Table of Contents
EMERALD FIRE
Acknowledgements
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
EMERALD FIRE
A Blushing Death Novel
SUZANNE M. SABOL
SOUL MATE PUBLISHING
New York
BY SUZANNE M. SABOL
THE BLUSHING DEATH SERIES
A Pool of Crimson
Midnight Ash
Sliver of Silver
Golden Anidae
Black Dalliances
Emerald Fire
EMERALD FIRE
Copyright©2015
SUZANNE M. SABOL
Cover Design by Rae Monet, Inc.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Published in the United States of America by
Soul Mate Publishing
P.O. Box 24
Macedon, New York, 14502
ISBN: 978-1-61935-854-6
www.SoulMatePublishing.com
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
To RPM,
You are my constant and my heart
I’m so excited to continue our journey together
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank all of the people who made this book possible. There are many, from my husband for his continued support to the city I live in and love. I would, however, like to thank the following people for various reasons.
My fantastic editor, Debby Gilbert of Soul Mate Publishing. I couldn’t have made it through the last few years without your understanding and constant support.
RPM for being the harshest beta reader a girl could have and on top of it, I still love you.
Jenna Grinstead and Eva Siedler, critique partners and the best friends I could hope to have. I appreciate and value your input and comments. You make my writing better and only you two understand the weird stuff that only another writer could. Thank you.
Chapter 1
The car reeked of fear, filling his nostrils with the savory scent and making his mouth water. The dead man in the trunk was still too fresh to reek of death to any human senses but the faint odor of decomposition filtered through the vents, tickling the hairs inside his nose. The woman, bound and gagged behind him, had finally stopped thrashing and sobbing. Thankful for the peace and quiet, he’d almost killed her just to stop her whimpering. But it was too soon and his need of a live body had been the only thing to stay his hand.
Across the street, a soft blue light from the flat screen television flickered through the oversized picture window. With a perfect view inside her home, he watched the two of them, snug on the sofa as if they were any normal couple as an old black and white movie played. The Blushing Death lay back with her feet draped over the bulky, Alpha werewolf’s lap. She was laughing as the man stroked her long legs. If he listened hard enough, he could almost hear the ring of The Blushing Death’s laughter through the double-paned windows.
“She seems happy,” he said. Lounging back in the driver’s seat, he twisted his hands over the steering wheel. He’d been watching her since coming into the city three nights ago. She was rarely alone and floated between the Werewolf Pack and the Vampire Colony with an ease that was astounding and unprecedented. She was also guarded constantly by both, making it impossible for him to get close to her. A change of plan was in order.
As he watched the light flicker across her face, a plan formed in his mind, to put them all on edge, taunting and baiting them. He wanted to finish her alone. Only after The Blushing Death’s demise could he deal with Patrick and present his gift to his master. An apology of sorts. The dog, however, was of no consequence and no value. A quick death would be best.
The soft roar of an engine rumbled behind him, drawing his attention away from the happy scene through the window. Parking at the curb, a black town car purred, idling. A tall man with jet-black hair, more beautiful than handsome, stepped from the front seat and opened the back passenger side door. A second man, in a tailored suit, exited the back of the car and unbuttoned his suit jacket. Both men made him take a second look and he licked his lips with the sudden rush of desire that throbbed through his groin. It had been too long since he’d tasted flesh, felt true pleasure.
“Nova, I’ll not return to the mansion tonight. Please alert Alex,” the suited vampire said.
“Yes, my Liege,” the pretty vampire replied, bowing from the waist.
Patrick Cavanaugh strode from the car as the delicious vampire closed the door behind him and got back in the car, finally driving away. Cavanaugh was left alone on the sidewalk. Logan could kill him now before anyone in the house even knew what happened. But his orders were to send a message, not just to Patrick but to all the territorial Masters. Insubordination or a coup would not be tolerated and Patrick Cavanaugh was teetering dangerously on the edge of both.
He had to kill The Blushing Death first, make an example of her, of all of them. His master wanted their deaths to be bloody and public so none would oppose the establishment again. He’d promised to make Patrick Cavanaugh suffer. And suffer he would.
Cavanaugh strode into the house and slung his suit jacket across the back of the loveseat. The Blushing Death sat up, leaving her legs across the dog’s lap and Cavanaugh slid in behind her.
Envy burned like a fire in his gut. No one should be that happy, especially a vampire, and not The Blushing Death. A growl rippled through the small space of the car and he realized the sound had come from him.
“Pleezz,” the woman in the back seat whimpered around the
gag in her mouth. The fear forcing her blood to race made his fangs throb with hunger. The sound of her anguish relaxed his nerves as the urge to kill all three in a jealous wash of blood fell away. He had a job to do and would prove to his Master he was worth having again. A smile crept across his features, curling his lips into a sneer. He glanced back at the woman in the rearview mirror and met her wide, shining eyes.
“You have a date with a friend of mine,” he snarled, turning the key in the ignition. The engine fired up and he pulled away from the curb. The woman in the backseat struggled, kicking, and thrashing against her bonds. “The more you struggle, the hungrier I get.” He laughed and turned up the radio, whistling along with the melody drowning out the sounds of her blubbering.
Chapter 2
Shit! Where did my shoes go?
Kneeling down, I searched beneath the sofa. Nothing. There wasn’t even a dust bunny to be found. Who the hell was cleaning under there? I sure as shit wasn’t.
“Baby, you just need to ask,” Dean’s husky voice rumbled with desire behind me.
I turned and glanced up at him over my shoulder. His gaze was focused entirely on my ass up in the air. Fabulous.
“We don’t have time for that,” I said, straightening up on my knees. The nude-colored pencil skirt I wore hugged my curves more than I was accustomed to and the bright-blue, ruffled shell rose up my back, exposing skin.
Dean stood behind me in a white polo shirt, khakis, and a devilish grin that made my toes curl and things deep in my body tighten. We definitely didn’t have time for the glint in his eyes.
I got to my feet and circled around him. Dean shifted hangers in the closet, searching for something. Didn’t matter. If I couldn’t find my shoe, we weren’t going to that meeting anyway. Picking up the blanket and a couple of glasses from the coffee table that both he and Patrick had left lying about, I cleared a path. Living with one man was dirty enough. Living with two part-time wasn’t much better.
Patrick lounged back in the sofa with his laptop resting on his thighs. The blinds were closed to shield him from the morning sun and he appeared casual and relaxed. However, the sharp strokes of his fingers on the keys, the tight line of his shoulders, and the quick glances at Dean from beneath his dark lashes made my gut tighten.
“Baby, where’s my jacket?” Dean asked, still shoving hangers aside.
“In the bedroom closet with the suit. It’s been dry cleaned and pressed,” I said, tossing the throw blanket across the back of the loveseat and a pair of my shoes across the room to the foyer. That’s right, some of the stuff on the floor was mine. Since I was picking them up, I didn’t see why I shouldn’t throw my shit on the floor too. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
“We’re going to be late,” he snarled.
“We’re not going to be late.” I’d already built in some lollygagging time before our meeting, telling Dean the meeting was half an hour earlier than when I’d scheduled it.
I’d discovered quickly that Dean was perpetually late. There were so many demands on his time, the Pack, his clients, and Patrick that any schedule I put together got thrown right out the window unless I built in time. For both of them.
“I wish she doted over me the way she does you,” Patrick snipped. His voice was harsh and his jealousy burned through me like a fever.
Dean stopped, his hand grasping the doorknob with a white-knuckle grip as his lips disappeared into a thin line of anger. Icy chill and scorching heat bubbled around me, turning me into the eye of a storm that hadn’t quite struck yet. And it wouldn’t if I could help it. It had been like this for a while now and I wasn’t sure how to fix it. They both loved me, they were friends, but where I was concerned there was always tension, jealousy, and unspoken threats. Maybe I was being selfish. Hell, I knew I was being selfish but I wanted them both. Needed them both.
Twisting around, I smiled at Patrick. I didn’t want him to feel left out or even forgotten. I never forgot about Patrick. I couldn’t. He was a part of me.
“Oh, but darling, I do,” I cooed.
Patrick’s eyebrow shot up in surprise as his eyes met mine, a wary expression making his dark eyes cautious.
“The den is all prepped, the shades drawn, and Skype set up. All you have to do is hit ‘send.’”
“For what?” he asked, sitting up suddenly in alarm.
“You have a meeting in ten minutes with the architect,” I said and rested my hands on my hips. “Now, where the hell are my shoes? I’m the only woman here. Nude heels don’t just disappear.”
“I can’t believe I forgot!” Patrick bit out, closing the laptop as he leapt from the sofa, forgetting—for the moment—his jealousy.
“Dahlia!” Everett called from the kitchen.
“Ev, I can hear you just fine. You don’t have to yell,” I snapped over my shoulder. I used to live alone. My house had been quiet once, peaceful. That seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Sorry,” he said, lowering his voice. “I can’t find my work ID. Do you know where it is?”
“On the counter next to the sugar canister,” I said, frustrated. I knew where everybody else’s shit was except for my own damned shoes.
“How does she do that?” Patrick asked, stopping just inside the door to the den.
“What?” Dean almost growled, slipping the door shut and crossing the foyer to the stairs.
“Organize all of us and move us around the board like chess pieces?” Patrick asked, watching me.
“You complaining?” Dean’s agitation still plain in his gruff tone.
“No, it’s just—” Patrick trailed off, glancing around from me, to Dean and back again.
“Nice?” Dean finished for him, the edge in his voice ebbing as I scanned the floor for a nude-colored . . . anything.
“Ah-ha!” I yelped, catching a glimpse of one heel lodged under the oversized ottoman.
“Yes,” Patrick answered, ignoring the bite in Dean’s question. “I feel almost normal,” Patrick said. I heard the sadness in his voice. I couldn’t have that. Snatching the shoes from under the ottoman, I slipped them on and met his dark eyes.
“You are normal,” I said with a soft smile and a brush of lips. He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue between my teeth, and I couldn’t help but press against him. His feelings rushed into me, gratefulness, pleasure, and fear.
Breathless, I backed away and stroked his cheek. His dark eyes seemed bottomless as I peered up into them. “We are all normal.” I glanced at the clock and then turned to Dean with a frown. “Get your jacket. Now, we will be late.”
Thirty minutes later, I sat in Trevelyan Dean’s corporate boardroom with Dean, the Columbus’ Mayor, and the City Planner. Beneath the table, I was texting Ev to make sure the sheets in my room were changed before nightfall. Patrick had spent the night and tonight was Dean’s night. They tended to get edgy when they could smell each other in the bedroom, which was becoming a huge pain in the ass for me. Not to mention rough on the sheets.
“The plans and bid you submitted, Mr. Dean, are fantastic. We’ll have to submit them to the city council for approval,” the Mayor said with some apprehension.
I hit ‘send’, slid the phone on the table, and raised my gaze.
“I’d be happy to meet with them if they have any questions.” Dean’s demeanor was stoic—calm, as if this was just another job. I knew better. He wanted this contract, wanted to show what his team, his company, and this architect could do. The new courthouse would be a triumph of green building and design. Smiling, I watched him attempt to seem pleased and confident but not too proud or eager.
My phone vibrated, sounding like a jackhammer in the silence. Damn it! Everyone turned, glaring at me.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, snatching the phone from the tabletop and slipping it in my lap. I tapped t
he touch screen and opened up the text message, ready to rip Ev a new one for interrupting. But it wasn’t Ev.
911! MEET ME AT EVERGREEN CEMETERY
Derek didn’t understand that writing in all caps was yelling in text language so I wasn’t angry at the order. I wasn’t even sure he knew how to turn the caps lock off. Derek was doing well in his detective roll. In the time I’d been gone, he’d managed to close several murder cases without me. It helped that he’d landed a few that were plain old human perpetrators—no monsters involved. He’d been my friend and my anchor to normal when my world had been falling apart. And because he was my friend I didn’t give him shit about the all caps or the overbearing cop routine he liked to shove down my throat.
Glancing up to three sets of eyes watching me, I met Dean’s olive-green gaze. His brow furrowed and his shoulders tensed as concern settled along his strong jawline. He didn’t like me going off alone, even if he knew I could take care of myself. Ever since Baba Yaga’s mountain and I’d bargained my supernatural healing ability away, Dean and Patrick had had someone on me like glue. It was exhausting actually. Sometimes, I just needed some alone time.
“I apologize, gentlemen,” I said, standing and grabbing my bag. “I have an emergency that needs my immediate attention.”
“Ms. Sabin,” the City Planner said in a haughty, put-upon tone. “This is an important meeting.”
“Mr. Denisov,” I snapped back. “I understand that but when the police call, I have to go.”
“The police?” the Mayor asked, brows raised in evident surprise.
Emerald Fire (A Blushing Death Novel Book 6) Page 1