Nine by Night: A Multi-Author Urban Fantasy Bundle of Kickass Heroines, Adventure, & Magic

by SM Reine

  Chapter Eighteen

  The smell of fresh spilled blood fills the air between us. Dria’s breathing becomes ragged as she stares at the red on my wrist. She shudders, but miraculously still resists.

  “Dear God,” she whispers. “Is that chocolate I smell?”

  I wait to see if she’ll act, but she doesn’t, just continues to stare at the wound. “You’re going to make every damn step difficult, aren’t you?” Confused green eyes look up at me, like she’s trying to process the sensory overload and make a responsible choice. I dip my fingers into the blood and reach toward her parted lips.

  “No,” she says, her voice a husky rasp of sound.

  I ignore her and smear the sticky red across her full bottom lip. Her tongue darts out to taste my offer and another hard shudder wracks her frame.

  “I don’t like this. I’m usually the one doing the manipulating. I get the distinct feeling you two are trying to manipulate me.”

  “Oh come on, Dria. I want this. Your husband wants this. Why can’t you give in?”

  “Because I don’t want to own you!” She tries to shake off my arm and this time it’s me who holds her firm, forcing her to face what she doesn’t want to see.

  “Listen, vampire. You don’t know me, but I think I’m strong enough to hold my own. I can’t know for sure if I’ll lose my free will, but I do trust you not to abuse me.” Her faces closes down, no emotion on its surface. I have an inkling as to why she might be resisting so hard. “Have you had a werewolf servant in the past?”

  She nods, the movement quick and jerky.

  “I take it things didn’t go well for him?” I ask.

  “It was a ‘her’ and yes, things ended badly.”

  “Wouldn’t it be safe to say you learned a lot from that bonding?” Her eyes search mine out again, uncertainty in their depths. “I bet whatever you think could have been done to change her fate has haunted you for years. Don’t close yourself from another servant because of what happened. Learn from it and try again with me.”

  Silence stretches between us while the blood on my arm congeals.

  “I do better with just Rafe in my life. I don’t want anymore responsibilities.”

  “Let me carry some of your burden. Let me in. We can make this work.”

  Her body loses some of its tension. “Are you sure?” she asks.

  As if I’m going to change my mind this late in the game. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  Without another word she raises my wrist to her lips and feeds. With each pull from her mouth, my body floods with shockingly good feelings. It’s like an endorphin rush from intense exercising combined with the allure of incredibly satisfying sex, the type where you hang limp and enjoy the afterglow as long as it lasts.

  “Huh. I always wondered what the draw was to being bitten by one of you. Now I know.”

  She ignores me, completely engulfed in enjoying every drop she drains. In a moment the sexual surge dissipates to be replaced by the unmistakable feeling of pack. Warm furry bodies press against me in the woods, the odor of the fresh earth and scents of suitable prey to chase tickle my nose, and the hotel room fades into the background, along with the vampire sucking on my wrist.

  No one distinguishing scent reminds me of any wolf I’ve met. All of them meld together to give me a feeling I’ve missed since the night I was attacked and changed into a werewolf—a feeling of home. The revelation shocks me to my very core. How can this slip of a vampire make me feel like I’ve finally found were I need to be? Could I be destined to mate with a woman who already has a husband? Would the fates be so cruel?

  I try to block out the questions and relax into the experience. There’s nothing sexual about her feeding, more that I can’t shake the rightness I feel in this moment. Peace courses through me and I realize I’d follow this woman into the gates of Hell itself. And fight with every ounce of strength and cunning in me to bring us back alive.

  After a few minutes she stops, licking my wound with a pointed tongue to stop the bleeding. A heavy sigh escapes her as she straightens. “Damn, Jon. That was really good. You tasted like dark chocolate. It was heavenly.”

  I smile, fighting the overwhelming urge to ask her to bite me a second time. I want to feel that way again. I want to feel it always. “Glad to oblige.”

  “You and Rafe were pretty damn sneaky. I bet he told you to eat chocolate, didn’t he?”

  “I plead the fifth.”

  “Hmph. Well Jon, you just bought yourself a ticket home with us. I can’t promise things will always be smooth sailing between the three of us, but we can try our best and make sure we never lose respect for one another.”

  A thrill of excitement rushes through me at her simple words of acceptance. I did it. I got her to take my offer. “And where might home be?”

  “Alaska.”

  The adventure continues with Vampire Vacation, book one in the V V Inn series.

  You can find all of C.J.’s books at AMAZON.COM

  A personal note from C.J.: If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review on the product page where you purchased it. Reviews help readers discover new series and perhaps try an author they never heard of. Thank you!

  About the Author: C.J. Ellisson lives in northern Virginia with her husband, two children, three dogs, and a fluffy black cat who makes her sneeze. Unlike most full-time authors, she's also battling severe chronic illness. C.J. works daily to put her Lupus into remission and continues to fight numerous bacterial infections while her immune system slowly attacks her body. She turned to writing when she could no longer work outside the home and claims the escape of penning contemporary erotic romance, urban fantasy, and erotica. has helped save her sanity

  Death’s Servant is the first prequel book in the V V Inn series and there are currently six novels and four prequel novellas planned, with more to be added if there is enough reader interest.

  Books in the V V Inn series :

  Full Length Novels: Vampire Vacation ~ The Hunt ~ Big Game

  The V V Inn eBook Bundle, Books 1-3 (best price!)

  Prequel Novellas: Death’s Servant

  Stand-alone novella: Death Times Two

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  Acknowledgements

  This book was written at reader request. I’m thrilled to finally be able to share one of the early V V Inn tales with all of you! Of course, in typical neurotic-writer fashion, I imagined all the juicy facts before I ever attempted to write the initial V V Inn books. It felt fantastic to discover my readers wanted to hear the creative histories I have swirling around in my head. As long as you all want to keep reading, I will do my best to keep writing these prequels.

  I had about thirty dedicated alpha readers in my facebook group for this story. Thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts and help me create a better story. If it didn’t turn out the way you’d hoped, I’ll take the full blame. ;-)

  Big thank you to my most awesome editor, Tina Winograd. Your friendship and guidance in my work means a lot to me and I’m grateful to have you in my life.

  As always, the biggest thanks goes to my husband, Pete. Your support during this last year as we struggle w
ith medical bills and take out loans while we wait for royalties has been incredible. Thank you for every dinner, every load of wash, every trip the the store, and every reminder that I need to breathe and slow down. You’re my reason for trying to succeed as a writer—so that some day I’ll help support the family as much as you do.

  JUMP TO...

  WITCH HUNT by SM REINE

  DEATH’S SERVANT by CJ ELLISSON

  TORRENT by LINDSAY BUROKER

  SPARK by ANTHEA SHARP

  DEATH TIMES TWO by BOONE BRUX and CJ ELLISSON

  ROOK: ALLIE’S WAR EPISODES 1-4 by JC ANDRIJESKI

  JUSTICE CALLING by ANNIE BELLET

  ARCADIA’S GIFT by JESI LEA RYAN

  WILD NIGHT ROAD by KARA LEGEND

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CH 1

  CH 2

  CH 3

  CH 4

  CH 5

  CH 6

  CH 7

  CH 8

  CH 9

  CH 10

  CH 11

  CH 12

  CH 13

  CH 14

  CH 15

  CH 16

  CH 17

  CH 18

  CH 19

  CH 20

  CH 21

  CH 22

  CH 23

  CH 24

  CH 25

  CH 26

  CH 27

  CH 28

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  TORRENT

  (Rust & Relics, Book 1)

  by Lindsay Buroker

  CHAPTER 1

  You get yourself into strange places when you’re broke, jobless, and trying to figure out how to pay back sixty thousand dollars in college loans. Such as dark, musty mine shafts that have been abandoned for a hundred years.

  “Not to sound like a belligerent seven year old in the back of the car, but how much farther?” I asked and wiped my nose.

  You wouldn’t think anyone’s nose could run in Arizona’s 1.37% humidity, but my nostrils were coated with dust, microscopic shards of stone, and the remains of that bug I inhaled on the off-off-road drive up here. Somehow, when I’d been studying archaeology at ASU and picturing myself as the female Indiana Jones of the Southwest, I hadn’t made allowances for the bug guts.

  “We’re close,” Simon said, “I promise.”

  He was leading the crawl through the doddering old mine, and there wasn’t enough room for me to scoot up beside him. That made him fortunate, because if I could see his smartphone and the app that was supposedly leading us to this treasure, I’d probably discover there was no reception down here and that he was making “educated guesses” again. At that point, I’d be obligated to punch him, Yaiyai’s lectures about proper ladylike behavior notwithstanding.

  “Close as in just around the next bend?” I asked. “Or close as in the it-can’t-be-that-far-to-the-Winslow-rest-stop incident?”

  Simon grinned back at me, his bronze face grimy, his short black hair full of dust, and his headlamp blinding me. “Delia, I promise we are much closer to our destination than we are to Winslow, Arizona.”

  “How comforting.”

  He winked, reminding me for all the world of Coyote from the Navajo legends, though, as he’s quick to point out, the Makah are about as closely related to the Navajo as Norwegians are to Greeks.

  Simon glanced at the display on his smartphone, then shuffled forward again. I gave the splintered supports above our heads a wary glance, then followed after him.

  “There’s an open area ahead,” he said. “This might be what we’re looking for.”

  Despite my grousing, anticipation flowed into my limbs, and I crawled faster, ignoring the dirt and gravel slipping past my belt to fill my jeans and underwear with gritty souvenirs to discover later. Simon scrambled down a slope into a relatively flat space where he could stand.

  His head rotated, his lamp beam sweeping across the area. “Hm.”

  That hm didn’t sound particularly exultant. When I scrambled down the slope and came to my feet beside him, I was underwhelmed.

  “Lo, a broken shovel haft,” I said, raising an arm in triumph. “Finally, the rare relic that will make our business famous, bring in clients with lots of money, and earn me the respect of peers who’ve shunned me since I embarked on this dubious career.” My sarcasm grew a little raw there at the end, and I reminded myself that I’d chosen to give up the legitimate job, so complaining wasn’t seemly.

  “Did you say lo?” Simon asked.

  “Not in any sort of seriousness.”

  “Oh, good. I was afraid I’d have to tease you relentlessly for the rest of the day.” He picked up the shovel haft and knocked dust off it. It might be a hundred years old, but even in pristine condition, it wouldn’t be an item that collectors sought.

  “There’s no iron on it,” Simon said. “This isn’t what the metal detector picked up.”

  I eyed the dirt ceiling again. Not for the first time, I wondered if he’d simply chanced across bottle caps buried in the rocky hillside above, but he’d assured me on multiple occasions that the Dirt Viper was accurate to fifty feet, not only at finding metal, but at displaying its depth. It ought to be. We’d paid thousands for the thing. Add that to the subterranean explorers app he’d made, and we ought to be the premier treasure hunters of the Southwest. Thus far, though, he’d made more money for the business by selling copies of the software, and I’d made more by bargaining for arrowheads and antiques at estate sales.

  “Let’s see what’s over the next rubble pile,” I said, continuing forward. At least, I tried to continue. Something tugged at my waist, and I stumbled.

  The bullwhip I wore on my belt had unraveled, the tip catching in the rocks. It was probably a silly accoutrement for a treasure hunter who rarely crossed pits of snakes or fled from giant boulders, but it came in handy often enough that I endured the mocking I got from friends, family, and airport security. I grumbled and returned to extricate it while Simon laughed.

  “You’re supposed to assist a woman in trouble, not snicker at her.” I pointed a finger at his nose. “This is why you have a hard time getting girls.”

  “Really? I thought it had more to do with my scrawny limbs, passion for all-weekend RealmSaga sessions, and pathological inability to speak to women without stuttering.”

  “No, it’s definitely the inappropriate snickering.” I freed the bullwhip and looped it again on my belt opposite the multi-tool that completed my adventuring ensemble. “A girl likes to know that you support her and—”

  A shriek rang out of the darkness. I jumped so high I nearly cracked my head on the tunnel support.

  “What the—?” Simon asked.

  I would have asked something similar, but I was too busy clutching my chest and wondering if one’s heart really could leap into one’s throat. It’d been so silent since we entered the passage that I was surprised to learn anyone else was on the same mountain, much less in the same mine. And apparently in distress. Or pain. Male? Female? I couldn’t tell. The scream rang out again.

  I jogged for the rock pile and climbed a couple of feet, shining my headlamp into the darkness ahead. “Do you think we can get there from here?”

  “Er.” Simon hadn’t moved. The whites of his eyes were visible around his irises.

  I frowned back at him. “What’s the hold up? Someone’s in pain.”

  “It sounds like someone’s being attacked. The closest thing to a weapon I have is an app that makes machine gun noises.”

  “Don’t be silly. Attacked by what? Someone must have fallen into a pit or something and needs help.”

  The scream came again, much weaker this time, almost a whimper.

  I crawled higher up on the rubble pile until my head almost bumped against the ceiling. On hands and knees, I advanced atop the gravel and boulders, not certain if the tunnel continued or if I’d run into a dead-end. I was relieved when rocks shifted behind me, announcing that Simon was following. Despite my certa
in words, I didn’t truly want to crawl deeper into the mine alone.

  We shuffled across the top of the rubble-filled tunnel in silence for a few minutes. The scream didn’t come again. I wondered if we were going in the wrong direction, but there’d been no other alternative routes, at least not from the mine shaft we’d entered through. It’d been so hidden behind tall grass and manzanita that I wouldn’t have thought anyone had traipsed through it for years if not decades. But we couldn’t be the only... explorers—my mind shied away from labeling us as scavengers—out here.

  “Stop,” Simon whispered.

  “What is it?” I halted, turning my face left and right to probe the darkness ahead with my headlamp.

  “Do you smell... I swear I caught a whiff of blood.”

  At first, I thought he might be joking—what did he think he was, a bloodhound?—but the dusty air did have a different scent. Blood? I wasn’t sure, but the memory of elk hunting with my grandfather came to mind, so maybe so.

  “He could have gotten some cuts...” I said, though I’d grown less certain of my fall-in-a-pit theory. What kind of pits would there be in mine shafts, anyway?

  “I’m glad you’re leading the way,” Simon muttered.

  I continued forward, keeping my eyes trained on the darkness ahead. “You’re not living up to all those stories about Native Americans being brave warriors.”