Lies That Blind

by Diana Rose Wilson

  SPIRITBEASTS

  BOOK 1:

  LIES THAT BLIND

  by

  Diana Rose Wilson

  TORRID BOOKS

  www.torridbooks.com

  Published by

  TORRID BOOKS

  www.torridbooks.com

  An Imprint of Whiskey Creek Press LLC

  Copyright © 2017 by DIANA ROSE WILSON

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-1-68299-239-5

  Credits

  Cover Artist: Kelly Martin

  Editor: Cristina Stubbe

  Printed in the United States of America

  WHAT THEY ARE SAYING ABOUT

  Wicked Masquerade: Forbidden Secrets

  Book 1

  Classic, classy eroticism and a believable combination of dialogue and introspection.

  ~ fanfare (Literotica)

  I enjoyed this book. It is an introduction to characters expanded upon in future stories. Characters are believable, and plot is fun. A good read.

  ~ Christine Lisle (Good Reads)

  It was absolutely wonderful, you can just feel the tenderness and affection they have for each other. I can't wait to read more about them.

  ~ Anonymous (Literotica)

  Other Books by Author Available at Torrid Books:

  www.torridbooks.com

  Forbidden Secrets Series

  Book 1: Wicked Masquerade

  Dedication

  To MMA fighter Peggy Morgan who inspired Frankie’s character.

  To those who fight for those who cannot.

  Prologue

  The Final Hours of Amy Welton

  August 2015

  Amy arranged the items on the desk one last time. Her body felt pulled thin, her mind foggy from medication, but worst of all, her heart was tired. She was weary of the constant, longing ache. The guilt gnawed at her as she read what she’d put to paper.

  “Everything will be fine,” Barbara said quietly from the doorway of the library.

  Amy looked up, smiling to her friend. “It feels like another layer of deception.” She frowned at how fragile her voice sounded.

  “We will help her understand. If anyone deserves to have a happy ending, it’s you, Amy.”

  Amy shook her head, pulling the ring from her finger. It resisted being removed until she whispered assurances that all would be well. She no longer needed its ward. The big teardrop diamond flashed sullenly as it released her. The weight of her illness crushed her. Her hands trembled as she laid the ring in the box. “At least I won’t have to see Frankie’s face when she finds out.”

  “I can take all her wrath, Amy. Or my idiot brother will. Besides, it’s not as though you’re going to your final rest. You still have work to do.”

  They had gone over the plan many times. It relied on Frankie Welton taking the bait. It was one of many deceptions but the other options would only delay the continuation of erosion from within.

  “Amy. It will be all right. Whatever happens. You either lie here and spoil like milk as the cancer consumes you, or you do something greater. Frankie will take up the scepter and sit the seat you leave her.” Barbara sounded as confident as her grandmother, Delphine, and Mano and Sebastian. But they did not know Frankie like Amy did.

  “She is stubborn and she had a lifetime with Ellen to poison her mind.” Amy sighed and rubbed her hand along the mark on her palm, closing her eyes.

  “You’ve said so before. You forget that I know Welton pride and honor better than anyone.” Barbara hugged her. “Stop worrying. Go to him.”

  “And the tapestry?” she asked rather than agreeing.

  “Will be delivered in person around Christmas,” Barbara said, patient and kind. “We won’t let the Adversary do anything. I will blind her if she dares come here.”

  “And the horses?”

  “Marion will come get them and hold them until Frankie is ready.”

  “And the hospital?”

  “Amy…sister of my heart. We have everything covered.” She showed her palm with the mark of the scarlet crown across her skin. “Do I not wear the crown? Trust me. Trust your champions, the blood of your beloved and your sworn brother.”

  Amy peered into the future. It was harder to see as her body struggled against mortality. She saw so many possible moves with players unfamiliar to her. Everything relied on Frankie believing the truth and taking up her birthrights.

  And that Frankie would forgive them.

  Leaning into Barbara, she nodded. “All right. Walk me up.”

  The red tree grew on the hill, sentinel over the gorge. The walk to that sacred place had never seemed so far. The last time her body felt this weary was the day she’d had to leave him on the other side.

  Tears prickled her eyes as she stood under the tree beside her friend who had been there through it all. Holding out her hand, she showed her palm, the mark of flames bright red against her pale skin. “I still keep the fire.” Her throat tightened as she begged, “Take care of my girl.”

  “You know I will. We all will.”

  “Tell Sebastian…I’m sorry I went without saying goodbye—”

  “He knows, Amy. Mano too.” Her eyes twinkled with tears as the leaves of the tree rustled, flashing silvery green in the fading light. “We all know this isn’t goodbye, just until later. I love you, heart-sister. Give the big guy hugs and tell him if he doesn’t take care of you, I’ll find a way to cross the threshold and thrash him.” Barbara dabbed at her eyes.

  Amy’s weak legs carried her to the rim of the ridge and she called out his name like she’d dreamed of doing for the past twenty-five years. For a moment, she thought he might ignore her and make her wait until she drew her last breath.

  “Hey, Firecracker.” His voice sounded even sweeter than all the memories and spirit-walks. “Is it time already? Well, what are you doing just standing there? Come give me a kiss.”

  Amy Welton crossed over on a warm August evening with the hummingbirds and bees filling the air around the red tree. Returning to the arms of her beloved, she left all mortal pain and suffering behind.

  Chapter 1

  It begins with a broken soul

  Dave Yarrow remembered the first time Frankie Welton fell into his training ring. She was thirteen. Like an ugly squab, Frankie stood there, her limbs too long, and joints too knobby. She even had a head of frizzy orange curls and a hawkish nose too big for her long face. The girl threw herself headlong into trouble with a fearless heart. At any moment, she might tumble out into the world to be crushed under its wheels.

  He didn’t want to coach her and she definitely didn’t want him telling her what to do. The money was good though, and God knew no one else was looking after the sassy brat. Since the death of her father, her mother, Ellen, wasn’t in good shape. He’d seen that too often. A young person without guidance in a rough neighborhood, mixed with the wrong crowd. In a blink, they were into drugs, gangs, sex-trade and worse. The fuzzy-headed cygnet had spirit—she might learn skill
.

  Grudgingly, he listened to the man from California over the phone. He assured that he would pay a staggering amount if Dave trained her to defend herself. He’d even pay extra if Dave kept an eye on her. The money came all right, more than Dave had ever seen at one time. It was enough money up front for him to open his own gym.

  The first few years were miserable. Frankie was always in trouble. If it wasn’t a fight in school, it was her grades. Then there was Ellen, who was in and out of hospitals for a mix of health issues and her unstable mental condition.

  Every month he got the call from Mr. California asking for updates. Dave wasn’t sure why those people didn’t come and get the girl. If they paid him that type of money, why not fly her out of this cesspool and take proper care of her? Why didn’t they give her the money and put her in a better place? If not here in the Bronx, somewhere nicer. Anywhere other than the hole she lived. He’d asked once but the answer was, It’s Frankie’s choice.

  Frankie wasn’t the type of girl to just do what someone told her. Despite Ellen’s insanity and cruelty, Frankie wasn’t leaving her side. Once he suggested taking her to California and Ellen flew into a wet-eyed, foamy-mouthed fit.

  Frankie Welton didn’t have it easy.

  After that, he invested more energy in actually caring for the brat. She grew focused by the training. The fights in school stopped, either because at seventeen, she was larger than most boys or because she spent all her free hours in the gym knocking stronger, older, and meaner people on their ass. He felt fierce joy at seeing the duckling become the swan. No, she was more like an eagle.

  Then Dave, in his dim-witted arrogance, fucked up everything.

  He crossed the line he was never able to repair. His lust betrayed all the trust placed in him, hers, Mr. California and the people waiting for her choice. Because even her virginity was his responsibility to guard and protect, not ruin. It was the lowest moment of his life. Only later did he realize how far out of his league she was.

  His mistake carried a heavy price.

  She won her first amateur MMA fight at eighteen. He was drunk. She was radiant. When he kissed her, she was fierce. There was no stopping the storm. She swept him up and he was doomed.

  Having sex with her changed him.

  It changed her.

  It changed everything.

  The moment he slid into her, she destroyed him. Bathed in her blood, he felt her burn through him.

  There was no other way to say it.

  It felt like being dipped through living flame with absolute pleasure at the core, tearing him into little tiny pieces. She stripped him, and stole every ounce of control he had. The fire never went out and her brand sang in the pit of his stomach.

  She was no eagle. She was a goddamn phoenix.

  At night, in the darkest hour, her mark imprinted into him, aching and burning, never to be satisfied. She called to him. Often, he woke shaking and spent with his sheets soaked, yet he was filled with hopeless longing.

  A person should never be cursed with those sort of wet dreams.

  In those shuddering, sobbing moments, he relived the sensation. He had never experienced an ethereal sensation like this before.

  Dave Yarrow didn’t know who to ask except the doctor who tested him for his condition.

  “Your STD tests have come back negative, Mr. Yarrow,” the doctor said happily. “You say you’re still having this burning sensation?”

  “No, not like that, doc. I mean burning. Burning.” He gripped his hands into fists. “Like I’m on fire.”

  The doctor frowned. “Sounds extreme. Where does it hurt?” He looked up from his results and squinted at him.

  Dave set his jaw. “It’s my…my fucking penis. My whole goddamn groin. My stomach too.”

  “Hurt?”

  “Uh…yes and no.” Dave frowned at the wall, embarrassed by the questions. He didn’t say his heart ached, because that sounded ridiculous.

  The doctor waited for more details and Dave gritted his teeth. “It’s like pain, but it felt…feels…good?” He wasn’t even sure.

  “And your anus as well? Has your partner been tested for any STDs?”

  Dave glared. “Not my fucking ass, Doc,” he snarled and the doctor gave him a reproachful look. “Listen, she, the woman is…er…was…a virgin,” he ground out the words, refusing to look at the doctor.

  “I see. Is she feeling anything strange? Pains and this burning?”

  “Not that she’s said.” To be fair, they were hardly talking. He felt both terrified to go near her and humiliated by how he’d treated her. A woman needed her first time to be special, not what he’d done.

  At the time, he didn’t even know what to do except flee to hide his pain…pleasure…delight…desire…destruction. Even weeks later, he thought she might sear him to bits if she looked at him with those fierce silvery-green eyes. His groin reminded him of the sensation of her wrapped around him and he hunched forward with a moan equal parts pain, pleasure and humiliation as his cock hardened.

  “We’ll do more tests, Mr. Yarrow,” the doctor said with sympathy.

  Sadly, modern medicine and the baffled doctors didn’t find anything. He continued to wither and burn from the inside.

  With negative test results in hand, he tossed out his pride and called Mr. California.

  There was a very long silence on the line after he’d explained his mistake.

  “You did…what?” Mr. California posed the question with the sort of calm that made Dave’s flesh try to crawl off his bones.

  “I know. I’ve really botched this. I let things get out of hand.”

  “You were thinking with your fucking dick. You worthless, godless, son of a bitch.” Instead of raising his voice, it dropped lower, which was worse.

  Much worse.

  Dave almost tucked his tail and hung up the phone but he deserved the man’s anger. Whatever hell there was to pay, Dave would cash out.

  “Listen, do you know what’s happening to me?” he asked after they both took a few breaths.

  “Yes,” Mr. California answered.

  Silence.

  “What is happening to me?”

  Silence, then a mirthless chuckle. “You tried to claim something that does not belong to you.”

  “What? No one told me she belongs to someone else. Does she even know?” he shouted into the phone. “This shouldn’t be burning my dick off, man.”

  “Mister Yarrow…didn’t I say you were to protect her? That included her godforsaken virtue, you fucking pig. Buddy, you fucked the wrong girl. Count yourself lucky I’m not getting on a plane right now to stomp your face into a curb.”

  “I fucking get that. I know. How the fuck do I stop this?”

  A louder chuckle, this time cruel. “You find the right girl who can kiss it and make it better. You fucking asshole.” And the line went dead.

  He expected the money to stop, but he continued getting paid. He even got a call a month later. The man sounded angrier in his low snarl.

  “Why don’t you get her out of here? She’s like a loaded weapon,” Dave told him.

  “Weapons are only dangerous in the wrong hands. It’s up to you to keep her, and others, safe. You are getting paid, right? Frankie has to make her own choice to come here. It’s very complicated. Your tiny brain isn’t ready for it. Maybe someday, after you’ve stopped using your dick to make choices, ass-hat. How’s the fire in your pants?”

  Dave growled, “This is bullshit.”

  The man sounded smug. “Be sure you use a fucking rubber when you attempt to sooth the burn. A lot of fucking frogs are going to bob your knob before you’re fixed.” And the line clicked.

  Dave was furious. At himself and with Mr. California. As far as he was aware, Frankie didn’t know that guy. Dave didn’t know him either. The only person from California he’d met was Frankie’s aunt, Amy. Amy Welton, widow and favorite person in Frankie’s life, visited twice a year.

  Dave liked those
visits. Amy seemed amused by him after the fiasco. Her eyes held a soft, maternal sympathy for his condition. Mr. California must have told her. Or, she saw. His humiliated pride kept him silent instead of asking how to get fixed.

  Amy softened Frankie. She tried to implant the inspiration for her to move. It was like watching a masterful chess game with a pro and a novice. “Come to California with me.” The older woman, sister to Frankie’s father, stood a head shorter than her niece and half of her build but they both had matching orange curls and their features were so similar they could be sisters.

  “I have work here,” Frankie would inevitably say.

  “I have work for you there. The Pickled Salamander could use a good manager,” Amy countered, arm in arm while they shopped. Dave patrolled silently in their wake with their other friends Bethany and Jennifer. “It’s been in the family since my grandparents. Good traditions to hand down.”

  “I have a life here.” Frankie held firm with her volley.

  “It wouldn’t have to be forever. I’d just love for you to meet some of the people there. My friends and friends of your father and your grandparents.” Amy’s soothing voice made Dave want to pack up and leave. But Frankie braced herself, broad shoulders cording in the usual stubborn set. Amy nuzzled her cheek with the younger woman at her unspoken signal. “All right, love. All right. Just think about it.”

  For about a month after Amy visited he felt nearly normal. Maybe there was something in the tea and jams she brought. But when the storm returned, it did so with a vengeance.

  The need to teach Frankie to defend herself took on new meaning and importance. No one deserved to feel consumed on the physical, and spiritual level Dave suffered. She continued to train and fight and got stronger. She worked equally hard at the restaurant. All the while she built up her walls to keep him and other people out.

  Despite the attempts of her friends, Jennifer and Bethany, she rejected all the romantic prospects they offered.