Copyright © 2017 by K.B. Ladnier
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Cover Design by Stacy Ane
Dedicated to the readers who actually like serials and the ones who understand why authors do them. You are the real MVPs.
Oh, and to the makers of Lucky Charms. I ate way too much of it as I wrote this.
Now that's a cereal I can get behind.
(Haha…get it? Cereal. Serial. Well damn…I figured you people who hated one kind of serial would still like the other kind.)
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Chapter 1
“Claudia Anne Adams! I’m going to murder you in your sleep!”
I had just awakened to hundreds of ping pong balls and at least a gallon of glitter shoved on top of me inside my coffin.
Being a vampire was hard enough in a society where even though we’d had equal rights for two decades, we still were the minority to humans. Having my best friend and roommate pranking me after I went to rest first, was not the best way to start my night. I loved that bitch to pieces, but I was not opposed to the idea of breaking her pretty, little neck if she didn't cut that shit out. She’d live, of course, since she was a vampire too; though she was much younger than me having only been turned three years ago.
Claudia Adams was one of the sweetest, yet most mischievous people I'd ever known. She was beautiful. Her dark, chocolate locks were straight at the top with only a slight wave at the tips that went to just above her breasts. Her skin was the usual pale white that all vampires had and she had the body of a supermodel. It was no wonder she was a top paid stripper at The Sassy Sanguine; an all vampire strip club she worked at. Also, it was why she had access to that much fucking glitter.
“That was for putting salt in my coffee yesterday, bitch. This was sweet, sparkly justice.” Claudia stood just out of reach with a smirk lighting her face as I tried in vain to spit glitter out of my mouth. We couldn’t eat anything, but we could drink anything as long as it was mixed with blood. She liked her blood sweet and her coffee sweeter, so salt seemed like a good way to ruin her nightly addiction.
“You're lucky I love you, or I'd have already gotten vengeance on you, you evil, little glitter demon.” I stood and dusted the glitter from my clothes, ping pong balls overflowing out of my coffin and bouncing along the concrete floor as I moved to step out.
“Oh, you would never, no matter how much I pissed you off. You’d miss me too much.” I used my inhuman speed to spin around in circles, blowing the glitter off me quickly and getting it all over her in the process.
“Even I have my limits,” I checked the time and realized I was going to be late for work. “Fuck! I still have this shit in my dreads and I'm going to be late again! Damn you, Claudia!”
She laughed heartily as I grabbed my clothes and entered the bathroom, hoping to get as much of the glitter out of my hair as I could.
I only had minutes to spare when I finally made it to work. I was a tattoo artist in one of the most popular tattoo shops in New York City. It was called Under the Skin Tattoo and Piercing Parlor and I loved it there.
I had been tattooing for almost twenty years now. I was turned at the ripe young age of twenty-six about forty-three years ago. I was still a bit bitter about being turned, since I'd barely just gotten my life together as a human. Though, I couldn't be too torn up about having flawless skin for life. However, the old, fragile Lucy Bryant that I had been had died that night. I would be frozen at this age for the rest of my existence. Unless of course, I was staked through the heart or I met the sun. I was now a bit more fearless, a lot crankier, and always fucking hungry. At least my job title worked well for night shifts. I was the only vampire who tattooed in this city and one of the few people who could make tattoos stay in the flesh of a vampire.
Blood and ink was the secret.
Being one of the pointed teeth posse and figuring out this little formula helped make my clientele grow exponentially. Even though vampires had come out of the coffin some fifty years ago, it took some time to gain equal rights with the humans. After quite a few years of fighting, we had our own justice system with vampires within that were able to help call the shots.
The world had changed and not long after, so did I. However, I didn't want to give up the life I had built after the fucked-up night I was turned. So, I began experimenting on my own skin to be the first to figure out how to make the ink stick in our skin.
By mixing a couple of drops of the vampire’s blood with the ink and using needles made of pure silver, I came up with the perfect combination. Our skin healed way too fast and destroyed the ink before it even set into our tissue. After many failed attempts, I figured out that by using silver needles, it kept the wound open long enough for the blood and ink mixture to take into the tissue. The blood of the vampire being tattooed helped the vamps body understand it was supposed to be there, so it wouldn't reject.
I was a total fucking boss.
“You’re late again, Lucy,” Ricky chastised me as I walked in.
“Yeah, yeah, bite me. At least, I showed up.” I was usually this snarky with my boss, Ricky, but he knew it was always in good fun. He dished out just as much shit as I gave him.
Ricky chuckled as he continued with his client. I set my satchel bag down in my swanky, little rolling chair and sighed. I had a full night ahead of me.
The shop was located on the corner of East Woodworth and 26th street, taking up a solid eight hundred square feet. The walls were painted an obnoxiously bright, lime-green color and the floors were black linoleum. We had an open floor plan with only the front desk area separating the lobby from the stations. Since I still had a knack for making human folk a little uneasy, my station was set up in the back-right corner. I stood out just as much as the other tattooed assholes up in here, but the pallor of my skin and red eyes gave away what I was.
Otherwise, I was as normal looking as anyone else; long, blonde dreadlocks, a lithe, five-foot-seven frame, tattoos everywhere – both from before I was a vamp and after I was turned – and I sometimes wore black-framed glasses that fanned out at the corners giving me a more fifties style vibe. It was obviously just for looks. I had perfect vision that exceeded twenty-twenty.
Ricky Mendoza was my boss and owner of the shop with his wife, Randi. They were a young couple but they treated me the same as they did when I started here four years ago, showing absolutely no prejudice to any of the supernatural community. Sloan Jenkins and Evan Sartin were my co-workers, but Sloan was the one who worked the graveyard shift with me from eight at night to four in the morning. I did get some nights off every now and then, but when I worked, it was always with him.
I took the crazy-ass vampire clients. Sloan took the stupid drunk humans and the skittish werewolves who refused to let me touch them.
It entertained me that the humans trusted him more than me, when he was actually a werewolf himself. Werewolves revealed themselves not long after vampires did, yet they tended to stick to country type areas, not highly populated cities like the Big Apple. Sloan was a special fur ball, with no pack and no desire to give in compl
etely to his wolf. He liked being around humans more.
“What's gotten into you tonight? Not get enough to eat?” Sloan asked with a tinge of amusement.
I hissed at him over my shoulder, which only seemed to amuse him by the smile he had on his face. I never intimidated him no matter how hard I tried.
“You offering fur face? I could go for a snack.” I flashed him a toothy smile. He rolled his eyes at me and settled in at his station across from mine, angling his chair to face me.
Sloan was a sexy guy, but it was pretty frowned upon to inter-species mix; which we did quite a lot since we’d been sleeping together on and off the last two years. There wasn't a law against it, but most vampires were prejudice against the Weres.
He was a bit over six feet tall with a wide muscular body, light, mocha colored skin and black curls that fell just below his ears. His eyes were my favorite, though; bright sage-green. In a way, he looked like a taller, darker, and heavily tattooed version of Jon Snow in Game of Thrones. It was just sex with us, but I secretly held a much hotter torch for him than I should. Sometimes I believed we both wanted more with each other, but he already sacrificed daylight to be around me. I didn't want him sacrificing more. Though sometimes, I don't think he quite grasped that concept.
“That's a dangerous thought, cupcake,” he said with a knowing grin. Our co-workers still had no idea about us; hence the over the top banter that made it sound like we hated each other. “But for real, what's up?”
I sighed and rolled my shoulders. “Claudia is being a super bitch. Her pranking is going to get her scrawny ass bit if she doesn't cut it out.”
Sloan chuckled, “What did that glitter demon do this time?”
I laughed at his use of the exact nickname I called her earlier. It was a pretty fucking accurate description.
“She filled my coffin with ping pong balls and a whole fucking tub of glitter while I was at rest. Took me a solid few minutes to figure out what the fuck was on my face, then almost another hour to get that shit out of my dreads.” Apparently, my story was heard by everyone in the shop, because immediately laughter filled my ears from everyone.
Sloan was falling sideways out of his chair in laughter, so I chucked my pen at his head in response.
“Yuck it up! You have no idea how hard it is to get glitter out of dreads!”
Sloan pulled himself together and plucked one of my dreads from my head and held it up, only to begin laughing even harder at the still prominent gold glitter that was stuck in there.
I slapped his hand away and shoved him so he’d fall out of his chair completely, which still didn't deter him from laughing at me. I was so going to kill Claudia when I got home.
“Claudia has a death wish, I’m tellin’ ya,” Ricky said as he now laughed at Sloan’s display. “That girl has no sense of self-preservation.”
I snorted as I took out my sketch pad and favorite drawing pencils from my bag, getting a design ready for one of my usual vamp clients to come in.
“She's either the bravest or the dumbest girl I’ve ever met. She’s a fetus in vampire years compared to you.” Sloan added, though right now, he had no room to talk.
I pointed my pencil at the Were as he stood and took his seat again. “Sloan, that's the pot calling the kettle black. You are about to become a throw blanket for my coffin if you don't shut your jaws.”
“Promises, promises. Bring it on vampy babe. I’d turn that sweet ass into a chew toy before you could grab the filet knife.”
Like he hadn't done that before.
His wolfish grin heated my belly when the image of him literally biting my ass all seductively popped into my brain, but I shut that shit down immediately and just mumbled, “You wish, dog breath,” then continued drawing.
He’s lucky he was hot, or I’d be less forgiving. I was technically a rather young vampire compared to the over two-hundred-year-old one who turned me, then left me right after without any instructions on what the hell to do next. I only had his name and his age. That was it. I barely remembered what he even looked like. He hadn’t truly wanted me, so I presumed I was turned for sport. Some local vamps took pity on the newbie though, and showed me the ropes on how to control the thirst. I still struggled every now and then, but I had done good for myself these last forty-three years.
My senses were extremely heightened and I could go from walking a normal pace, to running and out of sight within the blink of an eye. I tended to get in a little trouble with my mouth when it came to talking to others of my species, so being a fast runner compared to other vampires was useful. Sloan normally had to be the one to bail me out if my foul mood happened to gain the ire of another werewolf.
“You got a client tonight?” Ricky asked as he was wrapping up his client’s tattoo.
I nodded as I finished the phoenix sketch I’d been working on the last two nights. “Yeah. Some chick vamp wanted this on her ribs. I hope she's prepared for a world of hurt. It's going to be a bitch.”
“I don't doubt that,” he finished and took the money from the man, explaining the after care then grabbing his stuff. “I’m headed out for the night. You two hold down the fort.”
“Got it, boss! I’ll make sure Lucy here doesn't decide she needs one of the patrons for a midnight snack,” Sloan said this to Ricky, but he was grinning at me.
This time I reached over and slammed my pencil down into his thigh. He growled loudly and flashed his golden eyes at me, pulling it out and snapping it in half with the flick of his fingers.
That was worth using one of my pencils as a sacrifice to piss him off. It would heal, but he’d be sore there for the rest of the night.
I continued setting up my station with a smile on my face, pretending nothing had happened.
“I’m more worried she’ll turn you into a midnight snack if you don't watch it, Sloan.”
“Ha! See!” I shouted, smacking my hand on the toolbox with satisfaction. “Even Ricky knows you'd lose against me. Vamps rule and Weres drool. Like, literally…you drool.”
Sloan snarled at my joke, but I could see amusement lighting his face.
It was completely normal for Sloan and I to pick at each other so viciously, but it was honestly the only way we could handle being around each other without trying to jump the other’s bones while at work, or giving off what our relationship was like behind closed doors.
Maybe one day we could both admit how we really feel without fear of consequences. For now, this was okay to me.
Chapter 2
“You should use a nine-round needle for that outer line, make it pop better. It’ll do more for you than the seven round you're using and you won't have to go over it twice.”
I was getting to the end of my last client for the night when Sloan decided to put his annoyingness to use.
“I swear to god, if you do not stop trying to mansplain tattooing to me, I'm gonna tattoo your furry ass while you're sleeping with a fucking unicorn shitting dicks.” The vampire I was tattooing chuckled, making her body jerk with the reaction and almost messing up my line. I gave her a death glare.
“Is it really mansplaining if the man is better?”
“Take that back.” I pointed my machine at him threateningly.
“Okay, okay! But seriously, I wouldn't be completely opposed to that. It’d be on my furry ass anyways and you'd be one of the lucky few who would have to see it.” I hissed at him for insinuating about what goes on between us in secret in front of another vampire. This chick didn't need to know and we’d be better off if only our friends were in the loop.
He laughed it off as a joke though, and stage whispered to the girl, “She wishes I’d let her in my bed,” adding a wink in for good measure. She hissed at him.
“Leave my client alone, Sloan.” He raised his hands in surrender and walked back to his station.
I finished and wrapped the tattoo with plastic wrap, telling the girl to keep it on just until it scabbed in the next hour or so. We vampires had exc
ellent healing abilities, but silver takes a bit longer for our bodies to fully fix.
As I was finishing cleaning up my station, the bell above the door went off. It was ten minutes to four a.m. and I was in no mood for a last-minute tattoo. I’d have an hour to pick up some more blood from the donor market for mine and Claudia’s weekly supply before they closed, then get home and climb in my coffin to get some well needed rest.
When I looked up though, I froze.
There were very few things a supernatural feared, however, the one thing we all feared in equally large amounts, was standing in the entrance to the shop; an agent for the STF.
The STF, or Supernatural Task Force, were the judicial system I was talking about. They were a mix of the most bad ass humans and supernaturals that policed all the supernatural races. However, the humans on the STF had a little extra something about them. It was a mystery what the hell that organization fed their humans, but they stood just as tall and powerful as the supernaturals on their teams. They were abnormally strong, fast and could tell when either of the supernatural races lied to them. While the human justice system outlawed killing criminals unless there was full proof of evidence for them to face execution, with the STF, no questions were ever asked when they showed up at our door to deliver justice.
If one was here, it meant trouble.
Sloan inserted himself in front of me as the uniformed agent stepped further into the lobby, leaning his elbow on the counter with cool confidence.
I was ashamed to say; this agent was entirely too good looking for it to be fair. The combination of his stylish, short jet-black hair, and his dark skin gave him a Mediterranean look. He was maybe around six-foot-tall with a Greek slanted nose, steel-grey eyes just below thick, perfectly arched brows and his pointed chin was dusted with a bit of dark stubble. The hardest part of deciphering this guy though, was figuring out if he was one of those supercharged humans, or another supernatural. He definitely wasn’t vampire by the dark coloring of his skin, but I couldn't read werewolf off him either. He had to be human.
Blood and Ink: Under the Skin Serial Part One Page 1