by J. K. Coi
Immortal Kiss
J.K. Coi
Book 2 in the Immortals series.
It’s been two years since Baron’s initiation into the world of the Immortals, a task force who fight the demons hiding in the shadows of the human world. During those years, he’s been training hard and trying to forget. All in the name of setting aside his past to embrace the challenges of his new future…a future without Maxine Deveraux.
The last person Maxine wants to face is Baron Silver, the man her body and soul cry out for. But Baron’s brother is dying, and Maxine must honor his last wish.
A vendetta with a vampire doesn’t faze Baron…until the creature leaves Max on his doorstep, her beautiful body broken, her soul changed forever. Now Maxine must come to terms with her new dark nature—and if Baron wants to keep her, he’ll have to explain why he broke her heart.
A Romantica® paranormal erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Immortal Kiss
J.K. Coi
Prologue
Maxine knelt on the torn linoleum of the dingy bathroom floor, one hand gently holding back her mother’s long, unwashed hair so that it wouldn’t fall in her face as she hung her head over the ‘70s-style powder-blue toilet. The other hand clutched a faded yellow towel Max knew would be needed to wipe her mother’s mouth with when she was through heaving up Max’s attempt at that night’s dinner—spaghetti. Yum. Not something she was going to be making again anytime soon.
Max bit back a sigh of disgust as she listened to her mother’s low groans. This yak-fest was fast becoming a Friday night family tradition in the Deveraux household—and a Tuesday and Thursday night tradition. Oh, and the occasional Monday night. And a standing Saturday mother-daughter date.
It had gotten so that Charlene no longer bothered to wait until after her fifteen-year-old daughter had gone off to bed before she started in with the drinking. More often than not, Max came home from school and found her already passed out, sprawled in the tattered La-Z-Boy—which didn’t laze anymore—in front of the television set, which most of the time wasn’t even turned on. Usually with a bottle of whiskey at the floor by her feet, handy for when she came to and wanted another swig.
It was a time in Max’s life when she should have been joining the cheerleading squad and talking to boys and getting ice cream at the mall with her friends. But instead she was rushing home after school to make sure her mother hadn’t drowned herself in the tub or burned the house down with a smoke left dangling carelessly between her fingers while snoring off last night’s hangover.
Whoever that guy was who’d said the teen years were the best of your life was seriously going to get Max’s foot in the ass if he ever dared to darken her door spouting that crap.
Max tenderly finger-combed her mother’s hair and whispered soft words of comfort. God, were the parent-child roles reversed or what? How sad was it that the only time her mother could tolerate her own daughter’s presence was when she was throwing up her dinner into the toilet?
But that wouldn’t stop Max from cleaning her up and tucking her into bed after the dry heave stage had finally passed. Max would make sure she slept it off in a clean nightgown and that she had a glass of water and a bucket by the side of her bed. She would close the door very gently and refrain from making any noise that might disturb her mother’s alcohol-induced stupor.
Sometimes Max thought of leaving.
Oh, not for good—although even that thought had crossed her mind a time or two.
No, when her mother was like this, Max just wanted to go somewhere to have fun for a change.
Fun? Jeez, what was that?
It would be nice—except the sad truth was that Max had no friends, no one to have fun with. Even if she had wanted to try out for the cheerleading squad, the other girls would laugh her right out the gymnasium door. Trailer trash like Maxine Deveraux would never be cheerleading material.
And forget going to the movies with a boy, or making out with a boy, or even talking to a boy. Oh, she got plenty of looks from the dirty, slimy losers her mother brought home every once in a while if she was still half-lucid by the end of the night. But the boys her age didn’t look twice at someone like her. Max was tall and skinny and her clothes were so ratty, even the Salvation Army would have left them on the curb.
Max was nothing like the polished and pampered popular girls who came to school with their artfully applied makeup and professionally highlighted hair. Nor was she like the smart girls, the ones who dressed more conservatively, their bright, clean faces glowing with the wholesome upbringing and lofty ideals their white-collar parents carefully instilled in them, who kept to themselves except for a select group of like-minded friends.
No, if Max was lucky, she was ignored completely by the girls and boys alike. Case in point, pretty boy and muscle-bound jock Baron Silver—star basketball forward, star shortstop, star everything—and overall high school dream guy. They’d been one year apart in the same school for the last four years, and he didn’t even know that Max existed—a fact she was totally fine with. Still, a part of her sometimes wondered what it might be like…
No. Wondering wasn’t worth the pain, not when she had to face such a harsh reality every day.
Reality was the nasty whispers she couldn’t help but overhear, and the uncomfortable side glances directed her way, the kind that said the other kids weren’t completely ignoring her. They were embarrassed for her—the poor homely girl with a man’s name whose mother slept around with all their daddies when she wasn’t passed out drunk or as high as a kite.
Reality dictated that the closest she was ever going to be to the school hunk was getting stuck in study hall with sickly Jackson Silver, because they both needed to make up time for missing too many classes. Jackson was a nice kid, but so different from his older brother Baron. It was too bad he was sick so often that he’d fallen behind, because he was really smart.
Jackson had surprised her tonight by coming by with the extra credit homework she’d forgotten to pick up from Mrs. Tulecki after school. Max had been mortified when he’d shown up at the door of their run-down trailer. Charlene had started in, screaming at the kid to get the hell off her property. Max had started to explain, but then she hadn’t bothered. There was really nothing to say.
At least she hadn’t seen pity or disgust in Jackson’s eyes. Only an understanding sort of awareness and, oddly enough, an unspoken offer of support, for which Max had been surprisingly grateful.
Maybe she had one friend after all.
* * * * *
“Finally,” Baron muttered under his breath as he spotted his brother plodding slowly up the walk that wound through the park and out to their street. He raced over to meet him, long, muscled legs eating up the distance. “Hey—Jacky! Where have you been?” Glaring hard at the little twerp in an attempt at brotherly intimidation, Baron wasn’t afraid to let his annoyance show with an exaggerated huff.
If it wasn’t for Jackson, Baron could have been playing ball with his buddies—well maybe it was getting a little late to be out at the field, but that didn’t mean there weren’t a thousand other things he would rather be doing than chasing after his kid brother. “You know Mom has a cow when you take off like this. You were supposed to come home right after school.”
“I had something…to do.” Jackson’s voice was halting as he struggled to regulate his breathing. “I didn’t take off, but I’m not a…baby.”
“Look,” Baron started. He couldn’t help feeling sorry for Jackson. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t be able to go out and do whatever you want. But you could have at least let me know. Mom’s had me scouring the neighborhood for you since she got home—which means I haven’t eaten yet because of you.” Baron slugged his brother good-na
turedly in the shoulder and shook his head when Jackson winced, massaging the spot. “Suck it up, bro. That didn’t hurt.”
Jackson eyed him, obviously wondering if he was in for another shot in the arm. “I just needed to see a friend after school.” He shrugged. His face was sweaty and pale, and his bony fingers shook as he brushed a hank of lifeless blond hair from where it hung down over his forehead.
Just a year apart, the brothers were so alike and yet so very different. Both of them had blond hair, with the same crisp blue eyes. But where Baron’s blond was lit with golden highlights that glowed in the sun, Jackson’s hair was washed out and lifeless, oily, and forever hanging limply in his face. And while Baron’s eyes sparkled with health and an insatiable verve for life, Jackson’s always looked drawn and tired.
Both boys liked baseball and hockey, and the same flavor of ice cream—rocky road. They shared the same charismatic grin that no stranger could resist. They both had the same head tilt to the right when they were thinking really hard, and they were both left-handed and taller than average for their age. But where Baron was energetic and athletic, with a healthy tan and wiry muscles that showed all the signs of maturing into a man’s strong, solid frame, Jackson was scrawny and weak, and despite his height he still sported the delicate figure of a child. Perpetually pale, he always looked as if he were recovering from the flu. In fact, Baron hardly ever got sick, but Jackson frequently missed school due to an illness of one kind or another.
“Well, doesn’t your friend have a phone? Couldn’t you have called so I didn’t have to waste my whole afternoon?” Baron asked, the exasperation in his voice growing more pronounced as the evening’s shadows deepened around them. “If you get sick again because you overexerted yourself, you know I’m the one who’s going to get in trouble for not keeping a closer eye on you.”
At sixteen years old, Baron had long ago started to resent all the time he was forced to spend watching over his little brother. Making sure Jackson didn’t overdo it. Keeping him company when he was home sick. Walking him home from school so he didn’t get picked on, and hanging out with him because he didn’t have any friends of his own. It would have been stifling for anyone, but because his brother was so “delicate”, Baron felt guilty when he lashed out.
It wasn’t the kid’s fault he was so weak and Baron was so strong. Every time he told Jacky to scram and suck dirt—like his other friends did with their own brothers—he ended up cursing himself for causing that look of defeated acceptance and self-hatred in his brother’s old, old eyes.
He was used to Jackson’s low energy levels and poor endurance, but when the kid started coughing, Baron’s annoyance quickly turned to worry.
“Hey, you okay?” He leaned over and put an arm around Jackson, conscious of the hard angles and bony protrusions of the other boy’s shoulders, virtually bare of any muscle.
Jackson fell to his knees, fighting to drag enough air in and out of his lungs, but each cough seemed worse than the last. Baron hated to just stand there and watch, but he didn’t know what to do.
Jackson’s fingers closed over his throat as his breathing turned raspy and hoarse, the hacking coughs building one on top of the other until Baron feared the fit would tear his brother’s already fragile body to pieces with the force of the spasms.
“Jacky, hey. Come on, man.” Baron straightened, keeping his arm reassuringly around his brother as he searched the park for some help. Shit. There was no one around. It was only seven-thirty but it was October, so the sun was already hanging low in the sky and the shadows had grown tall around them, making it seem as though the two boys were completely alone in the world.
The coughing fit finally started to taper off. Jackson stood and took several deep, gasping breaths.
“Holy hell, Jacky are you—? Oh shit.” The line of blood dripping from the corner of Jackson’s mouth to his chin was very, very red against his pasty white skin.
That was when Baron lifted his brother up into his arms and started to run.
Chapter One
“Hey! You going to just stand there all night, or do you think you can get your ass moving and give me a hand?”
Baron ducked the swipe of claws intending to cleave his head from his shoulders. The demon roared and lunged for him again, forcing him back into a defensive position.
“Actually, I am just going to stand here.” Alric leaned one hip against the hood of his car, looking for all the world as if he were taking in a UFC match…or maybe the Ice Capades. Baron could have been dancing a damn waltz with this crazed Vuxi demon for all the partnerly concern Alric showed him.
“How are you ever going to learn if not through hardcore personal experience?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Baron muttered, ducking another pass of the Vuxi’s razor claws. He shot back with a hard right that hopefully broke the creature’s nose—or whatever that gaping maw of slime was in the middle of its face—following that punch with another and another, finally turning the tables and forcing the demon onto the defensive.
This penny-ante shit wasn’t going to get the job done, but it felt good. There was nothing like whaling on evil monsters from hell to keep a body in prime shape.
“So, why is it that whenever your wife kicks your sorry ass out of the house, I’m the one who suffers for it?” The Vuxi lunged, and this time Baron barely managed to dodge those wicked teeth. He swung around and used his momentum to hit the demon with a hard roundhouse to the chest, knocking it to the ground.
He shot a look of disgust Alric’s way when the other Immortal just laughed. “Well?”
“What do you mean? Diana hasn’t kicked me out. We had a small disagreement, and she’s already seen the error of her ways.” Alric nodded his head in the direction of the demon, which was already back on its feet and within striking distance.
Baron snorted as he pulled a gleaming sword from the custom-made casing he wore strapped to his back. Time to take out the trash and move on. Without taking his eyes from his snarling opponent, he said, “Sure she did. So tell me again why I’m sharing my bunk with you tonight?”
“Because you think I’m hot?”
Baron spared a look back at him, sweeping a mock assessing glance up and down Alric’s huge frame. “Nope. That ain’t it. You’re much too hairy for my tastes.”
The demon surged forward, rushing Baron, but he’d had more than enough of this “training session” for the night. “I think it’s more likely you,” Baron’s blade flashed as he swung hard and sure, “haven’t seen the error of your ways yet.” With one strong, clean slice he cleaved the demon’s still-growling head from its body. “And that’s why I have to share my room with your ugly Saxon butt tonight.”
He grunted as he pulled the blade back and watched in satisfaction as the Vuxi disappeared in a blinding flash of smoky green light.
Taking a soft black cloth from the pocket of his long leather jacket, Baron wiped his weapon clean of the monster’s corrosive green blood, then slid it over his shoulder and into the sheath on his back.
He turned to Alric, who was nodding his massive head in approval. “Good job. Although you almost let it cut you that one time.”
“It almost cut me because you just stood there flapping your mouth when you should have been helping.”
“Sorry. Too distracting for you?” Alric grinned unrepentantly.
Baron groaned. “No it wasn’t distracting. I don’t have a problem tuning out your pointless prattling.”
Alric laughed, the sound rich and full, echoing off the walls of the now-deserted alleyway. When Baron considered all that the big lug had suffered in his long existence, he was amazed by how much Alric loved life. Even though they spent their nights beating on evil things, Alric’s smile could rouse the sun over the edge of the horizon before its time. But that had less to do with his sunny nature and everything to do with his wife, the beautiful Diana.
“Good. I’m glad.” Alric turned serious. “Because you have to learn t
o take in everything, notice everything, deal with all comers, but not let yourself get sidetracked by it all so that you can’t see where the next attack is coming from.”
Baron nodded, taking the coaching tip as the helpful advice it was meant to be. It had been like this for the past year and a half, ever since he’d been approached by Rhys and “recruited” into the ranks of the Immortals. Baron had been skeptical at first—who wouldn’t be when a seven-foot-tall stone cold warrior reeking of deadly purpose walked up and said there were demons afoot? But he’d joined their secret war, and since then he’d seen some things that would have made other men beg to be fitted for a straitjacket. So far, Baron had been able to take it in stride.
Mostly.
And that was due in large part to his special ops training. A career in SFOD-D—Delta Force—had prepared him for a lot. And Rhys had prepared him for the rest.
Baron approached the passenger side door of the black Hummer. “So are you going to tell me or not?” He opened the door but paused before leaning down to get in, looking at Alric over the hood of the car.
“Tell you what?”
“What you did to Diana to get stuck with all us groin-scratching, smelly guys all week.”
Alric groaned. “Not your business, youngster. Don’t go there.” He chuckled. “And I seriously doubt Amy lets you go around scratching and belching and otherwise making a monkey out of yourself. She’d beat you black and blue before you disrespected her home—never mind that it’s a converted old warehouse.”
Now it was Baron’s turn to groan. Alric was right—not that it was a chore to behave himself, but Rhys’s lovely wife Amy sure was a stickler for the whole manners thing, and it had been a long time since he’d lived with a woman underfoot.
“Whatever.” He rapped on the hood of the car. “Are you so sure I can’t help you with your lovers’ spat? Seems to me even though you are so much older, I’ve still got to know more about women than you do, since I never get thrown out of the ladies’ beds.”