Contents
Cover
FRAMED
Copyright
More by Amber Lynn Natusch
Dedication
Prologue
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
Epilogue
Next in the Series
Acknowledgments
About the Author
FRAMED
by
Amber Lynn Natusch
Version 1.0
Copyright © 2012 Amber Lynn Natusch
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN-13: 978-0-9849464-1-9
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.
Published by Amber Lynn Natusch
Cover Design by Jamie Rosen
Editing by Jennifer Ryan
www.amberlynnnatusch.com
More by Amber Lynn Natusch
The Caged Series
CAGED
HAUNTED
FRAMED
SCARRED
FRACTURED
STRAYED*
BETRAYED*
*working titles
Coming Soon:
The UNBORN Series (Caged sister series)
The Light and Shadow Trilogy (YA Fantasy)
See More Including Release Dates:
amberlynnnatusch.com
facebook.com/amberlynnnatusch
To all my crazy uber-fans—because I know you all have a little Scarlet in you!
An apology to my character, Ares:
I’m sorry for misspelling your name in Haunted. It was an epically blonde moment on my part, but rest assured that my high school Latin teacher of five years is shaking her head and cursing my name (as she often did), because of my oversight.
Prologue
The faceless man approached town from the west, circling the outskirts, stalking and surveying his surroundings. He moved swiftly and stealthily—first through the trees, then the neighborhoods, then the tall downtown buildings. His anxiety was palpable, his mind uneasy as he frantically looked for what he sought. His heart raced with anticipation; his love was the hunt. It drove his every move—occupied his every thought. As he skulked through the cobblestone streets, he repeated one thing over and over again, “I will have my revenge.”
He froze when he locked in on his target. The young brunette turned down a narrow alley deeply shadowed and seldom traveled. He held his breath as he followed, inching towards his unknowing prey. A satisfied smile spread wide on his face just before he struck.
He played with his meal at first, tearing her vocal cords to silence her, ensuring nobody would be alerted to the fun he was having. Killing was more than an act to him; it was intimate, sensual. He relished every moment from the take down, to the final blow, celebrating the conquest with his eyes.
They burned with delight.
The fire died when the life left her eyes—a look of disappointment tainted his expression. He roared so loudly the buildings quaked as he tossed the body effortlessly into a dumpster. His breathing came shallow and erratic. His anger and adrenaline cocktail did little to improve his image; he looked savage, feral.
Werewolf.
The sound of a can rattling down the adjacent street turned his attention my way. He charged down the alley, furious that his private moment had been violated by an onlooker. He searched, but found nothing.
He could not see me.
Sniffing at the air, he caught a scent he deemed worthy to follow. He ran with blistering speed through the empty streets, past familiar buildings, until his tracking brought him to a typical New England brownstone. He entered easily, climbing to the second floor, taking four stairs at a time. He passed unnoticed through the front door, then the living room, then down the hall. He pressed the door gently open before sliding into her room and quietly closing it behind him. Creeping toward her bed, his feet rolled from heel to toe soundlessly. She slept face up, posed like the dead, with hands laced elegantly atop her chest. He eased himself onto the edge of her bed, taking every precaution not to move her before leaning in as if to kiss her.
His breath on her face awakened her; her ice blue eyes shot open instantly.
“I will have my revenge,” he told her, his face barely an inch away from hers, “I will have my revenge...Ruby.”
As he bared his fangs, she screamed.
* * *
I shot up, fighting my tangled mess of bedding as if it were the enemy—the shrill sound of my cries still echoing in the darkness. My clothes were drenched in sweat. As my lungs begged for air, my heart threatened to escape my chest, pounding violently against it. The dream had seemed so real.
Cooper crashed into the room, startled but prepared for a fight.
“What is it?” he shouted, eyes wild. “What's wrong?”
Disengaging from the comforter, I stood shakily as I struggled to speak without any oxygen to spare. My dire expression pleaded for help, though the words were absent. He, in return, silently eyed my unraveling state before scenting the room. His growl erupted low and threatening, and initially I thought it was the source of the breeze I felt sweep across my body, causing me to shudder.
The tiny dance of the curtain at my bay window told me I was wrong.
The sash stood slightly ajar—it had been closed when I went to sleep. My chest tightened further as my fear compressed it, and I gasped for air while two barely audible words escaped my lips.
“He's coming.”
1
“Are you sure your mom is okay with this?” I asked Peyta for the fiftieth time. She rolled her eyes in the way that only teenage girls can.
“Yes, Ruby. And if you recall, I am eighteen now. I do get a say in what I want.”
“I think your mother would greatly disagree with that,” I muttered under my breath.
“I heard that,” she said, continuing to look annoyed. “Normal human hearing notwithstanding.” My werewolf status was still a novelty to Peyta, and she relished every opportunity to bring it up, or use it against me, depending on the situation.
“Fine,” I conceded. “So you want to work here full time, do you? Better go fire up Quickbooks then because you have bank statements to input for me...eight months’ worth to be exact.”
The groan-heard-round-the-world came out of her sprite-like body as she slumped to the backroom.
“I thought I'd get to do something cool,” she grumbled on the way.
“Numbers are cool, Peyta. Didn't you learn that in math?” I retorted. She said nothing in response as she closed the door behind her. I loved having Peyta around the shop and keeping her on full time was going to afford me much freedom.
Peyta had come to work for me when her mother, Ronnie, a.k.a. my vintage clothing supplier, left town for an emergency a few weeks earlier. I was nervous about taking her in at first, but, in hindsight, it couldn't have made me happier—I gained a little sister. Because my newfound sibling was such an excellent student, she finished her c
ourse load and had essentially graduated early; she was just waiting to walk with her class. She chose to spend that time working and apprenticing at my shop, and I was thrilled—Cooper was too. He doted on Peyta like a sister as well.
I wasn't convinced her mom was thrilled with the idea of Peyta working for me since she had only recently found out about my lupine status, as well as Cooper's. She was none too happy that our pasts had put her daughter in grave danger. I couldn't really blame her for that one; I wasn't happy about it either. Needless to say, things with Ronnie and I were tense at best, and I didn't want to rock the boat any further. She allowed Peyta to come around me because she saw how happy it made her. It didn't mean she had to be pleased with it.
“Where did you put the bank statements? I've looked everywhere for them!” Peyta asked, poking her head around the door.
“They're in the pile on the desk.”
“Have you seen your desk? There are several piles on it, all of which have achieved skyscraper status,” she replied sarcastically. “Any suggestions?”
“Um...have fun?” I said, shrugging.
I avoided accounting like the plague. My filing skills were lackluster as well. “Maybe you should work on straightening up the desk first, then worry about inputting the statements.”
“Ugh, I'm sorry I asked,” she said as the door swung abruptly to a close.
“I do love disgruntled employees!” I yelled over my shoulder as I headed for the door. “I'm going to grab snacks. Perhaps I'll get you some caffeine and sugar to improve your mood, though that may not be possible since you are a teenager.”
Her unfriendly response was muffled by the closed door behind me. I giggled aloud to myself knowing that I'd gotten under her skin; having a sister was fun.
I strolled through the streets of downtown Portsmouth, NH to the local bakery. I loved everything about seacoast living: the air, the buildings, the food, and the vibe; I soaked it in whenever I could. As I made my way there, a flash of yellow from an adjacent alley caught my eye. I peered down the narrow corridor to see the remnants of some police tape flapping wildly in the breeze. Its dance was mesmerizing and strangely beautiful, which was in stark contrast to the disturbingly gory reason for it being there.
This is where it was...
I squeezed my eyes shut trying to block out the vision I'd had of the brutal murder and briskly walked away. I made it two steps before I ran into a pedestrian in my botched attempt to escape my memory.
“Sorry!” I said, clinging to the man's arms for stability. “I wasn't paying attention.”
“You okay?” he asked as I let go of his jacket, having finally steadied myself. I looked up to see a thirty-something year old officer in full uniform looking back at me.
“Fine, officer. I'm fine,” I said, betraying my true uneasiness as I sneaked a glance back down the alley.
“It's a shame about that woman,” he said without prompting. “We're going to find who's doing this.”
I said nothing while staring at the yellow tape affixed to the dumpster, now barely moving as the breeze faded. The image of the young woman screaming played on a loop in my mind. I needed brain bleach.
“Miss?” he asked, seeming concerned about my mental state. “Do you know anything about that murder? Was she a friend of yours?”
“No, Sir,” I replied softly. “I just can't get it out of my mind. I never put together that this is where it happened. It took me off guard. I'm really sorry about bumping into you, Officer.”
I sidestepped him politely and continued on my path.
“Officer Beauchamp. Alan Beauchamp,” he said, tipping his hat slightly to me.
“Ruby,” I replied. “Nice to meet you, Officer Alan Beauchamp.”
* * *
I returned to the shop about thirty minutes later to find Peyta in the back with papers strewn about everywhere.
“If this is your idea of a filing system, then we really need to talk,” I said in jest. “And that's pretty bad coming from me.”
She sighed dramatically before turning her dainty face to me.
“I'm attempting to organize these things into categories and then file them,” she replied wearily. “You do know that's how this works, right? You don't just shove it into a file and classify it as 'filed'.”
“OK, gotta go...I think I hear a customer,” I said, before tossing a bag of cookies at her and dodging out the door as quickly as possible. I breathed a sigh of relief once in the safety of the showroom, surrounded by all of my creations. Making jewelry from recycled materials was what I loved, but I really did abhor the business side of owning a business.
While I soaked in the beauty of the trinkets encircling me, I was reminded that I felt very naked without one of my own. I hadn’t worn my ring since shortly after my healing with Sophie; I no longer appeared to need it. Whatever magic she wielded while saving my life seemed to integrate Scarlet and me into a more balanced duo. Keeping her in line had more to do with politely asking her to butt out, rather than trapping her against her will. It was a change to say the least, and I wasn’t adapting to it quickly.
I rubbed the vacant spot on my ring finger, wondering if I had any more unexpected changes awaiting me because of that healing.
* * *
Not long after my escape from filing hell, Cooper made an impromptu visit.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, surprised to see him. He'd been attending some classes at University of New Hampshire during the day, and I still hadn't figured out his schedule. He wasn't doing much to help out at the store because of his courses, but I was so happy that he showed interest in school that I didn't want him to know what a stressor my place had become again.
“I thought I'd stop by. I had some free time and thought I'd see how terrible your books looked. Want me to give them a once-over?”
“Yeah, why don't you head on back and see what you find,” I said with a devilish grin. I awaited the high pitched squealing.
Wait for it...wait for it...
“Cooper!” Peyta screeched.
There it is.
“Hey, P, what are you doing back here? Aren't there child labor laws against shitty jobs like this?” Cooper asked, presumably taking in the unenviable task Peyta had created for herself.
“Language!” I yelled as I walked back to join them.
“Ruby hired me on full time,” Peyta explained. “This is the thanks I get for trying to help out.”
“You get a paycheck too,” I added, looking wounded.
“A lousy one.”
“True, but a paycheck nonetheless.”
Cooper scooped us both up into a hug and kissed us both on the forehead.
“Both my girls in one place at the same time. Today, I'm a lucky guy.”
“Well, Lucky Guy, do you feel like helping one of your girls out?” Peyta asked playfully.
“Will it keep you off the street and out of trouble?” he asked with equal playfulness.
“It might just do that.”
“Sold!” he shouted dramatically before squatting down beside her to assess the task at hand. He squished up his face in disapproval. “Ruby, how did you ever manage without us in your life?”
“I don't remember, Coop,” I said, taking my leave of the tenth circle of hell yet again. “I think I've blocked it out of my mind.”
* * *
We finished later than usual that night and I told Peyta to let her mother know that I would bring her home. When I dropped her off, she asked if I wanted to come in, but I dodged that bullet by lying, saying that I had something else planned. She saw right through me, but let it go anyway; she knew the situation between Ronnie and I was tenuous at best and didn't want to push it. Too bad she didn't know the truth behind why.
Ever since Gregory's attack on Peyta and Ronnie’s disclosure of her knowledge regarding what both Cooper and I were, I'd been doing a juggling act, trying to keep all the necessary lies aloft. Peyta couldn't know the real reason behi
nd her mother's anger at me because that would mean admitting that Ronnie knew about werewolves too. Ronnie didn't want that. Peyta had let her mother in on the fact that her “gifts” had changed into something more intense than before, but left out the bulk of the specifics. Ronnie didn't know about Healers and the PC, and I wanted to keep it that way. Peyta was on board because, for all she knew, her mom was oblivious to the existence of anything more than ghosts. So while those two lied to each other, I had to lie to both of them; it was completely exhausting.
To keep Peyta in the dark, I told her that her mother had found out about the age difference between her and Gregory and was none too happy about it. That displeasure was only amplified when she found out that I had allowed them to meet at my place, unsupervised, without even having met him. Playing the overprotective mother card with Ronnie was easy enough to do, and Peyta bought it hook, line, and sinker.
As for Ronnie, she never directly said it, but she appeared to think that Sean was also a werewolf—Sophie too. Her air of superiority when discussing them implied as much. I never bothered to address the issue, leaving her to assume whatever she would. Ronnie loved being right. Pride was a weakness of hers.
I pulled out of the driveway thinking that maybe I'd really had it easier when I wasn't in the know. Being ignorant may have been frustrating at times, but a part of me longed for the days of questions, not answers. In that moment, I felt so bogged down with truths and lies that I found myself needing to make a chart of who knew what about whom. Peyta and Ronnie weren't the only ones I was lying to.
It was nearly eight p.m. when I pulled the TT into her spot in front of the shop. I loved living right in town, but I loved the fact that I finagled the city into designating a spot on the street just for me even more. What I didn't love was getting out of my car to see a tall, dark, and ominous looking man leaning against the entrance to my house. I locked the car and headed towards him.
Framed Page 1