Ravaged (Vampire Awakenings, Book 7)

by Brenda K. Davies

  Bowing his head, he ran a hand through his short hair and tugged at the ends of it. He recalled Ronan’s words from almost six years ago now…

  “The beast, the demon, whatever it is you call what lurks within all vampires. In purebreds, it’s stronger and more incessant. Upon reaching maturation, it becomes this insatiable, clawing thing inside of us that is only eased by finding our mates or by losing ourselves to the pleasure of the kill. In each of us, this insatiable hunger shows itself in different ways.

  “Some of us seek out pain, others of us covet copious amounts of blood. Some cannot have enough sex, some lock themselves away from humans, and others give in and kill in order to make it stop. In all purebred males, maturity means three things, they stop aging, their power increases and continues to do so as they age, and they hunger for things so endlessly it nearly drives them mad.

  “What you will yearn for most after maturity is in you now. You already know you have a penchant for one thing over another, and it doesn’t have to be only one thing. Many experience a combination of heightened urges, but there will be one that is more dominant than the others.”

  Aiden hadn’t stopped aging at the time Ronan revealed this, yet the words were emblazoned on his mind. Until then, he’d been looking forward to reaching maturity, gaining power like his older brothers had, and finally being able to fight with them again. They’d still wrestled and thrown each other around after Ethan and Ian stopped aging, but he’d known they were holding back with him in a way they never had before. It had pissed him off.

  After Ronan told them this information, Aiden had spoken with his brothers about their experiences when they stopped aging. Ethan admitted he’d started seeking out pain and blood more. He’d also locked himself away from humans because he’d feared hurting them. Ian occupied his time with an endless array of women. They both agreed they’d sought those things out more before they’d matured into purebred, vampire adulthood, but it became far more intense afterward.

  After hearing Ronan’s words and speaking with his brothers, Aiden found himself no longer looking forward to maturity. He dreaded it. Not because he didn’t think he could handle craving something more, but because he didn’t have a penchant for one thing over another.

  Even then, he’d wanted all those things in equal measure. However, his desires then had been nothing compared to the day when he’d opened his eyes and realized he’d become an adult vampire.

  From that day forward, he’d craved sex, blood, pain, and death more than he’d ever believed possible. He hadn’t locked himself away because he’d known that by joining Ronan’s men, he’d have an outlet for his incessant need to see the life fading from another’s eyes. If he didn’t have the outlet of destroying killer vamps, it would only be a matter of time before he turned on innocent vampires and humans.

  A couple of weeks ago, he’d asked Declan, one of Ronan’s men, if there had ever been a purebred vampire who wanted everything with equal measure once they stopped aging. Declan had stared back at him with sad, knowing eyes.

  “You’re one,” Declan stated.

  Aiden hadn’t been astonished when Declan grasped this insight into him. He’d come to realize Declan saw and understood far more than any normal vampire should. It was why Aiden had taken his question to Declan instead of any of the others.

  “Have there been any others like me?” Aiden had inquired.

  “There have been a rare few.”

  “What became of them?”

  Declan folded his hands behind his head as he leaned back in his chair. “What they chose to become. Some turned Savage, another continues, and others died.”

  Aiden hadn’t bothered to ask who the one was that continued. Declan would never tell him.

  “There have been a rare few.”

  Those words had looped through his mind over the past two weeks. I guess I’m one of the lucky few, he thought with a bitter laugh.

  There was always the chance he could find his mate, as so many others in his family had. His younger sister Abby had already found hers. He didn’t hold out much hope for himself though as he doubted he’d stumble across his mate in time to save himself.

  And if he did find her, did he want to saddle her with someone like him and this bloody, brutal life he led? Whether she was a vampire or human, would she stay with him, or would she run screaming when she realized how messed up he was?

  He certainly wouldn’t blame her if she ran. He was a perfect storm of mayhem swirling altogether, one that probably didn’t deserve saving anyway.

  CHAPTER 3

  Stepping outside Carha’s club, Aiden inhaled the crisp, March air. Spring hovered on the horizon, but this March had come roaring in with a three-foot blizzard, followed by a week of rain, and today the sun had made its first appearance. What remained of the dirty snow was piled up against the brick alley walls or in dwindling snow banks along the street.

  He glanced back at the black, metal door of the club as it clicked shut behind him. The locks clicked as they were turned into place by Brutus, the vampire on the other side. No sign marked the entrance to Carha’s club; he wasn’t sure the place had a name, which was all part of its allure. Only those in “the know” within the subculture of humans who liked to play at being vampires could find the place. They kept its existence hidden from others who might ruin it for them.

  Idiots.

  Turning away, he pulled his collar closer to his neck to ward off some of the icy wind as he started down the alley. Before he’d come to Boston tonight, he’d suspected he would cave and see Carha, so he’d brought an extra pair of clothes with him to the city and rented a hotel room down the street.

  He was supposed to meet Saxon at nine to start hunting killer vamps—Savages, he reminded himself—but that was a few hours away. Before coming here, he’d made sure to leave himself enough time to shower, change, and heal enough to not be a risk to Saxon later by being weakened from his blood loss. Because he occasionally fed on and gained power from the Savages he killed, he was far stronger than a vampire his age should be, even a purebred one, and he healed fast.

  The rancid stench of garbage suddenly filled his nostrils. His steps slowed, and his hand slid inside his coat to grip the stake tucked within one of the pockets. There were only two dumpsters in this alley, but the scent filling it made a landfill smell delicious.

  There’s more than one Savage.

  His gaze darted to the slice of darkening sky he could see between the two buildings beside him. It was too early for the Savage’s regular hunting time, but something had lured them here. He suspected that something was him.

  How had they known he was here? He never kept a regular schedule here to avoid having this very thing happen.

  He didn’t have time to figure it out as five Savages turned the corner of the alleyway. Aiden grinned at them as he removed the stake before reaching in with his other hand to remove another one. Five against one weren’t the best odds, but he’d faced worse before. Granted, his back hadn’t been freshly sliced open during those times.

  “It’s a little sooner than I’d anticipated, but I’m always up for some killing,” Aiden said to the man moving toward the front of the group.

  The man’s smile revealed his fangs. “So are we.”

  Behind Aiden, a foot crunched on one of the icy puddles. He glanced over his shoulder to find five more vamps approaching from the street behind him. They’d blocked him in.

  Ten on one. Despite the steep odds, Aiden smiled as the first one raced toward him. He’d denied himself sex tonight, but they’d brought him the blood and death he craved.

  Spinning to the side, Aiden swung one of the stakes out and plunged it into the first vampire’s heart. The vamp’s mouth formed an O of death before Aiden yanked the stake free at the same time he drove his other stake into the chest of the next one lunging for him. This time he missed the heart, but before he could correct his mistake, the other eight jumped him.

 
After years of wrestling with his siblings, he could withstand the weight of numerous bodies piling on him, but they staggered him to the side. Bracing his feet apart, he balanced himself beneath the increasing burden. His torn back screamed in protest; his newly healing skin split apart to pour fresh blood down his back. Excited by the scent of his blood, the killers all hissed and clawed more eagerly at him.

  Their increased frenzy and the loss of more of his blood caused Aiden to lurch to the side, but he managed to keep from going down beneath them. If he fell now, he’d die. There would be no getting up, no getting away; this would be the end for him. He suspected he would have to be put down one day, but he didn’t want it to be by one of these hideous freaks.

  One of the vamps hung over his head, blocking his view of the alley. Swinging his stake forward, Aiden sank it into its belly and sliced downward. The vampire howled as his intestines splashed onto the asphalt below.

  Recoiling, the Savage he’d sliced fell away from him, opening some of Aiden’s vision. One of his eyes remained blocked by a different vamp, but he could at least see some of the alley again. The Savages tore his coat down the back as he drove his fist into the ribs of the other vamp hanging over him. Bone crunched and gave way beneath his hand as he dug his way deeper into its chest.

  Fingers shredded his shirt, fangs snapped at his neck, but he batted them away with his free hand. The Savages dug into his sliced skin. He felt their fingers gripping the edges of his flesh before peeling it further apart.

  Aiden grunted as white-hot pokers of agony speared through his brutalized back. When an uncontrollable spasm racked him, he suspected that one of the Savages had touched his spine. He became certain of it when one of his legs went numb.

  “Fuck you!” Buried wrist-deep in the Savage’s chest, Aiden gripped his heart and tore it out.

  Aiden’s right knee buckled, and he shifted his weight onto his left leg to remain standing. What he could see of the alley blurred before spinning like the Gravitron ride at a fair. Lurching to the side, he smashed another vamp off the brick wall beside him. The vamp grunted but held onto him. Somehow drawing on enough strength to step away from the wall, Aiden battered the vamp against it again. Bone crunched, and this time, the Savage released him.

  Somewhere in the distance, screams pierced the air. The garbled, high-pitched shrieks barely cut through the excited chatter of the Savages. Already weaker from the blood loss he’d sustained in Carha’s club, Aiden’s left knee wobbled.

  He would not go out without giving these bastards the fight of their lives. Even if they won this, they would never forget him.

  “No!” He reeled backward to crunch another vampire against the wall of the other building.

  The vamp whimpered, and when Aiden battered him off the brick again, another weight fell away from him. The screaming continued, but it sounded as if it were coming from further away.

  His other leg gave out, and his knees smacked against the pavement. Shouts resonated off the brick walls, something cracked, and blue light flashed across his eyes. He couldn’t tell what the light was as his senses became hazier by the second.

  When he fell forward onto the pavement, he knew there would be no more insatiable cravings for more. It was over for him.

  CHAPTER 4

  “What’s it going to be, Mags?” Roger asked as he looked at her, to the drive-thru menu, and back again.

  “I’ll take two hamburgers and a small fry,” Magdalene replied.

  She really would have loved to order those burgers rare, but she knew fast-food restaurants, even the ones who proclaimed to cater to your wishes, didn’t do rare. They spouted nonsense about laws and health risks, but she’d been eating her food as raw as possible since she was a kid, and she’d managed to survive it.

  A squelching noise came over the airwaves of their radio as Roger started yelling their order at the speaker. The poor drive-thru guy would be lucky to have eardrums left by the time Roger finished. No matter how many times she tried to explain he didn’t have to shout at the speaker to be heard, Roger insisted on doing it.

  Roger had been the type of guy she hated when she worked the drive-thru as a teenager. It had been the shortest job she ever had, and the only one she’d walked out on. Some asshole had shouted his order at her before pulling forward to discover his fries weren’t quite ready yet. She’d forced her politest smile while she asked him to please wait in the parking lot and informed him someone would run his fries out to him as soon as they were ready.

  He’d replied by calling her a stupid bitch. Still smiling, she’d squeezed his strawberry shake until it exploded in his face and tossed the empty cup into his lap. He’d still been sputtering and shouting obscenities at her as she calmly untied her apron, pulled off her hat, and walked out the door. She could have desperately used the money back then, but she hadn’t bothered to collect her last paycheck.

  “You don’t have to shout,” she said again as Roger sat back in his seat.

  “I wasn’t shouting,” he replied, and she shook her head.

  She kept telling him to get his hearing checked. Too much time listening to sirens had probably damaged his hearing, or maybe his ears required a good cleaning. Either way, he refused to have them checked, and she wouldn’t nag him about it.

  Roger had been her mentor since before she’d become an EMT. He’d been her savior through paramedic school and developed into the father figure she’d never had during the four years they’d worked together. With his graying brown hair and the lines etching his face from years of stress and too many years smoking before he’d kicked the habit, Roger looked his fifty-two years.

  Over the past year, his fondness for fried food had caused his lean body to take on a bit more paunch in the belly. However, for the amount of crap he ate, he remained surprisingly on the thin side. Despite the years catching up to him, when Roger smiled, it lit his face and made him appear twenty years younger. Maggie loved that rare smile.

  The radio made a loud squelching sound again as they pulled up to the first window. The pimple-faced teen leaning out to collect their money winced at the noise and instinctively jerked back. He stayed a safe distance away and stuck out his hand for Roger to pay him. The kid took the money and turned to push the buttons on the register.

  Since they were on their dinner shift, Maggie leaned over to turn the radio down a little, but a frantic burst of words spattered the airwaves like gunfire before she could touch it. She froze as she listened to the rushed words of multiple victims and ambulances needed. Her stomach rumbled in protest, but before the next words came out, she already knew her overcooked burgers were going to have to wait.

  “It’s too early in the night for this shit,” Roger muttered as he turned on the lights and siren. The kid snatched his hand back so fast the money tumbled to the ground. “We’ll be back!” Roger shouted out the window as he expertly whipped the ambulance around the car idling at the window in front of them.

  Once on the road, vehicles moved out of their way the best they could on the crowded Boston streets. Maggie kept alert for anyone who might think it would be fun to race an ambulance or run a red light, but thankfully, the other drivers decided to obey the laws. Their luck of not having to dodge any wayward cars didn’t stop her growing certainty this was going to be a bad night.

  The first star wasn’t out yet, and already they were getting a call for multiple victims. Roger was right; it was far too early in the night for this.

  Roger turned a corner, and numerous police cars parked at the mouth of an alley came into view. Yellow tape hung across the entrance to the alley, officers gathered at the end of it. They looked unusually subdued as none of them spoke to each other.

  They were the first ambulance to arrive. Roger pulled to the curb and parked it in front of a nondescript, brick building. Plywood covered the windows on the first and second floors of this building and the one next to it. Wooden boards were nailed across the front entrance, blocking the meta
l door behind it.

  Why would multiple people gather between abandoned buildings? Even as she questioned it, she knew the answer. Whatever lay beyond that tape was probably the result of a drug deal gone way wrong.

  Maggie opened her door and hopped out. Usually, her adrenaline would be pumping to get to their victim and possibly save a life. She felt none of that normal rush though. Instead, her dread only grew as the officers looked over at them. Their faces were abnormally pale in the flashing lights, and no one called or waved a greeting to them.

  An intuitive sense they were walking into something that might make the Wolfman run grew within her. Instead of rushing to gather their supplies, her legs locked into place.

  “You’ll need the stretcher,” one of the officers called to her after a minute.

  His voice snapped her out of the strange paralysis holding her. She nodded to him before hurrying around to open the back doors. Roger met her on the other side, and together they removed the stretcher and medical bag. They carried their equipment over to one of the police officers guarding the alleyway. Maggie recognized Officer Harding immediately.

  Harding pulled aside the yellow crime scene tape before they reached it. She and Roger ran into Harding often, and Roger’s bowling team competed against Harding’s. Never had the officer’s pudgy face been flushed or had she seen him sweat, not even in August. Now, Harding’s brown eyes held a note of distress she’d never seen in the middle-aged man before.

  She’d assumed Harding had seen it all after nearly thirty years on the force, but whatever he’d seen here tonight bothered him enough that his normally perfect uniform was marred by the hat sitting crookedly on his head. Beneath the hat, his usually neatly combed salt-and-pepper hair stuck out on the sides.

  “Roger, Mags,” Harding greeted in a voice hoarser than normal. His breath came out in puffs of air as he spoke. “I’m not sure what happened here, but it’s bad.”