Table of Contents
MIDNIGHT ASH
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
MIDNIGHT ASH
A Blushing Death Novel
SUZANNE M. SABOL
SOUL MATE PUBLISHING
New York
MIDNIGHT ASH
Copyright©2013
SUZANNE M. SABOL
Cover Design by Rae Monet, Inc.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Published in the United States of America by
Soul Mate Publishing
P.O. Box 24
Macedon, New York, 14502
ISBN-13: 978-1-61935-160-8
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The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
To my husband, Ross
You said you wanted me
to write something about ninjas . . .
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Debby Gilbert for taking a chance, being a fantastic editor and having the guts to be honest. She loves Dahlia Sabin just as much as I do and couldn’t wait to see what happened next.
I would like to thank my impromptu beta reader, Shahreena Shahrani. You keep me on track and remind me that I have people waiting on me to get the next one finished. To Brooke Metz for reminding me how strong you are when you need to be.
I would like to thank the members of Central Ohio Fiction Writers for always being supportive, giving unending encouragement and for reminding me that those rejections were a necessary part of the growth process. Riley Darkes, Karin Shah, and Jenna Grinstead, thank you in particular for your unending support and the happy hours that mean the world to me.
Last, I would like to thank my husband, Ross. He reads everything, poor thing. He tells me when I’m nuts, when I’ve gone off track and when I’m just not there yet. You mean more to me than you know.
Chapter 1
FUCK! I hurt.
The hardwood parquet floor was cold and unforgiving beneath me and my body ached with each move I made. Danny, a werewolf and my boyfriend, hovered over me as my eyes fluttered open. He was a little blurry around the edges but there, crowding me.
My brain pounded against the inner walls of my skull in a steady thump, thump, thump as my eyes came back into focus. My chest was tight and it hurt to breathe, like I’d been hit in the chest with a wrecking ball.
“What the hell?” I groaned. My voice was hoarse as I forced what little air there was from my lungs to speak. Danny’s brow was etched in deep furrows of guilt underneath the soft swing of russet hair that covered his forehead.
Since the night I’d killed Candace, a demon, and the reigning vampire Liege, Danny and Patrick had made it a habit of threatening each other’s lives if something happened to me. That night, Danny had had to perform minor surgery on me, digging a bone fragment out of my arm, setting two of my fingers, and giving me an infusion of blood in the privacy of my bedroom. I’d saved the city from certain ruin but they both seemed to forget that part. I’m human and they’re not. Something is going to happen to me. I know the risks and I choose to ignore them. I wished they would, too. I was damned tired of having a babysitter.
“I’m sorry, Dahl,” Danny said with a small apologetic grin. My name rolled off his tongue like a 40’s gumshoe says ‘doll’. It drove me nuts.
“Jackson threw Kurt straight into you.” Danny leaned down to peer into my eyes, flashing a penlight into them, blinding me momentarily. I only saw two of Danny instead of the four I’d seen when I first opened my eyes. The two Danny’s were slowly merging into one the longer I stared at him. He didn’t need to know that, though. The less he knew, the better.
“Looks like he knocked the wind out of you.” Danny reached down and slid his hand underneath my neck and tried to help me up. His fingers glided through my hair as he searched my head for lumps.
Danny had wanted to introduce me to the pack and it just happened to be the day there was a challenge to replace Danny as third. He’d moved up to Beta after Candace’s death. It didn’t seem like anyone held Candace’s death against me. Even if they did, I didn’t care. She’d needed killing.
I stood up, a little too quick. My brain sloshed inside my skull and my stomach turned over, not a good sign. I probably had a concussion . . . again.
“Don’t call me that,” I snapped as I stood on my own, irritated and unsteady. I was dizzy . . . sick . . . with a headache . . . yep . . . concussion. I glanced over to the center of the empty club.
Patrick had let the Pack use his club, Damsel, while it was closed during daylight hours for Pack meetings. Ethan had evidently kept everyone at each other’s throats. Now that Ethan was gone, everyone was talking again. It was a regular United Nations of supernatural beings in Columbus.
Jackson stood in the center of the floor with his shirt off. He was well built with lean muscles flexing beneath his pasty white skin but still gave me the impression that he was underfed, almost scrawny. Jackson was tall with shoulders too broad for his slim frame and a speckling of freckles covering his arms and chest. He stood straight, his back stiff with an air of imposition as if despite the freckles he was a badass. He had a sketchy tribal tattoo around his bicep that looked like it was drawn on his skin with a sharpie by a four-year-old. Tight cornrows held his fine, dirty blond hair back from his face. I found myself wondering if he had to get them redone every time he changed to wolf or if his fur remained in cornrows, too. I grinned as the image of a cornrowed werewolf danced in my head.
I met Danny’s gaze. I didn’t want to explain why I had a stupid grin on my face, so I straightened up and wiped the amusement from my face.
“I like her,” Jackson sneered at me with heat in his gaze and an erection tenting his acid-wash jeans. “She’s feisty.”
/> Danny’s chest vibrated with a harsh rumble and my ears filled with his threatening growl. The dangerous sound from back of his throat made the hair on the nape of my neck bristle. Danny crouched, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet and jammed his hand into my stomach, shoving me back. The place was filled with more than fifteen werewolves and one fragile human. I needed to stop this or someone—me—was going to get hurt.
“Guys, can we get back to it? I have places to be,” I snapped with an air of authority I hadn’t earned. I stood in the empty club surrounded by men and women that could rip me apart if they wanted. I’d learned a lot from Patrick in the past few months about smoothing over tense situations and diplomacy. Too bad I hadn’t thought to use it.
Jackson smirked and relaxed his shoulders. I guess I wouldn’t have to punch anyone this time. Awesome!
“I wouldn’t want to disappoint,” he said with a rough laugh in his voice as his eyes shifted from me to Danny. Kurt stalked up beside me, a little too close for my comfort but wolves are different. They like to be close, to smell you and rub up against you. The idea of personal space didn’t exist with the wolves. But I wasn’t a wolf.
“That was impressive,” Kurt whispered. His wasn’t the assertive, confident grin of Danny or even the dangerous sneer of Jackson. Both men had a swagger about them that let you know they were in charge, important. Kurt was smaller, stalky like a cement block walking around. He was about my height without heels so he had to reach up to speak in my ear. His German heritage was there in Kurt’s high cheekbones, straight nose, and green eyes. He was as white as a sheet and clammy from the exercise. Kurt needed a display of power to win the challenge and cowing to me wasn’t it. Even I knew that.
Jackson radiated anger and menace as he narrowed his gaze on Kurt and Danny. My gut tightened as his eyes met mine. His expression and the light in them turned possessive. My hand slid mindlessly beneath my black corduroy blazer to the knife strapped to my thigh. I slid my fingers around the soft leather handle. My mind and gut relaxed at the familiar, safe feeling of having my knife in my hand. My heart fluttered with the excitement of a fight as I narrowed my gaze on Jackson.
“Enough of this,” a deep, male voice boomed behind me, sending shivers through me. Dean, the Pack’s alpha, sat on the bar with his legs crossed in a yogi style like he hadn’t a care in the world. His hands were draped over his knees, his rich olive skin and dark leg hair peeked through the several rips in his worn jeans. He couldn’t have been much older than Danny or I, probably in his mid-to-late thirties. He had a Mediterranean skin tone with no hair on his head. He shaved his head bald on purpose, clean and smooth, and his rich olive skin reflected the light from the overhead fluorescents.
Dominance rippled off of him like a shock wave. Dean held his body stiff and at attention as he hopped off the bar, landing light on the balls of his feet. Dean exuded power even in his faded jeans with splotches of something white embedded in the denim, drywall dust, or concrete. I couldn’t tell which.
Dean had broad shoulders and a well-defined upper body even under the white button-down collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing well-defined forearms. He looked like he could pick up a car and toss it across the room without breaking a sweat.
The Pack gathered around Kurt and Jackson, silent as they waited for their Gaoh, their Alpha, their king, to give his final verdict.
Dean glared at Jackson and Kurt with intense olive-green eyes. As he turned those eyes to me, that voice that was me and not me all at the same time whispered softly through my mind, safe . . . warm . . . home. The push of his power tingled along my skin and gooseflesh ran across my skin but I locked the tightening in my gut away. His power was scorching hot, burning my flesh like the sun on a hot August day, whirling around me and filling my nostrils with the heavy scent of musk and woods in the humid summertime. His power was heavy but welcoming, caressing my skin as if it had fingers and could reach out and touch me.
I stood my ground, squaring my shoulders as his power became more forceful, heavier, pressing down on my shoulders with weight and burning my skin. He’d take anything less as a sign of weakness. I couldn’t have that.
I met his deep olive-green eyes for only a second and then dropped them to his chin. I wasn’t exactly a direct challenge but I didn’t shy away either. Patrick would be so proud.
The corners of his mouth turned up in a quirk of a smile. His almond-shaped eyes gazed down at me and I took the chance to examine his features. His nose appeared as if it had been broken a few times and healed just slightly to the left. His lips were full and a dark pink, almost mauve color that were so . . . kissable. Damn it!
I focused on Dean’s strong square jaw and the muscles that jumped along the bone as he clenched his teeth together. That didn’t help.
Danny followed, quick on Dean’s heels into the center of the floor, flanking him like a good little soldier. I had always considered Danny large and imposing but as he stood next to Dean, he seemed younger and definitely smaller. Danny didn’t have the ferocity pulsating from him that Dean did. No one did.
Jackson stood stark still, like a warrior triumphant with his chin raised high in the air. I wouldn’t tell Danny about the churning in my stomach or the hairs that stood on end all over my body when I looked at Jackson. I couldn’t even tell Danny why I felt the trepidation that surged through my system. I just knew it was there.
The Pack gathered closer around the two challengers, Dean their Gaoh and Danny their Beta. I remained on the outside looking in.
“I’ve seen enough,” Dean bellowed.
The sound of his deep voice filled the empty space. My breath caught in my throat as his deep bass reverberated around my body like I was a tuning fork.
Ours. Mine, that other voice whispered in my mind. I shook it off.
The moment Dean opened his mouth, the entire group fell silent and an eerie hush settled over the Pack as the Gaoh circled both Kurt and Jackson. Dean placed his hand on Kurt’s shoulder and peered down at the shorter man. A shadow of sorrow filled the Gaoh’s eyes and I was certain that I was the only one who saw it. I got the feeling that Dean didn’t like Jackson but he had rules to follow. The Pack was big on rules. I understood rules. I’d thrown my hands up and stuck my tongue out at a lot of those rules in the last several months.
“Kurt will remain fourth.”
Kurt nodded but didn’t lift his eyes from the floor.
Jackson’s chest puffed out, his teeth gleamed in a large snarl as he sized up the Pack with triumph in his glare. Eventually, his possessive gaze rested on me.
The hungry look in his eyes was dangerous. I wasn’t a prize to be won and he needed to know that. Now. I squared my shoulders and narrowed my focus on him, allowing my instincts to kick in. I knew a predator when I saw it and so did the Pack’s Gaoh. Jackson laughed at my antagonistic response. Dean’s eyes narrowed on me, the heat of his olive-green eyes struck at my core.
I shifted my glare away from the heat of Dean’s gaze. I didn’t know what to do with it, I didn’t like the heat that burned low in my body and I sure as hell didn’t know what to do with it. I turned cold eyes to Jackson. Eye contact was a direct challenge to Jackson and I knew it. If he wanted a fight, he had it with me.
Danny talked and laughed with his Pack, oblivious to the exchanges going on around him. He turned to me in sheer contentment. I smiled at him as best I could but I knew it didn’t reach my eyes. I wasn’t that good an actress.
We can protect him, she whispered in my mind. That other voice was becoming as familiar to me as my own. It should have scared me but she was right, I could protect him.
Dean clutched Kurt’s shoulder and escorted him from the circle of the Pack. They both left Jackson to revel in his victory. No one seemed to want to join in the celebration with him but Jackson didn’t care or
didn’t notice. I got the feeling Jackson wasn’t well liked, by anyone, let alone Dean.
Danny came up beside me and pinched my arm.
“Ow,” I snapped as I rubbed my hand over my arm. “What was that for?” I couldn’t fake happy and Jackson had set me on edge . . . not to mention the concussion that was making my head throb.
“You were too far away. I want your mind and your body here with me,” he whispered with a growl, making his voice rumble in a soft, playful growl. His hazel eyes twinkled with mirth as he ran his hands down my biceps in a delicate touch that was more intimate than it should have been. Danny made me feel oddly peaceful, even when I was surrounded by chaos.
I wished I brought him that same peace, that things had been different. I wished I brought him more than just pain. I knew my relationship with Patrick, the city’s new Liege, hurt him, this whole situation hurt everyone and I didn’t know what to do about it. Danny was sweet, untouched by all the horrors of the world. He deserved better than me.
I relaxed under his touch and took a deep breath filled with his scent of soap and Old Spice, clean. His power washed over me, warm, soft, and comforting like a heavy comforter. Danny’s gaze rested on my mouth with his lips millimeters from mine.
“Danny,” Dean called with a growl in his voice that seemed out of place. I glanced to my right when Danny turned his head. Dean stood too close, only a foot away, his arms crossed over his bulky chest with an imposing expression furrowing his strong brow. “It’s almost dusk, time to go,” he barked.
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