Marked (Dark Ties Book 1)

by A. Vers

  My back arches and my hands scramble to hold on as he plows into me with a force that I don’t expect. That he hasn’t used before. It takes seconds, seconds of his scent, his sounds, and his glorious body in mine before the first orgasm begins to ripple through me.

  I clamp my legs around his waist, holding him to me as I quake and rock with him.

  His fangs drop and still he keeps going. He drives into me over and over, back flexing and a fine coat of sweat mixing with the water of the shower. But his eyes are not on mine. They are locked onto the thudding beat of my heart.

  I claw at his ass, digging my nails into those pumping swells as I offer him my breasts and neck. “Bite me, Ruin.” His spicy scent fills the air. “Bite me.”

  That devilish tongue flows over his fangs in the hottest motion I have ever seen a male make. My body begins to ripple again.

  His fangs elongate past his bottom lip as he rears back. They scratch my flesh as his rhythm speeds, forcing me closer to that edge. A small pinch precedes the soft pop...

  My scream echoes off the ceiling as the orgasm does not build, but crashes into me like a truck.

  I bow, grinding and twisting as Ruin seats himself as far as he can go, filling me as my blood fills him. He suckles again, and I contract.

  Wave after wave of pleasure finds me as he feeds. It’s never ending, impossible. But my body doesn’t care. He roars against my neck as he comes too.

  Quaking, I go limp in his arms and he stills. He pulls back, gold light fading rapidly under an empty, cold black. My blood coats his lips in a ruby-red sheen, but he seems to glow with an unholy light as he backs away.

  I try to reach for him, but can’t. My arms are too heavy, weighted from the pleasure his bite brings.

  The thought makes me ripple again, and my mouth opens on a wordless scream as another release finds me. I arch back against the mirror, head digging into the shockingly warm pane.

  God.

  Ruin watches it all, confusion warring with the fear. He shakes himself and rushes to me. “Lilah? Fuck, baby girl.” He bites into his wrist and presses it to my lips. I pull back. Away. He smiles, but it’s sad. “No, you need to drink, baby girl. I took too much.”

  My face flames as I stare at him, trying to wordlessly explain my unwillingness is more about his words this morning than him moments ago. “Not ... blood ...” I cough to clear the rasp in my voice. “Orgasm ... too many ...”

  His eyes go comically wide. “What?”

  I cough again and finally manage to disengage my weak limbs from the counter-top. When I slide down to the floor, he scoops me up against him, one agile hand softly smoothing my hair back.

  “Lilah?” He lifts his arm again. His spicy scent is stronger, mixing with the undercurrent of aged pennies. “Come on, baby. Just a little. It will replace what I took without hurting you. I promise.”

  I glance up at the stoic lines of his face. But he remains unwavering. My hands shake as they wind around the heavy muscle in his arm, but I allow him to press that gliding heat to my mouth.

  His flavor flows over my tongue to scorch my insides like really good liquor or cider. I moan and suck at the fluid almost greedily. He chuckles. “Not what you were expecting, huh?”

  I ease back, licking my lips. “You taste amazing.”

  His dark eyes roll to gold. “So do you.”

  “Ruin ...” I pause, unsure if I want to even voice it. To bring up such a tense subject. “Thank you for trusting yourself enough to feed.”

  He winces. “That was stupid, Lilah. I could’ve hurt you.”

  “But you didn’t hurt me, Ruin. I swear. Your bite ...” My face heats again.

  “Say it, Lilah.” His command is part challenge, part desolate hope.

  Clasping his face between my hands, I look him dead in the eyes and smile. “It’s one of the best fucking things I have ever felt.”

  38

  Ruin

  I DAMN NEAR SKIP INTO Markus’ office, a smile on my face and a bounce in my step. “My lord?” I sweep a low bow.

  He raises one flaxen brow. Low coughs sound behind me and I turn to find my team already in the room. Their expressions are solemn, empty. The ones they wear in the field. My pulse speeds.

  Facing Markus again, I force my heartbeat to calm. “You needed me?” I ask the king.

  He rises from his seat and shoves a manila folder across the blotter to me. I scoop it up and flip through it.

  The photos that stare back are not the worst I have seen in my career as a hired gun. Hell, the war was worse. A lot worse. My eyes dart over the images of the strangled male, noting the bloated features and distorted coloring.

  “Time?” I ask, surprised my voice is as mild as it is.

  “Four hours ago,” Markus says. “Lock Lake thought we should know.”

  “Cap ... You’re gonna have to tell her.”

  I nod. “She needs to know.” My hand tightens around the photos of Lilah’s now dead guardian. Victor Despacito will never come for her again, will never send someone after her.

  My only regret? It wasn’t me that offed him.

  “Ruin. There’s more.” Markus’ voice makes me set the folder down. “We got Interpol’s file in.”

  My head goes between them all. “Then why the hell are we standing around? We got facial recognition software running, right, T?” I look at the shifter and his body rocks from foot to foot. I frown. “What the hell is going on?”

  Markus holds up another picture, this one even more familiar than the first. “This is Vlad Dracul, Barnabus Emil, Louis Nosfer...” I stare at the face of the man that Interpol connected to the deaths of over three hundred supernaturals in the US alone.

  The vampire from Carnage, Draven Frost, is in profile, his blond hair coiled back from his face above a pair of leather pants and early dark ages shirt. He looks like he is moments from stepping onto a stage somewhere.

  “Is this a joke?”

  “No, Ruin. It is not.”

  “The names all make sense.” T’s voice filters into my ears. “He picks aliases based on famous vampires from pop culture. Hell, he was the performer at Carnage. It would explain the brochures to the ballet, Cap. Maybe it’s a new cover.” I remain quiet. “That’s a lead, man.”

  “We figure he was probably watching Vic to make sure the fucker wasn’t taking a cut from the top, feel?” Gage asks, and his distinct steps come near. “When Vic got in county, Vlad–Draven– Whatever his name is ... He probably hired someone on the inside to make sure Vic didn’t squeal.”

  I can vaguely feel my head bobbing in agreement. But inside I’m cursing myself over and over for not listening to my gut.

  For not shooting that fucker when he ripped out the shifter’s throat on that stage.

  “You know this means Lilah is the only one left.” Caine’s question is the one that lifts my head, that draws my focus from the mass of loathing and rage swirling in my gut.

  “Yeah, but he wants her for other reasons.” My voice is empty, hollow, but I can’t get Draven’s focused stare out of my head now. How those gold eyes were locked on Lilah like he wanted to take her apart to see how she works.

  Caine’s hellfire gaze watches me from just beyond Gage’s shoulder. With his arm in a sling, I expect the other man to appear less dangerous, less capable.

  He doesn’t.

  “We get him, Ruin, before he finds her.” He watches me as I watch him. The look in Caine’s eyes tells me he has no problem playing the demon to my conscious. And I have no problem having him there.

  A heavy hand lands on my shoulder. “We don’t need to worry about that,” Markus says into the tension. “Lilah is here. In Eternity custody. We can protect her, and we will.”

  Except we couldn’t protect her from the vamp at Lock Lake. Couldn’t stop Draven from getting close at Underground, or from setting the stage for the blonde hostess.

  No. The coven can’t protect Lilah. Not really.

  Not while Drave
n is alive.

  My eyes bore into Caine’s, and I know that he understands better than even Gage or Tanner.

  They like Lilah just fine. Respect her. Admire her.

  But Caine and I will kill for her.

  I give a small nod, and the others seem to relax.

  They think I am agreeing with the King, backing down and letting justice win out. I’m not. I’m giving my final order. The only one that may really matter in my lifetime.

  We won’t be bringing Draven in in cuffs. There will be no processing, no paperwork.

  Because they will never find the body. And the demon and I will make sure of it.

  I SLIP INTO OUR ROOM and stop as that reality hits me.

  Not my room. Not Lilah’s. But ours.

  The fragrance of our sex, of her blood and mine, fills the chambers as a low undercurrent to the spice and lilac rapidly intertwining.

  It’s like a sucker punch to the chest, letting someone in that far again. There has been no one since the war, nothing but the hunt and the occasional warm body under mine. But it wasn’t like this. Never like this.

  My throat works as I try to swallow down the panic, the wash of blood covered sheets, death, and thick dark curls.

  Lilah’s soft steps float over the bedroom carpet and she appears in the doorway, lush chestnut waves framing the smooth skin of her face. If possible her eyes seem bigger, brighter. And the healthy color to her frame is from my blood.

  Mine.

  A low growl pours from me before I can stop it and I flit in to her body, hauling her against me and holding as tight as I dare.

  She gasps. “Ruin? Love, what’s wrong?”

  My heart seems to pound between us, trapped and trying to break free. I nuzzle her hair, inhaling my shampoo and simply her.

  “Vic is dead, baby girl.”

  Her little body goes still against me. “What?”

  I pull back, hands framing the silken sway of her cheeks. “Guards found him dead in his cell, baby. It’s done. He’s gone.” It’s the only piece of good news I can offer.

  She stares at me, lips parted. “Oh god.”

  When she tugs away, I let her go, watching as she paces off whatever she is feeling.

  “Lilah? Talk to me, baby.” I need her voice like I need air to breathe. Right now, I need her to calm me down, to keep me tethered instead of going on the killing spree making my skin crawl.

  She laughs, and the sound cuts off as she shoves her hand in her mouth. Her smaller frame sags, and she drops to her knees in the middle of the doorway; tears track down her face. “He’s dead. He’s finally dead.”

  When she looks at me, her expression is almost sad. Relieved but not. “I’m free.”

  I start to shake my head, to tell her about Draven, but I can’t. Can’t bring myself to voice it, to put another reason to keep her here between us.

  She only came to Eternity to escape Vic. Now I need to know if she will stay for other reasons.

  39

  Lilah

  RUIN WATCHES ME FROM the front room, and I can only imagine how insanely happy I look. I try to offer him a normal smile, but his face remains frozen. Impassive.

  I climb to my feet. “When do you need to go again?”

  He blinks. It’s the first move he has made in a minute. “We have a lead on Vlad. The guys are getting ready. I wanted to tell you about Vic first.”

  I nod, all while walking closer. “Can you spare an extra minute?”

  Ruin comes unfrozen as one moonlit hand comes up to cup my face. His calloused thumb scrubs back and forth, and I shiver. “Of course.”

  I steer him to the big recliner and he drops into it, cradling me into his lap. My head fits into the curve of his shoulder, and I just watch his jawline. His thighs are like stone beneath me, but I could sit here for hours in silence. Me and him.

  “When I was about four or five, my parents died in a car crash.” He rocks slowly, idly stroking my back. “I was in the car, but survived when they didn’t.”

  His hand stills.

  “Vic found me in the foster system a few years later, said he had been looking for me. He was my legal guardian and had the papers to prove it.” I look down and pluck at the design on his shirt. “At first I was happy, I thought he would take care of me, take me to school, and we would be a family. I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

  “Since I was so small, Vic gave me a job after school. He would send me into houses of what he called ‘the family’. I was to pick up money they owed, and if the money wasn’t out, I was supposed to call and tell him what was available to pay their debts.”

  “Stealing is what it was. The money was never out in the open. It was always in freezers, under mattresses, behind pictures, or in jars in the kitchen.” My head shakes and my fingers grip his shirt tighter. “He watched them. Set the others on their tails and tracked where they kept anything of value. And when I refused to do it anymore, he locked me in the room at Carnage. But back then it was this dive of a restaurant. He would leave me in there for days until the smells pouring down the stairs made me sick from hunger.”

  A low sound builds in Ruin’s chest, and I wrap my arms around him.

  “I didn’t want to do it anymore. I wanted out. But I was so hungry all the time and then I started to get sick. It was simple at first. A cold or allergies. But my weight dropped and I walked around like I had the flu. Vic took me out of school after the counselors began to ask questions, and I never finished. Never got my diploma.”

  I push from his body and begin to pace around the small room. “You have no idea how many times I tried to run, to get away. Every time he would bring me kicking and screaming back. The last time, when I was fifteen, he tossed a briefcase of photos at my feet. Each one was of me in somebody else’s house with their money in my hands. It was then I knew there was no ‘leaving’. If I wanted out, I had to buy my freedom.”

  My eyes dip to him, and he is more impassive than before. Like a statue as his midnight eyes track every move I make.

  “So I worked and I worked. Did every task he put me on, made enough money to get my apartment and a taste of freedom. But I wasn’t stupid enough to think Vic didn’t know where I was. Hell, if I was a minute late for work, his goons were beating at my door.”

  I walk back to him and crouch before his chair. My hands dig into his thighs, begging him to understand, to not think I am as bad as Vic for the things I’ve done. The things I had to do. “For almost fourteen years I was at his mercy, Ruin. Caught in a hell I couldn’t change.” He remains silent, watching me, and something inside me fractures. “But now I’m free. And I know it’s thanks to you. To your team, and Markus, and Raina. You all showed me that supernaturals can be the good guys, the heroes–” My voice cracks and I drop my eyes to his lap.

  “I’m not a good person, I know that. And I probably deserve the same or worse as Vic, but I–”

  Strong hands flow into my hair, forcing my head back. Ruin stares at me, his eyes backlit by a fire of darkness that smolders and beats into the very center of my being. “You are nothing like him.” His voice is all angry growl. “You are nothing like me, or Vic. You are pure in this, Lilah. Innocent. You should’ve grown up to be a doctor or a damn veterinarian with two point five kids and a white picket fence.”

  He climbs from the chair and kneels before me, hands still in my hair. “I will never think of you as a monster. Not now, not ever. You are not the bad guy, do you understand?”

  My eyes are wide as I stare at him. His chest heaves and a flush of color has stained his cheeks under the fine wash of stubble. And he’s beautiful.

  Even more than that first night he appeared at the end of the bar.

  I rise up and press my lips to his. He groans against my mouth and his arms wind around me like vises, holding and keeping me to him.

  It’s only when he picks me up in his arms that I realize the tears have been flowing for a long time and the almost hazy fatigue follows swiftly. It
’s like running a marathon, being sick for a week, and watching every romantic drama at one time. I sway against him.

  He cradles me as he climbs to his feet and takes me into the bedroom.

  With tender care, he lays me in the mussed bed and curls up around me from behind, fully clothed. He presses his hand over my stomach and nuzzles my hair. Even over a foot taller, he fits around me like he was made to.

  It’s warm in the curve of his body, safe. And there hasn’t been a time in the last fourteen years where I can ever remember feeling that way. My eyelids flutter and I yawn. Widely.

  “Sleep, baby girl.” I can almost hear the smile in his voice. He strokes a hand through my hair, and the fatigue doubles. “That’s it. Rest, baby. I’m right here.”

  MUFFLED ALMOST ANGRY voices wake me some time later. I stretch in Ruin’s bed, surprised my clothes are still on, and I’m almost blissfully happy as reality makes a gentle return.

  “Absolutely not,” Ruin’s voice is icy, deadly.

  “We got him, Cap. We have confirmation of the shipment. This is our chance to nab him once and for all.”

  Are they talking about Vlad?

  I push from the mattress and pad over to the partially closed door. Light from the hall spills into the front room, and I can just make out Ruin’s broad back through the narrow opening.

  “And where did the tip come from?” Ruin’s voice is scathing. “A damn anonymous shifter at the ballet company? For all we know, Vlad could have put them up to it. It could be a trap.”

  “Or it could be the real deal,” Gage counters. “We’ve waited too long not to act now.”

  “And what did Markus say?”

  “That you will mobilize at midnight.” The King’s voice rips through the tense silence, and his blonde mane of hair fills the frame next to Ruin. “Do not let your emotion cloud your judgement, Ruin. Our priority has been to catch Vlad from the start.”

  Ruin stiffens.

  “I like the girl as much as you,” the King continues, “but she is one human against the well-being of our kind. Our people.”