Master of Salt & Bones

by Keri Lake

  My bookshop. Mine. Excitement swells in my chest at the thought of that.

  “Rhea agreed to help you out, show you the ropes, though she mentioned, you had a pretty good handle on things having spent so much time here. I have someone who can help you with the financials. If you’d like, we can hire a cleaning crew and contractor to fix the place up a little.”

  “That doesn’t leave much for me to do.”

  “You’ve got books to read. Lots of them, because a good saleswoman should know her product inside and out, after all.”

  A giggle escapes me. A freaking giggle. I never giggle, but this man has me so giddy, I can’t help it. “Lucian, did you buy me a bookstore just so I’d have a place to read books? You know I’d do that just about anywhere, right?”

  “I’ve spied on a few of your baths, yes. But in this case, no. I bought it as an option for you. And to piss off the Township.” His finger hooks my chin, and he lifts my gaze to his. “There are no obligations with this, Isa. You can walk away any time.”

  “Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, you’ve probably had a tracking chip installed while I was asleep.”

  “Did you feel it, or something?” His stern face breaks into a smile when he kisses me again. “Go. The suspense is killing me.”

  I could pass for a clown with the permanent smile on my face, as I turn around and make my way to the front door. The skeleton shaped key slips into the lock, and the bell chimes as I push through the door.

  A warm familiarity embraces me when I step inside, breathing in the scent of old books. My shop. My very own bookstore. It doesn’t even feel real.

  As I pass the shelves of old books, I run my fingers over their spines, and pause mid-row to find the glass encased copy of Dracula.

  “I paid a little extra for that one. It’s not for sale. It’s yours to keep.”

  “Why did you do this for me?” I turn to face him, blinking hard to ward off the oncoming tears.

  Hands tucked casually in his pockets, he looks around the place and shrugs. “I want you to be happy.”

  I’m glutting with happiness right now, and I can’t help but feel like, any minute, the carpet will be pulled out from under me. In my world, happiness is fleeting, the high at the end of a long stretch of lows. In my world, when you hit a streak of good luck, you duck, because right around the corner is the next swing of bad.

  This feels unbalanced, for the lows I’ve suffered in my life.

  “What about you? Are you happy?” I ask.

  “More than I’ve ever been, which I guess proves that we’re not as fatalistic as we’d like to believe.”

  “How so?”

  “When you feel dead inside, you inevitably reach for things that make you feel alive. Pain. Adrenaline. Drugs. That’s how vices are born. That’s how you became my obsession. You are what makes me feel alive. Like a breath of air after drowning.”

  Setting my hand to his cheek, I run the pad of my finger across the grisly scars there, ones I hardly notice nowadays. “I think I’m in love with you, Lucian Blackthorne. And you don’t have to say it back to me.” I can’t be certain, because I’ve never loved a man in my life, and likewise, no man has ever spoken those words to me in return.

  “Everything I’ve ever loved, truly loved, has been ripped away from me.” Brows stern, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “And that scares the shit out of me, where you’re concerned.” Even the times when he’s hard and aloof, I’ve felt his care for me. I know something’s there, just like the shadows on the walls back at the manor. I don’t have to see it, or hear it, to feel it everywhere. He doesn’t have to say it.

  I push up onto my tiptoes to kiss him. Glancing around the shop, I sigh. “I’m a business woman now. You know what that means?”

  “You’ll be wearing skirts more often than not?”

  “It means you’ll get to see my ruthless side.”

  “They’re books, Isa. Not million dollar mergers.”

  “You don’t know book hoarders like I do. They take their assets very seriously.”

  Leaning to the side, I look past him to check the Closed sign on the door, and back away, removing my long winter trench coat.

  Golden eyes watching my every move, he keeps his distance.

  I drop the coat to the floor and step back, deeper into the rows of books, away from the front windows of the store.

  He steps toward me, tipping his head in curiosity. “What’s this?”

  “Is it only boats you christen? Or bookstores, too? I’m not sure.”

  Sliding his black trench over his shoulders, he tosses the garment onto the floor beside mine. “I’m fairly certain you christen both, but you’re not old enough for a bottle of champagne.”

  “That’s too bad.” I continue to back myself toward the wall of books behind me, until I’m well out of sight of anyone passing by the shop. “I hear it’s bad luck if you don’t. Sort of like crossing paths with a Blackthorne.”

  A crooked smile kicks up the corner of his lips as he steps toward me, until caging me against the books. “Then, I guess you’re screwed.”

  “I guess I am.”

  Slipping his fingers beneath the hem of my sweater, he yanks it over my head, his eyes alight with fascination as he runs his hands over the lace bra, one he bought for me, no less. Tongue sweeping over his lips, he yanks the fabric down, popping a nipple free, and devours the hard tip of my flesh. He hikes my leg up over his hip, testing the seam of my A-line skirt, and his eyes roll back the moment his fingers make contact with damp panties. “Fuck me. You do this on purpose.”

  “If it disappoints you, I’m happy to wear grannies with panty liners from here on out.”

  “No grannies. And no liners. I like your panties wet.” Burying his face in my neck, his mouth hunts my throat, licking and biting and kissing. Frantic and impatient, he leaves a hot, wet trail of kisses across my neck, over my collarbone and back up again, while his fingers dig into my thigh. I’ve never known a man to make my breath stutter and muscles tremble with his kiss, the way Lucian’s does. It’s like a full body reaction.

  He hoists me up and sets me down on the smooth wooden surface of a nearby reading table, the same table where I once sat while losing myself in racy bodice rippers, dreaming of one day knowing that kind of passion. The hard edge presses against my palm, and I arch into him.

  “You seem feisty today,” I breathe, just before his teeth press against my throat, pushing a moan past my lips.

  “I’ve never fucked you in a bookstore.” The clink of his belt is the only warning before he springs himself free, and with my leg hiked, he pushes my panties aside and prods himself at my entrance.

  “And that turns you on?”

  “Everything about you turns me on.” Flames in his gaze ignite, when he drives his hips forward, and I melt against him. His palm hits my throat, and he squeezes while his greedy lips devour the air between us. The intensity of his kiss is stronger than before, as if something is different between us, all of a sudden. He’s not just kissing me. He’s claiming me. Owning me. And every drive of his hips proves the point, as I willfully surrender to him.

  Between the grip of my throat and his mouth on mine, I can’t breathe. My chest tugs for air, while my muscles tighten and quiver, edging me closer to release.

  Every slam of his hips is rough and determined, and the growls against my lips only punctuate the frenzy of his movements. With each powerful stroke, his muscles tense and flex as he takes me like an animal. Raw masculinity radiates from every pore on this man’s body, and when he ups the pace, I realize just how small and fragile I am beneath him.

  How easily he could break me, if he wanted.

  The air wanes inside my lungs, my head growing dizzy with his relentless drive toward climax. As if sensing my urge to pass out, he releases me, and his eyes are pools of liquid flames searing me from the inside out.

  Coated in a sheen of sweat, I tip my head back to a long and agonized
moan that tears from my chest. Mouth to my breast, he sucks and licks the sensitive swell of flesh, before his palm swallows it in a tight squeeze.

  “You feel so fucking good, Isa.” Voice ragged, he grips my lower back, keeping one hand locked on my throat, and continues his relentless assault. Strong hands latch to my thighs, and he draws me closer, as if he isn’t deep enough.

  Yet, I feel him so deeply inside of me. Everywhere. On my skin. Behind my shuttered lids. Across my lips.

  Lucian.

  My moans drone on, shaking my ribcage, as a flash of light hits the back of my eyes, and in one last punishing thrust, his curses bounce off the walls around me. Tingles bullet beneath my skin, warming my blood, as he shudders against me. Our bodies pressed close, we breathe. Slower. Slower. Slower still. Until every muscle is soft and useless, our heartbeats pounding in tandem.

  “From here on out, I want you in my bed. Beside me.” The harsh rasp of his voice reflects his rough handling of moments before. He squeezes a handful of my hair and kisses my neck.

  “That sounds an awful lot like plot to me,” I say, equally out of breath.

  “And?”

  “Are you sure? I mean, sleeping in your bed … that’s quite a bit of commitment for you.”

  “I’ve done a number of crazy things since I met you. What’s one more?”

  I try to push him off in play, but his solid body doesn’t move, and instead, he presses himself closer.

  With my hair still caught in his fist, he tips my head back, guiding my eyes to his. In spite of his comment a second ago, his expression is humorless. “I’m not going to lie, Isa. My reasons are entirely selfish. I won’t have anyone else touching you.”

  “What made you change your mind?”

  “You.” Expression weighted with vexation, he traces a thumb from my temple to my lips. “Being with me comes with some risk, though. I promise to shield you from it, as much as I can, but it’ll always be there.”

  His words bring to mind something my mother used to tell me when I was a little girl, perhaps the only small bit of advice she ever gave me. “Love and danger make for one hell of a good life. Something my mom used to say.”

  “She wasn’t wrong.”

  “She wasn’t. So, I’ll take my chances and stay with you.”

  “Good answer.” Hands tightening around my back, he lifts me up into his arms for another kiss. “As fucked as I’ll be for saying this, I do love you, Isa.”

  My heart flutters in my chest, eyes stinging with tears, and I wrap my arms around his neck. “You are so fucked.”

  It was my mother who first told me that there was no such thing as fairy tales with happy endings. That’s because she spent her whole life waiting for the white knight to come and rescue her from the life she so desperately tried to escape.

  I went in search of the villain, instead, and found him alone and in pain, living in a castle of bones. A darker version of my mother’s knight, whose armor had dents and cracks, and his hands sullied with blood. A broken man who tasted of salt and depravity, and who took me selfishly, without apology. He’s the curse my mother warned me about. The Devil of Bonesalt, the Mad Son, with whom I’ve fallen irrevocably in love.

  This town may cast us off as a sick perversion, a tragedy in the making, but I don’t care. Together, we are madness. And there is music in madness, and madness in love.

  It doesn’t matter what the world thinks of us.

  Because we’re the composers, the conductors of our own fate, and we write the notes to a beautiful, dark melody that no one else can hear.

  I hope you enjoyed Lucian and Isa’s story.

  Please consider leaving a review. Long or short, your review is always appreciated, and along with telling a friend about the book, it is the most wonderful gift you can give an author ❤️

  Keep scrolling to check out my other books.

  Thank you for reading.

  Other Books By Keri Lake

  VIGILANTES SERIES

  RICOCHET

  BACKFIRE

  INTREPID

  BALLISTIC

  JUNIPER UNRAVELING SERIES

  JUNIPER UNRAVELING

  CALICO DESCENDING

  KINGS OF CARRION

  SONS OF WRATH SERIES

  SOUL AVENGED

  SOUL RESURRECTED

  SOUL ENSLAVED

  SOUL REDEEMED

  THE FALLEN (A SONS OF WRATH SPINOFF)

  THE SANDMAN DUET

  NOCTURNES & NIGHTMARES

  REQUIEM & REVERIE

  STANDALONES

  RIPPLE EFFECT

  Acknowledgments

  This book would not have been possible without the love and support from these wonderful people:

  My husband and children, who continue to put up with me (in other words, have not yet had me committed) in spite of the fact that I spend a number of hours out of the day hanging with my imaginary friends. I love you. And my friends said they do, too.

  To my family who supports me without judgement and always has my back.

  My long-time editor and friend, Julie Belfield, who unfortunately, has never had the pleasure of reading one of my stories without wanting to scratch her eyeballs out. In fact, she’s probably cringing at all the misplaced commas in this, paragraph. Thank you for braving the very first draft, no matter how disastrous. Your support and investment in every book has meant more to me than you will ever know.

  Books need a catchy cover and this one blew me away! Many thanks to Hang Le for, once again, rendering me speechless with her insane talent.

  Massive thanks to Morten Munthe for his stunning photography and the beautiful, dark and haunting image that perfectly captured the mood and tone of this story.

  As I mentioned, my manuscripts tend to be a cataclysm of thoughts thrown onto the page in an effort to get them out of my head as quickly as possible. Therefore, I have to thank my very fearless betas for braving the early drafts. Lana, Terri, Diane and Kelly, thank you for diving in, without hesitation, to make this a better book.

  If I look like I have my shit together, it’s because I have an awesome assistant (fairy godmother) who keeps me on track. Thank you, Diane, for all that you do.

  My Vigilante Vixens, who make me smile and give me a small corner of the internet where I can let go and be myself. Love and hugs to all of you!

  To the bloggers who have taken a chance on my books and share the love with others, I see you and I thank you.

  And finally, to my readers, without whom, none of this would be possible. As long as you keep reading, I’ll keep writing. Your support means everything to me.

  About the Author

  Keri Lake is a dark romance writer who specializes in demon wrangling, vengeance dealing and wicked twists. Her stories are gritty, with antiheroes that walk the line of good and bad, and feisty heroines who bring them to their knees. When not penning books, she enjoys spending time with her husband, daughters, and their rebellious Labrador (who doesn’t retrieve a damn thing). She runs on strong coffee and alternative music, loves a good red wine, and has a slight addiction to dark chocolate.

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