brynn’s manse, felt her wounds open afresh. It was unbearable that her Leader sister was forcing her into a politically expedient marriage with someone she thought of like an older brother.

  And on top of that Brynn had insisted Tarren claim her as his own that very night, just to seal the deal. The wedding would follow several days later.

  Ugh.

  Gwenyth wasn’t looking forward to it. Brynn had had the servants dress her in a virginal white dressing gown, made from yards of silk and lace. She was wearing a specially designed elbow length glove to match to cover her withered arm. It was sewn with seed pearls and crystals so that it matched the gown she was wearing.

  Brynn’s instructions had been delivered with her typical bluntness.

  “I am not anticipating you will enjoy the Claiming Ceremony, Gwenyth, but I expect you to play your part. I know you know how to spread your legs as you did so recently and willingly for that traitor, Ryder Perkins. This time do it willingly for one of our most loyal Royal Guard, Tarren, who has served the Electi well and with honor. I assure you it may hurt the first time even with your missing purity. Tarren is a giant of male energy. But I have decreed it, and he shall have you. So make sure it happens or there will be Hell to pay. You have never seen the outer limits of my wrath, and I pray you never shall.”

  Gwenyth had bowed her head to her sister at the end of her instructions. There was nothing else for her to do. Her misjudgment of Ryder’s character had permanently cast aspersions on her maturity, wisdom, and leadership ability and it would take a very long time for her indiscretions to be redeemed.

  Her obedience to her sister Brynn's orders would be a good start.

  She heard a firm knock at her chamber door and started. She knew that there
were guards stationed outside so it must be Tarren, and he was a few minutes early.

  “Come in,” she spoke into the vastness of the room, hoping she could be heard.

  The heavy door swung slowly inward, and Tarren appeared. He was dressed in modern semi-casual clothes, surprising her. The Electi had been at war so much since her most recent memories that she was only used to seeing Tarren dressed like a barbarian.

  She was nervous and almost started giggling. She had the thought that he looked like a contender for a spot on the reality series, ‘The Bachelor.’

  He was even carrying a bunch of hothouse flowers.

  “For you, Gwenyth,” he said, his deep, resonant voice pleasant to her ears as he got close enough to hand them to her.

  Gwenyth hesitantly took the flowers from his large hands and moved to the other side of the room, placing them on the bedside table gently. With a sigh, she turned back to him as he entered her room and shut the door behind him. She took one brazen step toward him and took it upon herself to say something.

  “Tarren, I understand this is not the outcome either of us expected, but maybe we can make the best of it. This doesn’t have to be awkward even though I’m confident it will be regardless.”

  That was when she noticed a plastic bag from a pharmacy in his hand, hanging down at his side unassumingly.

  “What is this?” she asked, confused by the white bag’s presence.

  Tarren shrugged sheepishly and blushed a little, not daring to look her in the eyes as he said his next words, choosing them carefully.

  “Well, I wanted to make sure you were comfortable, so I picked something up to make this easier at the insistence of your sister.”

  He walked to the bed gracefully and placed the bag on the thick comforter, removing its contents and laying them out on the mattress in a display. As she watched, he removed two bottles of wine and a purple bottle of a clear liquid. Something she didn’t recognize. Taking the cylindrical plastic bottle in her hands, she turned it and read the label printed directly on its surface, but still didn’t understand what it was.