1001 Dark Nights Short Story Anthology 2020

by Fiona Archer

  Cierra moves, grabbing my attention. “Excuse me, everyone. I’m not feeling my best. Thank you for joining us tonight.” She turns to me. “I’m going to my suite. Good night.”

  “Baby, wait,” I call as she goes to walk away.

  “I’m fine, Hudson. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  With that, she rushes off, and I’m left stewing even more. I turn back to my dad and glare at him. I’m so angry.

  “That woman is the reason I’ve become the man I am. Everything I’ve accomplished in the last four years has been because of her. If you can’t accept the fact she’ll be in my life for the rest of my life, don’t show up to the wedding. I mean it,” I bark and turn to get some fresh air.

  Chapter Nine

  Present…

  “Baby.”

  “Yes,” Cierra replies.

  I turn my head to the side and press my cheek to the door. I wish I could look into those warm brown eyes and tell her how much I love her face to face. I lost my temper last night, but I wasn’t going to sit by and allow my father and uncle to treat her that way.

  “Those were some of the best times and some of the worst times of my life, but every single one was with you. You made me stronger, more patient, and determined. This all starts with me and you. No one else matters.”

  “Well.” She drags the word out. “It sort of does involve one more person.”

  I wrinkle my brows. “What? Who?”

  There’s a pause, causing my mind to race. “I’m pregnant. I didn’t leave last night because of the blow-up. I left because I needed to throw up. I wanted to wait until after the wedding to tell you. Now…I don’t want our baby to ever have to experience that from their grandfather.”

  “And they won’t.” I turn my head to find my father standing over me with suspiciously misty eyes.

  “Cierra, this is Bill. I’m very sorry about my behavior. You know, my Maggie used to keep me in check. She made me a better man and kept my foot out of my mouth.”

  “Dad—”

  “No, wait, son. I said a lot of stupid things last night. Yes, your mother and I had a prenup, but it was because her father made us. We were too in love to think of any of that nonsense. Cierra, you are a remarkable young woman. Hudson is indeed a better man since you’ve come into his life.”

  “Mr. Garrison, I love your son. I don’t think anyone should have to choose between their spouse and their family. Please don’t ever put my husband in that position again,” Cierra says through the door.

  “Because I’ll choose her and our baby every single time,” I add.

  Dad nods. “I got it, young lady. Now, we have a church full of guests. It’s time we have us a wedding.”

  * * * *

  Cierra

  As I stand at the alter all I’m focused on are those gray eyes. It’s like the day we met all over again, only this time I’ve walked to him. Just like that day, his tall frame, broad shoulders, thick thighs and chiseled body are wrapped in a finely tailored package.

  Although his hair is tousled as if he’s been stressing all morning, he still looks perfect. When he smiles, it lights up the room. My big teddy bear, all the ways I love this man.

  I may have tried to avoid him in the beginning, but I’ll let you in on a secret. Hudson Garrison had me from I’m her future. The rest was history in the making.

  “Will you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

  Hudson places his hand on my belly and turns that gorgeous smile up. The smile of a true prince. It steals my breath away. Nothing else matters as I speak from the heart.

  “I do.”

  Copyright 2020 Blue Saffire

  About Blue Saffire

  Blue is a color synonymous with trust, rest assure that you can trust author Blue Saffire to take your emotions on a journey that will hook you in and create your next addiction.

  As a young girl, Blue’s mother introduced her to the world of love and music through movies like Seven Brides For Seven Brothers, Bye Bye Birdie, and Neptune’s Daughter. Once she got her hands on books that sucked her into the magic that pages bring, an authoress was born.

  Blue is now an award-winning, bestselling author of over fifty romance novels and novellas.

  She writes with the intention to touch the heart and the mind while hooking, weaving, and looping multiple series, keeping you engaged in her worlds. Whether writing as Blue Saffire or Royal Blue every word is meant to have a lasting touch that leaves you breathless for more.

  Find Blue Saffire’s series and read order here: http://bluesaffire.com/read-order-2020

  Soul Survivor

  A Dark Reaper Short Story

  by

  Boone Brux

  Chapter One

  Even in the dimly lit alley, Thomas recognized her. This was the woman who’d made him smile. The woman who’d been the ray of sunshine in his empty existence. The woman he’d died for.

  Why was she here? More importantly, why was she crouched over a body? “August?”

  Her head snapped up, that familiar brown gaze ghosting across his partner Cain to settle on him. Now void of the warmth he remembered, the cold stare of a Shadow Demon peered back at him. “August doesn’t live here anymore.”

  “Fuck.” He flinched as her answer rasped from her throat. Goddamn demons, how had they managed to possess her? Usually, they set up shop in drug addicts or willing hosts like gang members. Not a chance in Hell would August have allowed herself to be possessed. “Where is she?”

  She pursed her lips in a mocking pout. Lips he’d once fantasized about kissing. “She’s been indefinitely evicted.” Her pupils constricted. “Thomas.”

  “I take it you know her?” Cain asked from beside him.

  Thomas nodded. “I used to.”

  “Shit. Try and stay focused.” The solid weight of Cain’s hand came down on Thomas’s shoulder. “The only way to help her is to free her.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” Big words spoken with a conviction he didn’t feel. “I’ve got this.”

  At least he had until the second demon rounded the corner. “Mutha fucker!”

  “Let me guess,” Cain said, “you know him too.”

  “Throttle.” August had been why he died, and this asshole had been how. “He’s one of those dicks from the Scavengers.”

  “Your old motorcycle gang is starting to chap my ass.”

  “Not my gang anymore.” Thomas pulled his scythe blades from their holsters. “Ya know, I could have sworn I killed that bastard…right before the club president put a couple dozen slugs in me.”

  Taking the info in stride, Cain nodded. “That sucks.”

  “Tommy, my man.” Throttle opened his massive arms in greeting, the tattoo-covered muscles bulging. “What a surprise. Let’s see, the last time I saw you, you’d just shoved a knife into my host’s chest.” A jagged grin stretched his thin lips. “Thanks for that, by the way. I managed to slip in a second before Throttle kicked off the mortal coil.” Locking his fingers together, he cracked his knuckles. “This body is way better than the last.”

  “Sorry you won’t be keeping it.” Thomas’s gaze slid to August as she slowly rose to her feet. “What about her?”

  “Weak.” In a display of ownership, the biker draped a meaty arm around her shoulder and hauled her against him. She went willingly, her sneering smile sending a shiver of dread up Thomas’s spine. “After you died, all she did was cry every goddamn day. So annoying. She was easy to possess.” As if the reason for Thomas standing in front of him finally dawned, he cocked his head. “Don’t tell me they made you one of them Dark Reapers.”

  “Okay, I won’t tell you,” Thomas said.

  “Aww, damn, now I’ve gotta kill you all over again.” He released August and dragged a serrated blade from his waistband. “That’s okay.” He spun the knife around his index finger. “I don’t mind.”

  “First off, you didn’t kill me. Your jackass of a boss did. Secondly, you’re not
Throttle. You’re just some underworld piece of shit squatting in his body.”

  “Why do you gotta be like that, Tommy?”

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “It’s like…everything about you makes me want to stab you—repeatedly.”

  Throttle shrugged. “Fair enough.”

  “What’s your name, demon?” Cain asked as he threaded his fingers into the brass knuckles of his double blades.

  “How rude of me.” Executing a half-bow, the demon grinned. “Ma’dik, loyal servant to the Shadow Empire.”

  “Seriously? That’s your name?” Thomas asked.

  “Yes, Ma’dik the mighty.” The demon threw open his arms. “Ma’dik, defender of the true god.”

  “Dude, don’t you hear it?” At Throttle’s confused expression, Thomas grinned. “My dick. Your name is my dick?”

  The demon’s confusion morphed to anger. Spinning the knife again, Throttle gave Thomas a humorless smile. “I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

  “Sorry to disappoint.”

  Thomas’s gaze leveled on August. Everything about her was nearly the same. Same big brown eyes, coppery curls that hung past her shoulders, and the tight body that had gotten him hard more than a few times. What wasn’t the same was the malevolent look in those gorgeous eyes that used to gaze lovingly at him, and the pulsating black of the Shadow Demon’s aura surrounding her.

  “You want the big one?” Cain asked.

  “No.” Thomas shook his head. “I want her.”

  “Good, the little ones are usually meaner.” Cain lifted his blades and whispered his Latin chant against the metal, igniting the power of his scythes. Blue flames raced along the edges, and then faded back to black. “This will be a good test for you.”

  “Yeah, this should be super fun,” Thomas scoffed. Raising his daggers to his lips, he whispered, “Producat in lucem.” Bring the light. Like Cain’s scythes, the blue fire sped along the honed blades and dimmed. Now the weapons would exorcise the demons but leave the humans alive. Though…it was always a tossup how bad off they’d be afterward. “Let’s do this.”

  As August stalked toward him, she drew a long dagger from the inside pocket of her coat. Determination burned in her eyes, her approach steady and purposeful. He wouldn’t make the mistake of thinking he could reason with this demon. No, there was only one solution, and he prayed he could make a clean strike.

  When she was about five feet away, she launched herself forward with a flying leap. Endowed with the demon’s strength and speed, she lifted above him, slamming her knife straight down. Thomas dropped to one knee. Clasping his blades together overhead, he formed a shield. Her attack bounced off, and as she landed on the ground behind him, Thomas spun and swept his leg in an arc. The hit caught her at the calf and knocked her off balance, causing her to stumble. Trying to remain upright, her arms windmilled.

  If this had been any other possessed person, Thomas would have taken advantage of the split-second gain, but this was August, the woman who had fed his fantasy of a happy life. The idea of sinking his blades into her twisted his gut in a knot. His attack faltered, the hesitation costing him.

  August took a step back, catching herself. Seeing his mistake, Thomas charged forward, but she bent backward and propelled herself into a backward flip. Her foot landed a solid kick to his chin as it followed her body.

  The force of the hit slammed into him. Pain ricocheted through his jaw, and stars danced behind his eyes. He went down on one knee, digging the tip of his right blade into the asphalt to stop his fall.

  August rocketed toward him, her knife poised for the strike. Triumph glinted in her unwavering stare, and a sneer pulled at her mouth. For a split second, her body hung in the air, blades raised overhead.

  All hesitancy melted away, his mission crystalizing. He struck. Lunging forward, he buried his blade in her chest. The sickening sensation of the metal sinking into her soft flesh shook him to his core. Delivering the second blow, he rammed his right hand forward. The blade flared to life, the blue flames licking along the incision and burrowing into August’s chest.

  She dropped to the asphalt, but he held her upright. Her body convulsed, her eyes wide, and her mouth rounding. The dagger in her hand clattered to the ground and skidded out of reach. Slowly, she grabbed his fingers. Even with two eight-inch Shadow Blades buried to their hilt in her chest, the demon’s grip tightened to a painful level. Her nails dug at his fingers, scraping off a layer of skin. Still, he held fast. Never letting up on the tension, Thomas pressed to his feet.

  “You can’t have her,” the demon hissed.

  He leaned in until they were nose to nose. “Fuck. You.”

  With that, he shoved the blade upward, slicing a wide gash in her chest. A scream tore from her throat, her fingers clawing at his face as he released one of the scythes and plunged his hand into her chest.

  A viscous liquid surrounded his hand, slowing his forward motion. The sensation of a million biting ants tore at his fingers and wrist, but he thrust deeper into the thick, oily substance until he felt the hard nugget of the demon’s soul. It recoiled from his touch, but he snatched at the putrid lump and yanked it free. The black liquid turned to vapor and seeped from the wound in August’s chest, trying to reach the demon soul.

  Tossing the fetid mass in the air, he hauled a blade free from her body, spun, and slashed at the clump. Blue flames raced along the razor-sharp edge of the scythe and engulfed the soul, burning it to ash. As if caught by an updraft, the vapor expanded outward and then exploded, evaporating.

  As he watched the black mist disperse, his shoulders sagged in relief, but his reprieve was short-lived. August’s body pitched forward.

  “Shit.” He spun toward her just in time to catch her from falling to the ground. Holding her with one arm, he pulled the second blade free and shoved it into its holster at his back. “August.” He lowered her to the ground and laid her flat. “Can you hear me?”

  No response. Her chalky pallor sent a pang of alarm through him. After stowing his second blade, he bent to examine the gash. Though the skin was scorched and puckered, the incision was healing. By tomorrow, hopefully there would be no sign of his reaping—if there was a tomorrow.

  “August.” He slid his arm under her shoulders and lifted her. “Come on, baby, wake up.”

  Still nothing.

  The thud of light footsteps jogging toward him sounded to Thomas’s right, and a second later, Cain appeared. Sometime during the fight, Cain and Throttle had disappeared down the alley. From the scowl on his partner’s face, things hadn’t ended well.

  Cain crouched next to them. “She alive?”

  “Yeah, but unconscious. Throttle?”

  His glower deepened. “Escaped.”

  Thomas harrumphed but didn’t comment. Cain was the oldest Dark Reaper living. If he’d lost the demon, there had been a good reason. Shifting August higher, he stood. “Help me get her back to my place.”

  Cain’s dark gaze leveled on him. “Do you think that’s wise?”

  Probably not, but nothing on Earth would make him abandon August now. Not when he’d just found her again. “Wise or not, I’m taking her home.”

  Cain didn’t argue. He liked that about him. Just let things be. He helped Thomas to his feet and then went to check on the unconscious guy still lying next to the trash bin. After a minute of examination, he prowled back to Thomas. “Drunk. He’ll be fine.”

  Thomas nodded and strode to the street. Becoming a Dark Reaper wasn’t the only second chance he’d take advantage of—no matter what the consequences.

  Chapter Two

  Sunlight danced just beyond August’s eyelids, but exhaustion made it impossible to open them. Silence blanketed her. No motorcycles revving. No yelling or laughing. None of the pandemonium that was the constant din at the Scavengers’ motorcycle clubhouse. Even the smells of gas and oil were missing. Where was she, and why couldn’t she remember anything?

  Her mind sifted
through the shattered fragments of her memories, trying to piece together something coherent, but as she latched on to an image, it evaporated. She let it go, seeking the next clue as to how she got here, wherever here was. Without warning, the image of Thomas flared to life in her mind, bringing with it the raw grief she’d been living with since his death a few months ago.

  A whimper slipped from her lips as the sadness swamped her. He’d been the only happiness in her miserable life, but before anything beyond friendship could develop between them, he’d been killed. The vise around her heart tightened. He’d tried to protect her from Throttle’s drunken rampage and paid the price. Because of her. Now that she remembered, she wished she could go back into the haze she’d been living in.

  As she rolled to her side, her body curling in on itself, a sharp ache spread across her chest. She gasped against the pain, her eyes popping open. It took a second for the sight before her to register. Then all pain vanished.

  Not a foot away sat Thomas, elbows resting on his knees, his stare intent. “Hey, sunshine.”

  “Whoa!” She bolted upright, her body pressing against the back of the couch. “What the hell?” Her gaze skated around the dingy apartment, but she didn’t recognize it. “If you’re here…then I must be…dead?”

  The same crooked smile she remembered quirked the right side of his mouth. “No, you’re very much alive.”

  “But…you’re dead, right?”

  “Uhhh, well.” He grimaced. “Not exactly.”

  “What do you mean, not exactly?” Surely, she was having some kind of drug-induced delusion. “You’re dead.”

  Leaning forward, he covered her hand with his. Warm and heavy. So unlike the last time she’d touched him. “I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are.” She yanked her hand away and scooted to the end of the couch. “I saw you get shot. I checked your pulse. You didn’t have one. You were dead.”