doyenne.

by Anne Malcom

  All of the years I’d held onto my control, it all snapped, right there and then.

  My now empty glass went flying against the wall without me quite realizing I’d thrown it until tiny pieces of crystal rained down on my floor.

  “You murdered my sister!” I screamed. “You murdered her for a fucking crown that means nothing. For power that doesn’t paint you paintings, that doesn’t smile at you, that doesn’t try to wake up earlier than you on your birthday. You are a sick piece of shit and I hope you burn in fucking hell. I cannot wait to watch you burn. Even if I have to go to the pit with you, I’ll happily forgo heaven to make sure you’re properly punished in hell.”

  He tilted his head. “Oh, Char, I thought you didn’t believe in god.”

  I glared at him. “I don’t. But you’re giving me a reason to believe in the Devil and hope he’s real. If not, I’ll do my best to recreate his work.”

  He pointed the gun to me. “Assuming you’ll live long enough to do so. You don’t have the power anymore, Charlotte. It’s my turn now.”

  I laughed. “Because you’re holding a gun and tried to murder your way to the top? That’s not power, that’s cowardice. A weak man uses weapons, a strong woman uses wit. And despite your taste in shoes, you’ve just proven yourself to be just another asshole man.” I rounded the counter, barely glancing at the gun that followed me. “And I’m sick of men taking things from me. So if it’s my life you’re trying to steal, then I’ll take it myself before you have the chance.”

  Then I ran at him.

  The gunshot echoed through the silence I’d been so afraid of.

  It was a relief.

  Jacob

  He knew Charlotte didn’t want Kershaw dead. And it wasn’t out of nobility or goodness. She was remarkable, but there was no goodness in her. Whatever shreds she had was for her sister, and now she was gone, there was nothing.

  Which was why he’d managed to stay with her for as long as he had. Why she was stuck in his rotten soul, never to be erased. She was crueler than him, in her want to keep the man she ruined alive.

  Because she thought beyond the simple ways to inflict pain, she wanted agony, all the way down to the core. Jacob had first experience of that.

  That’s why she kept Kershaw alive.

  But he wouldn’t let that happen.

  Because there was a high chance he’d scuttle back to a hole somewhere, rot away without everything that he defined himself with. Most likely would die by his own hand.

  But there was also a small chance that he wouldn’t.

  That he’d use this absolute defeat, gather the scant scraps she’d torn off him, use them to clothe himself in desperation and try to hurt her.

  Try.

  He wasn’t giving anyone even the smallest chance of hurting her. Killing was the better way. The surer way to protect her.

  Once he was gone.

  And he would go.

  Because she might not be good, but Jacob wasn’t purely bad. He was worse. And he’d corrupt whatever she had in her that was worth saving. He saved her life, but that was all he would do. He’d damn her in every way that mattered. And he cared about her too much to let that happen. Killing was always the better choice, and he’d kill what was left between them. He knew he’d already done it, walking away from her fucking empty eyes, those empty words.

  She was not a woman that would accept defeat, but she had been praying for it when she dismissed him. Daring him to beat her. Fight for her.

  Kershaw coughed, a thin spray of blood exited his mouth and hit the desk in front of him.

  “I wasn’t going to go after her,” he spluttered, keeping Jacob’s gaze. He hated the man, despised everything he was and everything he’d done, but he respected that he didn’t lower his gaze, even in death.

  “I know,” he responded.

  “Would’ve done the same thing, if I were you,” Kershaw said, voice wet. “We’re not that different. We’re both monsters.”

  “We are,” Jacob agreed. He was no better than the man in front of him, who’d done unspeakable acts, whose soul was up for sale. Who considered human life to have a dollar amount attached to it.

  They were different in the fact that Jacob didn’t kill for money. At the start, it was duty. Then it became something else.

  But what was that difference, really? He still took something from death. It fed something. And maybe that was worse than killing for money.

  He watched with silent satisfaction as Kershaw died in front of him. For once, the death was empty. Empty because he was. He’d thought he was hollow before, filled up only by his depravity. But then Charlotte.

  Boots.

  She showed him he was more than his depravity. Or maybe she showed him that it wasn’t the death sentence he’d been so sure that it was.

  He prided himself on his ability to walk away from people he’d once loved. His family. Because it was the old him that loved them. He held something for them in the emotional wasteland he’d adopted, enough to know he had to leave them for their own good. And sometimes, his empty spaces panged with a pain that might’ve been longing for his sister’s jokes, his mother’s cooking, the smell of his father’s cigars and his niece’s smile.

  But it was manageable. And usually drowned out by the darkness.

  He’d been away from them years.

  It had been mere hours away from Charlotte and it wasn’t a mere pang. It wasn’t manageable. It was a need that he’d have to fulfil or he’d die.

  He’d thought he was capable of the noble thing.

  But he wasn’t noble.

  He didn’t even wipe the blood from his hands, he went to get her.

  Jacob knew something was wrong the second the doors opened. It was an instinct that once honed, never left. The ability to know death. To taste it in the way the air—usually sweet and bitter that was the mix of her smell—turned slightly rancid, colder.

  It was different than when he’d come in here to see Charlotte crumpled and beaten on the floor. Bad. But better, because hurts healed. She was strong enough for that. It fucked with him to see her like that, but he was a man unsurprised by violence. It was the fact that it affected him at all that meant something. That it sickened the stomach that had stayed even during humanity’s worst scenes.

  He ran into the kitchen, and he found death there.

  Charlotte

  “I get why you come here,” I said, my voice flat, disembodied. It echoed through the space, bouncing off unseen demons.

  Jacob’s form entered my peripheral, he came to stand beside me, I could taste the electricity in the air, the way his energy told me he was strung out.

  He likely found Vaughn.

  He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t.

  If he hadn’t decided to come back for whatever was left of me.

  There should have been some reaction to Jacob coming back for me. For us.

  But there wasn’t.

  “It’s empty. Ugly,” I continued. “It’s where you need to be. After...” I trailed off.

  The echo of the gunshot was louder than I expected. The jolt up my arm was also surprising too. It had seemed so effortless in movies. But killing should not be effortless.

  Taking another human’s life should’ve jolted my soul like the gun jolted my arm bone.

  It didn’t.

  It was barely a tremor, really.

  Maybe if things were different, I might’ve felt more at ending the life of the one remaining person on this earth I’d cared about.

  But things weren’t different, and I didn’t live in maybes.

  I felt numb, vaguely satisfied that he was dead. Not much else.

  “It was all him?” Jacob asked after a long silence.

  “It would be easy, if it was, wouldn’t it?” I asked. “Simpler. To blame it on one man, as if tragedy itself is dealt and decided by one person.” I met ice blue wolf eyes. “It’s unfortunately never that easy or never that simple. Or maybe it is. It wasn�
�t him that took everything from me. It’s what he wanted. Power. Absolute power corrupts absolutely and all that. But the lack of it corrupts, rots and decays the wrong kind of person.” I paused. “I think I’m the wrong kind of person. In every way a person can be wrong.”

  That’s when Jacob snatched me into his arms, brutal, painful. He clutched my neck.

  “Yeah, Boots,” he rasped. “You’re the wrong kind of person. Which just so happens to be right for me. And corrupt or not, that power is yours. And no god will help anyone that tries to take it away from you again.”

  Epilogue

  There was no ever after for Jacob and me.

  Happy or otherwise.

  Happiness was lost, buried beneath blood, bone, scar tissue that compiled together.

  No marriage, because I didn’t believe in it and I couldn’t weather such a thing without my sister there to walk me down the aisle, fuss over my dress and just...be there.

  Jacob wouldn’t do it either. Because like a suit, marriage was just another chain to a life that would never be his, an identity that couldn’t fit over top of the monster that he was now.

  Marriage was too little for us.

  Too hollow.

  But we belonged to each other. As much as two people such as us could.

  There were no children. There was no family.

  Even if I was physically able, I wouldn’t have let it happen.

  We weren’t cut out to be a family.

  His sister was there. More than she might’ve been had it not been for me. But I wasn’t the woman to bring Jacob back to the life he’d had before. If anything, I tore him further from that farmhouse, that family and the life that came with it.

  There was just us.

  The pain that we carried with us, the pain we brought each other.

  He stood beside me, not as my king, but as something else entirely.

  I’d learned a lot from my time so far with Jacob. Mostly about death. Pain. Pain was coiled up in losing Molly, love for her memory crippling, while my love for Jacob was paralyzing. Agonizing.

  Love is an open wound. As long as I love, I never heal. I’ll always hurt.

  But when I stopped hurting, it’d be over.

  So it wasn’t the end.

  Acknowledgments

  This is a book that has been hiding in a word document on my computer for a long time.

  I had the idea years ago, and much like Birds of Paradise, I wrote a chapter and then moved on to other stories. I knew it wasn’t ready yet. I knew it would call to me when the time was right. When I needed this story most.

  And it did.

  It came when I was ready to go dark again. When my mind was in a dark place. This story seeped into my bones and didn’t let me go. It was hard to write.

  Really fricking hard.

  I count myself so very lucky to have people in my life that support me throughout the writing process. People who talk me off the ledge, who offer advice, love. I will tell you for certain I would not be here without these people.

  Mum. You know the drill by this point. You are always here, right at the top. Because I would not be here, typing this, without you. You made me into the woman I am. You introduced me to books, you cheered me on and told me I could do anything. I love you.

  Dad. You can’t read this, but I know you’re somewhere, having a beer, watching over me. I miss you always.

  Taylor. Thank you for being my best friend. For supporting me. Making me laugh. Dealing with my meltdowns. Feeding me wine and treats when I’m freaking out about books. Thanks for going on this ride otherwise known as life with me. Forever and then some, babe.

  Jessica Gadziala. You have been my constant support through so many meltdowns and dark periods of my life. You went above and beyond with this book, demanding to read it when I freaked out and thought it was total garbage. Thank you for being a true doyenne.

  Amo Jones. Bitch. What can I say? You are my everything, ride or die. I would not make it through without you. And I’m never going to be without you. ‘Cause you’re stuck with me for life.

  Michelle Clay. I don’t even know what to say about you. You are one of the most special people in my life. You do so much for me and many other people without expecting anything in return. You support me, cheer for me and help me through so much. I am forever grateful that my words brought us together.

  Annette Brignac. Another woman who is one of a kind. Thank you for being in my life. Thank you for reading my books. I am honoured to call you a friend. You are one of the best people I know. My life would not be the same without you. To the moon.

  My girls, Polly & Emma. You’re a whole world away from me and it breaks my heart. I miss you both every single day but I also know that no amount of time or distance will change our friendship. You two are my soulmates.

  My betas, Sarah, Ginny, Amy and Caro. You ladies save me. Seriously. Thank you for reading my books when they are at their most raw. Thank you for helping turn them into what they end up being.

  Ellie. Thank you for dealing with me. For editing this book. For not changing my voice. For being fucking amazing.

  About the Author

  ANNE MALCOM has been an avid reader since before she can remember, her mother responsible for her love of reading. It started with magical journeys into the world of Hogwarts and Middle Earth, then as she grew up her reading tastes grew with her. Her love of reading doesn’t discriminate, she reads across many genres, although classics like Little Women and Gone with the Wind will hold special places in her heart. She also can’t get enough romance, especially when some possessive alpha males throw their weight around.

  One day, in a reading slump, Cade and Gwen’s story came to her and started taking up space in her head until she put their story into words. Now that she has started, it doesn’t look like she’s going to stop anytime soon, with many more characters demanding their story be told as well.

  Raised in small town New Zealand, Anne had a truly special childhood, growing up in one of the most beautiful countries in the world. She has backpacked across Europe, ridden camels in the Sahara and eaten her way through Italy, loving every moment. She’s currently living London, loving life and traveling as much as humanly possible.

  Want to get in touch with Anne? She loves to hear from her readers.

  You can email her: annemalcomauthor@hotmail.com

  Or join her reader group on Facebook.

  Also by Anne Malcom

  The Sons of Templar Series

  Making the Cut

  Firestorm

  Outside the Lines

  Out of the Ashes

  Beyond the Horizon

  Dauntless

  Battles of the Broken

  Hollow Hearts

  The Unquiet Mind Series

  Echoes of Silence

  Skeletons of Us

  Broken Shelves

  Greenstone Security

  Still Waters

  Shield

  The Problem With Peace

  The Vein Chronicles

  Fatal Harmony

  Deathless

  Faults in Fate

  Eternity’s Awakening

  A Dark Standalone

  Birds of Paradise