Reaping Havoc: Kiara Blake Book 1

by Kinsley Burke

  “I didn’t do anything that night, Kiara.”

  “You scared off Red-Eyed Ghost and kept me from plunging to my death onto the rocks.”

  “I didn’t scare him off, I couldn’t even see him. I only heard your screams.”

  “He was gone, and you were right there as I lost my grip.”

  “I felt him, or rather, the frigid cold. And then I saw the pendant rise into the air and disappear. The coldness stopped, so I figured he was gone and I ran over to help you. But I didn’t fight him off. I didn’t even know what had attacked you.”

  “So he only wanted the pendant? Why?”

  “I think that’s the question we should have been asking for years,” Hadley said. “And especially now since we know there is power in the cambion pendants. Your mother’s pendant also had power and he wanted it.”

  “Praedator.”

  “Right. Praedator.”

  I sighed and sank back in my seat. “So what now?”

  “We figure out a plan to stop you from going to Hell. Find Logan.”

  Couldn’t forget New Target. But the thought of finding one, much less two, ghosts was depressing enough, so I simply asked, “How?”

  “Solve his murder.”

  “I’m going to sound really callous by saying this, but I don’t care how he died. I have my own problems. Besides, Miss Prim’s on the case. She’s decided to play Sherlock Holmes.”

  Hadley leaned forward. “My guess is Logan’s out for revenge. At least I would be if someone killed me yet I still walked the earth.”

  My thoughts returned to the bar and the Health-Tech Systems guys. If it wasn’t Eric Kane, then it had to be one of the other employees. “I have a lead.”

  “Good.”

  “But what if Detective Wilcox finds the killer first, case is solved, and Logan completely disappears because justice has been served?”

  “It’s been almost a week, right? The longer the case is open, the harder it will be for the detectives to solve. If no more leads are coming in, they may close it as a cold case. This is a city where other homicides are taking place. Their resources are getting pulled for more recent cases.”

  “That’s depressing.”

  “It is, but it’s true.”

  “Okay. I’m going to find a killer in order to locate a ghost so the ghost can be sent to Hell.”

  “Yup. Easy.” Hadley grinned. “Hey, and look at this? We’ve been sitting here for an hour and Maude hasn’t texted once.”

  My phone dinged with a new text message.

  “Hey! Shut your mouth.”

  “Okay, I’ll shut it,” Hadley mumbled through the mouthful of five French fries she’d crammed inside. I wasn’t certain I believed her. She chewed with a grin on her lips.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Again.”

  Tristan’s voice was commanding, and I’d probably heed those commands a lot better if his dang shirt went back on. Instead, the navy blue t-shirt he’d worn when answering his front door had been cast aside, nothing more than a limp pile on the corner of the exercise mat. Now a sweaty six-pack of purely muscled abs glistened at me while the heat in his eyes stared me down. Of course, he had muscled abs. Why would I have ever thought otherwise with the rest of that body?

  Focus.

  Teeth marks on my neck were the least of my concerns. No, what nagged at my thoughts was wondering if he could turn off that sexual heat before my planned attack became something more than what either one of us bargained for. He was in full hunt mode, his body tense as he sized me up, and the sexual chemistry was part of how he nabbed his prey. Brain had informed me Tristan’s actions weren’t intentional seduction. Simply animalistic. But I wasn’t his prey. I was the human—rather, mostly human—who was determined to kick his ass. Despite having no skills to do so. I bit back my fear and matched his stare. I had this.

  Tristan had run me through a series of warm-up exercises leaving sweat dotting my forehead and muscles whaling against their unanticipated assault. I was so out of shape. Now we faced off in opposite corners of the mat, ready to fight. My sword was strapped to my back in an uncomfortable harness. The weight of it unfamiliar, but it was barely a bother with the heat of the pendant on my chest, which might as well have been a torch with the way my concentration was threatened. Regardless, I was determined to focus.

  “Step out of that stance, ma chère. You’re not going to fight.”

  Tristan’s voice was gruff in a just awoken sexy kind of way, and it took a moment before his words penetrated the thick euphoric fog forming inside my skull. “Why not?”

  My muscles relaxed into a casual stance as he’d instructed, but they quickly tensed when Tristan began to move. A hunter was on the prowl, stepping to his right even as his body continued facing mine. The natural stance he held letting off an unthreatening vibe was nothing more than a false sense of security. But I knew better. My body locked in step with his, and even with the distance between us, it seemed as if we’d begun a dance.

  Despite the poster board of rules now taped on the back wall of the room, an explanation of rule number one wasn’t required: Never let your opponent out of your sight. My butt had met Ground one too many times for that lesson to not have been engraved into Brain.

  “You will learn to fight, for that is too valuable an asset to not have,” he said. “But also a skill that takes time and practice, so it comes later. Right now, you do not have time, and I want you to forget whatever ass-kicking television show you think you’ll miraculously reenact.”

  Crap. Television made everything so badass. The actors wore cool clothes. Carried cool weapons. Not even a lock of hair would be out of place when the bad guy bit the dust.

  “Focus. A ghost isn’t going to fight you,” Tristan continued. “They will use their energy to attack you, similar to what happened in the alley.”

  “So how do I stop them if I don’t fight?”

  “You outwit them. Block your opponents from creating energy so the only attack made is yours. This is your realm of existence, Kiara, not theirs. The odds are in your favor.”

  My favor? Nothing was ever in my favor. His lunge took me by surprise. My lungs stilled with a gasp frozen on my lips. Focus. He favored his right, leaving his left side open. Vulnerable. Time seemed to slow as his right arm raised. I spun to my own right, away from his outstretched arm, which put me on his left side, and I watched as he shot past. His halt at the edge of the mat was abrupt. Tristan’s body wobbled before his balance was caught. My feet had remained steady, but I realized my hands trembled as I looked up and caught his rakish grin. An unconscious smile stretched my own lips at the unspoken praise.

  “Good job, but don’t get cocky. It will be your downfall. How does the pendant feel?”

  “Fine, I guess. Does it always burn?”

  “Burn?”

  “Yeah, it’s hot and irritating. I don’t think it’s left a rash, but it’s rather itchy.” Tristan walked up to me, and I held my breath. Oxygen had become a luxury around this man. His finger traced the gold chain around my neck until it landed on a garnet. The pendant appeared small tucked inside his palm. Focus. Air whooshed out of me, bringing relief to my deprived lungs as I fought to recall my thoughts. “I feel steadier, but that’s kind of weird. Isn’t it? I think I hold my balance better. And stronger. I feel much stronger.”

  His brow creased in confusion. “Much? How much is much?”

  “A lot. You said it would give me strength.”

  “No, I said that it would enhance your already existing strength. It doesn’t give you anything.”

  He left my side and was back before I could blink. Damn. His speed was uncanny and rather frightful. Another reminder to how dangerous Tristan could be. Vampire, I reminded myself. They hunted humans. And they were strong. His hand gripped my arm, sure to leave a bruise. Yet the sudden push he gave that would have knocked me to the floor two days before merely caused a stumble. He frowned. “Interesting.”

&nb
sp; “What?”

  With a shake of the head, he simply said, “Again.”

  We faced off. Confidence must have embraced cockiness because Focus became lost. His speed was now used, and my previous abilities to dart past him in an opening, blocked. So much for taking it easy with the novice Praedator. The only place my moves now led me was into his arms. His embrace locked me against his muscled chest. Might as well have been steel. Ghostly encounters weren't ever going to feel like this, but the end result with both Tristan and a ghost could amount to the same: trapped.

  The one main difference between that day’s training and the very first experience I had on Tristan’s training mat was that I still stood. And Butt thanked me for it. I contained enough strength to avoid multiple rendezvous with the mat. Now if only the strength could pry away those encircled arms. Did his hold really have to be so tight?

  “You’re captured, my dear.” His voice a caress against my ear. “Submit.”

  “Not happening.” My teeth clenched. The pushes made against his tight grip were proven to be inadequate. I wasn’t focused. His body too warm, his scent too intoxicating. Tristan was nothing more than a distraction. A sexy, sweaty, muscled distraction I was determined to ignore. Ignore like the ghostly temper tantrums I would no doubt face during my next Go to Hell meeting with New Target. Focus. Something could free me from his strong embrace. I felt it. What had he grabbed when previously leaving my side? My eyes squeezed tight. I could almost see it and—

  I screamed.

  The pain was fierce. It started in my left temple and shot right. My eyes squeezed tight to block out all drops of light.

  “Kiara, what is it?”

  “Head. My head.”

  Only vaguely did I realize his arms around me had dropped, and nothing but vacant air stood by my side. But when Tristan was back, I was lowered to the mat, and a cool glass shoved into one of my hands while the tight grip of my other hand was pried open by relentless ones. An object, small and round was placed in my palm.

  “Take it.” His voice was soft as if he knew any sound occurring one decibel higher than a whisper would make my head explode. He probably didn’t relish the thought of picking up brain pieces from his exercise mat.

  Water and medicine. “Vampires take pain relievers?”

  “It’s called being prepared.”

  For what? Too much effort for Mouth to move. His arms rose and fingers gave a gentle caress to the back of my neck. By the time they worked up my skull, I forgot whatever it was I had wanted to ask.

  Time passed. I had no concept of how much. My world remained black. The gentle massage was soothing. In slow stages, my eyes opened, and the pain faded into memory when Tristan’s face came into focus. “My head… pain. I don’t know what happened. Intense pain.”

  “Do you normally have these headaches?”

  “No.” I rubbed at my temple. “Never.”

  The concern on Tristan’s face was sincere, but confusion still lurked in the depth of his eyes. My gut instinct informed me he held something back. My instincts had never been wrong.

  He stood. “Let’s call it a day.”

  “No.” I shot to my feet, and my legs wobbled. His hand steadied me as I leaned forward and forced our eyes to connect. “No, the pain has passed, and I feel fine. You’re the one who said I have no time to learn. Two ghosts have to be hunted down this week. I need to be prepared.”

  His silence stretched, but finally a nod was given. “Again.”

  I stood in the corner of the mat and faced my opponent. Tristan’s gaze had intensified, and I wondered where to expect the impending attack. Would he take to my right? My left? He could fake me out, veer to my right but then come up on me to my left. An item in his back pocket nabbed my attention. I’d only had a glimpse of the edge sticking out from Tristan’s body. What was it? I focused, angling for a better view and—

  He moved. His speed a blur. Within a heartbeat, he was in front of me, and my arms were pinned. Rope entwined my wrists and was secured into a tight knot. Rope. The object sticking out of his back pocket had been rope. That was what I had fought to remember earlier, what he had fetched when leaving my side before my massive headache had struck. Tristan tugged hard on the rope, and I was left sprawled out on the mat for the first time since my arrival that day. Air had been knocked out of my lungs.

  I stood in the corner of the mat. Tristan’s gaze was intense. Wait a second. No, I wasn't. That had already happened, and I was lying on my back, trying to confirm all of my ribs were still intact. Except that, I wasn’t. Lying on my back that was. I stood back in my corner without any memory of having gotten there, and, suddenly, Tristan was in front of me. My arms pinned and tied in rope. The air knocked out of me as my back hit the mat. Hard. I lay, unmoving, staring at the ceiling. The dull ache inside my skull, but slight. Barely a bother with the many thoughts now jumbling through my head. What the hell had happened?

  “Kiara, are you all right?”

  He stood above me. I looked up at his face as I contemplated my words. Concussion? Hallucination? Brain damage? I finally settled on, “No.”

  “No?” He leaned down and untied my hands before reaching out a hand. “That’s it. We’re done.”

  “No! I have to practice.” I let myself be pulled to my feet. “I don’t want my ass kicked again by paper. Help me. Please.”

  “Has anyone mentioned you’re stubborn?”

  “All the time,” I said, wondering why he acted as if stubbornness was such a bad thing. I returned to my corner. With reluctant steps, he returned to his. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought he was pouting over not getting his way. And maybe he was because after five minutes more of practice, I about screamed. And not in a good way. Vampire speed had fled as Tristan moved around the mat. His steps had remained purposeful, but his embraces had gentled. That was, his captured embraces had gentled. The few of them that were. Because capturing me had become less and less often. At his current speed of snail, I more often than not had the upper hand in our altercations, and it was his back that landed on the mat a time or two. Or three.

  I could read his intent from a mile away, and since it was mere feet separating us, and not a mile, I could practically give narration as he made his moves. My not-so-subtle glowers of attack me went unheeded. And he’d had the audacity to call me stubborn?

  “I’m not china.”

  Tristan halted his painfully slow prowl to my left and studied my face. “What?”

  “I’m not made of china. I’m not going to break. Now will you please give me a proper attack?”

  His stance shifted back, and his arms crossed his chest. I watched transfixed as the index finger and thumb of his right hand absently rubbed together. They continuously moved in tiny circles. Then, with an abrupt move, he stood in front of me. It had been another blur, and the wall was at my back when moments before it’d been across the room. I was pinned between plywood and an enticing body of solid muscle. Tristan’s right hand firmly gripped my throat. That same index finger now caressing small circles against my skin. It left little flutters of excitement darting through me where fear should have been. He leaned in, his breath another gentle caress. “Exactly what kind of attack did you require?”

  I stood back on the mat. Tristan facing me. He should have had me pinned up against the wall, but he didn’t. So unbelievably weird—the best description Mind could conjure for an unexplainable situation. Logic couldn't be explained for how I’d moved across the room in the blink of an eye. Tristan’s gaze was hot on my face, and his look intense, contemplating. Goosebumps trailed my arms as I took in my surroundings. Hallucinations? Was this real? Had I passed out from the earlier headache and only dreamt of Tristan's sexy abs pressed hard against my body?

  Tristan’s right hand distracted my internal questions. The index finger and thumb absently rubbed together. Exactly as it had before. One. Two. Three…

  I shifted to my left as a blur of vampire shot past my ri
ght. The dull ache in my head intensified, and I found Tristan standing in front of the wall that I should have been pinned against. Seriously, what the hell? His jaw slackened as he studied me.

  “How did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Don’t play games.”

  The vampire approached, and I leaned back from his hardened face. Pissed-off vampire. I gulped back panic and held up my hands. I didn’t know if they were held up in surrender or to simply put space between my body and the anger radiating from his. Brain hadn’t had time to sort the details. “Honest. I don’t know.”

  And I didn’t. I couldn’t explain it. I had seen the future seconds before it happened and that didn’t make sense. Nothing made any sense. And now it was I who decided the training was done for the day. Home was next on my agenda, followed closely by my bed. Never again getting back out of said bed was preferable.

  “You’re an odd one, ma chère.” He circled me, studied me. “I will figure out what you are.”

  “I’m just a girl.”

  “No, Kiara, you are not. Sword out.”

  The abrupt command stunned me, and it took a few tries to jerk the blade loose from its harness. Refined, I was not.

  “Aim the tip of the sword at my heart.” With his hand, he guided the point of my blade until it rested at the correct location on his chest. The pressure left a tiny indention against his skin, but he wasn’t cut. Would a vampire bleed? He tapped his chest above the sword. “Always go for the heart. That is where the emotional energy has gathered. Now say infernum.”

  “Why?”

  “Because demons love their Latin.”