Marked (Dark Ties Book 1)

by A. Vers

  The Glock appears in my hand. He never blinks. “I’m not in the mood, demon.”

  Gage runs a hand over the back of his neck. “Vlad is MIA, too, Cap,” he says, deep voice barely audible over the thumping beat from the speakers. Almost as though he can already see the repercussions of speaking. “We tracked him to the back alley of Carnage, but the only thing T caught was exhaust.”

  Tanner nods. “Newer model, probably an SUV. Smoke was pure, though.”

  Horan sits forward from his place beside Caine, both men utilizing the shadows to the best of their ability. His gold irises glow. “We’re running out of time. You need to call Markus.”

  I swear and pour another scotch. “The King has better shit to fucking do, track? We find Vlad before the next delivery.”

  They nod.

  That last shipment of ‘death especial ‘ sent too many supes to the fucking grave. It’s only a matter of time before another batch comes in. And if we can’t stop Vlad before then ... His next target will be the humans. Just because he fucking can.

  Lilah’s crushed face filters unwanted into my fucking skull, like I summoned her.

  My lips peel back over deadly fangs. “The fucking humans are going to be next. Just wait.”

  Gage pulls another hand-rolled from his leather vest and lights it. The end burns fiery red as pungent smoke fills the space. “Leads left?”

  I scoff. “Not a fucking one.” I look up, glass of amber liquid in hand. “Which means we need to find another one.” They exchange long looks. “We hit Carnage in ten. That human male—Vic, maybe he knows who Vlad really is.”

  T smiles. “He seemed like the type to keep real good records.”

  Knocking back the rich liquor, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and rise. My eyes lock on the waitress, and she sets her tray down without a word.

  I look back at the four other men in the booth. “Ten,” I warn.

  The waitress appears out of my peripheral, hands empty and already reaching for the ties on her top. I snare her wrist in a vise hold and haul her with me to one of the closed off stalls. Her breathing turns to a pant as I turn her to face the wall. The slim skirt hikes up over her thighs, flashing stockings and garters. I ignore the flash of her scent, dewy with arousal. It’s not that kind of hunger. Or it is, but not towards her.

  Baring the line of her neck with a handful of those thick, dark waves, I widen my jaw and feast.

  CARNAGE IS DARK AND quiet as I slide under the police tape. Without the noise of the patrons and music, it’s depressing. All the imperfections are visible, like an old prostitute in full light. The dented tables, toppled chairs, and watermarks seem to glare.

  “The fuck happened here?” Caine mutters as he prowls under the empty overhang. His hellfire eyes track over the remnants of the raid, scoping out the scents and the wreckage.

  T pushes over a broken beer pitcher with his steel-toe. “Fucking cops, yo.”

  Gage comes out from the back hall, Horan tight on his heels. He scours the room, nine mil tight in his grip. “Place is empty, Cap.”

  Lack of pulse beats was a dead giveaway. “T?”

  He whips out a slim device from his back pocket and holds it up to his ear. “Already on it.” His voice drops an octave into a sultry growl as he speaks to someone from booking. Probably the thick blonde he’s had eyes on for weeks.

  “We got no witnesses, and no paper trails,” Gage says as he approaches. “Looks like someone hit the place before we got here. But there were marks on the brick in the alley.”

  “Someone after the same shithole we are?”

  He shrugs. “Maybe. No sign of arcane entry, just good ol’ B&E.”

  “Office?”

  “I want T to check the tower, but from what I could get into, it was whipped clean. Or never had anything worth piss on it.”

  “If this guy is as heavy into shit as he seemed, he was smart enough to cover his tracks.”

  Horan holds up a discarded scrap of blue lace on the edge of his sword. He frowns. “Think I found part of the club uniform.”

  It’s such a close resemblance to what was on Lilah’s hips that fire rolls through my veins. Squashed fast under the memory of her blatant hatred of what I am.

  “Cops grabbed the owner, Vic, seven staff members, two dealers, a whore, and a partridge in a pear tree.” T walks back to us, sliding his phone in his pocket as he speaks. “A female, L. Marks was released back to society an hour ago.”

  “Which means, the owner will be in holding,” Gage adds, ignoring the other man as he watches me for orders. “Untouchable until he makes bond.”

  I snarl. “Fuck me.”

  Gage smirks. “Fangs aren’t my thing, Cap.”

  I flip him off.

  “What about the girl?” T asks. “Lilah? That would be with an ‘L’, true? Could she be the ‘L. Marks’ that was released already?”

  My body turns, ready to slip him the same gesture as the Fae for even bringing the woman up.

  “Girl?” Caine calls from part way up the stairs. “What girl?”

  I glower. If looks could torch ...

  “She may know something. Even if it’s just where the fuck’s house is,” Gage reasons. “We could get her address easy enough from staff records. Pop over and—”

  “No,” I snap. Clamping my lips into a hard line, I roll my head on my neck. My body is wound so tight, it makes everything snap, crack, and pop. “I got it. Head to the compound. I’ll bring her in.”

  And I will.

  Because of the human woman, we lost Vlad. Lost our lead. And she is going to give me another one. Whether she likes it or not.

  Hell, whether she likes me or not.

  6

  Lilah

  MY HANDS SHAKE AS I shove balled up pairs of socks in my bag. The streetlight outside offers enough light to see by through the old gossamer curtains. But dawn will be here soon.

  Too soon.

  Every small noise is the foreshadowing of my demise; Vic’s hired thugs coming to take the breath from my lungs and the blood from my veins. I snare the last few shirts, crumble them on top, and cinch the old ties as tight as they will go.

  Below the open window, the soft snick of a car door closing floats up to my ears. I still, hand on the strap. Masculine grumbles rise between the sills.

  I dart over and lean against the wall. Three massive male forms step over the front walk, a keen, inhuman glint to more than one pair of eyes.

  Shit.

  Racing towards the hall door, I ignore the lights and the keys and fly out to the landing. I run down the cement corridor. The back set of stairs are dark and dilapidated from lack of use. Stained. I hurtle down them, bag high on my shoulder.

  Louisiana humidity hits me square in the face as I clear the hall and step into the open night. I race over the barren backyard of the apartment building, tripping and stumbling on a discarded watering hose. Sprawled out, palms slick, my heart slams. I wait for the shouts, the baying howls of my own personal hell chasing me. There is nothing but my erratic breathing.

  I climb to my feet and take off again.

  At the back of the long, half-rotted fence, a narrow space waits between propped up slats. I shove my bag through and dive out after it. No cars flow up and down the roadway, but the bushes and overgrown trees make seeing beyond my hiding place difficult.

  Moving cautiously, I right myself and set off down the sidewalk at a fast clip.

  It won’t take long for Vic’s goons to put two and two together. Empty apartment, missing bag ... no damn car.

  I speed up, moving as quick as I dare so as not to draw attention. At the end of the block, the damn streetlights are beacons after the dark section of roadway. Something cracks, like a twig snapping. Peering over my shoulder, I search the shadows for any sign of a tail.

  Empty.

  I turn around.

  A massive male forms stands under the nearest lamp, ball cap low and a Louisville slugger in his grip. />
  I stop.

  “Come on, Lilah. Did you think we could let you go?”

  Twin shadows materialize behind him. One carries a chain, dragging the length over the ground with sparks and hair raising scratching. A soft arc of light flows down the blade of the other.

  I turn on my heel and try to go back the other way. More dark shapes bloom from all along the roadside. Surrounding me.

  “Don’t do this,” I plead, eyes darting between them. “Let me go. Tell Vic the place was empty when you got there. Hell, I’ll give you my debit card. Whatever you want. Just let me go.”

  They step forward. “You know we can’t do that.”

  “Please.”

  Chain whistles softly through the air before crashing an inch before my toes. I shriek and jump away. There’s a twisted laugh.

  I slide my foot back, willing to drop everything and bolt. Anything but this. Solid wood hits an open palm with a slap. My breathing quickens. I try to slow it, to slow the pounding of my pulse in my veins too.

  They lunge.

  A piercing whistle rips through the air and the nearest male falls to the pavement. The slim, onyx handle of a blade protrudes from his chest. Another male drops to the cracked pavement behind him, legs giving out like they suddenly have no bones.

  There’s a dark flapping, like wings. A midnight-clad figure drops from atop the empty house behind them, leather coat flaring in the draft. The low tugged hood covers his face, but the breadth of the shoulders alone screams man. I stare, open mouthed, as he pulls twin pistols from under the folds of his coat and fires into the masses. His head turns to me. “Run.”

  That rasping bellow is too familiar for me not to notice.

  The dark-eyed vampire.

  Not waiting to ask why he is saving me again, I turn on my heel and dive through a side yard. The duffel no longer seems heavy as my arms pump at my sides. In fact, I can’t feel it at all. I run through the derelict shrubbery and duck under a broken fence before climbing out into an empty junkyard.

  Towering cars and mountains of metal and rust rise high into the dark sky. Lungs heaving, I take the farthest path and hope it leads the hell away from here.

  7

  Ruin

  EVERY DAMN BULLET FINDS its home in flesh, and bodies litter the roadway. It won’t be long before someone realizes what the shots are, and every fucking second my ears burn as I wait for the fucking sirens to ruin my night again.

  I try not to think of the girl. Or the duffel over her shoulder and the fact she was running. Or why. I pull the trigger and another thug drops with no left leg to support him.

  Her fear was like pepper in my nose, dropping my fangs despite feeding less than twenty minutes ago.

  Fuckers came after her.

  But was it to keep her from talking about what she knows? Or to bring her back into the fold?

  I step closer and stomp my size fourteen boot into the bleeding side of the nearest supe. He screams. My finger flexes, and the bullet rips into the meat of his shoulder. He tries to roll away, groaning as he holds his injuries. I dig my heel in.

  “Your boss is pretty fucking stupid,” I hiss from between clenched teeth. “Even with human weapons, the whole area reeks of other. Sloppy. Very sloppy.”

  He moans piteously.

  “So why the fuck would your boss risk the entire supe world to send you after her?” I ask.

  “Fuck ... you ...”

  “Wrong answer.” I stomp again. Ribs break with echoing snaps, and his shrieks only make the sound sweeter. “Talk, asshole.”

  “Fuck! Okay!” I wait, trigger finger itching to put the next point of lead between his fucking eyes. “Boss ... needs her. Just ... supposed to ... bring her ... in ...”

  I lean down. “In a fucking body bag?”

  His head shakes as more sweat pops out on his skin. “Whatever ... was needed ...”

  Gold light illuminates his body and all the blood pouring from him. “Where is he?” I ask.

  “Jail.”

  “His office?” Another moan is my only answer. I shoot him in the hand. His scream echoes around us. Along with the distant wail of sirens. “Office?” I prompt as the sound grows nearer.

  His whole body trembles, and his teeth seem locked together. “Don’t know ...”

  I level the gun back up at his head.

  Too much white rims his eyes as he locks on the motion. Or maybe it’s the barrel of my 9. “No. Please. I don’t know. I swear,” he pleads.

  My smile is all fang. “Oh, I know.” And I squeeze the trigger.

  THE STREETS ARE EMPTY, and I’ve circled the fucking block four fucking times. I peer through the front windshield of the Mercedes. The city prior is bright in the distance. More with the rising sun than any signs of life. My skin tingles and burns. Dawn is close, but Lilah is still missing. “Come on, gods-dammit...”

  A hunched figure huddles inside a bus station at the end of the street, head in hands. I slow down and pull up alongside it and let the window drop down as those chestnut fucking waves peek from beneath her ball cap. “Get in the car.”

  Lilah jumps like someone stuck her with a cattle prod. Her icy eyes narrow on me. “Oh my fucking god. It was you.” She swears in a long stream. “Just ... just go away.”

  “Can’t do that. Get in the fucking car.”

  “Why would I get in the car with you?” She stands and walks a pace closer before stopping. “You’re a vampire. And a murderer.” Her words are shockingly soft. Quiet.

  No sense denying either. But I don’t point out that I saved her ass. Much. “A thank you is more than sufficient.”

  “Thank you? You want me to say thank you?” I wait as her voice rises. “You know what? Thank you. Thank you for making me jobless, penniless ... and now lifeless.”

  “I’m pretty sure you made that last part up.”

  “The club was my home. It’s all I had.” She starts to pace, agitation lancing through her. “And now Vic will—” She cuts herself off and looks at me.

  Her cold gaze fills with a world of malice. “Just go away.” She grabs her bag and starts walking up the street. The sun continues to rise, feeding the restless feeling coursing through my body.

  Stubborn ass fucking—

  I drive up beside her, keeping pace. “Damn it, Lilah. Get in,” I call.

  She stiffens, but doesn’t slow. “I said go away.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  Her head turns and those vibrant eyes pierce me in the chest. My length hardens to a point of pain.

  Son of a—

  “And you’re a fang prick.”

  My lips curve against my will. “Fine, fair enough,” I call. “At least let me take you somewhere. A friend’s house?” She doesn’t react. “A relative? A hotel? Something?”

  Her damn shoulders tighten with every word. “I said to leave me alone. Haven’t you caused me enough grief for one night?”

  A low rumble pours from me. “This is fucking idiotic, Lilah. I’m trying to help you. Now get in the damn car.”

  She stops walking.

  I brake fast and slam the coven car into park. Leaning over the console, I try to get her to look at me. “Anywhere you want to go ...” I coax. She grips the strap of her bag and lifts it higher, but there is less resolve in her slim shoulders. “Car. In,” I prompt.

  Her pale eyes lock on me. “Fine.”

  I open the door and shove it wide. Her small frame collapses in the seat beside me, bag clutched tight to her chest. Like a fucking shield.

  In the close interior of the vehicle, her soft lilac and sea fragrance fills the air. Quickly. It makes my gums ache and blood pool south of the border. Again. I shift, grateful for my leathers.

  Fuck, what is wrong with me?

  I keep the windows down and pull off. “Do you have somewhere to go?” I ask.

  Her dark head remains turned away, fingers tight in the material of her bag. “Any hotel—far from here—is fine.” I st
udy her face in the dark glass, but there is nothing in her expression.

  “Any hotel?” I prompt, wanting to make it clear.

  She gives a jerking nod.

  My lips tremor, and I shift gears. When I glance at her, it takes everything I got to hide my smile. “Sure thing. Whatever you say.”

  8

  Lilah

  THE DAMN LITTLE CAR purrs around me, and the vamp at my side maneuvers it with ease.

  A vamp, Lilah.

  My eyes close, blocking out the forest lining the roadside as we travel farther out of the city. A damn vampire.

  In all the years I’ve worked for Uncle Vic, I’ve never seen a vampire as attractive as the one beside me. I hoped it was the low lighting of Carnage, a trick on my senses. It wasn’t.

  And it feels like such a betrayal, knowing what I do about his kind.

  What little bit we are taught in school—all the bullshit that they start out human, like us, and how it’s only their transition during puberty that makes them into blood drinkers ... It’s just that. Bullshit.

  They are born this way, no matter how normal they appear. But he, especially, looks like the monster he is. A sexy, devilish ...

  Hell.

  I try hard not to inhale his spicy scent. Some strange mixture of sandalwood, musk, and lavender. It threads through every inch of his car, tightening things it has no business affecting.

  Especially considering my current predicament.

  Uncle Vic is in jail, but his reach is long. As evidenced by his thugs finding me so soon. Draven, undoubtedly, fled somewhere into the night like the coward he is. I have no friends. Not even at Carnage. It was a job. A means to an end and hopefully a way to buy my freedom.

  But now I’m homeless, jobless, and on the run for my life. All the money in my account will barely pay for a week at even the sleaziest hotel.

  How the hell am I going to survive now?