Copyright 2014 Jennifer Malone Wright
License Notes
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
ISBN-13: 978-1500745875
ISBN-10: 1500745871
Formatting by Inkstain Interior Book Designing
InkstainFormatting.com
Visit the website of Jennifer Malone Wright at
www.jenniferwrightauthor.com
I would like to thank my good friends Rose and Kym for helping with every step during the process of bringing this story into the world.
A big, huge thank you to Regina Wamba of Mae I Design and Photography for the rockin cover which the story itself was born around.
Thank you to my editor at Ink Slasher Editing.
I want to thank my amazing team leader and friend Jeni for absolutely everything that you do. You have been a life saver so many times over the last couple of years.
A shout out here for Willow and Cheree because you guys are a huge part of this as well.
I love you all.
Finally, thank you to my husband, for his continued support and encouragement of my writing. Thank you, Honey. I love you.
Savior (A Higher Collective Novel)
Once Upon a Zombie Apocalypse – Jade (Always free)
Once Upon a Zombie Apocalypse: Episode 2
The Vampire Hunter’s Daughter Part 1 (Always free)
The Vampire Hunter’s Daughter: Part 2
The Vampire Hunter’s Daughter Part 3
The Vampire Hunter’s Daughter: Part 4
The Vampire Hunter’s Daughter: Part 5
The Vampire Hunter’s Daughter: Part 6
The Vampire Hunter’s Daughter: The Complete Collection
(All six parts a total of 72,000 words)
The Arcadia Falls Chronicles is The Vampire Hunter’s Daughter story continued
Love & War (The Arcadia Falls Chronicles 1)
Taking Talon (The Arcadia Falls Chronicles 2)
Vampire Apocalypse (The Arcadia Falls Chronicles 3)
Jackson Walker peeled open his eyes when the morning sun came streaming through his bedroom window.
“Fuck.” He ripped the black cotton sheet away from his naked body and staggered toward the windows. Once he maneuvered past the maze of clothing on the floor he grasped the heavy drapes and yanked them shut.
With a groan, he detoured to the kitchen instead of going back to bed. “Fucking cheap ass beer,” he muttered under his breath as his feet hit the cold tile of the kitchen floor. The tiny little house actually had a decent kitchen in it, not that it mattered to him, since he hated cooking and avoided any sort of kitchen activity … unless it involved a blonde with nice rack, then activities in the kitchen were acceptable.
At the ancient porcelain sink he reached up and grabbed the bottle of aspirin off the window sill. He poured three into his hand and popped them into his mouth, following up by chugging a gigantic tumbler of water.
“Hey, baby.”
He heard the sugary voice of the woman behind him and wished he had sent her home the night before. The awkward business of sending them home the next day was one of those things Jack never looked forward to. Not that he really cared about their feelings. It was more of an inconvenience than anything.
He turned around and leaned against the sink, giving her full view of his nakedness. She stood in the doorway to the kitchen, his white cotton tee shirt covering her more than amazing upper body. He noticed she had also slipped the tiny wisp of black fabric she called panties back on. Briefly he wondered how they were even still in one piece after the night before.
“What are you looking at?” He asked her, knowing full well exactly where her eyes had gone. The glossy look of lust that Jack was more than familiar with appeared in her eyes as she ran her gaze from his eyes, down over his taut muscles, and finally settling below his midsection. She licked her bottom lip and bit down on it gently before gliding toward him.
Jack felt the sudden rush of blood as he grew hard, knowing that Janet … or Janice, was ready for another round. He waited for her to come to him. She crossed the kitchen, tossing her long dark hair behind her shoulder just before she pushed herself up against him.
“Let’s go back to bed,” she whispered, rubbing her tee shirt covered breasts against his naked chest.
Jack groaned as his erection pushed against her panties. “Right here seems fine with me,” he whispered in her ear, bending down to grasp her legs and lift her up so that he could more efficiently grind himself against her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her head back with a moan. Jack could feel her panties almost dripping with want for him already. Any man would have a hard time turning that down. With ease, he spun around and set her tiny ass on the edge of the counter, yanking her legs forward so that his erection pushed hard between her thighs.
Reaching down, she lifted his tee shirt up over her enormous breasts. Jack knew they were fake, but they were still down right amazing. Over the head with the shirt and onto the floor, leaving Janet … or Janice, God why wasn’t he better with names, in only her tiny black panties. Deciding instantly that she wasn’t going home with those intact, he ran his finger across the inside, grazing her sweet spot. With a sudden gasp she arched her back, thrusting herself toward him. At that moment he curled his finger around the fabric and yanked. The string of lace at the hip popped loose and he pulled them all the way down her leg and over the toe where the ruined panties joined the discarded shirt.
Before he went any further, he felt around below the edge of the counter, searching for the handle of the drawer he filled with junk from his pockets. He knew there was a condom in there somewhere. If not, he was going to have to take her back to the bedroom because there was no way he was fucking anyone without a condom. He didn’t have a clue where most of the women he was with had been and furthermore, the very last thing he needed was to knock someone up.
Better safe than sorry.
His hand shuffled around and then, bingo. As quick as he could he brought the square package to his lips and ripped it open with his teeth. He had the thing on pretty much instantaneously. If putting a condom on in record time was ever made into a sport, he was likely to be voted the fucking MVP.
Up against her again, he pulled her close with one large hand and let the other find its way into her hair, grasping a handful and pulling back.
“Now,” she moaned, “right now.”
With no further invitation needed, he pushed into her and his lips found hers. Her moans were muffled against his lips and tongue with each thrust. He felt her orgasm building, until finally she erupted, thighs clenching around his waist and her body thrashing against him.
At the exact same moment of his own climax, he grasped her head with both hands to prevent her from moving away. Keeping his mouth crushed against hers, he felt her soul release from its encasing tomb of a body and flow up through her chest and throat. The blue mist of her soul that he could not see was transferred into him. Souls had no taste, but filled him the same as food would satisfy a ravenous hunger.
His body lurched again with another orgasm in response to the soul entering him. He felt the woman’s body begin to weaken as her grasp on him loosened. He ripped his mouth away from hers, breaking the se
al of the transfer for the soul.
Carefully, he pulled her against him. Her head lolled to the side and her limbs sagged.
“Shit.” He silently chastised himself for taking too much. With some of the living he found that he could take a little of their soul and they would never even know because they were dying inside already. Mostly this type of person was found in the depressed, alcoholics, hookers, and the like. The living soul provided so much more for him than the dead souls did, not to mention that they were still alive. He may be a self-admitted asshole, but there was something about taking a soul and preventing it from crossing over that didn’t sit right with him. He preferred to know that he wasn’t a murderer and taking the souls of the dead was on the same level for him.
Most of the women he took from never had a clue anything was wrong. It was masked by their orgasm, and usually some sort of booze.
With a sigh he scooped her up, letting her limp legs hang over one arm, her head and arms dangling over the other and carried her into the bedroom where he deposited her onto the bed. As he set her down onto the soft bedding, her dark eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him with confusion. “Damn it,” she croaked. “I must still be a little drunk. I think I passed out.” She pushed herself up onto her hands so that she was sitting up and then used one of her hands to brush the brunette locks away from her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
Jack rose up and stood over her, looking down at the beautiful woman who would never be for him. He ate souls to live, and she was a single woman who didn’t think she was worth anything. Life had beaten her into submission so badly that she no longer lived for herself, but merely to survive. He just couldn’t be with any woman who was half dead inside because he would end up killing her himself.
Sadly, this was the problem he encountered with most women.
“No worries,” he told her, turning away. “I’m going to go get in the shower. I have an appointment in about an hour, so…”
“You want me to leave?”
He nodded. “Nothing personal.” He spread his hands. “This was fun, but I can’t let you stay here while I’m gone.”
She turned her head away to avoid his eyes and self-consciously covered her breasts with one hand while pulling the sheet over her midsection with the other. “I’ll get my things together in just a minute. I’m still feeling a little bit dizzy.”
Jack smiled, flashing her his perfect set of white teeth. “Take your time.”
She looked up at him like he was the biggest asshole on the face of the earth, because even she knew that ‘take your time’ was read as ‘get the fuck out.’
Still naked, he sauntered through the door to the connecting bathroom. Once inside, he leaned over the ancient clawfoot tub and turned on the hot water. The tub had a circular curtain around it and a shower head had been added to the original fixtures. After making sure he had a towel on the rack for afterward, he stepped into the shower and let the hot water wash over him.
The wicked headache from the cheap beer he had downed the night before still plagued him, despite the aspirin and sex. Bending over he turned the water on as hot as he could take it, and then grabbed up his trusty bar of Irish Spring and began the ritual of scrubbing the sweat and sex away from his body.
He didn’t really have an appointment to get to, and he stayed in the shower purposely longer than he would have normally showered to give Janet … or Janice, time to get her clothes on and leave.
When the water heater finally gave out and the water began to run cold he turned the faucet off and stepped out onto the cushy blue bath mat to dry off. After drying his body, he wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped up to the sink. He used the hand towel to wipe away a spot on the mirror so that he could see his reflection.
His hair was getting a bit longer than he usually wore it. The wet charcoal locks fell down over his green eyes, scraping against his long black lashes that most women would kill for. He hadn’t shaved for a couple of days, except to trim it up. He turned his face from side to side in the mirror, inspecting his facial hair and tossing around the idea of growing a goatee.
After deciding against the goatee and simply tidying up the hair that was already there with his electric trimmer, he brushed his teeth and then made his way back to the bedroom where he slipped on a pair of jeans and a plain black tee shirt.
The serene silence of the old house was abruptly interrupted by his phone ringing. He recognized the ring he had set for his mother and hurried over to the nightstand where he had left his phone the night before.
“Hey Mom.”
“Jackson.” Her response was cold, as it always was.
“How are things going at home? Everyone all right, Dad?”
“Everything here is fine, your father is doing well … for now. The Florida heat wears on him though, we are considering a move to a more regulated climate.”
“I’m glad he’s all right.”
A short silence took place before his mother continued to speak. “Have you found the new Keeper?”
“No Mom, I just got here.”
He heard her sigh over the line and he could picture her sitting in one of the uncomfortably straight dining room chairs in their uncomfortably fancy dining room, shaking her head at his incompetence. “Jackson, you have had ample time to get used to your accommodations. What have you been doing with your time?”
He glanced over at the rumpled sheets strewn across his bed and grinned. “Just getting to know my way around town.”
Another sigh. “Which means you have been whoring yourself around, I take it.”
Jack didn’t respond. Camille Walker was one he learned early on not to argue with.
“Jackson, you have to understand that your freedom with your sexual endeavors does reflect on the family. I just don’t understand why you have to go around giving yourself to every money hungry slut on two feet. There are plenty of women of our kind who would be more than happy to be with a man such as yourself.”
It was Jack’s turn to sigh. “It’s not about that mom.”
“Well what it is about then, please enlighten me.” Even though he sensed her anger, her voice didn’t change one octave. She had been that way ever since he could remember. Camille didn’t have to raise her voice. She was unnervingly calm all the time.
“Just let it go, please. I’ll slow it down,” Jack lied.
“You will get your head in the game, Son. You have one job and one job only. The Estmond Keeper needs to die and it needs to be soon.”
“I know, I know … because she could be the one the legend speaks of.”
“Sass me again, Jackson. I will have the guard there by tonight to drag your ass back home.”
“Get the job done and call me when it’s accomplished.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Goodbye, Jackson.” Camille hung up the phone without waiting for Jack to bid her goodbye as well.
Jack clicked off his phone and chucked it onto the bed. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself. Stupid fucking orders. The Reaper Council had plenty of Reapers out there to do jobs like this, but no, it had to be him because he was Camille and Ephraim Walker’s son. He couldn’t even count how many times in his life he had wished that he wasn’t their son.
The Reaper society came with a hierarchy, and his parents were at the top of that chain. Only the High Elder of The Reaper Council sat above his parents, which left him next in the line of Walkers to take his father’s place, and that looked like it was going to be sooner rather than later if his father’s health kept deteriorating.
He had no interest in killing the Estmond Keeper, or even going into her graveyard. He would have been happy just to hang out in Summer Hollow for a month or so and then go back home, or find another place to chill for a while. But, apparently, the orders were something that the Council was not going to ignore and he was going to have to get the job done.
He sat on the edge of the bed, grabbed his boots and shoved his feet into
them. He would have to wait until nightfall to head over to the graveyard, so first things first. Time to chase the lingering hangover with some caffeine and a nice greasy breakfast at the diner.
Jack headed out the door, not bothering to lock it behind him, and headed straight for his black Ford truck parked in the gravel driveway. Once behind the wheel, he started the engine and looked through the windshield at the scenery surrounding his rented place. Oak trees were gathered around the house, with a few pines stuck in between them. A crescent shaped pond lay at the bottom of the slope on the west side of the house. On that same side of the house was a porch with an expanse of lawn, a fire pit, and a few pieces of outdoor furniture.
This was a nice place, cozy and peaceful. Nothing like the cold, harsh home and décor he had grown up with. This was exactly the kind of place he could actually think about settling down for a while.
Although, after killing the Keeper, he would have to disappear and let the Reaper Council do what they do best and cover it up. Settling down any time soon simply was not in the cards for Jack Walker.
Inch by painstaking inch, the casket sank lower into the freshly churned earth.
The scent of lilacs floated on the breeze, along with the heavy stench of perfume and cologne, reminding Lucy of the fragrance aisle in a department store.
Lucy stood beside the grave, dressed in a modest royal blue sundress. She had chosen it specifically because her father always said the color looked the best against her hair, which was a mix of reddish brown that shone burgundy in the sunlight.
Tilting her head up, Lucy looked through the canopy of the aging oak trees that were scattered throughout the cemetery. The breeze shifted the branches, causing a few of the leaves to pull free and flutter off into the wind. There were almost no clouds in sky, allowing the sun to shine down over the funeral.
Keeper vs. Reaper (Graveyard Guardians Book 1) Page 1