Paranormal Romance E-Book Bundle

Ariana never imagined her life would take such a perilous turn. 

Abducted under mysterious circumstances, she finds herself trapped within the opulent yet chilling fortress known as "The Fort." Her captors? Four undeniably handsome vampire princes, the enigmatic Ravana brothers, who insist that she is the key to their survival.

As Ariana begins training to be their Guard, a tantalizing and forbidden connection sparks between her and the princes.

Their love is prohibited. Outlawed. A sin.

With ancient vampire law destined to pull them apart, their enemies close in.

Together, they must navigate a treacherous world of ancient rivalries, dark secrets, and an impending war that could change their destinies forever.

CHAPTER ONE

It was coming. The darkness.

It always started like this. My eyes were closed, in a deep sleep. That’s when the awareness came. A heavy weight settled over my chest. There was a metallic squeal of crushed metal, an unworldly jarring of my body, and worst of all, the complete feeling of being alone.

I knew what was happening. My mind wouldn’t let me wake up though. I was in the dream. The dream about my life; the dream that had already taken place. The moment in my life that I just wished to forget, but my brain wouldn’t let me. It was the night my life changed forever.

I could feel myself crying. A silent cry that still held the tears unchecked on my face. I was trapped, alone in the backseat as the car skidded to a stop at an unnatural angle, flipped over onto the hood. The weird part about it was, though the fear was settled deep inside my heart, I felt no pain. That would come later.

My mom, who had just been in the passenger seat talking animatedly, was now hunched over, upside down, and dangling from her seatbelt. Fear started to close in, the weight on my chest heavier and heavier as I searched around me. I couldn’t see Mrs. Lawrence. She’d been driving. It was just like any other day, until it wasn’t. Now, all these years later, I couldn’t even tell you where we were going. It wasn’t unusual to find us all in the car together--me, my mom, Mrs. Lawrence and…Jake.

While still submerged in my subconscious, I searched around the car for him. He wasn’t there. I remember my mind hyperventilating, trying to piece the clues together. Where could Jake have gone? It was a car accident, and because our mothers had been safety freaks back then, he had had a seatbelt on. Now, you would call them helicopter parents.

They died safety freaks. What little good it did them.

I remembered my eyes searching frantically for something or someone. I didn’t want any of this to be true. One second, we were driving down the road. I was listening to the soothing, calming sound of my mother’s voice. The same voice she used to sing me to sleep. Then there was nothing, like the flashing scenes of a movie. In the first scene, I had a life. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine. In the next second, I’d lost everything.

In the dream, I closed my eyes just like I had that day. I saw nothing but dark. Nothing but the black hole everything had turned out to be. When I opened my eyes, it was worse. Sometimes not seeing anything at all is a relief to your senses. With my eyes open, I saw everything I didn’t want to see. There was no Jake. My mother was dead, clearly, as I watched the blood run down her face and drip onto the ceiling of the car. Mrs. Lawrence, I could see only her hair dangling down, rivulets of blood twisting in it as if she was some gory Halloween costume. Then, the car shifted…

My eyes flew open, and I gasped in a huge breath. Sitting up, I threw my legs over the side of the bed. Running my hands through my hair, I rested my elbows on my knees, hunched over them with the weight of everything. I hadn’t had nightmares like that in so long. Then one day a couple weeks ago, they all came flooding back.

I’d always been good at blocking things out. Within months after the accident, I’d blocked it out. I blocked out the crazy cat lady, who wanted me to call her mom after I’d stayed with her only a day. (Another great pick by the state when you’re an orphan with no family.) I blocked out the too touchy father from my third family, and I blocked out the night the homeless guy on Seventh Street taught me how to defend myself after getting beat up for the $3.32 I had in my pocket. That was the night I ran away.

It’s funny now to think that I ran away. How can you run away from your own mind? How can you run away from your own life? It’s impossible. I was beginning to realize that. There just wasn’t anything I could do to not be me.

I stood from the bed, my back aching from the stiff, cheap mattress in my mildew infested apartment. My feet slapped against the concrete as I made my way to the small bathroom. I turned on the harsh, synthetic, unnatural light that blinked before coming on completely. The crack in the mirror sliced through my reflection. The little apartment, with its bed in the living room, wasn’t much, but it was mine. I opened the pus yellow medicine cabinet that could only have been fashionable in the 70’s and stared inside. My name stared back at me from the pill bottles. I took one in my palm, turning it around and around. I saw my name, the name of the medication, and how often to take it. Just like all the other nights, I put it back and shut the mirror again, choosing at first to look at my reflection.

The doctor had given me those pills. I had taken them for some time. I just couldn’t bear to take them now. Call me crazy, and half the time I was, but I just didn’t want to forget anymore. Maybe that was my problem before. I kept running from myself, from my life, and I didn’t want to run anymore. Well, didn’t want to run in the figurative sense, I liked to run in the literal sense.

I grabbed my jogging clothes that I set out the previous night and pulled them on. There was something about the act of running that cleared my head. Maybe it was the fact I pushed myself to the point of exhaustion. Maybe it was the fact that I couldn’t focus on anything else when I needed to watch my feet in the dark, so I wouldn’t faceplant on the sidewalk. But running, however weird it was that I was running at night, had become my go-to therapy to calm myself down. I couldn’t complain, really. All this extra exercise had done well for my body, if I cared about that kind of stuff.

I went to the bathroom again and pulled my hair into a low ponytail. Dark purple bruising under my eyes from lack of sleep reminded me that I needed to do this. If it weren’t for the running, I wouldn’t get any sleep at all.

From the dresser, I picked up my keys, the mace, and set out for the waterfront. In old Calcutta, you could run alongside the river for miles. It wasn’t a large river by any means. The narrow width pushed the water through quicker to the lake twenty miles or so down the road. I would’ve gone running by my house, if I had a death wish. The apartment I could afford was not in the part of town you wanted to be alone at night. Instead, I quickly ran, passing apartment buildings that mirrored mine until I reached the abandoned warehouses where I sped up, and finally slowed when I made it to the Riverwalk. I was already breathing heavily by this time, and my thoughts were already miles away from the accident so many years ago. In and out, keep moving your feet, watch your breath. If I didn’t breathe correctly, I’d get a sharp pain in my side. I’d learned a lot about running just by doing.

I ran past the back of the tiny shops where the town tried to make Calcutta a tourist destination. I didn’t know why they bothered. It wasn’t as if having a river running through the town was a rarity. Calcutta was just ordinary, unlike me.

I ran faster, racing toward the lock. I raced until I could feel the skin around my cheeks tremble when my feet slapped the pavement. I ran until my lungs could barely keep up. I ran until I couldn’t run anymore. Not because I was physically exhausted, but because the lock and the ‘no trespassing’ signs loomed in front of me. I touched the high chain-link fence as if I had been racing with someone else and won. Who was I kidding? I never won in my life.

I turned and made the slow trek back up the river. I always liked being out at night. Things seemed much calmer. Sure, with the lack of light, there was always the unknown. Maybe that’s what I liked about it. In the light, everything was kind of false, wasn’t it? In the light, you always knew what was coming after you, but you really didn’t. It was like a big, fat lie or a false sense of security. The dark, though, didn’t lie. It didn’t try to make it seem like things would work out when they really wouldn’t. It was honest about who it was. It was black, gaping, and unseeing. It was everything the light wasn’t, yet real.

I stopped at my usual spot. The bench looked out over a small grassy area before the riverbed took over, winding its way through town. I sat down and propped my feet up on the metal barriers erected so no one could get too close. Between the posts, though, I could see the moon shine down on the river, reflecting its yellow orb back up to the sky. The weather was also just right lately. There was a bit of a chill in the air, just perfect for running. The days had grown humid but the night held everything I wanted from it.

A crunch of gravel sounded, and I whipped my head around to look behind me. My eyes darted through the darkness, searching for anything. Finally, my gaze moved lower and I saw a small chipmunk at the edge of the trail where the cement gave way to small stones. “Hey, little guy,” I said as relief washed over me.

The chipmunk ignored me. I didn’t mind.

I turned back around to stare at the river once more, loving the way the breeze caressed my face. Sweat from the exertion had started to run down my back and cold shivers and goosebumps ran up my body. It was almost time to go back. I could feel the darkness coming again but this time I knew the promise of it was numbness. My mind would let me sleep now.

I placed my feet back on the ground, stood, and walked back up the trail. As soon as I got to the line of warehouses, I’d have to run again. As I always did when I got to that part, I thought of homeless Old Joe. During my runaway days, Old Joe had taken me under his wing. He told me he knew Bruce Lee, and though I always thought he was a bit of a crackpot, he did seem to know what he was doing when it came to martial arts.

The night he found me in the alley, he showed me basic self-defense moves. It grew from there. Even now I visited him sometimes. I had even, though stupid as it may have been, invited him to come stay with me. He was the closest thing to a father figure I’ve ever known. In his own way, I believed he cared for me. He may have even thought of me as a daughter himself, but he refused my invitation. He told me he was too old, too stuck in his ways, to live within four walls now. That night amongst all the excuses, he told me something that stuck with me. The wrinkles pulled at his face as he took in my offer. His eyes were cast down as if he were truly thinking. When he looked up, he said, “I just want to be free. You know what I mean?”

At the time, I had no idea what he meant. It seemed like living on the streets was far from the cry of freedom he deemed it to be. Now, though, I kind of understood. The apartment meant I had to stay employed, even though it was nothing to write home about. I worked part-time at a laundromat during the early hours of the morning. For my second job, the kung fu school down the street let me clean its facility in exchange for money and free self-defense lessons. I would’ve refused the self-defense lessons, thinking that Old Joe had taught me everything I needed to know, but the owner insisted. It was just barely enough to keep me alive. You see, it wasn’t really freedom at all. I had a place to stay; I had things to eat. That was it. Was that all there was to life?

The same crunching of stones on cement sounded just behind me. My eyes darted up from watching my feet pad against the sidewalk. I was already in the warehouse district, and I hadn’t picked up the pace. I did now, immediately making my legs move. My muscles, used to this now, pulled and tightened, allowing me to break into a run. Just ahead, I saw the facade of my ground-floor apartment. The old brick building that looked more commercial than residential. It wasn’t much, but it was home to me, and I was happy to have it. Freedom, to me, meant living within four walls.

A tingle of fear crawled up my spine. I didn’t want to look behind me. The same crunching of stones sounded, and I knew it couldn’t be the chipmunk this time.  There it went again, the darkness, wheeling me in. It was probably nothing. At least, that’s what I told myself. My lungs burned inside my chest, my muscles had started to ache, but I pushed and pushed. I only had a half a block to go. When my feet skidded to a stop by the old steel railing that led to my door, I breathed a sigh of relief.

It was cut short when I finally turned my head. My eyes widened. I stopped breathing, the earlier breath held tight in my chest. There was a guy there, under the only streetlamp within sight. I stumbled backward up the steps. The guy, he couldn’t have been older than mid-twenties, smiled at me. He was handsome, and I wanted to kick myself for thinking like that in this moment. For all I knew, well I didn’t really know, did I? He could have been a neighbor. I didn’t really pay attention to my neighbors. But what was he doing out at this time of night? Then again, what was I doing out at this time of night?

I looked down, hoping to see jogging shoes and exercise clothes like I wore, but there was nothing. He was dressed in khakis and a sweater, so unlike what I would’ve guessed that I peered more closely, making sure he wore what I thought he did. My nerves automatically calmed, and some lying voice in the back of my head told me that well-dressed men, whether they were out in the middle of the night or not, did not mean me any harm. It also helped that he was handsome, with dark hair gelled to the side artfully. He was chiseled; at least that’s what I thought. I recognized the same definition in him as I had started to see in myself with my training and my running. Though, mine was nothing compared to his. He seemed to have unnatural musculature. It was like what I would’ve imagined a Greek God would look like. I shook my head at myself, disbelieving the way my mind worked.

Whether this guy was good-looking or not, I needed to get away. I kept backing up until my back hit the storm door, creaking. I jumped at the noise. In front of me, the guy had moved to the bottom step. He laughed; his husky voice guttural, melodic. I turned, knowing the only way to get into my house, to get to safety, was to unlock the door and lock it behind me. This may have been my undoing though. With my back turned, he was immediately on me, his hand coming to rest on mine as it worked on the lock.

His breath hit my face, unnaturally cool in the night. A shiver started from my toes making its way all the way up my spine to between my shoulder blades. The guy tsked. He peeled my fingers away from the lock one by one. “You won’t be needing this.”

I turned toward him. Though my body sent warning signals, I still moved closer to him on instinct. His eyes drew me into their chestnut depths.

“I-I won’t?”

With a smirk sliding onto his face, the guy shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not. You’ve been chosen.”

I couldn’t be sure what happened next, only that there was a flurry of movement, and then blackness. I tensed, waiting for the nightmare to come again.

Fulfill your magical destiny…

Those weren’t the exact words Gran uttered to me on her deathbed but she could’ve warned me about the period cramps.

The divine GPS (a.k.a. Mother Nature’s idea of a cruel joke) brings me straight to Salem, Massachusetts and into the arms of four, sexy-as-sin male witches. As Enforcers, they police the city for evil magic, except their coven is incomplete.

They’re searching for their fifth…

All signs point to me but one problem, the idea of a female Enforcer has the magical world up in arms. It’s unnatural, wrong, and in some elder’s eyes: a crime.

Before it's too late, we must uncover the secrets of our past so the magic that brought us together doesn’t destroy us all.

CHAPTER ONE

The point was to watch them, not get sucked in. I failed. Holy fuck, this guy was hot.

I always was a sucker for tattoos and guns. Not the kind of guns that shoot things. Guns, as in thick, muscled arms I could sink my teeth into.

I blew out a breath. For heaven’s sake, I needed a cold shower. It might even do these cramps some good. How the hell did I even end up here? Well, technically, I knew how. A long ass bus ride with people who weren’t always the cleanest and some men who I could tell didn’t have the best of intentions. The more appropriate question was why I ended up here.

I’d been getting cramps—I know, TMI—and a yearning in my stomach for something “other”. Something that wasn’t in New Orleans where I’d lived my whole life. The pressure was like a pull, and when you grew up with my grandmother, you tended to want to follow your instincts because that’s what she hammered into you day in and day out. Don’t trust someone? Don’t. They’re probably an axe murderer. Feel like you shouldn’t go to school today? Don’t. Who knows what shitty nonsense could happen? Don’t like that guy around the corner? Neither do I, he’s a dick.

I smiled to myself remembering Granny. She hated that name, but I called her it, anyway. She was a forever young person stuck in an old woman’s body. And, she just so happened to be the local Voodoo Priestess, revered—and feared—by many. Yeah, my childhood was a smash.

The too-loud pop music in the bar where I’d been enjoying my eye candy stopped suddenly. Shoved into the present, I dropped the straw that allowed me to suck down my Amaretto Sour like it was Kool-Aid and turned. Wow. What a dive bar. The absence of Bruno Mars’ Uptown Funk and the house lights exposed the thick layer of sticky grime on the bar and the off-brown checkered tile that led to the small stage at the back of the place.

The tall, lanky guy who lived with the Adonis I’d been lusting after since I got to Salem two days ago stood on the cramped stage. He tapped the microphone tentatively, sending a buzz through the air that made me cringe. “Sorry,” he muttered, while pushing his glasses back up his nose. He stood there awkwardly for a few moments, shifting his weight from foot to foot while I—and everyone else in the bar—watched. He wasn’t used to being the center of attention, that much was evident. My heart went out to him as his face blanched. The blinding white lights all turned on him and he stood there like a surprised animal getting caught taking food.

He was adorable, actually, in a dorky kind of way. All the guys who lived at the apartment I’d been drawn to were good looking in their own way, surprising and confusing me all at the same time. Before I could get sucked back down the rabbit hole of why I was here, he finally cleared his throat and spoke. “Uh, hey.” He waved awkwardly, then put his hand above his eyes to ward off the spotlights. “Just wanted to send a happy birthday out to my friend, Randy. Um, guess I should’ve brought a drink up here with me to toast or something, but uh…”

One of the other guys from the apartment, the blond one who looked like he stepped off a sports magazine cover when he left for practice in the morning, ran a drink up to the front. “Bottom’s up,” he winked.

“Thanks, Gabe.” The lanky one bent over so his lips were almost on the microphone as he raised his borrowed glass in the air. “Happy birthday, Randy.” The microphone buzzed and squeaked as he stepped away.

The blond one—Gabe, apparently—stepped right up after. “Cheers, Mate!” He threw his own drink back, and stepped away from the mic, encouraging the lanky one to do the same with his. He did, his face immediately puckering, and then gave a quick shake of his head as he finally swallowed what was surely some strong, hard liquor.

I leaned against the bar and took a drink of my own. Following them to the bar tonight had been a good idea. I’d just learned two of their names—Gabe and Randy. I also knew that Gabe was apparently British and that it was Randy, Mr. Hot as Fuck’s, birthday.

I eyed the two as they made their way back over to the bar a few feet from where I stood. The same pull tugged in the pit of my stomach when they were all together. I moaned deep as the feeling became overwhelming. There was definitely something about these four. Was I supposed to know them? Was I supposed to fear them? Nothing seemed off. They were four regular guys. Three of them went to college at Salem State while Randy spent most of his time at the gym and a tattoo parlor.

Frustrated, I pulled the straw from my glass and downed the rest of my drink. I was just about to place it back on the bar when a deep, gruff voice said, “I hope that was in my honor.”

My eyes widened, and I almost sputtered. The guy I’d been lusting after since I got here just spoke to me. Holy bananas. Now that he was six inches away, I got to check him out up close. It was easy to get drawn in. He looked sexy as sin wherever he went. He was either dressed for the gym, showing off his sexy as fuck muscles, or sporting tight ass t-shirts on his way to the tattoo parlor he worked at. Tonight was the same tattoo parlor look, jeans that hugged his hips with a black shirt that looked like it was tailor-made just for him. What I hadn’t noticed from watching him with what was usually a street distance between us, was his dark eyes. They were deep brown, teetering on black. A shiver rocked my spine.

Suppressing my inner freak out, I blinked up at him, doing my best to appear interested. Appear? Who was I kidding? I was interested. “Of course,” I answered. “Randy, is it?”

He nodded in assent before taking his time perusing my body. My insides clenched, a more potent feeling than I’d ever had before as his eyes raked all over me. I hadn’t brought much of anything with me from New Orleans, including clothes, since I didn’t know what I would find here. Tonight, I’d just tied off one of my black shirts right above my right hip, showing a little midriff. It was about as “bar appropriate” as I got, even when I was home. Coupled with the tight pair of jeans I’d brought with me, I didn’t look half bad in the small ass motel mirror I’d checked my reflection in before making my way here. I’d followed them to the bar and then decided I had to go back to the room and do a little mini wardrobe makeover before heading in after them and seeing what I could find out. It couldn’t help to be as sexy as I could while trying to feel them out. At least, that’s what I’d thought, and it was working too. Randy was actually standing in front of me, his eyes gliding over my skin as if his only thought was what he could do to me.

I swallowed and yelled at myself to stop it. The tug in my stomach hadn’t brought me thousands of miles away just to sleep with the guy in front of me. Voodoo didn’t do shit like that. Hell, if it did, I wouldn’t have resisted it for so long when I was younger.

His dark eyes latched onto mine. Before long though, a tinge of amusement colored his face. His lips moved, and I watched as they separated in succession, drawn to them instantly. When they cracked into a wider smile, I was thrown back into reality. He wasn’t just standing in front of me so I could ogle him, he’d been saying something. “Sorry, what?”

Instead of smiling this time, his intense eyes froze. “Your name?”

“Norah.” Inwardly, I kicked myself. I’d intended on using a fake name if we ever got to this point, but the way he looked at me made me lose all my senses.

He pulled a curl of my hair off my shoulder and fingered it. “Norah,” he said, as if he was testing the way it sounded on him, and damned if it didn’t sound amazing, panty-melting amazing.

He dropped my hair and turned toward the bar, breaking off my current train of thought where I climbed on him like a monkey and felt every inch of his chiseled body. He was hot, and he knew it. He also knew I thought he was hot. I no longer had the upper hand. Like, at all, and I had a feeling I never would with him.

He slapped the bar a few times and held his finger up in the air. The bartender walked right up and shook his hand. Randy motioned in my direction. “My new friend Norah needs a drink.”

The bartender’s lips curled up. He looked from Randy to me. “Another Amaretto Sour.”

I nodded. “Please.”

The bartender turned away and Randy once again turned his full attention toward me. “So, Norah, I haven’t seen you around here before.”

His muscles bulged underneath his t-shirt as he shifted, but I refused to look at them. “That’s not really your pickup line, is it, Birthday Boy?”

He smirked. “It’s the tamest one I got. I had several others in mind, but since I’ve already seen you blush a couple times, I wasn’t sure they were appropriate.”

I stood up taller, accepting his challenge. “I can take it. What do you got?”

Randy leaned over, his hot breath caressed my ear. I could just picture him smirking as my body flushed. He had me right where he wanted me. “I was wondering,” he said slowly, “If you kiss with that sexy as fuck accent.” Before I could tell him that he should try to find out, he pulled away as if he hadn’t just curled my toes. “Where is it from, anyway?”

“Louisiana,” I told him, still trying to keep it together and apparently totally losing the fight to keep my identity a secret. “A little bit of Creole, a little bit of South.” My body wasn’t sending me any warning signals to keep my mouth shut. In fact, it was doing the opposite. It was practically humming in Randy’s presence. I’d never been so turned on just talking to a guy before. Every move he made, my body countered with him as if I were his shadow.

His dark eyes flared. “Mixed beauty…”

He trailed a finger down my wrist, and I had to clench my jaw to not moan in ecstasy. For fuck’s sake, he had me pinned already.

The adorable lanky friend put a hand on Randy’s shoulder, saving me from having to say something, which probably would’ve come out an incomprehensible mess. He pushed his glasses up his nose. “You told me not to let you stay out too late since you got the morning shift at the gym.”

Randy’s shoulders bunched at the initial intrusion, but relaxed as soon as he heard his friend’s voice. “You’re being very rude, Liam.”

Liam turned his head. Surprise riddled his features as soon as he saw that his friend stood in front of me. A heated red colored his cheeks as he took a step back. “S-sorry.” He looked away.

“It’s okay,” I said immediately, hating that I was the reason he felt so awkward. He turned his attention back to me and I smiled. “I’m Norah.”

I held my hand out, and he took it. A zap of static electricity passed between us and we both immediately pulled away. “Sorry,” he said again, then blushed as if he hated that he was once again apologizing, or maybe it was because he hated being so awkward. “Didn’t mean to shock you.”

“It happens.”

Randy watched our little interaction with raised eyebrows. He looked back and forth between us before settling his heated gaze back on me. Liam cleared his throat nervously. “You don’t care that you told me that earlier, do you?” he asked.

Randy shook his head. “Not one flying fuck.”

Liam turned as if he expected that as a reaction and left us alone again. As soon as he walked away, a hollow pang struck my core. I hadn’t realized until he left, but that yearning feeling had intensified while they were both in front of me, but had returned to the ache with just Randy.

He stepped closer, nudging the drink the bartender must’ve left for me out of the way. “Thank you.”

I looked up at him curiously. “For?”

“Being nice to Liam. He’s my best friend, and for some reason, women treat him like he’s the dirt on the other side of their three-inch heels.”

I peered over Randy’s shoulder and found Liam staring back at us as he stood with the two others. Gabe, the British one, and the one with the dark hair whose name I hadn’t learned yet. I swallowed down the sudden feeling of fullness as I stared at them and immediately turned back to Randy. “What can I say? Girls can be bitches.”

“And what about you, Norah? What kind of girl are you?”

I shrugged, not knowing how to answer. I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him the truth. Being a voodoo practitioner, I knew enough not to spout that kind of stuff when you first met people. They tended to shy away from you after that. And no one, well, no one except Granny, knew about the real stuff, the genuine power I had. The power that was passed down to me through a long line of voodoo priestesses. My customers back home guessed, but it had been a while since I’d done anything like my Grandmother had. The tourists didn’t want the real stuff, anyway. They said they did, but what they really wanted was the idea of the real stuff, so that’s exactly what I gave them in my voodoo shop. A show.

I took a step toward Randy until the tips of my shoes met his. The closer I got, the more overwhelmed I became. The scent of maple hit me and I took a deep whiff, taking Randy all in. As he’d done with me, I whispered in his ear nice and slow, “I’m…impatient.”

Randy made a low mewling noise in the back of his throat before his hand came up to settle on the bare skin at my waist. His touch sent a shockwave through me. I gasped at his large, rough hands as they made careful sweeping motions over my hip and up my back. When he got further, and further up, he stopped moving and swore harshly under his breath. I smiled to myself. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and he’d just found out.

His hand lingered toward the side of my body and his thumb reached out, just barely grazing the side of my naked breast. “Holy fuck,” I breathed. I hadn’t meant to. I was supposed to be cozying up to one of them so I could get inside their place to look around and figure out why the hell I was so drawn to this place, but this was turning out to be way more than I bargained for.

“God, you’re sexy as hell.”

His hot breath caressed my neck before his lips sealed onto my skin. I went up on my tiptoes, losing myself in the feeling of his mouth on my flesh. It was as if there was a rope tied between us that pulled tighter and tighter the closer we got.

His hands smoothed down my back and over my ass, pulling me closer. I gasped once his thick cock pushed against my leg. This was getting serious now. What was worse was my body’s reaction to it. I should’ve been appalled to get mauled like this at a bar, but I wasn’t. I loved it. Every last hard inch of it, apparently. The whole reason why I came here escaped me and it was just Randy and me. I pressed forward into him and his teeth nipped my neck. “Fuck, yes.”

He pulled away, his hand reaching for mine and entwining our fingers. He shifted his glance to the still full glass of Amaretto Sour I had at the bar. I looked longingly at it, but knew that if I was ever going to follow through with what I came here to do, alcohol would mute my powers and I needed all I had to get through this. I shook my head and Randy eyed me curiously for a moment before pulling me alongside him. When he passed Liam, Gabe, and the dark-haired guy, he barked, “Don’t come home.”

The thing he never knew he wanted…

Galen Dumont needs only two things to survive his immortal life: blood and sex. But when Kayleigh’s brought to him as a Feeder, the very thing he’s supposed to drain until he has no use for them, the game changes.

He wants her.

He needs her.

And for that, he’ll make her pay.

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