Marked (Dark Ties Book 1)

by A. Vers

  MARKED

  Also by A. Vers

  Covenant Trilogy

  Witch's Hammer

  Dark Ties

  Marked

  Lost Nights

  Kiss of Blood

  Blood is Forever

  Lost Nights Box Set

  Bloody Thanks

  Fire & Blood

  Hunt for Blood

  Blood Lines

  Requiem Codice

  Grave Night

  Seven Hells

  Circle of Fire

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Also By A. Vers

  Marked

  A. Vers

  1 | Ruin

  2 | Lilah

  3 | Ruin

  4 | Lilah

  5 | Ruin

  6 | Lilah

  7 | Ruin

  8 | Lilah

  9 | Ruin

  10 | Lilah

  11 | Ruin

  12 | Ruin

  13 | Lilah

  14 | Ruin

  15 | Lilah

  16 | Lilah

  17 | Ruin

  18 | Lilah

  19 | Ruin

  20 | Lilah

  21 | Ruin

  22 | Lilah

  23 | Ruin

  24 | Lilah

  25 | Ruin

  26 | Lilah

  27 | Ruin

  28 | Lilah

  29 | Ruin

  30 | Lilah

  31 | Ruin

  32 | Lilah

  33 | Ruin

  34 | Lilah

  35 | Ruin

  36 | Ruin

  37 | Lilah

  38 | Ruin

  39 | Lilah

  40 | Ruin

  41 | Lilah

  42 | Ruin

  43 | Lilah

  44 | Ruin

  45 | Lilah

  46 | Ruin

  47 | Lilah

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  Also By A. Vers

  Marked

  Dark Ties 1

  A. Vers

  Cover Art: Dark Wolf Graphix

  Marked

  Dark Ties 1

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  Copyright © 2019 A. Vers

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the permission of the copyright owner.

  T,

  Let’s be honest, we always knew this was going to happen.

  Thank you. Yes, you. The one reading this. The one that took a chance on an indie author. Thank you!

  1

  Ruin

  THE LIGHTS IN CLUB Carnage pulse around me as I step through the door. Strobes and lasers streak through the sweet-scented fog. The kind that hangs over the place in a mind-numbing haze. Or maybe that’s the smoke from the tightly rolled joints with their blazing red tips.

  Women in leather skirts and men in tight jeans grind around the open dance floor, bodies tightly mashed and skin on full display. The ripe scent of human sweat and sex fills my nose as their pounding heartbeats roar in my ears. The overload is jarring as hell after the quiet of the coven house. My hand scratches at the five o’clock shadow on my jaw.

  It’s a good fucking thing I fed before I left.

  I peer over my shoulder as the rest of the team fans out, blending into the shadows. Stocky, well-built men with danger in their eyes and more leather than a BDSM scene and more weapons than a fucking armory. I motion the last two bulky figures closer.

  Tanner Faust and Gage Whitehorn scan the crowd around us before locking their eyes on me.

  “We know the target,” I say, voice low but rumbling in the quiet. No need to cause a stir amidst the humans. “Circle the lower levels. You get eyes on him, key me.”

  Tanner’s dark head bobs, and a trace of shifter light colors his pale, almost lifeless irises. “Got it, Cap.” He weaves in to the patrons.

  Gage and I stand motionless in the sea of faces. He smirks coldly. “You gonna let Horan or Caine know we’re playing tonight, Ruin?”

  I glower at the Fae warrior. “Those two are Hell bent on battling on opposite sides, feel? Let ‘em have the night off. I don’t need the added shit.”

  He chuckles under his breath before following the team into the darkest corners of the room.

  With every entrance and exit covered, I turn on my heel and slip through the patrons to the bar. It’s the best vantage point for the lower floor, and the greatest wealth of inside information. My eyes scan over the humans and occasional supernatural for our target. Though the others are few, more than one pair of shining irises finds me in the dark.

  Several human women glance up as I pass; their expressions are a mix of curiosity and mild concern. I don’t smile at them.

  There’s no point. Short of feeding on or fucking them, I have little time for the softer sex. Even with my kind. But human women are delicate, frail. Weak. And not meant for a night in my bed or a quick meal in my stomach.

  Something must flow over my hardened face because they back away, gaze averted.

  The bar is smooth and oddly warm as I rest my leather-clad hip on one black velvet stool, and my arm on the polished top. Chaos swirls around me. Flesh, blood, and brittle bone. All the back rooms of Carnage are lit with pulsing red lights flashing ‘ occupied ‘, but one, and through the haze, a slim woman in a bustier tugs her willing buyer behind her.

  I ignore the now closed door and scan for the bartender.

  A curvaceous brunette, in a thin tank and jeans, moves nimbly behind the counter, slender fingers twirl the half-full bottles with ease. The music around us is a mix of metal and a heavy, synthesized beat. She sashays a bit, offering smiles and new drinks without ever needing to be asked. My eyes trail from the tips of her thick, chestnut waves to the full swell of her ass. And stay there.

  “If you’re going to stare at my ass, at least buy me a shot while you’re at it.”

  My eyes snap up to find her watching me over one tan and freckled shoulder.

  She’s pretty, like fucking bombshell level, with a heart-shaped face, full lips, and nice bone structure. But it’s the color of her irises that arrests me.

  Icy blue so pale, they are kissing white.

  My fingers drum the old wood. “What do you drink?”

  She offers me a sultry smile, and all the donor blood in my veins pools below my belt line.

  Fuck, she’s hot.

  “Whiskey,” she quips, deadpan.

  “Then make it two.”

  She nods and pulls two shot glasses from under the counter. Her hands damn near blur as she fills them with top-shelf before sliding one down the polished oak. I catch it, eyes never leaving her face.

  A faint flush of blood fills her cheeks, and I stifle a groan as a distinct scent floats to me. Lilac and human.

  Damn .

  I gulp the glass dry to hide my fangs as they creep deeper into my bottom lip. The alcohol burns going down, but it has little effect on my kind. At least not in such small doses.

  When I set it back down, she is watching me over the rim of her glass. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before...”

  It’s not a question. “I work. A lot .” My words are an unintentional warning. As cute as she is, there is no time in my life right now for any woman. Human bartender or otherwise.

  She looks down at her glass, expression darkening. “I know how that is.”

  I tap my glass and she refills it. “Busy night?” I ask, not sure why.

  Her eye
s roll. “This is Carnage.” She turns a little, sarcasm lacing her voice over the music. “It’s aptly named.”

  “Lilah.” We both glance up.

  A tall guy in a cheap, three-piece waits at the end of the bar. His eyes are murderous as they track between the two of us. “I called down for you thirty minutes ago.”

  Her shoulders tighten under her tank top, and I grip my glass harder.

  Who the fuck is this guy?

  “I know. I got super busy and—”

  “No fucking excuses. Get your ass upstairs. The VIPs are restless.”

  She sighs. “I’m coming.”

  “Now,” he snaps.

  Her lips tighten, but the icy color of her eyes flash with anger. “I fucking got it, Vic.”

  He narrows his gaze but walks off, leather dress shoes clacking in my sensitive ears.

  She offers me an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Got to make a living, right?”

  I can only nod as I climb to my feet. “Yeah.”

  When she starts to slip out from behind the bar, I press my lips tight to keep from calling out to her.

  Her gaze is darker as she looks back at me, almost sapphire and heavy-lidded. For a split second, I imagine those eyes staring up at me as I cradle the slim column of her neck, her thick pulse pounding under her skin. Or down at me as I slip between those thick thighs...

  “See you around?” she asks.

  My thirst scorches my throat. Grinding my teeth to get my fangs to retreat, I shrug and run a hand through my spiked hair. “Maybe.”

  Her face flames, but she offers me a sweet smile in return. Innocent even.

  Fuck.

  My heart thrums in a steady purr as she walks off. Tugging my wallet out my back pocket, I drop several bills on the counter and a few more in her tip jar. “Sweetheart, you have no idea how lucky you just were,” I mutter under my breath as I walk away.

  TANNER AND GAGE OFFER me amused glances as I meet up with them beneath Carnage’s second-floor overhang. The shifter makes a big show of inhaling close to my skin.

  “Damn, Cap, you fall in a fucking brewery?”

  I clamp my lips closed. “It was two shots, asshole.”

  He snickers. “Yeah, and you didn’t even get her number, true?”

  I glance down at the watch on my wrist and the illuminated ‘ talk ‘ icon. “Son of a bitch.”

  Gage claps me on the back, his green eyes mild. “We could always crash the party upstairs,” he teases. “I hear they offer even better service.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  They exchange a look. “You don’t know?” Tanner asks, something almost malicious in his strong features.

  My head shakes.

  Gage turns on one booted heel and walks towards the roped off staircase. “Carnage isn’t known for its drinks or the music,” he calls over his shoulder.

  The petite blonde number at the foot of the wrought-iron expanse smiles beatifically at us. There is a hell of a lot of her slim legs showing under her skirt, and her spiked heels make them stretch on for miles. “Do you gentlemen have reservations?”

  Tanner brushes past, a coy light illuminating his grey eyes. “We sure do. It’s under Long John.”

  Her cheeks flush wildly as she takes in his over six foot frame with twin parts surprise and lip-biting interest. “Excuse me...”

  I snag his arm and pull him back. She looks up at me, quivering, as the dewy fragrance of her arousal fills my head. “Look, I’m friends with Lilah. I heard she was working the VIP section. Care to let me up?”

  She searches my face. “You know Lilah?”

  “Gorgeous brunette with eyes that make me want to confess my darkest sins?” I ask. “Yeah, we’ve met.”

  The woman giggles and stares at me from under fake lashes. “Well, if you’re a friend of Li’s, you’re a friend of mine.”

  She unclips the thick velvet rope and starts up the stairs. Tanner rubs his hands together while Gage urges me first. I trail up the metal stairs, boots silent in the din around us.

  More heavy, sweet-scented smoke pours over the landing, building in my lungs until it’s all I can smell. Dim—almost black—lighting casts everything in an eerie glow. All except for a bright stage at the back of the cavernous room.

  A single coffin rests dead center of the dais, gleaming top open and the inside full of writhing bodies. The male clasps his hands deeper into his partner’s slim rear, pantomiming sex in something close enough to the real deal that, for a second, I stare.

  The sounds of their ‘copulation’ are loud. Panting breathing and the woman’s soft mewls of need. The male rears back, fangs fully extended.

  My gut turns.

  He rips and tears at her flesh, covering them both in thick, metallic-scented fluid that hits me like a freight train from across the room. And judging from the glowing eyes of every patron in the area, I’m not the only vampire. Hell, I’m not one in a hundred.

  The woman collapses in his arms as he continues to feed, her body going limp. Lifeless. His suckles make hunger wash my throat, and I reach for the gun at the small of my back.

  Fuck.

  Strong fingers close over my arm, halting me. I look at Gage. He jerks his chin back towards the coffin.

  The victim’s eyes flutter, and the vampire lets her fall into the coffin as he rises to stand next to it.

  His chest swirls in red ribbons that glide down over a lean midsection to a pair of skin tight briefs. His erection is a solid line through the material. Some of the audience rushes the stage to paw at him eagerly. They come away with blood-soaked fingertips and fang-filled grins.

  The blonde hostess turns back to me with a winning smile. Her high-vested collar gaps, showcasing creamy breasts and the long line of her neck. Multiple healing bite marks grow visible under the glowing light from my eyes.

  “Welcome to Carnage, gentlemen. If there is anything you need,” she trails a finger down my chest, “anything at all ... Just let me know.”

  2

  Lilah

  I MOVE AROUND THE DRESSING room, helping Draven get out of the now stained briefs. Blood coats my skin, but I reach for the thing of wet-wipes on his make-up stand while he tugs on an old threadbare robe.

  Once upon a time, I would have vomited at the show he put on. Now, it only leaves me tired and cold. And that is a weakness I can’t afford to show.

  Ever.

  He grabs my wrist as I move towards the back. “I’m still thirsty.” His fangs are down, giving him a mild, pouty lisp, but it’s nothing to the horror visible through the gap of his robe.

  I wrench away and scrub my arm on my jeans, looking anywhere but at him. “Get a donor bag, prick. Jinx will be down for days after that stunt.”

  He smirks, and there is something deranged and happy in the look he gives me. “She’s a shifter. She’ll heal fast.”

  For the hundredth time this week, I consider telling Vic where he can shove his fucking job.

  My eyes narrow, but I take a step back with a casual glance at the guards at the door. “Don’t touch me again. Uncle Vic won’t like it,” I say instead.

  He glowers and I stalk off, never giving him my back.

  The laundry room is empty when I walk in. And quiet. I close the door behind me and lock it. The thin wood and flimsy latch is not much of a deterrent from the kinds of beings I work around, but it’s all I can do not to curl into a ball beside the damn washer. It’ll have to do.

  All the years I have worked at Carnage, and at Blue Moon before this ... Every damn club is another sick excuse for the local supernaturals to get their jollies off.

  I drop the clothes in the washer and pour laundry soap on top. The machine shakes a bit as the old, rusted pipes pump water into the drum. The bright red mass begins to fade to a dull pink as I watch.

  Poor Jinx.

  Her neck was a wreck when Jasper and Callum got her out of the coffin.

  No doubt the local pack alpha will be pissed about her
being hurt. She’s on loan as it is.

  Who is going to take her place now?

  There is a solid knock on the door and I walk to it, weary.

  Uncle Vic stares down at me, his open collar framing a lot of dark chest hair and too many thick gold chains. Thing about supernaturals, they pay for this freak fest.

  And they pay a lot.

  He shoves some fabric in my arms. “Get dressed.”

  I glance down at the rumpled mass of sapphire silk and lace. “What?” My voice comes out in a high squeak.

  “We got guests. And with Jinx down, I need a new waitress. You’re it, Li.”

  My stomach sinks. “But—”

  His ruddy fingers grab my jaw hard enough to bring tears to my eyes. “You will get changed, you ungrateful shit. And you will flaunt your ass and tits if that’s what it takes for us to land this deal.” His dark eyes flash with rage. “Or you can do it on your fucking back. Do I make myself clear?”

  Icy terror fills my veins. I stare up at him, knowing he means every word. My protection only goes as far as I want it to. Though Vic is my guardian on paper only, he is the one that took me in all those years ago. And if Uncle Vic is happy with me, I’m still safer than if he’s not.

  Vic is like the fucking mafia. You do what you’re told without question and with complete loyalty. Or you can die cold, alone, and slow. And like the mafia, once you’re in, there is only one way to get out.

  My pulse skips again and again with panic. “Yes, sir,” I force myself to mumble.

  He shoves me back. I stumble, barely catching myself on the small folding table. He storms off but leaves the door wide. Draven waits in the empty dressing room, arms crossed in a clean, open vest and leather pants. Like a fucking vampire gigolo.

  “Come on, Li.” His smile is all fang. “The show must go on.”

  I slam the door in his face and unfold the skimpy clothes. And not for the first time, I wish I died in the fucking accident with my parents.

  VIP IS PACKED AS I slip out from behind the upstairs’ bar. Supernaturals of every flavor sit in booths, at tables, and even more line the back and side walls. I balance the tray of drinks carefully and move through the room, shame and anger filling my cheeks with heat. Every damn eye in the room seems riveted on my chest and the barely covering scraps that make up the skirt of the fucking lingerie.