Book One of The Possessed Series
Tressa Rabbit
Copyright 2019 by Crazy Ink
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Warning
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. This e-book is for sale to adults ONLY as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers
Chapter One
Claire Bryson lifted her head and glared at the screaming alarm clock on her nightstand. She didn’t need to look to know where the snooze button was located. This had been her morning routine for the past five years; she had it down to a science.
With a quickness that belied her sleepy state, she tapped the top of the clock to shut off the noise and buried her face back into the fluffy softness of her pillow. The five extra minutes of sleep she would get was as precious to her as gold.
Too soon, the annoying beeping shattered the silence of her room once again.
“Will you shut that shit off already? It’s Sunday, for crying out loud.” Her roommate’s voice drifted across the hall in a muffled growl, penetrating Claire’s sleep-fogged brain.
Groping around for the cord to the little black box of nightmares, Claire gave it a yank, silencing it in mid-beep. Sunday was the only day of the week Scruples was closed and she didn’t have to roll out of bed with the chickens.
Claire’s grandfather, Dexter Bryson, had opened the café in 1920 during the Depression. He’d later been informed after several instances of ghost sightings that the eatery was built on an ancient Indian burial ground. Dexter hadn’t been a superstitious man, but he’d seen things that couldn’t be explained, such as shadows passing through the kitchen when no one else should have been there but him, or strange, electrical charges when certain people darkened the door.
He’d somehow managed to keep Bryson’s Cafe afloat until it began to flourish and later passed it on to Charles, his only son, in 1988. Dexter lost the battle with cancer when Claire was a young teenager, and her father had died soon after from the same dreaded disease.
Sarina, Claire’s mother, struggled to maintain the café on her own until Claire was forced to drop out of college and return home to help. Sarina had opted to close the doors or sell the place, but Charles had left it to his daughter in his will, and Claire wouldn’t hear of it.
Her mother had drilled it into her since she’d been a small child to get out of Walton County and make a name for herself. Sarina had enlisted her daughter in every beauty pageant and play the town had to offer. Claire had been groomed for entertaining at an early age. It was ingrained in her.
If she could only find a balance, she thought as she rolled to her back and threw an arm over her face. She’d considered asking Victoria to run things in her absence if opportunity came knocking at her door.
As much as she loved her home in DeFuniak Springs, Florida, Claire’s dream of leaving the small town behind and settling in California to start a modeling career was still alive, but fading by the day. She was twenty-eight years old, and crow’s feet would be arriving soon for an unwelcome stay.
It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate her lot in life, and having roots in Walton County gave her a sense of belonging. The locals were big-hearted, hard-working, and giving. That didn’t mean a few weren’t slightly nosy and clannish. On the contrary. Several of them were usually parked in her business like gnats at a barbeque. They had their faults as with any other small community, but they meant well.
Claire remodeled the café shortly after taking it over. The overall facelift of the place increased the value, and changing the name from Bryson’s to Scruples just felt right somehow. It boasted of a small, elegant bar up front with a restaurant in the back. They served everything from home-cooked meals at lunch to fine dining in the evenings. It was a favorite among the locals, and people came from all over to eat there.
A soft noise caught her attention, and she strained to listen. What the hell?
The sound came again, only louder, followed by a moan and a few other unmentionables. It became abundantly clear that her roommate had company, and they weren’t making biscuits.
With a sigh of frustration, Claire covered her head with a pillow and faced the wall opposite of the obvious copulation taking place across the hall.
Victoria Blanchard had been Claire’s closest friend since kindergarten. The two of them were inseparable. Victoria’s life hadn’t been a bed of roses, but she’d made the best of it and never stopped smiling.
Leaving Tori behind to attend college in Alabama had been hard on Claire, but they’d spent every spare moment they could texting and visiting on weekends. Troy State University being less than two hours away had made things easier on both of them.
A feminine chuckle suddenly interrupted Claire’s trip down memory lane. It came as no surprise that Victoria had found something humorous, anymore than the male cursing or doors slamming shortly after did.
Claire rolled to her back in anticipation of the details that were sure to come. She didn’t have long to wait before the door was thrown open to admit a disheveled Tori wearing a man’s T-shirt and a smirk. Her pretty blonde hair had fallen from a clip on one side, giving her a teenage appearance.
“Are you sleeping?” she asked from the open doorway.
Claire squinted against the light spilling from the hall bathroom. “Between the alarm, the live porn, and needing to pee worse than I can ever remember, I’d say I’m awake.”
Victoria grinned and marched into the room without preamble. She plopped down next to Claire on the bed. “Slide, Clyde.”
After making room for the flamboyant blonde, Claire closed her eyes and hid a smile. “Whom do I owe the pleasure of this morning’s entertainment?”
“Justin. And I must say it wasn’t very entertaining for me.”
“I thought you guys broke up last week?” She cracked her lids open and glanced at Victoria.
“We did.”
“Then why? Never mind. It doesn’t matter. What was the fight about this time?”
“He wanted me on top, facing him.” Victoria responded like they were discussing the weather.
Claire couldn’t fight her smile any longer. She turned onto her side, propping her head on her palm. “You fought over who was on top?”
“He knows I don’t like that position with him.”
“Why not?” Claire couldn’t wait to hear the explanation for that one.
“His penis is bent.”
“Bent? Wait…what? You mean curved? Most men are curved, aren’t they?”
“No. I mean bent, as in straight down.”
A chuckle bubbled up with the visual Tori created, and Claire fell back in a fit of side-splitting laughter. She laughed until tears ran from the corners of her eyes. It took several attempts to get her next question out. “Does it resemble Gonzo’s nose?”
“Not funny,” Victoria scolded with a grin. “And before you say anything else, I’m not making fun of him; I’m only pointing out the facts.”
“Really, Tori? What would that be?”
“It’s painful a
t that angle.”
“So, then turn around and face away from him.”
“That is exactly what I wanted to do, and it pissed him off. I don’t get it, Claire. Most men love that position. But not Justin. He thinks I do it to stay detached.” Victoria shook her head. “What a girl.”
“Are you sure there isn’t some truth to that?” Claire asked in a soft voice.
“Of course not. I told you why.”
“Yes. Bent dick. Got it.”
Both women chuckled a moment before falling into a comfortable silence. It had always been that way with Victoria. Even in bad times they’d managed to laugh or simply be still, neither of them speaking. Just being together was enough.
“Can I stay in here for a while?”
“Of course.” Claire smiled and turned on her side. “But you gotta rub my hair.”
“How did I know that was coming?”
Chapter Two
Claire cracked her eyes open on a jaw-popping yawn. The morning sun shone through the blinds in a brilliant glow of golden warmth. A rooster crowed in the distance, signaling a wakeup call older than time.
“I vote we shoot him. A lot,” Victoria mumbled from her position under a mound of covers.
Claire lips twitched. “We’re not killing the rooster unless you want to pluck him and fire up the grill.”
“I just had my nails done or I’d be on him like white on rice.”
“Saved by a French manicure,” Claire quipped. “I’m going to jump in the shower; Missy’s wedding is at noon.” She glanced at the clock on the nightstand only to recall she’d unplugged it earlier that morning.
Victoria’s sleepy face appeared from beneath the blankets. “It’s too early to get up. Go back to sleep.”
“I can’t. I haven’t been to the bathroom yet, and my bladder feels like an overfilled water balloon.”
“Okay. Wake me up when you emerge from your shower.”
“No deal. It’s your turn to make breakfast, Cinderella.” Claire slid out of bed and stumbled from the room with a string of curses echoing behind her.
* * * *
Jaxon Sanders straightened his tie and ran a hand through his dark hair. He hated weddings almost as much as he hated funerals. They were emotional moments in time he’d rather not be a part of. The only reason he’d agreed to attend Kent and Missy’s nuptials had to do with a small brunette named Claire Bryson.
He stepped into his boots, grabbed his Stetson, and headed out the door to his truck. The big, black Chevy sported a layer of dust despite recently being washed.
The joys of living on a dirt road, Jaxon mused as he climbed inside and started the engine. He never bothered to remove the keys; no one would steal from him anyway. Between the amount of weapons he possessed and the two wolves that ran loose on his property, he lived a pretty crime-free life.
Jaxon rolled down the window and let out an ear-piercing whistle. “Kojak. Alabama.” A massive wolf came bounding out of the barn with a slightly smaller one right on his heels. The two muscular animals skidded to a stop next to the truck in a jumble of dust and legs.
“On watch.” Both wolves leapt onto the porch to take up their usual positions when guarding the house.
“I’ll be back shortly,” Jaxon muttered as he donned his Ray-Bans. He rolled up the window, put the truck in gear, and backed out of the yard.
The long, bumpy drive to the main road was littered with potholes and mud due to the all-night rain. Jaxon drove along the edge to avoid as much of the mess as possible while trying to stay out of the ditch. He had ten minutes to make it to the church before the wedding started. He’d arrive in five, he thought with a grin.
* * * *
Jaxon glanced at his watch as he pulled into the parking lot of First Baptist Church and switched off the engine. He’d made it with a couple of minutes to spare but not enough time for a smoke. He looked longingly at the pack of cigarettes lying on the seat before jumping out and easing the door shut behind him.
Sounds of the wedding march spilling out into the foyer could be heard as Jaxon entered the building. He rushed through the big wooden doors that led into the tabernacle just seconds ahead of the bride, and grabbed a seat in the back row.
All eyes were on him. Maybe because he’d nearly mowed a bridesmaid down on his way in. It couldn’t possibly be because my dumb ass is still wearing this big cowboy hat and Gary Allen’s latest hit, “It Ain’t the Whiskey,” just belted out from my cell. No, it couldn’t be that.
Jaxon silenced his phone and removed his hat. It didn’t take him long to spot Claire sitting on the other side of the isle a few rows up. She resembled something out of a magazine with her long, dark hair flowing down her back and a red dress that clung to her like a second skin. He could only imagine what she’d look like standing. He didn’t have long to wait.
Everyone stood as the bride made her grand entrance. But Jaxon only had eyes for Claire. He’d been right in his assessment of her attire. The dress molded to her breasts, hugged her hips, and ended inches above her knees. He found her breathtaking, but she was oblivious to that fact. She thought of him as a brother. Jaxon Sanders, the most eligible bachelor in Walton County had been friendzoned.
Claire must have felt him staring. She met his gaze and sent him a wink. His heart skipped a beat, but he managed to return the gesture without drooling. He hoped.
Time seemed to drag by for Jaxon. After checking his watch for the tenth time, he decided to step outside for a smoke. Between babies crying and the minister droning on about sickness and in health in that drive-a-man-insane monotone voice he had, Jaxon was ready to pull his hair out.
“You may kiss the bride,” the preacher announced from the podium.
Jaxon grabbed his hat without waiting for the exchange and made a beeline for the doors. He didn’t stop until he reached his truck. He jerked the door open, snatched up his pack of cigarettes, and patted his pockets for a lighter.
“You’re going to light up in the church parking lot?” Victoria spoke from behind him.
He spun around in surprise. “Shit. Where did you come from?”
“Now you’re cursing on sacred grounds. You’re going to hell, Jaxon Sanders.”
“I’m sorry. I—”
Victoria laughed. “I’m kidding. Lighten up, Goliath.”
Her nickname for him had started in high school shortly after his growth spurt. He’d been six foot five by graduation and hadn’t stopped growing until his early twenties.
“Are you coming to the house for lunch?” Tori looked everywhere but at him. She seemed nervous to Jaxon, shifty eyed and tense.
“I wasn’t invited.”
“You just were.”
“Well, then I guess I am.” He glanced over his shoulder to see what had her so skittish, but there was no one there. “Are you all right?”
“What? Yes, I’m fine. I hear Claire. You’d better put those things away.” She nodded toward the pack of cigarettes. “You know how she feels about them.”
He did know. Claire’s father and grandfather had both died from cancer at a fairly young age. Ironically enough, neither of them had been smokers.
Jaxon tossed his red and white pack of addiction onto the seat of his truck, and watched the object of his affection approach. She’s even more beautiful in the sunlight. He looked away before she caught him staring.
Claire came to a stop next to Victoria. “I didn’t know your mom and dad would be here.”
“Neither did I,” Victoria responded before stepping back. “We better get going. I’m starved.”
“Aren’t you going to say hello to them?” Jaxon noticed the tension coming from the blonde.
Victoria ran a hand through her hair. “I’ll call them when I get home. They’re probably over there arguing anyway.”
“Are you coming to the house, Jaxon? It’s Tori’s turn to cook.” Claire grinned.
“Well, since Victoria’s cooking, I reckon I will.”
&
nbsp; “Kiss my ass, Jaxon Sanders,” Claire teased.
“Potty mouth,” Victoria scolded. “You’re both going to hell.”
Jaxon laughed and climbed into his truck. “I’ll see you at the house.”
Chapter Three
Victoria was unusually quiet on the drive home. Claire wondered how much of it had to do with Justin. She glanced over at her close-lipped friend and frowned. “Out with it.”
“Out with what?”
“Something’s wrong with you, I can feel it. You may as well tell me, or I’ll bring it up every five minutes until you’re ready to strangle me.”
That brought a smile to Victoria’s face. “It’s nothing. I’m just thinking about this morning.”
“I’m sorry about Justin, but you can do so much better than him.”
“Can I?” Victoria’s soft voice held a wealth of insecurity.
“Of course you can. You are so beautiful and smart. Not to mention funny as hell. You’re young, honey. Someone will come along with a straight penis and sweep you right off your stilettos.”
“I can deal with a slight curve, as long it’s east to west.”
“It’s settled then. A full-on curvature inspection will take place from here on out. And not by me.”
“You’re insane, Claire. Literally.”
“Yes, well, it’s a dirty job, but somebody’s got to do it.”
“What about Jaxon?” Victoria raised an eyebrow.
“I doubt he would want the job as penis inspector either, but we can certainly ask.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Tori grinned.
“I have no idea what Jaxon’s package looks like.”
“You are so full of shit. As many times as he’s stayed at the house—slept in your bed even—you’ve never seen him nude?”
Heat spread up Claire’s neck to settle in her cheeks. “I may have peeked once or twice.
Knowing Claire (The Possessed Series Book 1) Page 1