Marked (Dark Ties Book 1)

by A. Vers

  Was she asleep?

  Something dark unfurls in my gut.

  Is someone in there?

  “You okay?” I ask, nostrils flaring to sort through the strong pulse of lilac and seawater pouring out into the hall. But there is no other scent besides hers.

  She nods, gulping loudly. “Yeah. Fine. What’s up?”

  “Can I come in?”

  She blinks, face reddening further. “Umm, well, I was kind of ...”

  I wait.

  Her exhale is shaky. “Yeah. Sure.” She steps back, so I can enter. “If you will just give me a sec, I wasn’t really expecting company.”

  I nod and lean against the wall. She rushes around picking up the tons of clothes all over the floor and bedspread.

  My brows raise. And I mean clothes.

  Her arms are laden with fabric as she shoves handfuls in her bag before chunking it on the other side of the bed.

  She ducks in the bathroom and comes out a minute later, soft looking shorts on her legs. Her small body curls up on the bench at the end of the bed, idly twirling a thin section of her hair. “So ...”

  “You came to find me earlier. I had a minute. Thought I should see what you needed?” I ask.

  Her lips tug, but it’s not in amusement. “So ... Hours later, I finally warrant your attention?”

  If only she knew that she is all that is taking up my attention right now.

  “Look, about earlier. I hadn’t fed when you showed up, and I was kind of an ass,” I tell her as polite as I can manage.

  Better to catch her with honey.

  “Kind of?” she demands.

  My eyes narrow. “Fine. I was an ass. Better?”

  She folds her arms over her chest and frowns, but otherwise doesn’t remark.

  My gaze dips down and I gulp.

  Fuck. No bra.

  I glance away, mouth watering at the full mounds beneath the threadbare material. “Markus wanted me to come extend his hospitality on behalf of the coven.”

  “Well ... Okay.”

  I peer at her. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say now?”

  She shrugs. “Sorry. I was kind of trying to get ready when you showed up.”

  “Places to be?” The words are cold.

  Her eyes flash. “As a matter of fact, yes. I’m going to Underground.”

  My hands tighten. “With who?”

  She glares. “Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but Raina. She invited me out.”

  I rock back.

  She did? Why the hell didn’t anyone tell me that?

  My mind whirs. Maybe Raina just wants spend time with her. To feel her out. Markus and Raina aren’t exactly exclusive if it suits their fantasies, but would they really do this?

  I shake my head.

  No. No feeling out.

  The King is going to explain what the hell he is planning.

  Now.

  Walking to the door, I glance at her. “Look, get ready to go. I’ll meet you in the foyer in an hour.”

  She blinks at my amicable tone, or maybe my rapid departure. “In the foyer?”

  My lips tug against my will. “Yeah. I’m going with you.”

  She starts to rise from the bench, eyes flashing. “Like hell—”

  I shut the door on her denial and flit to the damn coven wing. The doors bang open and half the coven house glances up as I storm inside.

  “Yes?” Markus’ voice is amused as he peers up at me.

  “You invited her to Underground?” I demand.

  “Did I forget to mention that?”

  I growl.

  “Oh stop growling, you’re coming too,” Raina’s says beside him.

  “Did you think I’d let her go alone?” They just smile, and my brows narrow. “You’re up to something. I can feel it,” I mutter.

  Markus climbs to his feet, pulling Raina up beside him. “Of course I am,” he all but purrs. “I am your gods-damned king. If I tell you to wine and dine the human to get answers, you will.”

  “Is that your order, my lord?” I snap.

  His eyes flash. “Yes. You will accompany the human girl to Underground. Be polite, charming. Surely you have not forgotten how?”

  My teeth grind. I feel anything but charming.

  What I feel is animalistic. Horny. Thirsty.

  Yeah those words work better.

  But I bow low and start to walk away.

  “Dress nice!” Raina calls. I slam to a stop, fists clenched and an unintelligible string of curses pouring from me.

  My heart pounds as I stand, riveted, in place.

  It’s one night. One damn night.

  How bad can it be?

  My knuckles crack, but I flit down the fucking hall to get ready.

  18

  Lilah

  I ROCK A LITTLE ON my low heels, watching the minute hand tick away on the foyer clock. Ruin is ten minutes late. Not that I’ve been counting. At all.

  My snort makes Maximus glance over. He offers a genteel wave and goes back to his dusting.

  The only thing I had that was Club patron worthy was some old cast offs from Carnage. Something Raina assured me was not going to do.

  Five minutes later, said vampire queen and two hired hands showed up at my door, a case of clothes between them. The trunk of clothes were part of what the vampiress called ‘finds’. Things the other refugees left behind when it was time to move on.

  There were flapper dresses and go-go boots, lace gloves and poodle skirts. It was a hodge-podge of every era in one bin.

  It took some digging, and a lot of pleading on Raina’s part, but I got dressed.

  I try not to pull at my skirt. Again.

  It’s shorter than I like. A lot shorter. But the pleated fabric is shockingly soft and a wondrous mix of black and red. The tank top was one of Raina’s. And definitely not meant for breasts my size.

  I glare down at my cleavage as they try to spill free. Someone clears their throat.

  My head whips up, cheeks on fire.

  Ruin stands at the base of the stairs, one brow raised as he watches me.

  Drool spills from my mouth.

  He traded his leather gear for dark blue jeans poured over his massive thighs, a black T-shirt, and combat boots. Thick leather cuffs adorn his wrists, and a single diamond sits in one ear.

  The man screams bad boy wet dream. I try to force my raging hormones into submission. All it does is make me pant. He stalks over the marble floor, hips rolling.

  And walks right past me.

  My heart slams at the dismissal. I drop my head a little and follow him out of the manor. The Mercedes from the night before idles at the sidewalk. I climb in beside him and try to ignore his scent.

  We remain in the driveway—car running—long enough that I look over.

  He watches me, brows furrowed and confusion on his face. One long, pale finger flows over the line of my neck and down. It trails across the strap of the tank top before continuing over my bare arm. I shiver and my nipples peak.

  “You have gooseflesh,” he says softly. I remain rigid, hoping he will touch me again and hating myself for wanting him to. “Are you cold?”

  I turn to gaze at him. My body is on fire, heated with a single stroke of his finger. “No.”

  A trace of gold light spins through his irises. He closes them fast and focuses out the window before putting the car in gear. After a moment, the windows roll down and warm night air whips through the interior. Effectively drowning out the rapid beat of my heart, and the vampire’s delectable fragrance soaking into my skin.

  He drives in silence, gaze averted and steady. Focused.

  Too focused.

  I glance down to find his hand mottled around the gear shift.

  “Ruin?”

  He grunts.

  “Why did you come with me?”

  He glances over quickly and then back at the road. “Think of it as witness protection,” he says as he maneuvers through traffic. �
�You’re in coven custody because you know about our target.” Something about the way he says it makes me stiffen.

  My shoulders fall. Oh. “So ... I have answers you need?”

  “And answers I have every intention of getting.” His eyes flash. “One way or another.”

  “And accompanying me to a club is one way?”

  “No, taking you to Underground is part of my orders. I keep you alive, you help me find Vlad, and we both go home happy.”

  I fold my arms over my chest. “You mean you go home happy?”

  The steering wheel creaks. “Surely you have a place. Maybe on Lock Lake? I hear it’s nice there.”

  I snort. “I have—had an apartment off Dallas.” He looks at me sharply. “Yeah. They showed up at my apartment first and tracked me to Miller where you showed up.”

  “Dallas is—”

  “Don’t say it’s a ‘rough part of town’ ,” I warn. “I’m fully aware. But it’s what I can afford.”

  He makes a sound but covers it quickly with a cough. “Do you need anything from there?” His eyes are locked out the window, no inflection across his chiseled features.

  “Really?” I ask.

  He shifts in his seat and glances over. “Yeah. If you want to go by there ...”

  Again, there is a tone to his words. Almost like a challenge.

  Does he think I’m scared after last night?

  Because he’s right. I’m fucking terrified of Vic finding me. But somehow, I doubt Ruin would let him get too close.

  “There are a few things I’d like to get.”

  He takes the next right without me having to say anything else.

  The farther we go into that part of Lock Lake, the more nervous I become.

  Will Vic’s goons be waiting? Ruin doesn’t appear armed, but would a coven captain go anywhere without packing a little heat?

  I wouldn’t be surprised if Vic staged some of his hired guns at my old place. Any opportunity to make sure my mouth stays shut, permanently, about everything he has done, Vic will take it.

  Ruin pulls the Mercedes up in front of my apartment building and embarrassment fills me. His new sports car is the nicest vehicle for miles. The old piss-yellow paint on the building is peeling from heat and years of neglect.

  Hell, even in the dark the whole place looks like it should be condemned.

  I climb out of the car before I can change my mind. “I’m on the second floor.”

  Ruin rises out behind me, gaze fixed up at the building, one hand on the roof of his car. “This is you?”

  “Yeah.” My toe scuffs the cracked and dilapidated pavement. “You coming?”

  His brows knit together, but he closes the door and follows me to the back steps.

  We walk in silence up the old stairs and to the cement landing. I try not to notice Ruin’s quiet, assessing attitude. Or how he stays close enough that his body heat ghosts over my bare arm.

  At my door, he motions me back behind him.

  With a small wrench, he breaks the lock on the knob and steps in before me.

  My hands fly to my mouth as I trail in after.

  The whole place is trashed. All my dishes broke, my old couch shredded. I pick my way through a ruined stack of second hand paperbacks and try not to cry at all the pages thrown like confetti around the room.

  “Lilah...”

  I glance up to find Ruin watching me. There is something on his face, something like guilt. Or regret. I wipe at my nose.

  “Just let me grab ...” I trail off, trying to find anything left whole from my old life. My breath catches.

  There is nothing.

  Strong arms flow around me, and I find myself nose to sternum with a rock-hard chest. Ruin holds me tight. His big body seems to fold over mine, shielding me from everything. “I’m sorry, Lilah. I shouldn’t have mentioned this.”

  I sniffle. “Should’ve known,” I mutter against his body. “Vic never liked me having my own stuff. Not after—”

  I shut myself off abruptly after memories of my little closet space at Carnage roars through me.

  No. Never again.

  It was bricked up for a reason. No one can ever know what happened there. No one.

  I step away fast. “Sorry,” I say, scrubbing at my face and eyes. Thankfully, I don’t wear makeup. “There’s nothing here. We can go.”

  Ruin’s dark eyes are heavy over me. “Okay.”

  I walk out of the main room and back into the hall. Ruin closes the door behind us, and I try not to shudder at the finality of the panel in its frame. If I didn’t have to start over before, I do now.

  My arms wind tight around me, and I wish they were the odd comfort of Ruin’s. Instead, I settle for the small hope that Underground is as great as Raina said. I glance back at my old building as we step out of the dim corridor.

  Because there damn sure isn’t anything left here for me anymore.

  19

  Ruin

  LILAH STARES AROUND at the club interior, eyes wide and childlike next to me. Her cheeks are still flushed, and her eyes red-rimmed. But after the apartment fiasco, I’m just grateful she isn’t crying anymore.

  And that is not something I ever want to see again. Lilah crying.

  Goddess, her tears were like knives in my gut, burning and wrenching. A notion made worse because I suggested it. My gut squirms and I shift in place.

  Great going asshole. Great going.

  But who can fucking blame her?

  The gods-damn apartment was trash, something I didn’t notice when I found her two blocks over. I knew the address. Fucking knew it and dismissed it after I scented those assholes on the wind when they came after her.

  That damn area of town is bad, but I didn’t know ... Even before the obvious shake down of her things, the place had a stale, musty odor. Like mold. The walls were stained yellow from cigarette smoke and even the cheap coat of paint couldn’t hide it completely.

  But that place did not scream heiress to a slum-dog millionaire.

  It just doesn’t make sense. None of it does.

  And not having answers is only making my temper worse. Her tears were too real. Too raw.

  Could we be wrong? Is she a victim after all?

  Underground thumps with life around us. Any other day, it would be normal. Easy. Now it’s annoying. Like the place doesn’t deserve to be in good standing when so much chaos has overtaken my world.

  The main dance floor is packed, and the Pit overflows with chatter, music, and smoke. Across the way, the archway for the dining area fractures with red light and gong music.

  Larry the Druid is about halfway through some new material from the sounds of things. The steady stream of guffaws and giggles should be infectious. Now I consider pulling the fire alarm for some damn peace and quiet.

  “What do you want to do first?” I ask, voice louder than normal to be heard over the din.

  Lilah peers back at me, blue eyes huge in her pretty face. Tonight, she is damn near all college girl innocence in the face, and naughty, goth cheerleader below. I continue to keep my eyes fixed on her sharp collarbones. Anything to stop them from straying to those succulent full lips or her full breasts in her tank top.

  “What do you suggest?” she asks.

  I wrench my gaze away from her body with force of will alone. My hands fists. “How about a drink?”

  She nods, still wide-eyed.

  I press a hand to the small of her back and urge her to the VIP section. Prisma raises a brow at my apparent ‘guest’, but lifts the rope for us to pass. I gesture Lilah to an empty booth in the corner and head to the bar.

  Pulling my cell as I go, I thumb a quick message to T.

  “Hey, Cap. Where’s your boys?” Davin stacks glasses at the edge of the polished counter as I near, his elliptical gaze tracking behind me to the gorgeous brunette now in the corner.

  “Off,” I grumble as I hit send. Or, to everyone else they are. In reality, T will be tracking down the authent
icity of the lease paperwork in Lilah’s name, and Gage will be on scout duty.

  At this point, after Lilah’s apartment from Hell, I don’t know what to fucking believe. And wanting Lilah is making me biased. It’s clouding my fucking senses.

  We need a new lead. And I need away from Lilah before I do something stupid.

  “The usual?” Davin asks.

  “Yeah.”

  He loads up a tray with Macallan and two glasses. As an afterthought, I ask for two sodas too.

  Even as a bartender, Lilah may not need or want to drink as much as I do.

  She looks up as I near, small hands fiddling with a napkin like she’s nervous. Her icy blue eyes trail from the top of my head to my steel-toe boots in appreciation. My gut flips at the notion.

  I shut it down. Fast. “Didn’t know what you drink,” I say, setting the tray down.

  She pours up two shots before knocking back hers like a pro. I gape.

  Her lips turn upward as she dances a little in place. “Bartender. Remember?” I take my shot and set the glass down for another. “It’s been forever since I came to a club just to have fun,” she calls over the music.

  I watch her sway a little in her seat as the alcohol makes her cheeks rosy. “Yeah?”

  She nods. “I snuck out when I turned eighteen to go to a club near Baton Rouge.” Another shot. “This is really good,” she says, pointing to the empty glass. “Anyway, it so wasn’t worth it. This asshole decided to spike my drink. Only instead of it knocking me out, I stayed up for like two days. I was so productive Vic said he was gonna give me a raise.”

  Her brows narrow. “He never did though.”

  The fuck?

  It’s so casual the way she says it. Like it’s normal in her life. My insides knot and self-loathing scorches through me.

  Guilty until proven otherwise , I chide, but it doesn’t help.

  I raise my shooter and down it. Then another. Drowning the anger in expensive liquor. Four shots in, the liquid smolders in my gut and I offer her my hand. “Come on.”

  Her fingers are warm in mine, small and smooth. She peers up at me and I haul her into my arms.

  She wobbles a little. And it’s the only excuse I need to wrap her in my arms. My heart slams into my sternum, beating so hard I swear it’s going to explode. I lean down. “You okay?” The curve of her ear is like silk against my lip.