Violet Abyss (A Blushing Death Novel Book 7)
Page 1
Table of Contents
VIOLET ABYSS
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
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
VIOLET ABYSS
A Blushing Death Novel
SUZANNE M. SABOL
SOUL MATE PUBLISHING
New York
VIOLET ABYSS
Copyright©2017
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.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Published in the United States of America by
Soul Mate Publishing
P.O. Box 24
Macedon, New York, 14502
ISBN: 978-1-68291-374-1
www.SoulMatePublishing.com
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
BY SUZANNE M. SABOL
THE BLUSHING DEATH SERIES
A Pool of Crimson
Midnight Ash
Sliver of Silver
Golden Anidae
Black Dalliances
Emerald Fire
Violet Abyss
To Dahlia’s fans,
Thank you for your continued support
To RPM and SGM,
For you, I strive to be better
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank all the people who made this book possible. From my editor, Debby Gilbert, to the cover art guru, Rae Monet. You are fabulous people to work with, making my life easier and the production of Dahlia’s world so much brighter.
I’d also like to thank Eva Siedler for her work as beta reader. You helped me back onto the path when the writing had gone into the weeds. The very dense, thick weeds. I appreciate your honest feedback and your help.
Chapter 1
“Paralysis is a bitch, isn’t it?” Celeste mocked.
The werewolf’s eyes fluttered open with a groggy haze, making his irises dim and cloudy.
Picking at her nails, Celeste loomed over him. She’d chipped her pinky fingernail as she’d lugged the werewolf to the roof. Even with vampire strength, the bastard was heavy. Shifters, though, usually were. Something about the muscle mass density or some nonsense.
“Wakey, wakey,” Celeste chirped as he came fully into consciousness and realized he couldn’t move.
The werewolf sucked in a deep breath to scream but nothing came out. Not that anyone would hear him anyway. The revelry from the French Quarter below was too loud for anyone to ever hear what was happening on the roof. Her magic had him frozen where he sat and she relished the power she lorded over him.
Celeste scratched at her broken thumbnail, absolutely refusing to bite it. She’d gotten a manicure earlier in the evening and it was already ruined. “Stupid fucking mutt.” Pissed off, she kicked him. A solid impact to the gut. The wolf grunted. It was all he could do. Shrugging off her red leather jacket, Celeste slung it over the edge of the chimneystack. She rolled her shoulders and glanced down at her outfit. White T-shirt and jeans. “Not really appropriate for what I have planned. But, then again, I hadn’t anticipated the gift that would fall in my lap either. I’m not one to pass up an opportunity.”
A pain-laced rumble vibrated from the wolf and a slow smile crept across Celeste’s lips. She always enjoyed her work so much more when they were awake to share it.
“What the hell?” the wolf groaned. “Where am I? Are we on a roof?”
“Don’t you remember?” Celeste almost cooed her delight.
“I remember walking from the bar, turning the corner down the alley, and then . . . falling.” He tried to get up, frustration crinkling his brow as his unbound limbs remained frozen. “Why can’t I move?” he barked.
She knelt in front of him and met his gaze. Feeling giddy with delight as his panic filled the air with a thick musky scent, she smiled sweetly. “You must be strong. You woke so quickly and you can talk already. Amazing. Know that the functionality of your limbs would have returned after a time.”
“What do you mean, would have?”
“Well, if I weren’t about to split you open like a ripe melon.”
Fear flashed across his gaze, his eyes blazing with the realization that he couldn’t do a damned thing about what was about to befall him. The wolf’s helplessness was an open wound as his wolf blazed forward to protect him, changing his eye color from a soft unimpressive brown to a bright vibrant gold. It didn’t matter though, he couldn’t change and his wolf knew it, even if the man didn’t yet.
Celeste drew the dagger from the sheath at her thigh and gripped the handle, a snug and exact fit. It had been a present from her sire long ago on her first night with him. He’d said then that the inlaid amethysts had matched her eyes. As she turned the blade in her hand, the glint of neon lights from the building across the street reflected across his tan skin. His breathing hitched and the scent of his fear spiked with his adrenaline, shifting his scent to a sweet musk.
“Now, this is going to hurt.” Slicing open his shirt, she exposed a hard muscled chest, kissed by the sun with a deep, rich tan. His breathing hitched and he opened his mouth to scream. “If you make a sound, I’ll first slice off your left testicle followed by the right. Then, I’ll make you eat them. Once that’s done, I’ll lay your bits side by side at my feet. After that I’
ll search out your mate and watch as the light dies from her eyes too.”
Begrudgingly, he clamped his mouth down tight and she smiled again, enjoying the rush of power that always came with her art. Celeste pressed the tip of the blade into the flesh an inch above his heart. The wolf sucked in a quick breath between his teeth as blood flowed, coating his chest and pooling in his lap.
The skin peeled away so nicely, revealing the striations of muscle beneath. She sunk her blade through the taut tissue, cutting and scraping ribs with the edge as she cut. The wolf’s breathing grew quicker with each passing moment and sweat beaded on his upper lip and through his hair, making it damp. As she peeled away the wolf’s muscle, she could just make out the still-beating heart beneath his ribs. The muscle thumped and jumped in the open cavity as his insides twitched, still trying to shift. Her magic was stronger.
Celeste leaned back on her haunches, reveling in the beauty of his exposed thoracic cavity. Licking her lips, she tasted the blood that had sprayed across her face. She glanced down at her hands and clothing and clucked her tongue. Her clothes were ruined and she was covered in blood up to her elbows. She slipped her index and middle finger into her mouth, sucking the blood from them. In a rush of pulsing, sweltering bliss, power coated her tongue and she almost purred with the taste of him.
“So much power,” she hummed as the very essence of him buzzed through her body. “It’s a shame you won’t get to meet The Blushing Death as Diego intended. Too bad.”
The wolf was panting. His golden irises shining with pain, fear, and finally acceptance. She licked up one side of the blade and then the other, relishing the sweet metallic taste of the magic in his blood. “Here’s where the real fun begins,” she whispered.
Reaching into the wolf’s chest, Celeste grasped the blood-slicked ribcage encasing his heart and yanked. The sharp snap of bones cracking rang out in her ears, trumping the celebration of the Quarter below. A soft groan slipped from the wolf as a small, twist of a smirk turned up the corner of Celeste’s lips.
“We’re almost done,” she rasped. Giddy with excitement, she found herself humming as another rib snapped.
“Why?” the wolf gurgled, blood spurting from his lips. His deep voice which had been threatening only a half hour ago, now sounded defeated and weak. He’d lost quite a bit of blood and a small piece of her cringed at the waste. However, his death would serve another purpose.
She met the wolf’s golden gaze and wiped a streak of blood across his cheek, tracing her fingers across his cheekbone. “Don’t you know? A war is coming and you are one of its first casualties, a catalyst. Now,” she said, picking the dagger up from the ground and tightening her grip around the handle. “One last thing.” She reached inside the man’s body and with a few quick flicks of her wrist, she severed the pulmonary artery and then the pulmonary vein. Blood rushed from the heart, its beats slowing as he quickly bled out. She glanced up, watching the gold fade from his eyes as his life extinguished. She moved to the other side and cut the superior and inferior vena cava. Finally, she sliced the aorta and separated the wolf’s heart from the encasement of his chest and connective tissue. Plucking the muscle in her hand, Celeste held it up to catch a glimpse of it in the soft green neon light.
Placing the wolf’s heart down on the roof, she placed it beside the wolf’s body and in plain sight. She licked her fingers clean and sighed at the deliciously sweet taste as she stood. Celeste grabbed her jacket from the chimneystack and slung it over her shoulder. With a deep breath, she took in the scents wafting up from the Quarter; alcohol, musty wood soaked too many years in hot humid air, and the faint salty scent from the Gulf.
“Maybe they’ll find you before the sea gulls and rats do. After all, it’s still early and there’s so much havoc yet to wreak.”
Chapter 2
“Again!” Dahlia ordered.
“Dahlia? I’ll hurt him,” Brittany whined from the lush, green yard below.
Brittany’s hands were shaking and not from the cold. Even in October, New Orleans was hot and humid. At home in Columbus, I’d be in jeans and sweaters. In Louisiana, I was sweating simply standing in place.
“I’m all right,” Ev groaned, wobbling and unsteady on his feet.
“You sure?” I asked from the balcony overlooking the backyard.
Patrick called it a garden. Lined with Magnolia trees and flowering bushes of soft pinks, creamy whites, and vibrant blues all around the perimeter of the property, the garden provided shade and a pretty façade along the 12-foot high wall separating us from the nearest houses in the Garden District. As our colony had expanded and territory after territory became our responsibility, Patrick’s need for safety and security had grown just as quickly. Hence the wall, with reinforced rebar throughout the solid cement wall and the wrought-iron fencing, lining the top. Each point along the top was sharpened to a fine, lethal point.
That was also the reason we’d brought Brittany. A few months ago, her mother had been slaughtered before her eyes. A Necromancer had used the woman’s power as a witch to raise more dead than he could on his own. Brittany had had a front row seat. The girl was sitting on more power than she knew how to handle and the Necromancer had been about to use Brittany as another sacrifice to raise the entire city’s dead. We couldn’t leave her alone and chance her falling into the wrong hands. She was 21 for Christ’s sakes. Too vulnerable and impressionable. So, she practiced and honed her skills under our watchful and cautious eyes.
Ev, being a werewolf, could take a lot of damage before he was really hurt. The only issue, Brittany could pack a wallop with her magic. Having saved her from the Necromancer’s grip, Ev tended to be a little overprotective of her. He wouldn’t admit to any injury if it helped Brittany and I didn’t want Ev hurt. He was no good to me broken or dead. Plus, I’d miss the kid. He’d grown on me.
“I’m good,” he growled, defiant. Rolling his shoulders, Ev braced his body for the next strike.
“She won’t truly hurt him,” Patrick soothed from the shadows of our bedroom behind me, his voice low and sultry as he remained shaded in darkness. “She cares too much for him to do any real damage.”
“Maybe, but Ev has his own issues. You didn’t see his face back in Vegas when he realized the heap of gore hanging from the ceiling like a kite was his girlfriend. He won’t quit until Brittany can protect herself or die trying. I don’t think he can bear to lose someone else he cares about.”
I glanced back down into the yard as a bright, white light emanated from Brittany’s hands. Ev ran at her, full tilt.
Brittany . . . hesitated.
I sighed as she flung a burst of energy at Ev’s chest, sending him sailing back through the air and crashing to the ground in a hard thump. But, she’d hesitated. She wasn’t a killer. If she didn’t learn to harness and control her magic, Brittany would be dangerous. Our little family couldn’t afford that. Especially now.
“We shouldn’t have brought her with us. She’s too exposed,” I mumbled.
In the late afternoon, our entire colony of vampires was still sleeping but not Patrick. After we’d awakened the Fertiri’s power that night in Columbus, he’d needed to sleep during the day less and less. We’d even started taking day trips since the power boost had enabled him to step out into the sunlight without repercussions. Something no other vampire could do. There were so many things in New Orleans that I’d wanted to show him but with all the werewolves, Brittany, and Miss Caroline in the house, Patrick couldn’t step out into the sun and expose this secret. His new ability to walk in the sun hadn’t diminished but it also hadn’t transferred to any of the others in our colony. But then again, how do you ask that question? Hey, can you do me a solid and step into the sun and see if you don’t burn? I don’t think so.
So, here we stood, pretending that he was still hampered by the sun like every other va
mpire on the planet.
“It was too dangerous to leave her behind,” Patrick murmured. “She will be protected here. You and Everett, in particular, will see to that. As will the rest of us. She is part of our family.”
He sounded so confident. I wasn’t so sure.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, backing into him. He wrapped his arms around my waist and I soaked up the comfort he offered. Burying his nose in my hair, Patrick breathed in my scent and I relished the feel of him against me. I needed him to chase away the chill of disquiet running up my spine. “This is a mistake.”
“We had no choice. If we are to convince others to join us, then we must demonstrate our capability to lead, display our power, and entice them with the benefits we offer if they eventually side with us.” His arms squeezed around my middle, urging me closer as his words tickled across my neck. Heat pooled in my core and those translucent marks that scarred my neck and were undeniably his tingled with pleasure. I always reacted to Patrick this way. I had since the very moment I’d laid eyes on him in that art gallery several years ago. I suspected I always would. Once, his effect on me had scared the shit out of me. Now, I was just happy to have him.
“It’s a trap. You know that right,” I purred, almost distracted.
“Sweetheart,” he sighed against my neck. “Of course it’s a trap. We must simply be wary. In this city, we are prey instead of the predator.”
“But. . .”
“I know you do not particularly care to be in a position where you are not in control.” He nuzzled against me, grinding his hard length into my backside.
“Mmm,” I groaned, wanting desperately to be very much not in control. I wanted to be between the sheets with his long, lean limbs pinning me to the bed. “So, you say. I can give up control when I want to,” I answered, rolling my hips to meet his rhythm. His hands wandered up my body, over my breasts, until my nipples were aching beneath my clothing for his touch.