Alphas Rise: Immortal Brotherhood (Edge Book 1)

by Jamie Magee

  Maybe somewhere deep inside he did, maybe from time to time he would feel an agony that he couldn’t explain when he was with another woman, saw one that dared to compare to Reveca’s shape and statue, but all of those thoughts were fleeting at best.

  With Crass though, his mind was not focused on what he had just lost, but at the beginning of his creation.

  He’d seen his parents, his brothers, remembered the brief life of ease before he found the love of war, the desire to change all that was wrong in the world he resided in. Then he saw Reveca, her innocence, remembered every breath with her, how he held back, wanting to savor her. That made the hell he was in all the worse, the guilt he was feeling unbearable, because his mind was constantly pushing forward, showing him what he did after he left her, layering every sin like bricks on his shoulders.

  When he first saw her before Crass’s throne he was sure it was trickery, that Crass had seen into his thoughts and was trying yet another avenue of torture. Seeing Cashton by her side made it all the crueler.

  His woman next to his assigned. It was too much to take on. When they edged away from Crass, on that waterway he started to believe that she was real. He didn’t want her to be real, he wanted her safe in his past. He wanted to think she was happy, had a family, had moved on to some great beyond. That kept her safe.

  Instead, he saw how fierce she had grown. His days at the Boneyard, what he heard, the small comments that came from her and others, led him to believe she had no choice but to be the way she was.

  This new Reveca didn’t make him want her less. If anything it made him want her more…but that couldn’t happen. Not now. Not ever.

  “A king,” he answered finally. “A God.”

  Not this again, Reveca thought to herself, unsure as to why her sister’s faith was assaulting her at any and all angles. “Why you?”

  King tilted his head to the side, anger engulfing him. “Because I was a warrior. Because I fought for change. Because I used exaltation as a power, as a gift.”

  “He punished you?”

  King laughed darkly, met Reveca’s confused stare all at once. “As a reward.” He lifted his chin. “The power he gave me…it’s more than you could imagine.”

  “Magic?”

  “More so—godly power. I could go anywhere at any time, one blink of an eye. I could understand and engage instantly. I was all knowing, all seeing, and stood at my sovereign’s side.”

  Reveca swallowed the anger she was feeling just then. Even if she still had the faith her sister had she would have lost it then, that God killed her Kenson, in some real way he did.

  “All this time.”

  King’s stare told her yes. He stood abruptly. “Time. What is that? How can it be measured, really? There is no time when you feel that much power, and when you settle with that power, when the edge wears off and you can handle the sensations charging through your soul. Even then time has no merit. When you descend and walk with mortals, when you lurk with the dead, when you glide through the dreams—or nightmares—of others…it has no merit.”

  Reveca was quivering on the inside, being this close to and alone with him, knowing that seconds ago she would have given herself over to him, was causing that. Yet on the outside she looked calm, balanced, like the woman she had become.

  Instead of believing him, she was trying to connect the dots. Trying to figure out why Saige knew he was with Crass, why she sent Reveca for him when clearly she knew that Cashton and King had some wicked past. She had no doubt that death had twisted King’s point of view. He believed what he was saying, that much was clear, but that didn’t mean anything. It just meant something or someone showed him enough, made him feel enough to believe it.

  “How did you end up with Crass?”

  King moved his fingers through his dark hair, hair that was growing out, daring to curl around the base of his neck.

  “I’m not clear enough on anything to tell you that.”

  That statement backed up Reveca’s theories; his mind had been warped. She even halfway believed her sister planted those notions in King, that it was some backward way of hers to draw Reveca back into the fold. “You’re awful sure that you’re not Kenson, that what we were died with you that dawn. So why not this?”

  His icy glare shot to hers, and his hand dropped. He prowled one step closer to her, and as he did so, that hum assaulted Reveca. Made her feel like she was seconds from having the most shattering orgasm of her life. “You want there to be an us?” he smirked. “Damn sure could have fooled me.”

  “I have a life.”

  “Debatable.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that you were meant for more than to be a mother hen.”

  “I sure as hell wasn’t meant to preside over the Edge of death, meant to live out my life constantly seeing life end and pass on. But that’s where your death landed me. I got out, I made the life I wanted. Freedom. That’s mine. You have no right to criticize me.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Reveca, the power I had, it was a power that someone like you would handle with grace, not the way I did. Not the way my sovereign did. You keep your lust at bay and hold gratitude within your soul. You defend the weak, and dare the danger.”

  “It’s the way I was taught,” she admitted, knowing damn well it was him that gave her that lesson.

  When he didn’t say anything she pushed for more answers. “If you don’t know why or how you ended up with Crass then surely you know why you hate Cashton.”

  King smirked then lifted his chin. “I do.”

  “Why?”

  “He was born to kill me.”

  “God slayer.”

  King let his eyes say yes.

  “But you are already dead.”

  “No…no I’m not.”

  Reveca furrowed her brow in question.

  “I’m depleted. I’m apparently in hiding.”

  “Hiding from an assigned—who by the way has no idea that he is—but my sister sent me for you to bring you face to face with him. What? Was she just looking for a good show?”

  “See now, that doesn’t make much sense, does it?” King said sardonically.

  “Your grudge against him is personal.”

  “As if death is not personal.”

  “It’s about a girl.”

  King just stared.

  “What? You think I’m stupid? Think that I don’t know that with all that power you claim you had that you didn’t slide into the heat of some girl, more than likely more than you can count? Maybe one of those meant something to you. More than I did.”

  The next thing Reveca knew he was just before her. His face a mere inch from hers stole her breath. “Do you honestly think that anyone could mean as much to me as you?”

  Once Reveca found a way to speak, the breath to do so, she said, “She meant something.” Reveca was holding her resolve by a thin thread of nerve. She had to believe they were fighting over a girl, that it had nothing to do with an outdated faith.

  King shook his head stepped back. “I don’t know why Saige let me out. But I know you have a war on your hands.”

  “Nothing new there.”

  He stared deep in her eyes before he spoke again. “No one can know I’m here. Ever.”

  “Who are you hiding from, King?”

  “Men I want to keep alive. People I want to keep alive.”

  “All those people and reasons you’re not clear enough to tell me about.”

  “No. I’m not clear. I have an instinct and it’s telling me what I just told you.”

  “That I’m at war.”

  He cussed under his breath. “It’s telling me that whether you’re mine or not, we have the same soul. It’s telling me that I can’t have you now or ever, that what I was is dead. That I was changed. Fell from some grace. Stepped out of clear cut boundaries and was stripped to nothing. It’s telling me that I did care about people, that it was my job to lead them and protect them. And the
only way to continue to do that is to stay dead, as you say.”

  Reveca didn’t hear much past the part of him basically saying that he loved her and always would but the words were seeping in; she was making herself focus.

  “I can’t protect the ones you care about finding out you are here unless you tell me who they are.”

  The cold stare he gave her made it clear that wasn’t going to happen, not today.

  Finally King spoke. “Gwinn. She was in the custody of Escorts. Her scent is rich with theirs.”

  “Let’s pretend I believe in those souls, in this faith that your warped mind is telling you that you are a part of. Let’s also pretend that someone else has already told me that bullshit. I don’t see how that matters. These fictional beings brought her to GranDee. What happened after that is the mystery.”

  “You think I made this up? This hell?” King asked as a look of disgust came over him.

  “I know that death, that someone like Crass, could plant any thoughts into one’s mind. You’ve only been out for a few weeks. I know that you have advanced far further than you should have in that time, but clearly your damage is on the inside.”

  He leered. “Then I guess telling you that Gwinn is an Escort is a waste of my time. I shouldn’t tell you that you’re starving her.”

  Right then the rumbling voices of Judge and Knight filtered up the stairs.

  Judge barely knocked before he pushed the ajar door open shouting King’s name. He froze as he took in the scene; King half dressed, Reveca in short silk robe.

  It didn’t look good.

  “Um, that part for the Firebird just showed up. I was going to see if you wanted help with it.”

  King kept his stare on Reveca as he said, “I do. We’re all done here. I’m too insane to have a conversation with Reveca just now.” With that he winked, turned and grabbed his shirt from the bed then stormed out of the room.

  “I, uh, I didn’t meant to interrupt,” Judge said quietly glancing down the hall, clearly wondering if Knight had seen what he had. The relief in his blues eyes said that was not the case.

  Reveca made her way to him. “You’re close with King.”

  “Yeah, I mean he’s all right.”

  “Talk to him. A lot. I have to know what is real and what is not in his head.”

  “Okay, boss,” Judge said with quick nod as he left.

  Reveca hesitated for a second trying to find balance, find a way to believe King. Understand him. She had to figure out how he ended up with Crass. She had her suspicions, and each one led her back to her sister and Jamison pulling the strings behind the curtain.

  She left King’s room and marched down the hall to Knight’s room. Years back, Raven BellaRose had found herself in some dark danger that Jamison and the coven were protecting her from. They even reached out to Reveca to ask for help from a distance. Reveca was going to research the story behind that, figure out what she missed when she was drunk on power.

  If she figured out that Saige was the reason King was the way he was today, that once again she knew he was going to be slain and allowed it, she was going to lose her shit. Reveca was sick of these games.

  No one ever crosses one of her own and lives to tell about it. No matter who they are.

  Next: Dark Lure #OneClick

  Acknowledgements

  Over the past four years I have published sixteen novels and each of the acknowledgements are moved from one novel to the next. That wasn’t done to take short cuts, but because on this journey I have been blessed enough to keep the same souls at my side. I wanted to take the time with this acknowledgement to state how precious they are to me.

  To my Creator, for I know this passion comes from a powerful, enigmatic source that humbles me with its constant greatness.

  My husband, no doubt, deserves some kind of medal! The man is there from the first instant the idea is thought to life, through the long days of writing where I slip into another world. He manages the blessed life we have built, taking care of our little ones, making sure that there is some kind of substantial meal on the table for each of us. He’s a saint when it comes to telling me what day of the week it is, and letting me know that dawn is approaching and it might be a good idea to get some sleep. He understands that music drives me and is just fine with the same song playing on repeat for days until I have the scene trapped in words. He’s use to having a conversation with me and in mid-sentence I stop and rush to write a line down. There is no doubt that he didn’t sign up to share his wife with the fictional family that always dances in my mind, but he rocks it all the same. I can’t tell you how amazing it is to have someone want your dreams as much as you do, someone that never lets doubt creep into your mindset.

  My children, they make me smile every day. They are now to the point where they’re all for naming characters, dancing to that same song that plays over and over. They love to joke about ‘moms bubble’ they know that mom dreams wide awake and tease me when they have to pop that bubble to tell me something.

  I always tend to write the first draft of any story with the ‘door closed’ not telling anyone but my family what I’m working on, yet there are a few that are there the second I open the door and walk with me through all the drafts of the story.

  This massive story, that grows each day, was a different experience for me. I’d ‘open the door’ after each episode and pass the story off to two beta readers that have always been at my side. Steffini Walker was there, at a book conference, when the idea to write this story that I had been putting off for a better part of a year, in this fashion came to me. It was her excitement for serials that encourage me to explore this classic style. Sabrina Wells was side by side with Steffini encouraging this adventure. Each of these ladies read the harshest of drafts, gave honest feedback and emotion, and each word drove me forward all the faster. The Pentacle Sons became an addiction, people we knew, a world we all visited often. The spontaneous chats at odd hours, the music and images that we passed between the three of us made the story so tangible. It was a rush, no doubt, and though I have enjoyed working with Steffini and Sabrina on each of my novels, some how this story was different, they walked with me as I went down a path that is so drastically different from the ones I had traveled before. I couldn’t have asked for better friends in this world, finding people that get you, that you can still manage to surprise once in awhile, that is priceless. I love you girls!!

  Editors, they come in all shapes and sizes, each with their very own style and outlook on the words they’re reviewing. I struck gold with mine, and I mean that. It is hard to find someone who can not only edit the horrid mess I leave behind in my creative rushes, but to also find someone that can strengthen your story and not alter your voice. Someone who is not afraid to tell you exactly what you need to hear good or bad, to fortify your daydreams into words. Todd Barselow is a saint and I count my lucky stars each day that I found him in this crazy publishing world.

  Graphic designers are one of the unsung hero’s of the publishing world. Which is sad because they’re the ones that give your daydreams a face, they bring the emotion and definition to your work that readers new and old will recognize over time. Emma Michaels is another gift; she not only helped me find the image for my debut novel, Insight, but also has been through each of my covers since. She has a way of understanding exactly what I envision and does not rest until that vision is there before us both. This cover was far different from the others, it had to be more than an image that may or not change over the course of time, it had to be a logo, a brand, something that could be identified with this story for seasons to come. Emma rose to that challenged and I have to say this is one of my favorite covers, it’s almost as if she saw the emblem in my mind clear as day and worked until it was created. Emma you are amazing!

  Beyond my first draft betas I have others that are just as amazing. It’s their truth that makes them that way, how they are not afraid to tell me what they like and don’t, how they don
’t bat an eye when I hand them a contemporary story, a YA story, or this story, they read each with an open mind and their feedback is priceless, and there is not a doubt that it always mirrors the feedback my readers will give me once the story is published to the world at large. I can’t thank Jamie Love, Michelle Dain, Crystal Meyer, Jennylynne D’Andrea, and Alysia Kurtz enough for walking through the final stages of publishing with me each and every time. Thank you girls for sharing my daydreams with me!

  Readers. I swear to you, to this day it blows my mind that there are people on this earth that I will never have the chance to meet that have shared these stories with me, people who get it, who leave reality and step into my daydreams with me if only for a moment. You humble me. I can’t stress that enough. Thank you so much for taking a chance, giving up your time, to read my work.

  Writer buddies are amazing and I can honestly say that the inspiration to write this story in this fashion would not have come unless I was blessed enough to meet an remarkable group of authors. Lila Felix had tried to sway me into this style for some time, she told me and I quote “this style puts the fun back in writing,” what she meant was that it was a rush, a challenge. The challenge of writing a novel, beginning, middle, and end had been met more than once, this was a new level, and it would be a blast to conquer it.

  It wasn’t until I went to a book conference and watched Lila on a panel with Rachel Higginson speaking of serials that I really got it, I understood it wasn’t a small short story, it was massive. Rachel Higginson, after the conference, spent long hours on the phone with me explaining the arc, how you needed more than one for this story. Her support didn’t stop there, at least once a week she would check in to see what episode I was on, and always encouraged me forward – she understood the addiction I was in the middle of.

  Shelly Crane, the text messages that came to check on the story was priceless, and her feedback after the first episode made my day.

  As you can clearly see, people often think that writers have solitary lives, and in some real fashion we do, but more so than not, the story you are reading was impacted by not only those that walked the publishing line with the writer, but the world at large. Inspiration is everywhere, in every dark and positive moment, in every song, drive, commercial, everything is inspiration, life is beautiful, even the dark stressful moments are. You just have to find that beauty and thankfully I have outstanding people in my life that ensure that I notice each of them.