She groaned, setting her face in her hands.
The fact he chuckled about her humiliation didn’t help. “When I got the call from Lila you were at her house, I was pretty shocked, and goddamn relieved. Surviving a wolf attack? You’ll be legendary, Nadine.”
“Ha. A legendary idiot. Had Lila not shown up when she did, I would’ve been nothing but a memory and a pile of bones.” She settled back in the seat.
“I wouldn’t get too comfortable,” he warned with a lightness in his tone. “The second I told Marex where you were, and that you were okay, he nearly took off on foot.” He turned right to the main road and hit the gas. “So I let him come with, but Seth, Reed, and Brogan have had to hold him down to keep him from running to you.”
Hold him down?
Another mile down Kane pulled off to the side of the road, where there was a truck parked. Their headlights beamed on a scene that had Nadine’s heart lurching with sorrow, with the shifters holding her fated’s arms, and Jean-Luc standing in front of him, constantly holding him back every time Marex tried to break free. The look on Marex’s face was one of desperate terror, determination, and concern. His teeth were bared, proving he was willing to fight his own friends to get to her.
What had she done? “Oh my,” she whispered.
Kane sighed, shaking his head and putting the car in park. “Exactly.”
Either because he was too upset to notice, or because he couldn’t see her, her lover continued yelling at the four to let him go, that he needed to find her.
She closed her eyes, preparing herself, then got out of the car.
“Marex!”
All went still, including him. Jean-Luc glanced over his shoulder, muttering some kind of relief in French. Kane walked toward them, giving a sharp nod that signaled they could let him go. Reed and Chase simultaneously released their grips on his arms, lifting their hands to show they’d meant him no harm.
He pushed past Jean-Luc, eyes wide, breathing labored.
Seeing him like that broke her. All of the strength she’d summoned crumbled as she shuffled toward him, ashamed of what she’d done, the anxiety she’d caused, the bike she’d damaged. Everything. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears gathering. “I’m so sorry.”
Marex exhaled, closing his eyes, as she drew closer. She wanted to throw herself in his arms and demand he hold her, but she had no right to make demands, only apologies.
“M-Marex, please,” she sobbed, needing him to reach out.
He sank down to one knee, then the other, placing his hands on her waist, and pulling her in. What she’d put him through, she could only imagine, but was certain he’d tell her every excruciating detail later. She laced her fingers in the back of his head as he hugged her tight, turning his face, and locking her in his arms.
The other five turned away, talking amongst themselves in low tones.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” he uttered, setting his forehead on her lower belly.
She sighed, dropping her head, wishing she could go back in time and a make different choice. “Okay,” she was all she could choke out, too close to sobbing.
Jean-Luc and Brogan had each expressed how happy they were to see she was okay, and insisted she share the story of her encounter with the wolf someday. She didn’t get a chance to speak to Reed, who’d gotten on his phone before she could approach him. His bike was in the truck bed, and she hoped it wasn’t totaled beyond repair, determined to pay for it somehow.
Seth chucked her under her chin and tsked with a sardonic, “Women.”
Chase asked if he was permitted to hug her, and Marex relented, since it’d been seven days, and probably because he knew, and liked, the shifter a lot more than he did the first night.
The ride was quiet. Kane, Seth, and Reed took off in the truck, and the rest of them rode in the car. She sensed everyone was tired, possibly still hungover, and that Marex was either so relieved she was safe he had nothing to say, or was waiting until they were alone to vent his anger.
They were following the truck to a warehouse, where Marex was set to pick up a car for their trip to Canada, a plan that was still firmly in place. The suspicions and doubts she’d had earlier were just a product of her overreaction to the circumstances. There was no trap, betrayal, or deceit. Perhaps her past had made her more paranoid than she thought, quick to believe in the worst, instead of hoping for the best.
She sighed, and rested her head on Marex’s shoulder.
The warehouse was where they said their final goodbyes to everyone. Brogan and Jean-Luc had jobs to get back to, and were going to be Marex’s eyes and ears in New York. He shook their hands and yanked them in a masculine half-hug, expressing his gratitude for their loyalty and friendship. She knew they’d see them again soon.
Chase told her the trunk was packed with supplies and provisions for their journey, including a brand-new burner cell phone for them to use to contact the pack.
“Oh, and I threw in a couple magazines and girly books in there for you, too,” he told her, shutting the truck down. “My sister has a ton of that stuff and shipped them overnight a couple days ago.”
Seth gave her his pocket knife, and she laughed, thanking him. He simply winked at her.
While Kane and Marex were talking and giving each other respectful slaps on the back, she spotted Reed leaning against the truck, head hung, arms crossed, chewing on a toothpick.
Tentatively, she approached him. “I’m—” she squeezed her eyes for emphasis, “very, very sorry for what I did. You told me to stay inside and I should have. I can’t tell you how bad I feel about your motorcycle. I’ll send you whatever you need to fix it.” She twisted her fingers, unsure her apology meant anything, as he still had his head down. Gods, he must be really mad not to even acknowledge her. “Um, I…hope you don’t take what I did as insult to your skills as a bodyguard or anything. I just thought something happened to you when you didn’t come back—”
He grabbed the toothpick and tossed it. “You don’t have to feel bad. I have insurance.”
Finally. He speaks. “Oh. So, you have enough coverage for impulsive, irrational, hysterical female vampires who don’t listen to orders that will protect them?”
He met her gaze for the first time, and cracked a smile. “The deductible is disgusting.”
She smiled. “You made a joke! I hope that means you don’t hate me. Obviously I’m a terrible client to bodyguard and need to learn to obey.”
“I hope whatever you do, Ms. Nadine, you never learn how to do that.” He patted her shoulder and walked off.
Kane past by him with a curious look before coming up to her, taking her hand, and kissing her knuckles. “Did I do it right?”
“Come on, Kane. I know fully well a southern man learned how to do that before he learned to piss standing up.”
He laughed at her attempt to mock his often vulgar humor. “You are a treasure, Nadine. I can see why your gods chose you for him.” He released her hand.
She smiled up at him, hoping he and Marex’s newfound friendship would continue to grow. “Thank you for everything. A thousand times, thank you. We might not have gotten this far without you.”
“From the courage you showed this afternoon? I think you both would’ve been right as rain. In any case, I’m glad I could offer temporary shelter from the storm that is sure to catch up to you soon enough. I have to get back to Louisiana, but I’m only a call away, and we’ll be in touch often to continue with our pursuit of peace.”
“One way or another, it’ll happen.” She went up on her toes and kissed his cheek.
Marex waited for her by the Jeep as the rest took off in the truck and car they’d arrived in. “Fond of the shifter leader, are we?”
“Not nearly as much as you are,” she teased as he pulled her to him.
“It’s a seven-hour drive where we’re going. We have more than enough time to get there by sunrise, but we’ll stop at a hotel on the way, right before we get
to the border, just to be on the safe side.”
“Sounds good.” She winced when he rubbed his hands up and down her arms.
“What’s wrong?” he asked in alarm.
“Nothing. Just my scratch.”
“You’re hurt?”
She sighed, removing her jacket so he could see the bandage. “It’s mostly healed,” she defended as he unwrapped the gauze. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore actually.”
He frowned, inspecting it, grazing a few of the cuts with the pad of his thumb. “Why didn’t you tell me? If you don’t feed soon, it’ll scar.”
And strangely… “I’m okay with that, actually.”
He shot his gaze to hers. “You are?”
Yes, unusual for a female vampire to accept any kind of scarring on their usually flawless skin, but Nadine realized she didn’t think like most vampires these days. “I know it’s weird, but kind of like the reminder of what I’ve been through. I think it makes me…distinctive,” she joked, raising a brow. “Amongst all the perfect women at the Centurias walking around with their unblemished skin and boring lives.”
Marex grinned and picked her up in his arms, turning her around, making her laugh and hold on.
“You are perfect and distinctive.” He set her down, cupping her face. “And you’re mine. And I love you. I love you so much it hurts.”
He leaned down to kiss her, but she leaned back. “But have you forgiven me?”
“No.”
“Marex!”
“We’ll talk about that in the car. And you can begin making your plea for my complete forgiveness at the hotel.”
“Oh, I see,” she said dryly, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You want me on my knees, begging.”
“It’s amazing we think so much alike.”
This time, when he came to kiss her, she let him, and the rush of desire and love swept over her protectively, with assurance that come what may, they would always have that to rely on to never change.
And there were many changes ahead of them.
The Centurias Newsletter
*A Century in the Making*
Greetings & salutations from Frostwythe Tower!
My first newsletter of the year as we countdown to our rabidly anticipated and notoriously unpredictable Centurias. Already it is forming to be unlike any other before it. I cannot place my finger on why, but trust me, as the reports (and gossip) trickle in, I am sensing each of those nine nights will reveal a surprise in one way or another. As you may imagine, preparations are coming together at a fury’s pace. Rumors abound that this century’s event is going to be the most exciting one to date (could it possibly top 18th Century??)
Your letters and inquiries have been pouring in regarding details. You know I do my best to keep my communication often to the powers-that-be, though they’ve been able to keep the secrets better than any being on earth.
The ever popular events are confirmed:
Silk & Savory Ball. Hosted by our infamous Nine twins, Wesson & Darwin Voltaire.
Madame Morsha’s Masquerade. Hosted by the queen of nightlife herself.
Virgin’s Blood Wine Tasting. Hosted by The Royal Bank.
I know you’re as desperate as I am for the location reveal. Little birdies say they’re keeping it in the northern territories. Perhaps Asia, perhaps Russia. Be prepared for anything. What marriages will be offered? What truces will be made? Broken? As most of us like to keep our intentions close to the chest, we won’t know for sure until January.
Until next time, keep those letters coming in. They make for perfect fireplace kindling.
Immortal Forsaken Series #2
Available Now!
After years of advising vampire royals on how to maintain their abominable wealth, pürblood Dison Huxford is aching for a way out. When a good deal goes south, he receives a phone call warning him he’s on a hit list. Prepared to meet the man who saved his life, he’s unprepared when his old flame Rebekah appears in his place, claiming she knows all the secret things he's been up to. He's watched her from afar, and purposely stayed away from her since their split, but he can't imagine letting her go a second time. Damned or no.
Rebekah always believed they would find their way back to each other. The dark, poetic desire in his eyes shows her their connection is as it’s always been: a lust like no other, a love only soul mates can claim. She has a secret of her own she can no longer keep, one that might destroy their fragile but passionate reunion. With a vengeful royal hot on their trail, there’s nowhere to run, only to hide. Dison ultimately wants to make more than money now, he wants to make history by helping Marex Daulton achieve peace with shifters. To do that, they need resources. And to stay alive.
He is an immortal forsaken…
Turn the page for a sample of Chapter One!
Did you miss Vol 1? Marex is available for FREE on Amazon!
Dison
Vol 2
The last time Dison was in a room this tense, someone got killed.
John Jacoby, sitting behind his desk, his upper lip in a constant snarl, ran his tongue over his teeth. “Let me make a call to my accountant before we go further.”
For an hour Dison had been negotiating with him, while the man with him, Kristof Miocic—nephew of his client, Ivan Miocic—mumbled insults in Croatian, ratcheting up the tension with every move of his freckled mouth. Jacoby’s office had no chairs save for his, an intimidation tactic to keep his guests uncomfortable on their feet, which only added to Kristof’s ire.
Dison knew bringing him was unwise.
Nevertheless, when your most important—and only—client tells you to do something, you do it, and Ivan had insisted Dison bring him. Against his gut instinct, Dison obeyed, despising that he had no choice. Kristof was a punk, had bullied people around his neighborhood for money, including beating up a handicapped teen who’d talked back to him, and allegedly sexually assaulted a human woman at a club.
And yet, Ivan aimed to have him lead his empire one day?
Dison had one singular goal, to bring together the Miocics and the Jacobys. A mission he was fairly confident he could accomplish by bringing up the magic word: money.
Ivan owned a transportation company; Jacoby sold guns and ammunition. Win-win. Hell, if the families hadn’t been enemies since the Dark Ages, then they probably would be the best of mates; they had more in common than not. However, they were not mates, and other powerful families were sick to death of the rivalry that was so old, no one even knew exactly why they hated each other. Only that it was high time they got over it.
Finally, after years of wearing him down, Dison talked Ivan into considering a mutually beneficial arrangement with John, if the terms were right.
But Kristof just had to accompany him to this meeting. To “learn” the art of the deal.
The second they’d walked into Jacoby’s office, and John set his sharp, icy blue gaze on Kristof, alarm bells had rung in Dison’s head. Jacoby had a zero tolerance policy for insolence, and Kristof had it coming off him in waves.
Dison could tell Jacoby hated the heir apparent, who’d dressed inappropriately for a formal meeting, showing up in crocodile shoes with sharp tips, a tight dress shirt with the buttons halfway done, a giant silver cross necklace, his blonde hair slicked back with a fine brush.
Dison, on the other hand, wore his usual business attire, a white shirt under a bespoke sport coat, his neatly trimmed hair finger-combed.
They couldn’t look more opposite.
Ivan insisted his nephew go because he desperately wanted Kristof to be respected, as he was, when he had to be aware his nephew just didn’t have it in him to be a leader of jack shit. Miocic also had two daughters, but was too much of a misogynist to let either one of them take over outright. Marina, beautiful, but aloof and introverted, preferred working on motherboards and hacking into highly secured databases for amusement.
Her older sister Kata was clever, ambitious, and fully capable of taking the rei
ns, but was headstrong, and lacked sophistication. Perhaps if Ivan had spent any time cultivating their strengths, they would be more than capable of standing at the helm, but Ivan wouldn’t consider it, desperately hoping his nephew was the prodigy he longed for.
Ever since he hit his maturation age at thirty, Kristof had been bulldozing his way into the business of things instead of earning it, which most entitled assholes tended to do.
Jacoby finally hung up the phone. “So do we have an accord, Mr. Huxford? Five percent?” he asked Dison.
Kristof spit on the expensive Peruvian carpet. “You call what you just offered a fucking accord? I call that piss.”
Jacoby stiffened. “I don’t give a fuck what you think.”
“Fuck you,” Kristof shot back, then glanced at Dison. “Tell him, Huxford.”
Dison’s jaw clenched. Miocic emphasized he wouldn’t take anything less than ten percent of the cut for transporting the guns, and Jacoby had offered five. Getting them to split to eight shouldn’t be a problem. The spoiled idiot obviously didn’t know the game of negotiation. The first offer was always the lowest, then a counteroffer was made, and finally, the number between the two was agreed upon. A kindergarten could grasp the concept.
Dison nodded. “I’ll relay the offer and get back to you.”
“You’re standing next to a Miocic and I say no!” Kristof snarled in his Croatian accent. “Twenty percent or shit.”
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