Marked (Dark Ties Book 1)

by A. Vers

  I smirk. “Sure.” I start to walk out.

  “Ruin?”

  I turn in the doorway, hand hovering over the light switch. “Yeah?”

  She yawns again, gaze heavy-lidded. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “I never said that before.”

  My gut somersaults. “For what?”

  Her lips curve. “For saving me. And then saving me again with bringing me here. I’m going to pay you back for it. Somehow ...”

  I lean against the doorjamb. “Sleep, Lilah.”

  She smiles serenely, and her breathing evens out in my ears. I flip the lights off and close the doors before exiting my chambers. The door down the hall is hard under my knuckles. It opens and Markus looks at me, sleep pants low over his muscular hips.

  “Yes?”

  “You’re an asshole ... my lord . And your wife is no better.”

  His lips tug as Raina curls into his side in a white silk gown. “Whatever do you mean, Ruin?” she says, grinning.

  I scrub my face. “I’m fucking exhausted. This bullshit ...” I motion back to my door, “Tonight—the other night ... I can’t fucking think where Lilah is concerned. And now you stick her in my damn bed?”

  She appraises me. “At least now you admit it.”

  I gape.

  Markus holds up a hand to stop my retort. “The human is a weakness, Ruin. One you–we–cannot afford right now. Whatever is between you, work through it and get your head back in the game, boy.”

  It’s such a mirror to Gage’s words, that my hands curl into fists. “Yes, my lord.” I start to stalk away.

  “And, Ruin?” Raina calls. I stop and face them. “If you don’t take her soon, she’ll find someone who will do what you won’t.” I blink, sure I misheard. She beams. “Good night now.”

  The door closes in my face.

  I am left staring at it, fatigue and confusion warring through my insides. Stumbling away, I half lean, half bang my head on Tanner’s door. It opens on his slack face, hair in a chestnut halo around his head. The black-eye I gave him is already fading to a sickly green that matches the ridiculous skull-faced woman tattoo across his left pec. At least the bruise will be gone completely in a few more hours.

  “Fuck you and whatever mission you want help with,” he mutters, good eye partially open.

  I shove past him.

  “Oi, prick,” he calls after me.

  Gage’s door opens, and he peers out. “What the hell?”

  “I need to crash here tonight.”

  Don’t ask. Don’t fucking ask ...

  “Why?” Tanner grumbles.

  I growl. “Because Lilah is passed out in my bed.”

  In my shirt and nothing fucking else.

  They look at each other and burst out laughing. My Glock innocently finds its way into my hand. Gage sobers quickly and rubs at his busted lip.

  “Sure thing, Cap.” He points to the long sofa that doubles as a bed. “Tan-Man, grab him some blankets.”

  I help him move the coffee table and tug out the mattress. And then promptly fall face first on it, gun within reach. They both chuckle. Tanner drops a clean pillow from the linen closet and a blanket next to my head. I wave him off.

  Someone pats me on the back of the leg. “Good night, Cap.”

  “‘Night,” I call, voice muffled by the bed.

  The doors to their rooms close, and I snag the pillow with one hand. Shoving it under my head, I’m asleep before I ever stop moving.

  26

  Lilah

  I SCRUB DOWN THE BAR top at Underground, needlessly polishing the glass top. Again.

  “Would you calm down?” Raina asks, sweet laughter coloring her voice. Today she wears a simple pant suit and a robin’s-egg-blue silk shirt.

  I groan all over again and sag atop the bar. “I can’t.”

  Ruin was all but nonexistent for the early evening before we left. He wasn’t in the coven house. Wasn’t in the manor at all, it seemed. My desire to talk to him quickly faded to embarrassment.

  Raina found me pacing in the foyer an hour before we were set to leave. She decided my abundance of energy could be better served getting ready for the first rush.

  So far, she isn’t wrong. But even though my body got the memo by working through every task she has thrown at me, my mind has been a mess of chaos and heat.

  Raina pats me on the shoulder, smile almost devious as she takes in my expression. “Honey, you’re smudging my glass,” she teases.

  I push myself back up. “He’s avoiding me. He has to be.” I know she put me in his room for a reason. And though he didn’t seem overly angry I was there, he hasn’t made any attempts to seek me out again either.

  She snorts. “He’ll show up. It’s one of the main reasons I drove you here, honey. Let him worry about where you went and with who. He’ll turn up. Now, get that pretty tail back to work.”

  Chuckling, I finish prepping the bar and grab my rag to wipe down the tables. On the illuminated dais across from me, Aberoth the Great, also known as Larry ‘The Druid’ sets up his cases and does a sound check for tonight.

  It’s quiet in the blood-red lounge but for the Druid’s voice and the occasional microphone shriek. Raina keeps up her own steady banter as she makes calls to suppliers and a missing cook for tonight.

  I polish the tables and right the chairs. Just idly straightening here and there. I bend down to pick up a small leaf from the carpet when a low whistle sounds. “Look at that ... glass.”

  I look up and turn around.

  Larry shoves his hand over the mouth of one of his—honest to god—shrunken heads. He glares at it. “Simon. Stop.”

  The little head wriggles free, and my eyes go wide. It bounces on the case top and seems to wobble a bit in place. Tufts of crinkly dark hair stick up at odd angles from its scalp, and faded black thread rests at the corners of its emaciated mouth. “I was remarking on her cleaning ability. What were you thinking about?”

  I laugh as Larry’s freckled face flames. It makes his short ginger hair even brighter and the clash is terrible. But he’s cute, in a boy next door way.

  “Sorry,” he calls to me. “You would think two hundred years would give these guys better manners.”

  Still smiling, I approach the stage. “So ... are they really talking?” Druids are not super common in the states, but their power is legendary.

  Simon huffs. “Of course we can talk.”

  Larry rolls his eyes. “But do they say anything? No, not really,” he says behind his hand to me.

  “I heard that,” Simon calls.

  Larry and I dissolve into laughter, and the cases all along the stage rattle and move. Simon continues his snide repertoire as Larry climbs down to stand next to me.

  “That was incredible,” I say, and mean it.

  He beams, highlighting the freckles scattered over his cheeks. “Thank you.”

  “How did you find so many willing acts?”

  He chuckles, and runs a hand through his copper hair, pushing the styled strands back. “Not sure if you can call them willing, per se. Honestly, most of them have been in the family for years. Simon ... I found him in the Middle East when I spent a few years abroad. He wanted out of the box the shopkeeper had him in, and I wanted a comedy act.”

  I fold my arms and lean back against the stage. “Comedy genius in the making,” I tease.

  His eyes glance my way as he shuffles a little closer. One warm arm brushes mine. “I know you’re working tonight, but if you get a chance, I’d love for you to watch us perform. You have a great laugh.”

  My face heats. “Thank you, but–”

  “But she will be busy.” Ruin’s voice cuts through my words with a hint of finality. I turn to find him in ultra-tight black jeans, the shirt I wore to bed, and his thick leather cuffs over his wrists. It’s badass, young, and so damn masculine it makes it hard to breathe.

  Or maybe it’s the heat his presence creates.

  Larry straightens next to me, gaze
going from the vampire to myself and back. “Hey, Ruin.”

  Ruin nods. “Lawrence.”

  I peer at the druid under my lashes. “Lawrence?” I tease.

  “Shut it,” he quips, but the smile is still in place.

  I snicker. “No wonder you go by Aberoth.”

  He elbows me gently and I giggle. “Smart ass.”

  Ruin coughs.

  I look over at him, brow raised. “Yes?”

  His empty features twist. “You weren’t at the house.”

  “Are we stating things I already know?”

  “Have you been here all day?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but no.”

  If possible, his scowl grows. “I need to talk to you.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m at work.”

  Those full lips curve into a snide smile as he glances pointedly at Larry. “Interesting occupation.”

  My eyes narrow, and I push from the stage to stalk closer. “You shut down my last job. I am here,” I motion around us, “hours early to learn my surroundings and get everything in order before my shift. So yes, I’m ... at ... work,” I grind out.

  He prowls closer, filling my head with spice until it becomes hard to think past the delectable fragrance of his body.

  Obsidian irises glitter as he presses into my front, staring down at me from his over half a foot of extra height. “Have you eaten?” he asks.

  I blink. “What?”

  He tugs the rag from my hand. “Raina, she’s taking a meal break.”

  “Sure thing, love,” Raina calls back, voice way too cheery.

  My head whips over. The other woman stalks behind the bar, leather-bound notebook in her hands as she ticks off things with her pen. I start to protest. Ruin’s calloused fingers slide down my forearm and wind with mine.

  I stop breathing.

  He pulls and I stumble into place behind him. “Come on,” he says, voice milder now. “I’m feeding you before your first day.”

  I glance over my shoulder as we crest the wide entrance to the comedy club. Larry waits where I left him, his arms crossed and a frown on his face.

  27

  Ruin

  LILAH PERCHES ON THE edge of her seat, bright blue eyes tracking over every inch of the restaurant. I try not to stare at her, to keep from growling every time a trace of the druid’s scent pours from her skin.

  The only fucking one that needs to be on her is mine.

  But I had to shut this shit down last night. Shut her down. And judging by how cozy she was with the damn druid, maybe I already did.

  My phone ringing at a little after 5 PM kept me from finding Lilah as soon as she woke up. But learning Vic was still in custody took precedence. It seems that Lilah’s guardian is being held in connection to a string of similar enterprises in Tennessee. Along with his loyal cronies. Which means Lilah is safe from him.

  For now.

  When I got back to the manor this evening to find out she was gone, it was like a damn fist in my gut. I had every intention of saying fuck it and taking her anyway I can get her. Though I am no longer sure if I believe she had anything to do with Vic’s work here, I no longer feel torn about wanting her with the local pain in the ass behind bars.

  So finding her and fucking her against any damn surface seemed like the best idea ever.

  Gage and Tanner, no-fucking-doubt, caught my inhale and the spike in my scent. My resolution. Smart as they are, both males made themselves scarce while I scoured my rooms and hers. It was only when Maximus said she left with Raina that some of my crazed emotion eased. Only for it to make a grand return when I walked into Underground and found Lilah and Larry side by side at the damn stage.

  Fucking druid.

  The little punk has never been a problem before now. And he is playing in something he doesn’t understand.

  Lilah shifts across from me, drawing my focus. “You don’t have to do this,” she mutters softly over the classical music playing over the speakers.

  I snort. “Did you eat breakfast?”

  Her dark head shakes, and her heavy waves scrub over the blouse covering her. The little knot of fabric around her navel is no longer visible. Thank Goddess.

  “Lunch?” Another shake. “Hence why we are here,” I say.

  She rolls her eyes and tucks her hair behind her ear. “I would’ve eaten. Eventually.”

  I watch her look around, taking in the oil paintings and amber light spilling from the chandeliers. It’s not the fanciest joint on the block, but the cook knows me and I always get the best table.

  “Before or after you worked for what? Twelve hours?”

  She glares as a flush of pink fills the curve of her neck. “Before.”

  I smirk. “Sure.”

  “Why are you even bothering me right now? Don’t you have bad guys to catch?” she asks, disgruntlement audible in her voice.

  I lean my forearms over the table. “I may have had an ulterior motive in asking you to eat.”

  Her full lips part. “Okay ...”

  “Vic is being detained.”

  Her heart slams in my ears. “For how long?”

  “Indefinitely, at the moment.

  Her eyes dart rapidly over the table and then over me. “So I’m safe?”

  “Vlad is still out there.” She winces. “I know. But until he is behind bars too, I need your help.”

  I watch as her expression fills with fiery resolve. “How?”

  “I need another lead, Lilah. Something. Anything.” So it’s not a complete lie. In reality, I just want her at my side. And far from Larry’s. “Anything you can tell me,” I say, honestly. “We know Vic was working with Vlad. But even with half the properties in your name there is only so far–”

  “What?” she asks sharply.

  I blink. “What?”

  “You just said properties in my name. What properties?”

  I start to huff. “Cut the crap, Lilah. I was in Vic’s office. I saw the leases.”

  Her face turns ashen. “Show me.”

  I look at our empty table and the kitchen door. “But what about–”

  She climbs to her feet and stands beside me, hands on her hips and her little jaw tilted in resolution. “Show me, Ruin.” Her eyes glint. “Now.”

  LILAH PULLS THE NEXT aged document across the table, her expression carefully empty. “I don’t understand. Why would he do this?” she mutters.

  I lean against the desk. “Come on–”

  She rounds on me. “If you tell me to stop lying or anything else that even sounds asshole-ish ... I will shoot you with your own gun.”

  My gut flips. Not with anger, but excitement. I push from the old wood edge. “Prove none of it is yours then.”

  She pulls an older model cell phone out of her pocket and opens an app before turning it around. A local bank logo glares back at me. Along with a very low number in the only account under her name.

  When I glance at her, her face is blood-red. “I’m fucking broke, Ruin. Don’t you think, if I had more money somewhere, I would have lived in better conditions than my apartment?” She waves angrily around us. “I had to pay Vic rent for the room down the hall. Almost half of my damn check every week so he could–” Her words choke off.

  She bends in half and pulls at the leg of her jeans inside her boot. The hem is patched with an uneven stitch in ugly red thread. “This is not from all my offshore accounts,” she hisses.

  My hand closes over her arm. “The room down the hall ... You had to pay him to stay there?”

  She goes very, very still. “You’ve seen it?” Her voice is soft, horrified.

  “What was the room used for, Lilah?”

  Her eyes dart to the door behind me. She licks her full lower lip as her pulse races way too fast in my ears. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  I run a hand through my spiked hair, mouth dry. It was as bad as I thought. And I thought– “Fuck.”

  Her eyes darken
to cerulean. “You really believed the properties were mine, didn’t you?” I stay silent. She rocks back. “I can’t believe this shit. After how we met?”

  “Lilah–”

  She turns away and stalks to the door. I run after her.

  “Where are you going?” I call.

  “To my supposed house on Lock Lake.” Her lithe frame stops in the center of the stairs, and she turns to glower down at me. “Markus said something about a property on the lake yesterday. Even hinted at letting me work with him on it. Was that more lies?”

  I stare up at her.

  She talked to Markus? When?

  “I have no idea what–”

  A heavy clatter sounds upstairs, close to the hall entrance. Too close. I grab Lilah from the step, arm around her knees and her midsection level with my face. I pull the light cord as quiet as I can, plunging us into complete darkness. Her little fists pound at me.

  I slide her down my body, burying my face in her neck. “Quiet. There’s someone upstairs.”

  She stills and her hands clench in my shirt. I ease her slowly to the floor and urge her behind me and into a musty storage closet.

  With the door cracked, I peer through it. Waiting. Her heat presses over my spine but her heartbeat is loud in my ears. Too loud. I grab her hand as another creak sounds above. She whimpers.

  “Lilah, calm down,” I whisper. Still the beat thrums. I roll my head on my shoulders, fangs dropping with force at the erratic rhythm. Fear for a vamp is like salt on a steak. Just enough makes the meal. Too much and it’s ruined.

  She clings to me. “Ruin, I can’t do this. What if you were wrong? What if it’s Vic?” Her pulse pounds faster. “He’ll kill me. I know it. I’m no use to him now. And the waitress was just as expendable. Oh god. I’m dead. I’m fucking dead.” The last comes out on a desolate mewl.

  Shit.

  I snare her in my arms and press her head to my chest. “Stop. If he comes near you ...” I swallow. Hard. The fucker will never get her. Ever again. “You’re safe, Lilah. Just breathe.”

  Her fists dig into my skin.

  “Listen to the beat of my heart, okay?” I whisper. “Hear the steadiness. The calm. And breathe.”