an excerpt from
Soul Avenged
by Keri Lake
Copyright © 2013 by Keri Lake and published here with her permission
CHAPTER ONE
Ice water.
The frigid sensation sliced through Ayden’s veins, leaving a numb trail in its wake as she stepped through the remains of the abandoned factory—one of many havens for the crack addicts and prostitutes. The old Packard Plant had become no more than a ghostly haunt for tormented souls.
Shitholes were cropping up everywhere, much more rapidly than ever before. Detroit, once a thriving city, brought to ruins. Gray and lifeless like the suffocating overcast that loomed during daylight.
A vile stench assaulted her nose, a potent blend of piss, sex and rotted meat, as garbage crunched beneath her boots. Foundation had collapsed all around where she stood, crumbled as if the building would fold into the depths of hell.
The graffiti spattering the walls gave the impression that gangs were the real threat—’We don’t die, we multiply.’
Right. Like gangs own any part of this city, anymore.
A Beretta, loaded with silver bullets and a silver parrying dagger rested at one of Ayden’s hips, a silver bullwhip at another, as she moved past comatose bodies and decaying corpses.
Feeding grounds, like a bait pile.
Deadened eyes slowly tracked her movement in the darkness, squinting, as though craving the light that hers didn’t need to see. Humans so strung out on drugs, they failed to recognize the half-eaten carrion were once their own kind.
Not that knowing would stop them. They’d apparently chosen to face danger rather than kick their addiction, roaming the streets every night in search of their next high.
Lambs.
They were already dead. Death just hadn’t come to collect yet.
The blissful sigh of a hopped-up junkie reached her ears. She snarled her lip. “Enjoy it while it lasts, asshole.”
It’d be one thing if they were homeless. Hell, she might’ve fired a warning shot to evacuate.
The homeless didn’t come here, though.
Neither did the police—making it the perfect spot to get wasted and hustle some money.
Shots fired would’ve been nothing more than a momentary distraction before their minds slipped back into their ignorant state of euphoria.
Screw ‘em.
For any other girl, the place promised very bad things—an opportunity for a sadist to live out wild fantasies without ever getting caught.
For Ayden? Humans posed no threat. Their fragile bodies would shred like paper dolls against the work of her hands. Luckily for them, she sought something else to sate her thirst for bloodshed, something far more threatening than their most psychopathic criminal—and she’d tracked it right to the surrounding cornucopia of human flesh.
A thin, black mesh hoodie beneath her jacket concealed her face while the shiny black leather covering her body acted as a beacon in the moon’s light.
Full moon.
It didn’t matter.
Contrary to the fairytales and movies, they didn’t need a full moon to change.
Werewolves, some called them—like a supernatural Bigfoot on the loose. Nothing more than fodder for the tabloids, not to be taken seriously.
Lycans is how those ‘in the know’ referred to them.
The bastards could transform at will. In the middle of the day, if they wanted. Though, like a true predator, they’d evolved throughout the centuries, eluding humans by hunting them at night, catching their prey in their most vulnerable state.
Ayden reached a door in a darkened corner. The stubborn panel held stiff against the push of her palm, giving way only beneath one heave backed by exceptional strength. Beyond, a spiral of stairs wound above and below. Visuals flashed through her mind as she imagined the stairwell bustling with men in suits who passed each other with carefree visages—every one of them ghosts that roamed the destruction.
A quick scan showed no movement.
She tipped her head back and inhaled the repugnant scent the beasts had left behind.
They’re close.
Her feet took light steps, hardly making a sound against the concrete as she descended further into the pit of hell otherwise known as the lycan’s lair.
With each step, she wished her heart would pound wildly in her chest, or that her pulse rate would surge—both human reactions to fear. Neither of them did.
What fragments of her human soul remained had been stripped bare the night the Alexi made her one of their own. Even that, as tortuous as the unrelenting pain that seared through her body while it underwent its transformation, was a memory she could hardly summon anymore. Only a silent blackness dwelled in the place where snapshots of her life would have roamed free, a void that she couldn’t see beyond, separating her present from past.
She’d become one of them: an Alexi soldier. A cold and remorseless killer designed to eradicate in one sweep.
A noise piqued her sensitive ears.
Two flights below.
It could’ve been the skittering feet of a mouse beating against her skull like a base drum.
The thirst for blood moved like a dark storm cloud through her veins, a mix of raw adrenaline and something else—the something that came with her transformation.
Destroy.
Her feet moved on impulse, carrying her closer to whatever it was, rendering it nothing more than a thread-width away from its death.
In the corner of a landing, he sat hunched over on himself, body convulsing.
A grin skated across her face as she approached her first kill of the night.
His half-naked torso gleamed with sweat and blood. The moon through the window, a source of energy like an iron fist, pounded its power into the vulnerable body slumped against the wall.
A halfling, awaiting his change. Half human, half lycan. No doubt, bitten recently and lost to fever and whatever else had him in its grips.
His body didn’t require the moon, but synced with it, leaving him defenseless against a nocturnal craving to hunt.
Unfortunately for him, he’d be dead before his first opportunity.
Ayden pulled back the hoodie and tipped her head, watching his sufferance with amused curiosity, the itching desire to rip his throat out temporarily subdued by her own wonderment.
Witnessing a change was rare. Halflings typically came in two flavors: dead and ravaged or never found at all—always a grisly case for the poor bastard assigned to investigate. A single bite would turn a human, but the hunger to consume determined their fate. Human flesh, a delicacy the wolves couldn’t seem to resist.
The male’s body writhed, curling in on itself, muscles growing more defined with each passing second.
Ayden moved closer and crouched beside him—a dangerous position for any other species. “The wolves wait for you, little lamb,” she whispered.
His eyes opened only for a moment then rolled back into his head.
Conscious.
Her hands trembled, anxious to take life.
Tamp it down.
Fury and violence tangoed inside her gut, desperate to explode into a torrent of destruction. She swallowed that burning sensation in her throat. After all, she’d never encountered a halfling before. It’d be a shame to kill him without observing first.
What happens to the lamb?
Something about this creature was … intriguing. His face, the perfect combination of flawlessness and bronze. His body, chiseled and proportionate, and becoming stronger as fibers of muscle pushed to just below his skin and spread.
A tattoo adorned his left pectoral, a tiger in black tribal ink with yellow eyes that stared back at her with menace.
Her fingertips grazed the dagger at her side. A comfort.
For years, humans had been told silver would kill the beast. All bullshit stories rooted in mythological fairytales. Silver stunned them, but never killed them. It might buy a few seconds in a fight, though. The kill shot was the spine. Sever the head from the body. A close-range bullet to the brain would work just fine, too.
Black hair, drenched in sweat, hung low over his brow and covered his eyes.
Ayden reached to swipe the fallen strands away but hesitated before contact..
Never look into their eyes—a golden rule of the Alexi warriors. The eyes emit the soul and the soul must be destroyed.
The halfling’s hand shot out and captured her wrist, his transitional strength bearing down on her muscles.
Ayden could have snapped his arm from his shoulder in one move— yet she didn’t. Instead, she froze, mouth hung wide, her body taut as if an electric current ran through her while image after image flooded her mind.
Visions.
So vivid and clear.
Every one of them human experiences.
Like a dream or a home movie playing inside of her head, though nothing she recognized from her own short span of memories since her change.
Do they belong to the halfling?
In the dream, she held the hand of an older man with gray hair. His beaming smile and warm, deep-set blue eyes stared back at her. Her attention diverted down to a long white gown passing over a red carpet beneath it. Nausea gurgled in Ayden’s stomach.
Nervous?
She lifted her head to find a handsome stranger waiting for her beneath a beautiful altar decorated in blue and white flowers that had been wound in sheer white fabric and spilled over in celebration.
Ayden stood paralyzed in the grip of the halfling, as if her body wouldn’t move at her will—until, in the next breath, her mind snapped free of the dream.
Tentacles of fear climbed her spine, raising hairs on her neck. She blew out a forced breath. “What the hell just happened?” she whispered to herself.
Green eyes stared back at her, pained and pleading. “Help me,” he rasped. “Please.”
Ire stirred in her blood, boiling and swirling, until it finally erupted into tendrils of rage that snaked through her skin. She ripped her hand free from his grasp and fell back, away from him, as foreign memories spun like a tornado in a black vacuum. Each inhaled breath she managed to suck in begged more air.
Kill.
The instinct taunted and beseeched every muscle in her body. Her lip curled back, revealing gleaming fangs that could tear through his flesh like razor blades. Yet, her limbs wouldn’t respond to the demands warring inside her.
What’s happening to me?
The world went mute aside from the steady percussion of her heart throbbing in her ears.
Who are you?
A shake of her head quickly dismissed the thought.
It doesn’t matter, Ayden, they’re not your visions.
She wiped a trembling hand across her brow and focused her attention back on him.
His eyes were fixated, concentrated, as though studying her face.
Forget the memories. Kill him now.
Trying to block her thoughts only roused more questions, though. So many beasts she’d slaughtered. Why hadn’t this happened before?
Because he’s a halfling?
This creature, her enemy, had awakened something inside her. As she squeezed her eyes shut, a yellow halo of light glowed against her lids, indicating her usual gray irises had turned to gold.
Destroy him.
Her lids flew open again.
The halfling fell limp, still convulsing. His green eyes rolled back in his head.
Ayden reached for her dagger. Now. Claws against concrete traveled to her ear, tingling up her spine as they scratched and skittered in her direction.
Other lycans. Approaching. Fast.
“I’ll return for you, lamb,” she whispered through gritted teeth.
Ayden bolted upright and unsheathed her dagger in time to sink the blade into the chest of the charging beast.
Its howl, an absolute delight, echoed through her ear like the first hit of a drug.
A yank of the dagger left it yelping. Meat hung from the gut-hook at the end of her blade. A swift kick to the lycan’s torso sent it hurling against the concrete wall.
An enormous monstrosity, the creature sat unmoving as if stupefied. Silver took up most of its eyeballs, their rims pulled back, and its ears flattened against its head, giving the beast a rabid look.
Her senses told her three more were at its heels, rounding the staircase with their angry grunts.
As the one before her scrambled back to its haunches, she jumped, grabbing hold of the underside of the stairs above and swinging over stories below her.
She dodged a swiping claw aimed for her torso and wrapped her legs around the beast’s neck.
Lips peeled back, as if something had torn them away, it revealed rows of sharp teeth, and an incisor grazed her knee, drawing blood.
“Son of a—” With a single jerk of her thighs she snapped its neck.
Still hanging over levels of blackness by one hand, she sliced her dagger through the wolf’s furry flesh. As its lower body dropped like dead weight, Ayden tossed the head and watched it bounce down the stairs onto the lower landing at the foot of an approaching lycan.
Behind it, a second rose from the darkness below.
She kicked her body to swing, let go of the bar she clung to, and landed in a crouch on the top stair above them. Adrenaline surged through her veins as she straightened to a stand, exhilarating her body, and her mouth curved into a crooked grin.
The lycans stood side by side, nearly eight feet in height. One, covered in black fur, glanced down toward his hind claw where the head of his pack brother lay oozing tarry blood. As its gaze swung back to Ayden, its lip curled back into a snarl.
Both lycans lunged at the same time.
The one on the right made it no more than a foot before releasing a yelp. Its body jerked backward as Zeke gripped the wolf’s nape and slammed the creature against the concrete.
Towering over his prey, the demon’s eyes glowed red.
Saliva dangled from the opened maw of the conscious lycan, which continued to creep up the stairs toward Ayden. Not even the yelps of its pack mate, as Zeke removed its limbs in fun, seemed to deter the beast.
Wrath Demons. Never take shit seriously.
Ayden grinned wider and flicked her wrist, beckoning it. “Come on. Come get me.”
The halfling moaned from the corner.
The beast’s attention suddenly diverted and sniffed the air, its silver eyes trailing toward the halfling that still writhed in pain. “Fresh human meat,” the lycan growled out.
“No. The halfling is mine. You want him? You’ll have to fight me for him.” Ayden locked into her offensive stance.
“He’s ours. A fresh bite.” A long pink tongue swept over the lycan’s teeth, lapping up the stringing saliva.
“My kill. And you can have him over my dead body.”
The beast lunged and Ayden skirted to the side, knocking it in the ribs with a roundhouse kick. It gasped and landed against the railing of the ascending stairs.
She jumped on its back, wrestling with the wolf as it nipped and clawed at her. Her heels dug into its sides as her arms slid around its throat. She steadied her hand against its gullet, lodging her nails into the base of its neck, and a jerk of her hand tore its spinal cord free from its body.
The lycan flopped to the ground.
“Damn, baby. I love watching you kick some ass.”
Ayden turned to Zeke grabbing himself through his jeans. “So glad you could make it.” She released the bony spine onto the remains of the wolf.
“Blame Calix. Couldn’t decide what to wear again.”
“Speaking of Calix. There were three.”
“Fucker got blood all over my new jeans,” Calix grumbled, climbing the stairs with the third wolf’s head in his grip. His eyes had already turned from demon red to their usual cerulean. Sweat trickled between the ridges of his divested chest.
“What the hell happened to your shirt, bro?” Zeke asked.
“I took it off. This shit’s ruining my wardrobe.” Calix leaned against the stair railing, hung his arm over, and released the head he’d carried into the shadowed depths below. “Sound the alarms. It’s about to get crazy.”
“We’ll have to finish the job later.” Ayden wiped the blood from her dagger on the body of the wolf she’d just killed. “Something came up.”
“Uh … what the fuck?” Zeke asked, throwing his arms out to the side.
Ayden sighed. “Don’t give me a hard time, Zeke. Let’s just go.” She straightened, eyes focused on the corner of the landing. “I’m gonna … need you to grab that for me.” She pointed to the halfling.
Zeke shook his head. “No, no. I’m a Wrath Demon. Not a bitch.”
Howls echoed like a foghorn up through the staircase. No doubt the wolves’ dropped pack brother had suddenly altered their mood.
Ayden clenched her jaw and shoved her dagger into its sheath. “Pretty please.”
A grin spread wide across Zeke’s face. “That’s more like it.”
Calix shrugged back into his black button-down shirt, peering into the depths of the stairwell with a tilt of his head. “Fight or flight.”
The beasts’ hind claws scrabbled against the concrete below, signaling the coming onslaught.
Zeke, an impressive six-seven with the body of a god, scooped up the halfling into his arms. With his blond hair hanging as low as his ears, he was almost as gorgeous as his brother, Calix, whose short spikes of black hair and that shimmering off-shade of blue in his eyes came on like a massive dose of sex pheromones. “This a late night snack, Ayden?”
She ignored Zeke’s question. “Can I stay at your place tonight?”
Grunts rose from a few flights below them as the wolves rounded the staircase.
“Yeah. Fucking contracts,” he said, referring to the vengeance contract issued between Ayden and the demons that forbade sex with clients. “That’d be peachy. I’ll just flog my dick in the shower while you’re sleeping in the next room over.”
Ayden chuckled. “Promises. I’ll come watch if you like.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, princess?”
Ayden placed her hands on her hips and shook her head. “How do you manage to sucker women into going home with you, Zeke?”
Scattered scrapes against the concrete echoed as the beasts advanced closer.
“I’ll show you how. Just as soon as you break that contract.” The wink he flashed her could’ve halted a stampede of females. “What do you want this for, anyway?” Zeke looked down at the passed-out halfling, so small and frail next to him, even though the halfling’s muscle mass had already doubled.
Ayden rolled her shoulders back and pushed through the door out of the staircase. “None of your business. I just have to see something.”
“You’re not going to fuck him, are you?”
Ayden’s fist connected with Zeke’s jaw in a crushing blow—crushing to her knuckles. Killing lycans was one thing. Demons were three times as strong. “Dammit!” she said, shaking off the sting zipping up into her wrist.
Zeke smiled. “Your right hook’s getting better.”
“Piss off.” Ayden stalked through the building, cradling her fist. Something squished beneath her heel, and she looked down to find her black boot caught inside a half-caved ribcage. “How the hell do they stand sleeping here?” As she lifted her boot from the bone, a thread of mucus strung from her heel—a recent kill. “Damn.” Glancing around at the humans sprawled out in a drug-induced stupor, she continued on. “You’d think they’d stay away from this place. Forensics could throw a slumber party here and find a whole slew of shit to get them off.”
“You think anyone’s looking for leftover ribs here?” Zeke asked. “Bet the guy didn’t even make the news.”
Calix sniffed the air. “They’ll be here any second. If we’re not going to kick some ass, I suggest we haul it.”
Ayden drew her Beretta and shot three times in the air. Ringing lingered then died away.
No one moved. Distant laughter reverberated off the walls before all fell silent again.
“I tried. To hell with all of you.” She slipped the gun back into its holster.
Grunts and heavy breathing rose above the thud of their boots as they moved on. Two humans, one of them undoubtedly a prostitute, screwed against the back wall in plain sight.
Ayden scowled. Lambs.
“Lucky bastard.” Zeke chuckled. “Well, not for long, anyway. Let’s go.”
He hoisted the halfling over his shoulder, and the three of them jogged through the building until they burst outside into the winter air.
The wind brushed against Ayden’s cheeks, temperate to the blood that ran through her veins, nothing more than a ghostly sensation drifting across her skin— cold and heat had long been indistinguishable perceptions to her.
A chasing echo of screams alerted them that the wolves had emerged from the staircase.
“Looks like the junkies are awake,” Ayden said.
As the three of them trudged through the snow to the side of the building, Calix pulled a black key remote from his pocket and unlocked the sleek black Bentley that awaited them.
Zeke opened the passenger door, as the other two climbed in front, and tossed the halfling in the backseat. The halfling’s body folded over on itself as Zeke carelessly shoved him toward the other side, smearing blood across the tan leather seats.
“What the fuck, man?” Calix glared at Zeke through the rearview mirror. “You’re cleaning that off when we get home.”
Zeke squeezed in the back beside the halfling, a cramped fit for his big body, shaking his head as the wolves approached the vehicle. “I hate running away from a good fight. Just isn’t right.”
The wheels of the Bentley spun against the ice and snow before gripping the road and propelling the car forward.
A thump on the roof forced a growl out of Calix. “My paintjob gets messed up and we will be going back for a fight.”
Ayden rolled down the window. Wind burst against her face, whipping locks of her long brown hair into a tangled mess. She snatched the back leg of the attacking lycan and tugged.
It slipped against the roof, claws digging into the metal.
Calix growled again beside her. “Damn, Ayden.”
Ayden pulled out her Beretta.
The wolf lurched as a competing blast of wind swept over the vehicle, but a silver bullet in its neck stalled its movement—enough of a pause for her to snag the lycan’s front leg and drag it from the top of the vehicle.
Claws grappled the air as the lycan fell to the white snow and wriggled to its haunches as its brethren flew past in pursuit of the Bentley.
Calix floored the gas and the car sped down the road, leaving the wolves in its wake.
Ayden slipped back into the passenger seat and rolled up the window. A quick glance in the back revealed the halfling still asleep and sweat-drenched.
That familiar twist in her stomach surfaced again—to kill.
Her eyes focused on its chest rising with heaving breaths and the movement under its skin as muscles elongated and bulged. In no more than a week, she’d be staring at another monster, like the ones that’d gotten left behind to feed on druggies and prostitutes. She’d no intention of allowing the halfling to live that long, though, just enough to feed whatever curiosity churned inside her—curiosity that left her with way too many questions.
What was it about him that she’d abandon a perfectly good fight over a halfling?
As if Zeke had read her mind, he asked, “So why are we carting around this piece of shit, anyway?”
Ayden huffed and turned back in her seat, staring through the windshield. “Because.”
“Because … you’ve suddenly developed a soft spot for these bastards?”
“Bite your tongue, asshole.” She sniffed. “I told you, I need to see something. He’s going to teach me about halflings.”
“So, you’re going to torture and study him before you cut his throat?”
Ayden smiled. “Precisely.” Better than playing some sort of nursemaid to him. She rolled her eyes at the mere thought. I’d rather gauge my eyes out with broken glass.
Zeke smirked. “Sounds like fun.”
“So what happened to Gavin and Logan tonight?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
Calix glanced at her then back to the road. “Gav knew you’d back out.”
Her brows knitted together. “What?”
“A vision he’d had earlier in the evening. He saw us take off. Figured you didn’t need them. And you know how Logan feels about walking away from a fight.” Calix shrugged. “So they went out. Dickbags. Casino’s kept me late every night this week.”
“Look, I’m sorry I’m such a weekend drag for you, but I expect my contract to be upheld whether you think I need your help, or not. I’m not paying you jerks to sit on your asses while some bimbo bar chick jacks you off.”
“Awww, jealous, baby?” Zeke jibed from the back.
“Piss off, Zeke.”
“Gods I love it when you get mad. Fuck, it turns me on. Wanna feel?”
Ayden peeked around the seat to the back. “Have I told you how much I love that little clause in your contract that specifies no sex with clients?”
He slouched his shoulders. “Now you’re just being mean.” A devious smile lit up his face. “No worries, though. Think I’ll be making a bar run tonight.” He reached across and lightly punched Calix on the shoulder as if to confirm before resettling, his arms stretching across the back seat and seeming to emphasize the lack of space for his big body. “Hey, Ayden, what do you plan to sleep in over at my place?”
She tugged at the black leather sleeve of her jacket. “You’re looking at it.”
“You’d be a helluva lot more comfy in my boxers.” Zeke leaned forward again, inches from her face. “I won’t tell Gavin,” he whispered.
“Zeke, I’d rather wear the blood of a lycan to bed.” Her tone came out flat.
“Damn!” Calix chuckled. “Easy, killer, you’re going to make him tear up.”
“Ayden, when every lycan has been wiped out, you and I got some unfinished business,” Zeke said.
“Well, lucky me, their numbers are growing.”
Zeke sat back and Ayden turned in her seat, not saying anything more as they continued on toward the demons’ manor.
***
Calix pulled up to the cast iron gates of the demon’s manor and rang the bell. Bennett’s deformed face flashed on the screen only a second before the gates opened.
Poor guy, being a troll in a house full of men who looked like they’d stepped out of a magazine must’ve been rough— but he was the best security, and butler, money could buy. No one trespassed as long as Bennett guarded the gates.
“I suppose Gavin’s going to give me hell for this,” Ayden muttered.
“You know he loves your company,” Calix said. “But yeah, I’m thinking you’ve got some explaining to do.”
The car curved around the circular drive and stopped in front of the gothic manor that looked like something out of the nineteenth century.
Ayden stepped out to snow, descending in large white flakes from the sky. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, allowing them to drift onto her cheeks before opening her eyes to the massive and elaborate architecture before her.
Floodlights climbed the walls to the top of the mansion where stone gargoyles peered down at them. The manor was more like a castle, or fortress, with cameras at every angle and a crew of hell-spawn watching every move.
She climbed the stairs to the front door, already opened by Bennett, who tipped his head as she passed.
“Good evening, Miss Ayden.” He spoke in a polite but mutilated voice.
“Bennett. You’re looking sprightly tonight.” She smiled and patted the front of his tuxedo.
Zeke clambered behind with the halfling in his arms, while Calix followed him, picking at lycan blood on his jeans.
“Damn wolves,” Calix said. “These are ruined. I’m gonna have to change before I go out.”
“You do that, brother. Let me shower and I’ll join you.” Zeke’s gaze trailed back to Ayden. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about sleeping in my bed tonight, love.”
“Put the lycan in my chambers, please,” she said apathetically.
“Your chambers? Getting a little cozy, are we, slayer?”
Her eyes narrowed on Zeke as he passed her on his way toward the staircase.
The inside of the manor was magnificent. Dark medieval paintings adorned the walls. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Lush tapestries, imported from lands Ayden could only dream of visiting, garnished the floors and windows, and Greek gods stared down from the ceiling, painted with immaculate detail by old masters of the ancients.
Nothing but the best.
A handsome face came around the corner, flaunting a perfect set of pecs that peeked through a black, half-opened robe. Undoubtedly, the thin sheen of sweat coating them indicated hours of sex with some human flake, a favorite pastime for Wrath Demons to blow off steam. Not that they were violent during their lovemaking, but they enjoyed tormenting their females by keeping them from climax for hours. Knowing Gavin, his was probably tied and blindfolded, in agony, as she awaited his return.
Here we go. Ayden held her defensive stance and braced herself for an ass reaming.
CHAPTER TWO
Kane Walker’s lids flew open, and his heart beat so erratically, he grabbed his chest, only to find his shirt gone. A quick mental rundown assured him he still wore his slacks and shoes and that the pain had subsided— for how long, he didn’t know. His body still ached, though, as if he’d run a marathon and collapsed.
He blinked, irritated by the diaphanous film covering his eyes, through which only a blurry red seemed to stand out.
Where am I?
He clutched his throbbing head, trying to remember what happened.
It’d been nearly ten in the evening when he’d finally left work. Bob Hatch, head of security, had walked him to his car. He’d shaken Bob’s hand and thanked him, then tossed his belongings into the car as the old guard retreated back toward the hospital.
Snarls.
They’d halted him.
He’d inched back out of the car and turned slowly, afraid to do otherwise.
Two of the most horrific beasts he’d ever seen stood nearly eight feet on their hind legs, their gazes locked on him. With teeth bared, the menace in their growls had gone straight to his spine, crystallizing his nerves.
What the …
One of the creatures, rust-colored, had lunged.
Deranged silver eyes cut through the night like a blade.
An agape maw with long, sharp canines consumed his view.
“Good God,” he’d whispered, his last uttered words echoing in his mind before everything had gone black.
The room sharpened into focus, along with the blurry red that turned out to be a velvet curtain hanging from windows perhaps twenty feet in height. His gaze wandered the white walls decorated with gold trim, the elaborate paintings that looked like they’d be worth a year of his salary, the four-post bed with plush pillows and gold satin sheets that encased him like a soft cloud. Satyrs, and whom he assumed to be Dionysus, danced across a mural on the wall, wine spilling from golden chalices and grapes dangling from vines that entwined the subjects.
Am I dead? Is this heaven?
He hoisted himself to a sitting position with one arm, still clutching his head that pounded in protest with the other as he pushed back against the headboard. A stabbing pain hit the back of his neck at his spine. He reached around until his trembling fingers probed an opened wound. Moist red blood coated the tips when he brought them back round, and more images struck his memory.
He sucked in a sharp breath.
Winter air burned his lungs.
Pain spread like jolts of electricity from his spine all the way to his fingertips, leaving them stiff and aching.
Paralyzing.
Grunts rattled deep inside his bones and panting bursts of heat fell on his neck.
He opened his eyes to blood marring the white snow that trailed behind ghastly-deformed haunches.
Oh, God.
The beast in the parking lot of the hospital. Wolves. It carried him in its mouth like a mother tiger carried young.
Will they eat me alive?
A spasm in his chest seized his body. Eyes squinted, he willed his hand to reach for his heart. It wouldn’t move.
He opened his mouth, wanting to cry out for help—but he couldn’t breathe, his body jerking in silent protest.
More jolts of pain, unbearable, like a thousand spears had pierced his spine all at once as the beast thrashed him.
He forced his muscles to remain still beneath the fear of movement, sucking back the agonizing sensation that tore through his flesh.
God please …
The world disappeared to blackness.
A soft glow filtered into his consciousness and he opened his eyes to it.
A woman hovered over him.
An angel? Am I dead?
“Help me,” he rasped. “Please.”
Gold swallowed the whites of her eyes, framed by long brown locks of hair that tumbled around her shoulders.
So beautiful.
Her face faded to darkness.
Kane broke from his reverie and glanced around the room again.
What is this place? Heaven? Hell? Oh, God. Was I eaten alive? By what?
He ran his bloody, trembling hand through his hair.
No.
His fists balled at his temples.
Werewolves?
No, he didn’t believe in any of that. No way.
When the first few mutilations were discovered in remote areas of the city a few years back, the news reported a possible serial killer on the loose. Communities had panicked over the bodies that had been carelessly dumped, ravaged by what appeared to be feral animals.
Aside from the gruesome remains, there seemed to be no pattern to the killings. Homeless, prostitutes, suburbanites leaving work late at night—just like Kane—from Detroit all the way up to Pontiac.
Investigators couldn’t determine a common link between the victims – every one of them had seemed to be random atrocities with no apparent motive. In most cases, the news reported nothing but bones left behind with the suspicion that animals had gotten to them in the night. Sometimes, they’d been burned, the victims only identifiable by dental records.
No single serial killer could be in two places at once, and often the murders happened simultaneously. Gangs? Perhaps. But why?
There had been no good explanation for the murders—until the Jayne murder investigation five years prior.
The first attack in a suburban home.
Suddenly, all the normal presumptions had gone to hell.
Saliva and hairs had been analyzed by forensics.
Canine.
As if a pack of wild dogs had slaughtered the entire family. The mother’s body had never been found, but pools of what was believed to be her blood lay all over the kitchen floor in the Jayne home. When the news reported large wolves moving into the urban setting and attacking in the night, the public overreacted—and stray dogs became a target.
People who owned guns shot first and asked questions later.
Kane had treated the news reports like the tabloids. Experts agreed: wolves didn’t mutilate humans or ransack households like the Jayne’s had been—and they damn well couldn’t have been responsible for the other murders, since a few of the bodies had been burned.
What other explanation was there, though?
Some claimed to have seen the beasts—but the sightings had been rare and the sources … unreliable. So many suspicions emerged out of nowhere. The ER had reported a few bite attacks but the victims either left against medical advice or healed quickly, baffling the medical staff.
Kane had sat in on some of the meetings in the hospital where the cases had been discussed.
The theory of werewolves had begun to infiltrate general conversation as if a new trend was on the rise. Thankfully, most still frowned at the idea of their existence. Those who did speak of them were deemed conspiracy theorists—believing that the government wanted to wipe out the homeless population in the city with a genetic mutation of some sort, and that the Jayne’s were simply to throw the public off.
Crazy.
The following summer had arrived with a blockbuster movie starring the beasts from the tabloids.
Lycans.
What the hell was a lycan, anyway?
Kane had seen the movie trailers that portrayed them as wolves. Leave it to Hollywood to get in on the action. Mysterious attacks by some kind of animal and the world creates a monster for it.
Ridiculous.
But, damn, here he was—and unless his eyes had failed him the previous night, they were monsters. He’d be another unsuspecting victim who’d show up on the news, presuming the cameras at the hospital had actually picked something up.
What about Bob, though? Did they get him, too?
There had been two of them in the parking lot. Surely one of them had gone after the tired, old security guard?
Kane rested his head on his palms, knees pulled up into his body.
Will I be on the evening news?
It wouldn’t be unusual for a staff member not to show up to work the next day, even a director. Everyone was considered expendable at the hospital. He’d seen it first-hand with the cuts. Kane was one of few directors left. Would anyone bother to report him missing?
His head perked up.
Hell or not, I need to get out of here.
He kicked his feet out and slid to the edge of the bed. As he rose to stand, crackling—like a snapping bundle of twigs—reached his ears, and Kane collapsed to the floor.
A split second later, pain shot like lightening up into his thighs, smoldering deep inside his bones—and Kane’s roar of agony reverberated off the walls.
An abnormal bump beneath the skin of his thighs almost turned his stomach inside out.
“Ah, fuck!”
As he attempted a roll to his side for a better look, the bedroom door burst open, exposing a massive figure, obscured by the darkness.
It lurched forward, and a haze clouded Kane’s eyes as he struggled to focus, threatening to steal his consciousness.
Arms trembling, he pulled himself along the cold marble floor, away from the visitor, his useless legs dragging behind his body.
Cold laughter filled him with dread.
“Well what have we here?” The deep voice carried a harrowing tone of malice as the stranger moved forward and crouched beside him, his elbows resting on his knees.
His futile attempt at escape only sapped Kane of energy, and he lowered his head to the cold floor. Neck craned to the side, he took in the sight of his amused spectator: a thick man with a shadow of stubble. Brown eyes matched his cropped brown hair. He looked young, maybe in his mid-twenties, dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans.
Kane’s heart seized again and he reached to grab his chest. Muscles tensed, he held his breath as the jarring sensation wracked his body. Much as he didn’t want to take his eyes off the stranger, he couldn’t help but squeeze them shut as wave after wave shattered his concentration. “God … damn …”
“Hurt?” the stranger asked, his inflection laced with gratification.
As the pain subsided, Kane exhaled, resting his crown on the chill marble and sucked in long breaths. He turned onto his cheek and glanced up at the man who seemed content to watch him suffer. “If you’re going to kill me … get on with it.”
The guy chuckled and leaned forward, his right arm jutting out as he balanced on his knuckles. “Believe me, if you were my kill, you’d be dead already.”
With shaky breaths, Kane fought to keep his heavy eyelids open. “Then what do you want with me?”
“You’re Ayden’s kill.”
“What’s he waiting for? I’m ready.” It was true. Kane had suffered enough pain to last a lifetime and was in no position to fight his captors. If death was coming for him? He wanted it over with.
“She—Ayden’s a she, dickwad—and she’ll deal with you soon enough.”
Ayden? The wolf that attacked me was a female? “What the hell’s she waiting for?”
The stranger leaned back to his crouch. “She’s busy at the moment. My brother doesn’t take kindly to uninvited guests in our humble abode.”
“Your brother? What is this, some … some kind of pack?” Kane panted as he spoke.
The stranger’s jaw ticked and a growl rumbled in his chest. “Pack? Never compare us to your kind. You sicken me. Like a fucking disease. All you wolf bastards are going to burn.”
Wolf? “My name is Kane Walker. I’m director at the Children’s Cancer Institute at UD General. This is some kind of mistake. Please, I just want to go home.”
A wicked grin flashed across the man’s face. “Asshole, you ain’t never going home. When Ayden finishes with you, you’ll be a pile of body parts that my demon brothers and I will feast upon.”
Demons? His words struck the pit of Kane’s stomach. Vomit spewed, sloshing onto the gold speckled marble before splashing back into Kane’s face. He strained to hold his head out of it, but the stranger shoved Kane’s face into the milky fluids that held the remains of his last meal, his tight grasp scorching the wound on Kane’s neck as he smeared his mouth in the mess.
“That’s how you teach a dog not to soil the floor.” He grunted through the words.
Kane groaned in agony as fingers pressed into his opened flesh then released him. He lifted his head away from the floor, the slime stringing from his lips. The smell made him retch again and he struggled against the tugging sensation in his stomach.
“Look at this shit. Your dirty fucking blood all over my fingers.” The stranger grabbed Kane by his head and shoved his fingers beneath his face. “Lick it off, dog.”
“I don’t know what you think I am—” A choking fit cut off his words.
“I know exactly what you are. You slaughter innocent families for sport. You eat children and tear unborn fetuses from their mother’s wombs.” The demon’s hands trembled against Kane’s head, crushing his skull.
“I’m … not—” Kane winced as increased pressure threatened to crack his bones.
“Logan!” The new voice called from the doorway. “Leave him.”
The grip on Kane’s head slackened. Kane coughed and drew in a breath through his mouth to keep from smelling the vomit below his nose.
“Brother, do you realize what she’s brought into our home?” the one identified as Logan said.
“Yes. A halfling. He’s not harmed anyone yet.”
Logan gave one final thrust to Kane’s head, smacking it against the floor with a sickening crack. “What does it matter, Calix? In a week, he’ll be just like the others.”
Their words aimlessly danced in Kane’s mind as he studied the demons’ outlines.
Fading.
The second figure, Calix, hovered over his brother, his face only discernible in Kane’s periphery.
Darkness filtered in as Kane rested his head on his arms and willed his lungs to breathe. He turned his head to the side, and beams of light flickered and danced across the ceiling, capturing his focus, making him nauseous. Still, his consciousness waned.
Stay awake, stay awake.
Calix’s next words rang as clear as the crystal chandelier that hung above him.
“Then we have seven days to kill him before he turns.”
Blackness swarmed into silence.
***
Gavin’s hands rested on his hips, like a pissed off father ready to chide his daughter. “What the hell are you thinking, Ayden? You brought one here?”
Ayden sighed, tipping her head back against the armrest of the chair she’d sprawled out in. “Gavin, you don’t understand.”
“I saw the fight. I knew you were going to back out, but I had no idea it was to save one. Like some goddamn charity case.”
She kicked her feet over the edge of the chair and sat upright. “Charity case? You think I intend to save him? Are you insane?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“If you’d stop bitching at me for a minute, I might actually be able to explain my reasons.”
Gavin crossed his arms over his chest. A casual, yet intimidating, stance. “Shoot, slayer.”
Her eyes diverted away, glancing around the office until they finally returned to his half-opened robe. No doubt, he’d be naked beneath it. She focused on the black tattoo that snaked up the side of his neck, intricate demon phrases, which, at a distance, looked like nothing more than tribal flames—words her tongue had once traced. Good God.
His eyebrow arched, like he waited for her to begin her explanation.
“I … saw something tonight, Gavin. It scared the hell out of me.”
“Slayer? Scared? This should be interesting.” His arms shot out to the side, resting atop the desk that he leaned against. The robe opened wider.
She kept her gaze on his. “I don’t know exactly how, but that halfling showed me something.”
His lips twitched. “This isn’t where the story takes a provocative twist, is it?”
A roll of her eyes accompanied the dull expression on her face. “Gimme a sec to hold back the vomit that just rose into my mouth.”
Gavin chuckled and ushered her with his hand. “Proceed with your story.”
“He … touched me”—the thought made her grimace—“and I saw like a dream, or a movie, or something in my head. Like … someone’s memories.” She shook her head. “I know, you’re going to tell me it’s a ridiculous figment of my imagination.”
“Actually, it’s called imprinting,” Gavin said with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Imprinting?” Ayden shrugged back, a mocking gesture. “What’s that?”
“The lycan that bit your little prince of wolves upstairs passed on some of his memories through the venom. It happens sometimes. When they murder a human, they acquire the soul, and, many times, the memories.”
“Why have I never experienced this before?”
“When was the last time you ran into a halfling?”
“Is it only a halfling thing?”
“It depends on the human that was bitten. Some are just an open vessel for imprinting. The memories can fade after their change. But sometimes they don’t. If the wolves are in tune to them, they can use them as a weapon.”
Ayden frowned. “What kind of weapon?”
“Power of persuasion. Catch their victims off guard or torment them with the memories—make them doubt.”
“You think he’s trying to torment me?”
Gavin shook his head. “Not likely. He probably doesn’t even know what he is yet. I suspect he’s just now remembering the details of what happened to him.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “And how did you become so knowledgeable on the topic?”
“A couple of centuries, you pick shit up.”
Ayden brushed her hand against the dagger at her hip. “Something about those memories, though. They were familiar to me. Like I knew the victim. Not just watching these things happen. I actually felt them.” She caught a glimpse of Gavin staring down at her. “Stupid, I know.”
“Ayden, understandably, you’re curious. But, keep in mind, he’ll get stronger. He’ll become more violent. And if by some miracle he manages to escape our compound alive, he could lead them to us.”
“If he was bitten recently, then he’s got a week before his change. That’s all I’m asking for. By the end of seven days, I’ll cut his throat out myself. I just … want to see what he’s got. See if any of his memories are useful. If not, I’ll get rid of him.”
Gavin pushed off the desk, bent forward and set his hands on the armrest at either side of her body, his face close to hers as he leaned over her.
Ayden backed against the chair. Dizziness swept over her as she focused on his parted lips. His breath, a warm cinnamon scent, emitted the pheromones demons used to attract their females. A couple hits of the stuff and she’d willingly join him and the bimbo in his bed.
Fight it.
Eyelids heavy, she shivered and crossed her legs.
“Seven days, slayer,” he said, his voice like a drug. “Have your fun with him. And if you fail to kill him, know that I’ll cut out both your throats.”
Ayden’s breath hitched as his words struck her like a slap to the face. She broke from her trance and her jaw hardened. Fool. The pheromones always left her weak and vulnerable.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a human to fuck.” A flash of red flickered in his eyes, and he straightened, retying his robe before he strode from the room.
Alone, she rose from the chair, leaned forward against the desk and ran her hand through her hair. “Know that I’ll cut both your throats out,” she muttered mockingly. “Psh. Try.”
The back of a picture frame caught her attention and she plucked it off the desktop and flipped it over, staring down at the black and white photograph Gavin had snapped of her unwittingly crouching with a camera to her eyes.
They’d met three years ago when she happened to stumble into his casino while scouting a lycan. Gavin had stepped in when Ayden refused to give up her weapons to the bouncer at the door. Sanctuary, the casino, was just that—the safest place any human or immortal could hang out. The seven brothers, all sons of the demon prince, Wrath, ensured no one roused trouble on their turf. Turned out an entire hierarchy of demons existed in the netherworld. Not all of them entirely evil.
Damn near every supe living in the natural world, though, revered the sons of Wrath. Lady-killing men in suits by day, they became something else entirely at night—vengeance dealers for hire. Their reputation spread like flames through the streets, each demon with his own brand of pain etched in demon script somewhere on his body. Violence came with punishment. And mercy wasn’t part of a Wrath Demon’s genetic makeup.
On the other hand, their sex appeal, weaved into every fiber of their being, could render an unsuspecting female wanton. For the most part, they appeared to be human, aside from their very inhuman physical attractiveness. Intelligent and successful, debonair men in suits, who smelled good and talked smooth … yeah, like walking lollipops in a gaggle of eager mouths. So, to keep their business affairs from becoming too personal, Gavin enforced a ‘no sex with clients’ clause. Because no species was immune to their charms, not even Ayden’s. Had she not fought against her desires, she may have ended up Gavin’s mate—an eternal bond that would only be broken by death.
Ayden set the picture back on the desk and made her way out into the hallway. Her gaze trailed upward toward the closed bedroom door to the left of the staircase.
The lycan’s room.
I won’t fail. The lycan will die tonight.
CHAPTER THREE
Venom from the bite of a lycan entered directly into the bloodstream. It invaded the human cells, taking over the synthesis of proteins that resulted in muscle building, antibody production—every normal human process. Natural occurrences no one really thought or cared about.
Until they became a victim, too.
Seven days was the average time for the change to reach completion. During those days, a halfling would be subjected to the most grueling pain imaginable, far worse than even labor pains, and unaffected by the most potent painkillers in existence. Bones lengthened, muscles strengthened and the body transitioned to immortal. Wounds spontaneously healed, and any infection percolating at the time of the transformation would be wiped out by the stronger lycan antibodies. The proteins in the venom mutated human DNA, then integrated and remained dormant until activated at will by the lycan.
At will.
Not by the light of the full moon.
Whenever the hell they felt like it.
Although a lycan held the ability to shift into any animal, those turned usually opted for wolves, sticking in packs that would increase the odds of their survival.
Because a lone lycan was a dead lycan.
Ayden stalked into the room, stopping in her tracks as she approached Bennett, bent over and holding a cloth soaked in blood and something else as he scrubbed the floor.
The halfling lay unconscious in the bed to Bennett’s right.
“What’s this?” she asked.
Bennett turned with a grimace. “Halfling puke. Apparently Master Logan found him.”
She chuckled at that. “Logan likes to steal my thunder.”
Bennett finished up, grabbed the bottle of disinfectant beside him and nodded to Ayden. “Good evening, miss.”
“Thank you, Bennett.” She patted him on his deformed hunchback as he hobbled past her and out of the room. The stomach-wrenching smell trailed behind him even once he’d closed the door, and nose wrinkled, Ayden trained her narrowed eyes on the halfling lying in the bed.
His body, though twice as muscled as the last time she’d seen him, had a pasty white and sickly appearance while blue lips framed his agape mouth.
Pathetic.
She crossed her arms and paced the room. The thud of her black boots kept a steady rhythm, almost lulling her into a trance. She paused, touching the dagger at her side, and shoved the bed with her boot. “Lycan!” she shouted firm. “Wake.”
He didn’t stir.
“Lycan! Damn you. I command you to wake!” The full tone of her voice bounced through the room.
Still, the male, drenched in blood, sweat and his own vomit, didn’t move.
Did Logan kill him?
That familiar twitch in her muscles surfaced.
Destroy.
She didn’t dare touch him. Instead, she hoisted her boot and kicked his leg. “Wake up!”
The halfling winced and squirmed beneath the covers. His eyes slid to half-mast but quickly shut and he stilled once more.
Ayden’s jaw tightened as she watched him. “I could kill you now, lamb. Your bones would break at my fingertips.”
“Then kill me.” His voice, though weakened and gravelly, carried softly across the room.
The words only stoked her smoldering ire. “You wish to be killed? Without a fight?” She spat on him. “Weak lamb.”
He slowly shook his head, his eyes only partially opened, as though threatening to roll back into unconsciousness again. “I won’t fight you. I’m yours to kill.”
Ayden crossed her arms over her chest, her jaw jutted out. “Then I won’t give you the satisfaction of mercy now. I’ll wait until you’re ready to fight, and you beg me for your life. And then I’ll break every bone left in your body.”
Eyes closed, he turned away from her.
What are you waiting for, Ayden? Kill him.
The noise rattled in her brain, an unyielding clamor that beat against her temples. She rubbed them.
And those memories?
Damn, she needed to get out of there.
The mere sight of him incited an intense craving to ram her fist through the walls—or worse—but that would only lead to Gavin being pissed that she’d punched
