Destroy, Book 2, Whispers From the Bayou

by Sandra R Neeley

  Contents

  Cover Credit

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Introduction

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  From The Author

  About The Author

  Cover Credit

  Christopher Coyle

  darkandstormyknight.com

  Thank you for bringing my people to life. Your talent knows no bounds!

  Destroy

  BOOK 2

  WHISPERS FROM THE BAYOU

  By Sandra R Neeley

  Copyright © 2018 SANDRA R NEELEY

  All rights reserved.

  Thank you for purchasing and/or downloading this book. It is the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and/or distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes without express written permission from the author.

  Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales, is purely coincidental. The characters are creations of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademarked ownership of all trademarks and word marks mentioned in this book.

  For my very special ladies — my team:

  Thank you for all your help with this book and the worlds that live in my head.

  Sara White, Jeanette Lynn, Jennifer Greany, Pam Chilton Meadows, Pam Stanton, Niki Roge,

  Charlotte Foster, Heather Quillan, DeAnne Taylor, Robin Toy, and Connie Ortiz.

  Your support is selfless and you never fail to go above and beyond. I couldn’t do it without you.

  I am ever grateful.

  Whispers From the Bayou

  The swamps of South Louisiana shelter all manner of creature, paranormal as well as natural wildlife. Whispers is a community of paranormal beings hidden deep within the most uninhabitable areas of the wetlands. All of its inhabitants — be they Vampires, Shifters, Gargoyles, Banshees, Ancients, Windigo, Mer-people or other — came here for one reason: Sanctuary. The members of this community intentionally migrated here over time in an effort to escape humankind and their intolerant ways. Some species were hunted to the point of near extinction; those few who survived now live here. They all have one rule, one unbreakable rule — no humans. No humans are allowed to know about their community. It’s the only way they can all remain safely hidden away.

  About This Book

  Destroy

  Whispers From the Bayou

  Book 2

  Destroy is beautiful, strong, charismatic and charming. He is also selfish, shallow, petty and jealous — or is he? One misunderstanding centuries ago resulted in his being labeled as not good enough, untrustworthy, self-serving. To hell with them, he knew who he really was! A strong, dependable, good male of strong character who was very pleasant to be around and even more pleasant to look at. If only he had a female or even friends to notice those things. He’d been alone for so long the bitterness had begun to seep in. Why did no one give him the credit he deserved? Why could no one see him, the real him? Other males had friends, other males had found their females — why not him? It was maddening to watch it and not be able to experience it. Then suddenly, out of the blue, there she was — all he had to do was be himself, allow her to see his magnificence and convince her that she’s not evil. Her gifts are of no consequence to him. Yes, he feels her gift — her radiance, the light pouring from her. But that’s not why he’s drawn to her. It’s because she’s his, his very heart, his soul. Now if he can manage to keep her alive long enough to love him back, while he’s also trying to prove that he’s a male of value to his community, he may have a shot at this mate thing.

  Rowan is a young woman plagued since birth with a power so strong it’s uncontrollable. Some would call it a gift — a gift? Hmpf, some gift… her entire family was ostracized from their kumpaniia because of this gift. Most of that kumpaniia struck down, their lives taken from them by this gift. Her own family unable to settle, forced to leave their beloved Romania, constantly moving from one place to another in order to evade those that still hunt her — because of this gift. It’s not a gift, it’s a curse; it’s evil, and it draws evil to her. One day it will end with the destruction of all she would have loved if she’d had the chance. She keeps that part of her locked down tight, refusing to allow the magics that seep from her very pores out into the world. She can’t let anyone in, can’t allow anyone to get close. Not even the oh-so-sexy Gargoyle who fixates on her and declares that she’s his. He just doesn’t understand that it’s not her he’s drawn to, it’s the evil that lives inside her. She’ll have to run far and fast to keep those hunting her from finding her Goyle and the sanctuary he calls home. If giving her life for his is what she’s called on to do, she will, without a second thought. She loves him, even if he’s drawn to her under false pretenses.

  A power as old as time, so strong it’s killed to protect the small child it flows from. Locked down for decades, never allowed to ebb and flow as naturally as the elements it’s made from — it simmers on a slow boil, waiting for a chance to be released again. Its very essence draws all manner of creature to the woman the child has grown into — Windigos looking for redemption, Humans warped to the point of insanity hell bent on revenge… Will her refusal to see her gifts as they truly are result in her running headlong into her own blazing death? Or will those who love her be strong enough to save her in spite of herself and force her to accept who she really is? It’s time to stop running from herself. It’s time to put on her big girl panties, take a stand and accept her birthright.

  Warning: Intended for mature audiences. This book contains explicit love scenes, some violence, and possibly some abuse both real and inferred that may be disturbing for some readers. If you are offended by these subjects, please do not buy this book.

  Chapter 1

  Rowan stood defiantly, her back ramrod straight, her chin held high, eyes sharp and piercing. “That was not part of our arrangement, Mr. Ashlar. I agreed to serve your household in order to pay off my father’s debt, nothing more.”

  Abraham regarded her cooly, “Perhaps you should reconsider,” he said with a snide tone in his voice, “your father’s debt may never be cleared with your mere servitude.”

  Rowan raised her chin even higher, “It will. I will work as long as it takes.”

  Abraham smiled insincerely, “Perhaps you’re not aware. The longer it takes to pay off Gheorghe’s debt, the more interest his debt incurs — it’s virtually impossible to clear his slate when it is forever growing.”

  Rowan’s increased heartbeat and the fury that leapt into her eyes was proof she clearly understood the position Mr. Ashlar had forced her into.

/>   “A few moments here and there to attend my personal… needs, would work a bit further toward relieving Gheorghe’s debt. Think about it. But do not take too much time. I grow weary of this issue already, and as you are in my home, my servant, my property, I may decide to just take what is mine. It is after all, my right.”

  “I will not give myself to a man I do not love. I will not trade myself to pay off a debt. What I will do is continue to perform my job here. I will complete it every day — I will do it well and with pride. But I will not lie in your bed as part of that job.”

  “You will. The only question is, will it be with or without your acquiescence. But make no mistake, it will happen. Often.” With that, Abraham turned and stalked out of the kitchen, leaving Rowan to let out the breath she was not aware she’d been holding. As the breath left her, she pressed back against the cabinet, her hands flying up, one to cover her mouth to muffle her sob, the other pressing to her heart to try to calm her heartbeat.

  Rowan had offered to be Mr. Ashlar’s servant, to work off the debt her father had incurred in one of Mr. Ashlar’s many establishments, while drinking himself into a stupor. Mr. Ashlar presented himself as an upstanding man in the community — very few knew of his clandestine investments in the up and coming speakeasies and pool halls. They were not common knowledge to the upper classes he moved about in. There were many Mr. Ashlar had invested in and it was in one of them, making foolish gambling bets he expected his daughter to arrange for him to win, that her father had fallen into a debt he couldn’t repay. And he blamed her for his debts. He was right in a way. She could have intervened, ensured her father would win his bets, but she didn’t. She refused to call the magic to her — to change his luck with a thought or two. Even that little bit always brought her unwanted attention. Brought evil to her.

  So instead she’d indentured herself to Mr. Ashlar to absolve her father of his debt by working in Mr. Ashlar’s home. Rowan took her position seriously and began each day with pride that she was able to shoulder this load for her family. They’d given up their entire way of life for her. Her family was from Romania, gypsies is what they were called by most people they encountered. They were not strangers to the supernatural world. Her mother and especially her grandmother before her were gifted in the ways of spells — both curses and protection spells. But one had to be careful when dabbling in such things. What one sent out into the universe came back tenfold if not properly insulated at its inception.

  Because of this, and more, Rowan had made it a point to steer clear of all magic, but it hadn’t been easy — she was the most powerful of her family, of her entire clan. And magic seemed to find her even when she wasn’t thinking of it. It was evident to her kumpaniia even at her young age and complete inexperience, there was only one word for her. Witch. And it was a word she’d become very acquainted with. After Rowan’s anger had been unleashed upon her own people, they’d had no choice but to leave their native homeland. They ran away in the night, as if they were criminals of some sort. As a result, her father couldn’t find work in their new country, and her mother could only make so much bringing in laundry for the well-to-do. She hurt to think of it. It was all her fault. If she’d only controlled herself when the other children had teased her, called her witch, thrown rocks at her. She wouldn’t be here now, and those children would still be breathing.

  Rowan ran her hands down her face, bringing herself back to the present and the task at hand — the sooner she finished, the sooner she could get to the safety of her room and lock herself in. She, at one time, had felt reasonably safe here, but no more. Mr. Ashlar had begun to pursue her on a regular basis. The cognac he sipped for hours on end each evening made the nights very dangerous for her. The more he drank, the harsher his need became. And he was not a kind man to begin with.

  Rowan wiped the counter one last time and turned to inspect the room; floors shining, counter tops sparkling, all dishware cleaned and put away. She removed her apron and hung it on a peg near the door as she exited the kitchen on her way to her own room.

  Rowan hurried down the darkened hallways, and entered her room hesitantly. She turned on the single light and looked around, assuring herself she was alone. Rowan closed and locked the door, then tucked a chair under the doorknob to further secure it. She walked over to the small mirror that sat on her lone chest of drawers. Rowan ran her hand across the back of her neck — she’d dearly love a bath, but didn’t dare unless it was the wee hours of the morning when she was sure Mr. Ashlar was still asleep, and even then it was a hurried thing just in case.

  Rowan toed her shoes off and lay down atop the blanket on her tiny bed. She’d even taken to sleeping fully clothed. Hopefully, she’d at least rest tonight. Early, very early tomorrow morning, she’d clean up a bit before the day began.

  <<<<<<<>>>>>>>

  Rowan woke from a sound sleep, sitting straight up in bed, adrenaline pumping, looking around herself to get her bearings. Then she knew what woke her, the bang, bang, banging on the door sounded again. She didn’t respond — she knew who it was. She looked around the tiny servant’s bedroom, the only other door in her quarters useless, having been sealed at the top of the staircase it led to. You could follow it to the top stair, then you ran into a brick wall. She thought that it ended in Miss Carolena’s old bedroom, but without being able to see through the wall or actually enter the room itself, she wasn’t quite sure.

  The banging sounded again, then, “Girl. Have you thought on your options? Open this door.” Abraham demanded calmly. Then he banged on the door again, the force of his banging belying the calm of his voice.

  Still, Rowan said nothing. Any word she offered would only serve to further incite the man’s attentions.

  “Very well. Have it your way. Your own father gave you over to me to serve my purposes in exchange for his debts. As my purposes are not being served, perhaps a debtors’ prison is in order for him next. Think on that, Rowan.” Then the door shook with a kick to it before she heard his footsteps receding from her room.

  Rowan remained sitting in her bed. Her heart pounded. She was trying to do the right thing, to help her family, to work off the debt, to make life easier for them since they’d given up so much for her. She didn’t mind the work — good honest work was one thing, but this was another completely. And she wasn’t sure she could bear much more of it. If she had means, she’d run from this place and never return. Rowan’s thoughts returned to Carolena; she’d run from this place. But she’d had help. Rowan had hidden in the foyer of the house the night that Carolena had left. She’d been afraid of the creatures that had come for Carolena, afraid they’d feel her power and take her, too. But it was soon clear they were more than creatures; they were friends of Carolena’s — and they’d come to rescue her. She’d thought they were evil because that was what her heritage, her culture, her history had taught her. Her eyes wandered to the door, her thoughts turning to the man who was recently demanding entry to her room — now she was thinking that evil was not always encased in a monstrous appearance. It might just be that her culture had it wrong, that she had it wrong.

  She rose from the bed, adjusted the chair under the doorknob, then went to the door that led to nowhere. She opened it and peeked up the stairs into the darkness. If only the bricks weren’t there, she might use it for an escape route if she ever needed it. She was certain that no wondrous creature would come to save her — she was on her own here. Rowan softly closed the door, then, went to her bed again, slid herself onto it facing her bedroom door and prepared for a night of barely drowsing while trying to keep watch. She didn’t see the purple mist floating at the top of the stairs to nowhere, just before she closed that door and went back to bed. Had she, she might have realized that all was not as bleak as it seemed.

  <<<<<<<>>>>>>>

  Destroy sat on the deck of Carolena’s home. His head was thrown back, arms stretched along the picnic table he leaned against while the little girl behind him chattered awa
y happily, wrapping multi-colored ribbons ‘round and ‘round his horns. “Aren’t you finished yet, Lily?”

  Now three years old, Lily loved to dress up Destroy. He was her very own life-sized dolly.

  “Pwetty!” she tittered and laughed at him, now finished with her ribbons and standing atop the table to pat white powder on his shiny, dark-grey head.

  “Of course I am pretty,” he answered. “It is why everyone loves me so,” he answered the child. He really didn’t mind her decorating his horns, head and face. No one else, as of yet, would allow her to do the same to them, so it gave him a connection to her that no other had.

  Destroy heard heavy footfalls on the deck and knew that Carnage had joined them.

  “Papa!” Lily shouted happily. “Loo’, Papa. Pwetty ‘Stoy.”

  Carnage snorted and chortled a bit, as he lifted the girl to hug her tight and snuggle her.

  Carolena came out right behind Carnage, “Lily! What have you done to Destroy this time?”

  Lily clapped her hands and said, “Pwetty!”

  “Yes, he is very pretty. I especially like the purple ribbons on his horns, but the red, yellow and blue ones are pretty, too. And you did an especially nice job with the red lipstick on his lips this time — you only got a touch on his fangs. Great job, baby.”

  Lily glowed under the praise of her work, as Destroy turned on the bench to lean his now powdered and made up face on his hands while bracing his elbows on the table.

  “It’s really sweet of you to let her do this, Destroy,” Carolena told him.

  “‘Es,” Carnage echoed his woman, sincere in his appreciation of the other Goyle truly enjoying spending time with his daughter.