Book Two of The Possessed Series
Tressa Rabbit
Copyright 2020 by Crazy Ink
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Warning
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language that may be considered offensive to some readers. This e-book is for sale to adults ONLY as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
Chapter One
Victoria Blanchard grinned at Adele, Sadie, and Madge as she wiped down the bar situated on the bottom floor of Scruples.
The three elderly women were regulars of the establishment and rarely missed a day without darkening the doors. However, it didn’t stop them from grumbling when Claire had sold the old building and moved Scruples to a new location. Even though it meant a shorter walk for the lot of them.
Claire’s decision to relocate the restaurant had caused an uproar in town, but the new two-story building she’d purchased and refurbished a couple of streets over had quickly quieted the wagging tongues.
Scruples now boasted of a bar and dining room downstairs as well as a sports bar and banquet room on the top floor.
The balcony overlooking the lake was a crowd favorite and usually stayed packed on the weekends.
Winking at Adele, Tori shifted her gaze to Sadie. “Are you going to fill me in on your midnight rendezvous with Mr. Griffin?”
“Weren’t no rendezvous to it. At his age it was a quickie at best.”
Madge’s mouth fell open as she twisted on her stool to gape at her sister, Sadie. “Don’t you lie to that girl. You were flat on your back at nine o’clock with your teeth on the nightstand, snoring like a bear in hibernation. I know because I got up to get a drink and looked in on you on my way to the kitchen.”
“You’re just jealous because he’s been after me since the ninth grade,” Sadie snapped, taking a sip of her Bloody Mary.
“And no doubt he had to wait in line for you to come up for air. We all know what a reputation you had in high school.”
Adele snickered. “Madge is right, Sadie. That’s why Daddy’s hair turned white at an early age. He couldn’t marry you off fast enough.”
Tori laughed, interrupting their sisterly squabble. “I’ve never been more relieved to be an only child.”
Sadie nodded. “Best thank your lucky stars for that. You could have been stuck with two old hags, constantly harping and sticking their noses where they don’t belong.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t know what to do without us,” Madge muttered, picking at a piece of thread hanging from her blouse before turning to peer out the window. “The sun seems to be setting earlier every day. It’s getting dark. We best get going.”
Victoria watched with no small amount of humor as the Murphy sisters attempted to slide off their stools, arguing and complaining the entire time.
As one, the three elderly women stilled, their backs stiffened, and their eyes became instantly alert.
The hair stood up on Tori’s arms as she glanced from one to the other. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Madge replied in a low voice. “Have a good night, dear. Make sure someone walks you to your car after closing.”
Tori couldn’t shake the feeling that the Murphy sisters were hiding something. Not that she could begin to fathom what it might be. They had to be close to ninety years old. What could they possibly have to hide?
The door suddenly opened, pulling Tori out of her contemplation of the strange vibes coming from the sisters. She swung her gaze toward the tall, intimidating stranger darkening the entrance.
His face was hidden in shadow, but his physique nearly dropped her to her knees. He exuded power, from his wide shoulders to his obviously expensive black pants.
He stepped farther into the room, and her heart skipped a beat. He had to be the most beautiful man Victoria had ever seen.
“Remember what I said, child.”
It took her a second to realize that the sisters were still there and that Madge had spoken to her. “Oh yes,” Tori replied almost as an afterthought. “Sam is here; he’ll see me safely to my car.”
Adele patted Victoria’s hand. “I like that Sam. He’s a good sort. See you in the morning, pretty girl.”
Tori smiled. “Be safe going home.”
The sisters slowly filed toward the exit, never removing their gaze from the remarkable stranger now taking a seat at the bar. Tori could empathize. She was finding it difficult not to stare also.
“What can I get you?” She had already pushed the sisters from her mind and moved to stand in front of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Sexy.
“I hear you make the best Bloody Mary in the county,” he rasped, pinning her with a heart-stopping look.
The husky sound of his voice turned her insides to mush. “Sam, the bartender is the Bloody Mary guru, but I make a close second.”
Something flickered in his pale blue eyes. “Boyfriend?”
Tori nearly laughed. “Not hardly. I’d be willing to go out on a limb and say that he avoids my person at all costs.”
“I highly doubt that.” He flicked a glance at her lips before meeting her gaze once again.
Of all the times she’d come into work with her hair curled and her makeup perfect, this was not one of them.
She’d been to see Claire and Jaxon’s new baby boy earlier, and the time had slipped away from her, leaving her no choice but to throw her hair up in a ponytail and run into work without so much as a touch of lipstick on.
She suddenly felt awkward, which annoyed her to no end. “Will you be wanting a menu also?”
“No, thank you. The Bloody Mary is all I require at the moment.”
His softly spoken words were laced with a certain amount of authority that jacked her mood even more. “Sure thing.”
She went about making his drink, keeping her head down to avoid his penetrating eyes. “Are you new to the area? I’ve never seen you around here before.”
“Just passing through.”
Tori finished mixing his cocktail and set it in from him. She offered her hand. “I’m Victoria, but my friends call me Tori.”
Warmth ran up her arm as he slid his palm against hers. “A pleasure, Tori.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across her fingertips. “Damien Devain.”
Chapter Two
Damien held his breath to keep from breathing in Victoria’s intoxicating scent. His gums ached with the effort of holding back his fangs. He’d never smelled anything as sweet as this woman’s blood.
The sound of her heartbeat kicking up a notch drove him to distraction.
She cleared her throat, quickly pulling her hand from his grasp. “That’s a unique name. Where are you from?”
He could sense her nervousness, but she hid it well. An average man wouldn’t have picked up on it. “I’m originally from Anchorage, but I travel quite a bit.”
She seemed to consider his statement, tossing her blonde ponytail as she assessed him. “Ah, that explains a lot.”
“Pardon?” He wasn’t sure if she was teasing him, but if he had to bet, he’d wager yes.
Her
lips twitched. “Your skin is too pale to be from a southern state. And your accent is too refined. Not to mention your duds.”
Damien watched her with hidden amusement. “My duds?”
“Not that there’s anything wrong with them. Quite the contrary,” she quipped, giving him a once-over.
He took a drink of his Bloody Mary to hide his grin. She obviously appreciated his attire. “How long have you lived here, Victoria?”
She spun around to grab a bottle off the shelf behind her, and his gaze zeroed in on her ass encased in a pair of form-fitting jeans. His growing erection twitched in reaction.
“All my life,” she answered over her shoulder. “My accent didn’t give me away?”
It did, but then again, he’d already known the answer before she’d spoken.
Damien had been stalking her for days, following her home at night, learning her routine. “Perhaps I enjoy hearing you speak.”
She returned to her place in front of him. “Perhaps I enjoy hearing you speak,” she mimicked with a grin. “How long will you be in town?”
“That depends.” He rather enjoyed baiting her.
“On?”
“Whether or not you agree to have dinner with me.”
She hesitated, a look of surprise on her pretty face. “I’m not sure. The owners just had a baby, and I’m responsible for—”
“She can go,” an attractive redhead interrupted, breezing into the small space behind the bar. “Bradley and I are both working this weekend. We can handle things here.”
“But Claire—”
“Will understand,” the redhead finished for her, grinning at Damien. “Hi, I’m Chelle.”
“Thank you for the intervention.” He shot her a grateful smile. “I’m Damien.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Damien. Tori loves steak, by the way. And although we make the best one this side of the Alabama line, she needs to get away from here for a night, so I suggest McLairds on 331 South.”
Victoria blushed. “Wow, Chelle, thanks for the fount of information.” Sarcasm fairly dripped from her comment.
“You’re welcome,” the redhead purred, spinning on her heel and leaving the room.
Damien decided he liked Chelle. He peered up at Victoria with a raised eyebrow. “It’s a date then?”
Tori laughed. “Looks that way. I’ll meet you here at seven o’clock Friday night.”
“I can pick you up at home if you’d like.”
“I’d prefer to meet you here, if you don’t mind.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “And if I do mind?”
“Tough shit, Sherlock. My town, my rules,” she teased with a sparkle in her eyes.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Hey, sweetie, I’m almost out of vodka. Can you spare me a couple of bottles?” a man wearing jeans and a white T-shirt asked as he sidled up to the bar. Tattoos ran up both of his arms, and his head appeared to be neatly shaven.
He stiffened before turning toward Damien. Neither of them spoke as they stared at each other, each sizing the other man up.
“Here ya go, Sam.” Tori set the alcohol in front of him. “A new shipment will be here tomorrow.”
The one known as Sam continued to stand there, watching Damien without speaking, silently assessing him. Damien had picked up on Sam’s otherworldly descent long before he’d entered the room. Warlock…
Tori stepped in close. “Sam, this is Damien.”
Their staring contest wasn’t broken by her words, but apparently Sam had enough sense to avoid drawing attention to himself. He sent Damien a quick nod, grabbed his vodka, and meandered off.
“Rude ass,” Tori barked at the warlock’s retreating back.
Damien wondered if she knew of her friend’s supernatural heritage, then decided against it. Warlocks were akin to vampires in the sense that it was imperative they remain hidden.
Another thought struck Damien. If Sam wanted Victoria, it would be far too easy for the warlock to manipulate her feelings for him. A muscle ticked along Damien’s jaw.
“I’m sorry about that,” Tori remarked. “Sam isn’t usually so ill-mannered.”
“Maybe he sees me as a threat?” Damien was sure of it, but not in the way he suggested.
“Oh, please. You’re dead wrong on that. He has his sights on a cute little blonde that works at the courthouse. He has no interest in me.”
Damien decided to let it drop. He finished off his Bloody Mary and got to his feet. “I have some things to attend to in town. I’ll see you at seven o’clock on Friday.”
“Where are you staying?”
“At the hotel a couple of blocks from here. I hear it’s haunted.”
Her smirk brought a smile to his face.
“Doubtful, but after some of the things I’ve seen over the past year, it wouldn’t surprise me.”
That caught his interest. “Such as?”
“Oh, nothing. I’ll see you Friday night.”
With a wink in her direction, Damien trailed off toward the door.
He could feel her gaze boring into his back as he stepped outside onto the sidewalk. If he had a conscience, he thought with an inner sigh, it would rear its ugly head right about now. But a conscience wasn’t something his kind had in abundance; not when it came to something they needed or desired. And the object of his immediate desire stood behind the bar he’d just vacated.
After making sure he wouldn’t be seen, Damien blurred down the closest ally in search of the night’s meal. It was either take from the man walking alone down Fifth Street, or run back inside and sink his fangs into the one he really craved. Victoria.
Chapter Three
Victoria watched as Damien disappeared from view before drifting off into the kitchen in search of something to eat—anything to calm the jitters jumping around in her stomach.
Bradley stood near the stove, chopping onions for the much anticipated evening crowd. “What’s up, Tori girl?”
“Just looking for some food. I didn’t have a chance to eat before work, and now I’m starved.”
“Want a burger?”
“Yeah, that sounds great. Oh, and some curly fries.”
“You got it.” He breezed over to the cooler and grabbed a premade patty. “How’s the baby doing?”
Tori beamed with pride. “He’s absolutely beautiful. And Claire did a fantastic job. They were sure she would need a C-section, but she came through it with flying colors.”
“That’s good. Chelle was up pacing last night, worrying about her. And whoever came up with the phrase flying colors?”
“I have no idea,” Tori responded with a laugh. I’m betting mushrooms were somehow involved.”
She changed the subject. “Speaking of Chelle; she just embarrassed the shit out of me a few minutes ago.”
Bradley chuckled. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Yeah, I wasn’t either, to be honest, but damn it, she practically pawned me off on Damien earlier.”
“Who’s Damien?” He slapped the burger onto the grill and glanced over his shoulder.
“Just this guy that came into the bar.” Tori’s insides quivered with the memory of Damien’s eyes, but she’d keep that bit of information to herself.
Bradley quickly washed his hands and dried them on the towel draped over his shoulder. “You know how Chelle is, Tori. If she sees a chance to play matchmaker, nothing or no one can stop her. Including me.”
Victoria did know that. She’d seen Chelle in action too many times.
The bell dinged above the main door, signaling the arrival of a new customer. “I have to get back out there. Buzz me when the food is ready? And thank you, Bradley.”
He only nodded, picked up his knife, and moved back to his half-chopped onions.
* * * *
The evening went by in a blur for Tori, leaving her with enough energy to run back by the hospital and check in on Claire before going home to her empty house.
She hated being alone at
night and had slept with the lights on since Claire’s move into Jaxon’s place shortly after their wedding.
Even with the house locked up tighter than Fort Knox, Victoria always found it hard to sleep. Her dreams were often filled with horrific images and recurring scenes from her past. Her doctor had written her a prescription for a sleep aid, but she rarely took it for fear of not being alert enough to hear possible intruders.
Disgusted with herself for allowing her fears to rule her life, Tori waved goodnight to Sam and climbed behind the wheel of her car.
She backed out of the parking lot and sped toward the hospital, double checking the locks and eyeing the passing cars, making sure she wasn’t followed.
After everything she’d been through the previous year with the death of Mack Doyle and her stepfather’s sudden interest in her again, Tori had become more cautious of her surroundings.
“Get a grip, Victoria,” she said aloud, flinching at the sound of her voice in the otherwise quiet car. “No one is following you. Great. Now I’m talking to myself.”
Shaking off her paranoia, she pressed the power button on the stereo, relaxing as an old eighties rock song blasted from the speakers. She sang along with the familiar tune, not caring if she didn’t remember half the words or that she sang off key.
The hospital came into view twenty minutes later, and Tori pulled into a parking space in a well-lit area.
Exiting the car, she moved swiftly toward the entrance while scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. Her shoulders didn’t relax until she cleared the automatic doors.
“May I help you?” A woman asked from behind a window, peering at Victoria over the top of a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. Her partially gray hair was swept up into a tight bun, and red bobbled earrings resembling Christmas bells hung from her earlobes.
“I know it’s past visiting hours, but I was hoping I could run up and see a friend on the maternity ward. Her baby was born this morning.”
“I’m sorry.” The woman sniffed, shuffling a stack of papers in front of her. “No one goes up after nine p.m.”
Consuming Damien (The Possessed Series Book 2) Page 1
