by Susan Harris
Wicked Game
The Sanguine Crown Series, book 3
Susan Harris
Also by Susan Harris
The Ever Chase Chronicles
Skin & Bones, book 1
Collateral Damage, book 2
Smoke & Mirrors, book 3
Night of the Hunter, book 4
Never Back Down, book 5
Shortcut to the Grave, book 6
Arsonist’s Lullaby, book 7
Defy The Stars
A Tale of Two Houses, book 1
Until Death Do Us Part, book 2
In Defiance of the Stars, book 3
Shattered Memories
The Sanguine Crown
Chaos Theory, book 1
Butterfly Effect, book 2
Wicked Game, book 3
Contents
Content Disclosure
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Also by Susan Harris
Playlist
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Afterword
CTP Email List
For more information about our content disclosure,
please click on the picture above or visit us at
www.CleanTeenPublishing.com.
This book is dedicated to anyone who has ever
waged war with their own mind and to those who were brave enough to help us through it.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
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Wicked Game
Copyright ©2021 Susan Harris
All rights reserved.
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Summary: Vampires are back and they're more enticing than ever! Fans of the Sanguine Crown series by Susan Harris won't have to hide their cravings for long, because the third book is dropping soon. Wicked Game by Susan Harris is the exciting continuation of the new young adult vampire series that pays homage to the classics, while breathing fresh and revitalized life back into the genre.
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ISBN: 978-1-63422-401-7 (paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-63422-400-0 (e-book)
Cover Design by: Marya Heidel
Typography by: Courtney Spencer
Editing by: Cynthia Shepp
Prologue
Nickolai
The nights bled from one to the next, a continuous loop of inner torment as I tried to stay strong for those who were falling apart around me, even as I fell apart when no one was around. Atticus, eyes empty and as relentless as I was to find Ryan and Edison, brushed off any help, even from Jack.
Like me, he blamed himself for losing Ryan and Edison.
Like me, he couldn’t stand to look himself in the mirror without flinching.
How could I have just left her? How could I have ordered Edison to go to her, even as he did so of his own accord?
“Because that is what kings do, Nico. That is the curse of being a monarch.”
My mother’s voice sounded in my head, and I knew that she was right, that I would have to carry this burden with me for as long as I lived. My heart sank as Atticus rose and went to glare out the window, his body a combination of tension and grief.
Yet, I held on to the hope we would see our loved ones again.
The look in Ryan’s eyes when she pressed her lips to mine, realizing a secret I had latched onto for an age, of a drunken kiss shared that had ignited my blood. I had known in that moment that no matter how hard I tried to force myself to find another, Ryan was it for me.
For two long months, we had followed every trail, hunted every lead, to no avail. Maxim was a ghost, vanishing like a phantom, and as Christmas came and went, a new year bringing none of the hope and promise of a fresh start, we wondered if we would ever get a lead.
Awareness of another prickled my senses, raising the hair on the back of my neck and causing me to spin round in my seat. I growled, and Atticus turned to glare at me as if I’d interrupted his inner torment with my snarl.
I couldn’t see anything. It was just Atticus and I inside the apartment.
As if to argue with my thoughts, the cupboard door flew open and a plate crashed to the ground. Then another, and another. My mouth hung open as Atticus stalked over to the cupboard and slammed it shut.
Taking a step back, Atticus frowned as the door was yanked open again and another plate crashed to the ground. I slowly got to my feet as Atticus offered up a prayer to Eve. My heart thundering in my chest, I tried to casually lean against the counter as another plate hovered in mid-air and then fell to the ground with a shattering sound that somehow sparked hope in my chest.
My mind raced as I thought back to Ryan, muttering to herself on that rooftop when she had been feverish and stubborn. I considered all the times I had observed Ryan glance to the side or roll her eyes at something other than me. And then I took a gamble that I hoped would pay off as another of my plates floated from the cupboard and readied its decline.
“Krista?”
The plate paused and then it set itself down on the counter beside me. Atticus took a step back, his body slamming against the wall with a resounding thud. He rubbed his eyes and then glanced at me as if we’d both finally gone mad.
“Krista, if that is you, can you close the cupboard please?”
In answer to my question, the door closed, and I swore I could almost hear a sigh of relief. Ryan had not been so consumed with grief that she’d been hallucinating; she had been seeing her friend’s actual ghost.
Oh Ryan, and you don’t even know it.
“Ghosts aren’t real, Nickolai.”
The dishware flew off the counter toward Atticus’s head, but he ducked before it struck him and the plate broke apart at my feet.
“My plates say otherwise, Atticus.”
The chill I’d felt at the back of my neck wavered, and I wondered if Krista was strong enough to give us back a little of the hope we needed.
Striding around the remnants of my broken dishes, I removed a fork, knife, and spoon from the cutlery drawer and set them down on the counter. I could not believe I felt so damn calm, but here I was, trying to communicate with a ghost.
“In order to not lose any more dishes, how about a fork for yes, a knife for no, and a spoon for I don’t know?”
The fork lifted into the air.
Atticus blew out a shuddering breath that I ignored, focused on getting answers. All this time, we could pray and hope that they were all still alive, however knowing was far better than not knowing.
“Are Ryan and Edison alive?”
The fork went ridged in the air, and Atticus sagged, sliding down the wall as his legs gave out. My heart beat so hard against my chest I felt the burn of it.
&nb
sp; “Are they okay?”
The fork and the knife now hovered in the air, less ridged then before.
“Are they in Ireland?”
The knife dropped to the counter, and I smiled.
They were close. I felt in it my bones. I’d promised Ryan I would cross oceans to find her, and I meant it. But Ireland was home turf, and we’d easily flush out Maxim’s rogues until we found her and Edison.
“Is she okay?” I whispered.
Ice filled my veins as the spoon rose in the air and then crashed to the ground.
“Can you tell us where they are?”
None of the cutlery moved, and the awareness that had prickled me dissipated. Panic flooded my veins.
“Krista! Krista! Tell us where they are! By Eve, Krista, get fucking back here!”
Silence descended upon us like a noose, and I realized I’d been dead wrong—knowing but being unable to help was, in fact, worse than not knowing.
1
2 months earlier
Ryan
I thought I knew what fear looked like, but I was dead wrong. I was terrified, the ice-cold emotion sending tremors through my body as I sank my nails into the nearest thing to me, ignoring the hiss of pain from my companion.
“By Eve, Callan, I have enough dents and bruises already. You claw at my thigh anymore, and your nails are gonna hit bone.”
Edison’s teasing tone did nothing to elevate the pure, unadulterated panic in my chest. My hands shook and my teeth chattered as I tried to slow my pulse and rein in my horror. I fixed my eyes on the ground and tried not to move.
“The infamous rogue reaper is quaking in her boots at a little plane ride? I should record this for all to see that even you have fears.”
Edison growled at the rogue as the plane dipped again and I dug my nails in harder to Edison’s thigh. Yes, I was petrified of flying. Until I had been taken captive by Maxim over two weeks ago, I’d never flown in my life. Now, I kept imagining this heap of metal plummeting to the ground and burning us alive.
I had no idea I had a fear of flying, having never done so before, but the moment I woke up on the already-aloft plane, I was captive to a panic and fear I’d never before experienced. Every time over the last two weeks that Maxim had moved us to another location, that fear kept me from fighting back and trying to escape.
Edison’s hand rested on top of mine to comfort me as the plane dipped. The pilot announced we were descending and advised us to buckle our seatbelts, to which I snorted.
Yeah, like I took that off…
I jerked as the wheels touched the tarmac, sucking in a breath until the damned metal box slowed. Keeping my eyes fixed on the floor, I counted down from twenty as the plane taxied, pulling into the private hangar. The moment the engine was off, I bolted upright, almost forgetting the chains at my ankles as I lurched toward the door. I would have face-planted had Edison not reached out to steady me.
The rogue chuckled, unstrapping himself from the seat as he flashed his blood-red eyes at me and licked his lips. As Edison stepped forward, the rogue simply smirked and turned his back to us as he went to open the door.
Glancing around the plane, I wondered how in the hell this thing managed to stay in the air. It was a small plane with a propeller that was probably as old as Maxim. It had no seats, just ledges like you’d see in military planes, and once in the air, you could hear every sound in the engine, every movement the pilot made.
The door opened, and two more rogues stepped into view, holding cattle prods as they came closer. One grabbed Edison, the other grabbed me, and they pushed us out the door and into the air.
Rain misted the horizon and a bitter chill smacked me in the face. I inhaled deeply, and a hysterical laugh slipped past my lips.
Edison lifted his brow at me.
“Welcome home, Edison,” I replied.
Fire sparked in his eyes and a smirk tugged at his lips even as the rogues shoved us forward. My legs were still a little unsteady from my journey through terror skies, and I stumbled on the stairs. With my ankles and wrists chained, I couldn’t right myself and smacked off the tarmac with an oomph, my arm burning as I managed to keep my head from bouncing off the ground.
The rogues laughed as they dragged my ass up off the tarmac and shunted me forward.
Edison quirked his brow at me again. The two of us had become quite proficient in reading and answering each other’s silent questions.
“Five by five, St. Clair,” I said quietly, watching my friend roll his eyes at my answer.
“Shut up and keep moving,” one of the rogues snapped. “The boss is eager to see you.”
That certainly got my attention—Maxim had been elusive since our captivity, making few appearances. I focused on my surroundings, trying to get a glimpse of where we were, but when the guards noticed my interest in what was going on around me they quickened their pace.
We were guided down a small hallway and then shoved into a little seating area to where Maxim waited for us. Dressed impeccably in a suit of charcoal, his red eyes a stark contrast to the dark color, his features all sharp angles and striking considering he was a homicidal maniac. He smiled when he saw me, and I caught a glimpse of his fangs. Even though I wanted nothing more than to rip him apart, one piece at a time, I also knew he wanted me to react to him, so I tried my damnedest not to.
Anger flooded my veins as my eyes drifted to the teenager sitting dutifully at his side. Pale skin and reddish-brown hair, this was no ordinary teenager. He had the ability to control people with his words. His blank expression of boredom didn’t so much as waver as he lifted his eyes to look in my direction. His eyes seemed devoid of any emotion, like he could care less that his magic had brought us here.
“I trust my rogues have been looking after you in my absence, my love.”
Lifting my shackled hands, I snorted. “Sure, their hospitality has been world class. Is there, like, a comment card I can fill in to evaluate this little holiday? I mean, aside from the taunts and the not-so-accidental trips and pushes, it’s been great. Who else can say they’ve visited five different countries in a fortnight?”
Maxim chuckled, his hands coming to rest on the table in front of him. “Smart as well as beautiful. You will make a striking queen.”
“Hard pass.”
Maxim’s eyes flashed at my words, and he sighed. “You need not make this hard, Ryan. I have offered you the world. Had you not scoffed at my offer of a new home, of power, then you and your very own personal guard would be allowed to roam freely. The longer you deny what I want, the more I will work to break you.”
Maxim inclined his head slightly, and the two rogues gripping Edison by his arms dragged him from the room. Edison’s eyes held mine in a silent plea before he was gone.
Maxim noted Edison’s expression with a sympathetic glance, assuming my friend’s look was begging me to stop his beating, but I knew better. Maxim would never understand the bonds that could be forged in the line of fire.
Maxim wanted to break me but hadn’t wanted to do the deed himself. He’d watched, those first few days, as his goons broke my bones and force-fed me human blood so my wounds would heal. He seemed perplexed that I took every broken bone as best I could and still held fast.
Then, he used Edison.
The first night, I bucked and snarled as I fought against the restraints to get to Edison as they shattered his hands and feet. They used blades to carve out marks on his body. They tortured him far more than they had me, whipping his back and leaving him bleeding in our prison cell with no blood for me to give him to help him heal.
The first beating took three days to heal, and then they started all over again. They burned the skin on the soles of his feet, then forced him to stand upright as they whipped him again.
The second time I forced myself to be stone, to not flinch when Edison finally gave in and screamed. The sound shattered my heart as his eyes flew open, and his eyes, by Eve, his eyes begged me not to react. We d
ecided, after the first beating, that Maxim wanted to use us against each other, and we had to regain some power if we wanted any chance to escape.
Tears had filled my eyes as Edison gripped my hand and said, “You are Ryan fucking Callan, and you do not break.”
We formulated a plan, huddled in our darkened room, the scent of blood and sweat all around us. We came up with phrases to use in different circumstances, ones that old rogues like Maxim may not know. We promised each other we would not break.
Edison was subjected to three more beatings that I would never erase from my mind before Maxim decided his tactics were not working. He switched gears, feeding Edison so he healed physically, and then he invited me to dinner.
I refused to entertain him that night. The guards were unable to force me out of the room or into the dress he sent for me to wear. I half expected him to send his little ginger friend my way, to force me to do his bidding, but maybe Maxim was hoping to chip away at my resolve. Confident we couldn’t escape, the guards had left our arms and legs untied in the room, and I managed to kill one rogue barehanded before Maxim shouted enough. The next thing I knew, we were on a plane again to another location.
