Such Violent Delights: A Holiday Paranormal Romance Anthology

by S. L. Jennings

  I yank my hand out of his grasp. “Don’t touch me without asking.”

  His hands come up in defense, his grin deepening. “Woah, little Sub. Calm down.”

  “What?” I ask, confused. “A what? Why do you keep calling me that—I’m not a subject.”

  His eyes search mine, and then he casts a look to Juan before coming back to me. “Who are you?”

  I look to Juan, who then jerks me toward him, dragging me across the sidewalk. “Follow my lead, Tatyana. Always.” His mumble is an alarming warning.

  I don’t answer, instead, I try to relax and do as he says, follow his lead. We pass various shops and I have to fight the urge to pounce into each store, hypnotized by the décor and warm glimmering lights.

  Juan stops outside one with the words Chocolate in old cursive handwriting flashing above the door. A bell dings as someone exits, a medium sized basket hanging from the crook of her elbow. She bows her head in greeting, but when her eyes meet us, her face drops and she scatters off in fear.

  “What is it with that. People are scared of Killian too.”

  Brax laughs, so sarcastically I have to turn my head to take him seriously. “What?”

  “Killian is not what these people are scared of.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask annoyed, and a little confused by what in God’s name they’re all talking about.

  “Killian is the least of your problems,” Brax adds, and before I can dig deeper to know what the Hades he’s talking about, I’m getting dragged into the shop.

  The same bell dings as we enter and the obvious climatic atmosphere drops from the air conditioning.

  “Hello, welcome—” the greeting halts instantly.

  My eyes go to the front desk where it came from, landing on a girl who looks around my age. She stares at me with confusion, and then to the guys before coming back to me. She fixes her face before continuing, her shoulders straightening in insolence. I think I like this girl, she shows a slither of defiance.

  She flicks her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “How may I help y’all today?”

  Brax licks his lips and bares his teeth at her, but she doesn’t flinch. He continues tormenting the poor girl by tilting his head, scanning her up and down. “You tell me, sweetheart. What do you recommend?”

  My eyes go around the small shop where white chocolate, dark chocolate, milk chocolate and even a chocolate with a pink tint decorate the room in small and large packaging. I inhale, my eyes closing as I relish in the scent going through my nostrils and resting deep in my belly, making it rumble in hunger.

  I exhale, my eyes opening. “Can I try the pink chocolate, please?”

  The girl’s eyes snap to mine, but they wrinkle around the edge as she peers at me. I glance over my shoulder briefly to see if she’s actually giving that look to someone else and come back to her when I see that it is in fact to me. ”Unless they’re not available?” I continue.

  Her voice falters, and if I didn’t know better, her eyes glass over. “The rose chocolate? No.” She shakes her head and exhales with a smile. “It’s absolutely available.” She disappears under the counter, and I walk back toward her attentively.

  She pops back up, ringing up the order as her eyes come to mine. “Did you know that this is natural chocolate from the rose cocoa bean?”

  I shake my head. “I didn’t. Thank you. I’ll get some white too, please.”

  She hands me the small mesh parcel filled with chocolate, and I look down to see pink and white.

  “Already done,” she whispers, giving me one last smile. “I’ll see you, T.”

  I almost miss the farewell she said because then Juan is dragging me out of the shop and whistling for the limo.

  “Woah!” I push his chest. “Are you going to explain why you’re acting crazy right now?” The limo pulls up against the curb and both guys come marching out of the shop.

  The limo doors swing open and before I can ask another question, I’m being thrown inside.

  “Ah!” I scream in frustration, but that scream is short lived when there are two other guys in the limo sitting opposite me where Aamon and Brax were sitting not long ago. Brax and Aamon slip into each side, the limo expanding before my eyes to accommodate them.

  I shake my head, my eyes closing and opening. “Did I just imagine that?”

  Juan gets in beside me, and then the other door opens and Killian is getting in too.

  “Kill?” I gasp, my arms swinging around his neck.

  “Aw cute, she pet named you.”

  Killian glares at one of the new guys. This one has white hair and pale skin, his eyes ice blue—an almost translucent color and high cheekbones. He’s very pretty, but his expressions show nothing of the normal. He’s almost blank. He cranks his head, his eyes going up and down my body. “She’s nothing special, Kill. What the fuck is the big deal?”

  Killian stills beside me as the limo takes off, taking us out of the beautiful town. I try to ignore the insult from him.

  “Who said she was special, Zagan, if I remember correctly,” Juan says, and I take it white hair dude’s name is ‘Zagan.’ Juan continues while unbuttoning his jacket, “Killian’s correct words were that she was a burden, yes?”

  I sigh, tired of the back and forth and from the abundance of energy that’s being constricted to this car, threatening to smash the windows and spill out the seams. “Listen.” I bring my attention to all of them. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t even know who Killian was when I took the note Grace gave me and found Killian.”

  The other one who I haven’t met yet turns his eyes to me. He has very short hair, a nose ring, and dark grey eyes. I flinch when he pins me with his glare. “But you know why you’re on the run?”

  I swallow passed my nerves. “Yes, well, some of the reason why.”

  He shakes his head.

  Killian interrupts—well, attempts to interrupt. “Nickar—” It’s pronounced as Nee-car.

  Nickar continues. “You have no idea.”

  We continue in silence, and I watch outside my window as the streets pass by.

  Why are there so many men in my bubble all of a sudden. Trying to work out why Grace would send me to Killian is making less and less sense.

  About Amo Jones

  Amo Jones is a small country girl totally winging this author thing (she's probably doing it all wrong). She likes cake, loves wine, and her religion is magic. She's a profound work-a-holic, but when she's not writing, you can find her chilling with her kids & partner at the nearest beach, with a cocktail in her hand.

  New Zealand is not a state of Australia and rugby is the best sport ever played.

  Website: http://www.amojonesbooks.com/ Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/amojonesauthor

  Join my Wolf Pack: https://www.facebook.com/groups/10114...

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  Chapter 6

  “You okay?” Killian asks, coming into the bedroom I’m staying in as I run my brush through my hair.

  I pause and shrug. “Yeah. I guess. You could have warned me about your army of men, though…”

  Killian stills, and then smirks, so deep that it makes my chest feel tight. He slowly lowers himself onto the bed. “Juan is detached—well, they all are to an extent, but Juan more so. He hides behind his lack of emotion and underlying issues. Stay away from Aamon, far away—period. Brax uses his charm and boyish features to try to distract people from the fact that he is probably the darkest of them all, Zagan hates everyone so don’t take it to heart, and Nickar? Stay away from him. Actually, stay away from all of them. They can’t be trusted around you.”

  “What does that mean, Kill? I don’t understand.”

  He licks his lip and then looks back at me. “I asked you once if you trusted me before we got here and you said you weren’t sure. I’ll ask you again, do you trust me?”

  My eyelashes flutter under the weight. Tru
st is such a big thing. It unlocks feelings and emotions, and power. “Yes.”

  Apparently my mouth already knows.

  A breeze sweeps through the bedroom, softly crashing against my flesh until goosebumps break out over me. My eyebrows furrow as I look toward the small window in the bedroom, only it’s closed.

  “Wh—?” I go to ask Killian why the trust is so important, but he’s gone.

  My shoulders sag, and I crawl against the headboard of the bed. Brushing my long hair out of my face, my eyes go down to the floor where the box is. I scoot off the bed and lock the bedroom door before diving back down and reaching under to grab it. Flipping it open again, I take out the small recorder and push play…

  My name is Tatyana Patrova, I’m a prisoner of The Church. I fear Killian is not who he says he is. Someone help me. Help me, please. I don’t know when this will ever be found, whether I will still be alive or dead, but wherever you are, whoever you are, please help me. I’m Tatyana Patrova, and this is a recording of my life. I fear that these men are not just soldiers of Dyavol. I fear that they’re something, much, much worse. I made a mistake, you see, I told Killian that I trusted him.

  My name is Tatyana Patrova, and I’m a prisoner of The Church.

  C- Ckillian

  H- Habraxa

  U – Uzagan

  R – Rayjuan

  C – Cenickar

  H – Haamon

  The recorder slips from my hand and drops back into the box. I stand to my feet in slow motion, my heart thundering in my chest. These men are not just soldiers of Dyavol. That was me talking. Me, my voice. I shake my head slowly, my throat contracting. I feel a dark hole suck my chest in as realization seeps into my bones. I’ve done something very wrong. Very, very wrong.

  My bedroom door swings open, and Juan is standing there, his naked chest on display as he heaves in deep breaths, blood dripping from his mouth, dripping over his tight abs. In a flash, all of them are standing in my bedroom, a few not wearing shirts.

  My eyes find Killian instantly, and I try to ignore his bare chest, rippled muscles and unbuttoned jeans hanging below a V-shape in his abdomen. His smirk deepens, his eyes shading over with a darkness I haven’t seen from him before. “That’s right, Sub, you’re Tatyana Patrova,” he comes closer to me, his hand flying to my face to squeeze my cheeks. “And you’re a prisoner of The Church.”

  DYAVOL by Amo Jones will be Book 1 in a new duet series that she plans to release early 2019. You can add it to your TBR on Goodreads now. Please note that some things may change in the full novel.

  Also by Amo Jones

  Tainted Love

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  Losing Traction

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  F*cker

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  Crowned By Hate

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  Hellraiser

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  One-Hundred & Thirty-six Scars

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  The Devil’s Match

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  Razing Grace-Part 1

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  Razing Grace-Part 2

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  The Broken Puppet

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  Chapter 1

  The lights twinkled merrily in the storefront displays as I wandered through the mall, looking for gifts for Penelope and the boys at work. After all, what’s the point of being away from the coven, if I can’t enjoy all the things they would frown upon?

  Our solstice celebrations were sacred and beautiful, but what child doesn’t want a jolly fat man to bring them presents? Especially a child who has no toys of her own and is repeatedly told to “be grateful for not being drowned like an unwanted puppy.” And my aunt had tried that, too.

  “Aunt Portia, can’t we celebrate like everybody else does? They stole all their holidays from us anyway.” A ten-year-old me had asked as we walked down the street to the tinny sound of ‘Silver Bells’ playing over Macy’s outdoor speakers.

  “We don’t celebrate with them, because we’re not Christian Morgana. We will not stoop to their bastardized commercial holidays. Don’t ask again.”

  I had looked all around me at the people jostling each other, cursing when they were pushed aside by other shoppers intent on securing their treasures before they sold out in the most commercialized holiday of them all.

  “According to the big book you made me read, they aren’t really Christian either, are they?”

  My aunt had looked at me in astonishment, mouth agape. Then she had laughed, a throaty, amazed sound that made me jump in shock. Her face had transformed into something beautiful, and the image burned itself into my memory as what my mother must have looked like.

  Then she sighed and shook her head, and she was my peevish, sometimes cruel keeper once more. “No, they truly aren’t Morgana. But never let them hear you say it.” She’d been a little less harsh for the rest of that day, and even let me have a cookie when she bought a bag of them for Annabelle, my older cousin.

  But I wasn’t ten anymore. I had left the coven as soon as I was able and put myself through college with scholarships and grants for displaced Fae. Still, I caught myself glancing around as I purchased a pair of knee-high boots for Penelope, as though I was committing a crime.

  But, thanks to the glamor I now employed whenever I wasn’t at the Fae court or at work, no one knew they were bumping shoulders (literally) with the Seelie princess, and no one cared about another Christmas shopper.

  On the way out, I stopped for chocolates and cookies, all in the shapes of Santa and Christmas trees, bells and shepherd’s crooks. None of the shifters in my building practiced a Christian religion, but they all seemed to share my opinion on the holiday season. It was ours first, and if turning Odin into a jolly fat man didn’t offend, he was welcome too.

  Mostly, I just wanted to give presents. Ten-year-old Morgan had slipped a handwoven silk thread bracelet under her aunt’s door late that Christmas Eve. When she awoke the next morning, the shredded remains of the bracelet lay in a tangle on the table next to her bed.

  Tears burned the insides of my eyelids at the memory. It had crushed me, just as every other rejected olive branch I’d offered my only parent-figure over the years had.

  The tears were dried and a smile pasted on my face by the time I returned to work from lunch, gifts in tow.

  “You’re late.” Orson’s voice rasped from his office.

  “Not even close, Boss,” I called out. “I get an hour for lunch, I’ve got fifteen minutes left.” I tossed a box of Dutch chocolate on his desk, making the client opposite him flinch. It was Gamble, the owner of a wildly popular strip club nearby.

  The impossibly handsome incubus Fae looked me over and grinned. “Orson, I may have to steal some of your talent. You do have an eye for attractive Fae employees.

  I shook my head and sighed. “Not a chance, Gamble. Feel free to drop a payment on my desk on the way out.” I turned to Orson, who’s mouth twitched as if he was stifling a smile at my cool response. “If you need me, Boss, I’ll be in the breakroom, pounding some food.”

  He accepted the chocolate and waved me off as though he were granting me a pardon for my bad behavior. Orson is as stingy as you’d expect a Pookah to be, but this is San Francisco, circa the twenty-first century. Even the tricksters have to bow to unions and payroll if they want to live among humans.

  In the breakroom, Penelope took her feet off the chair next to her so I could sit, and I handed her the shoebox the store had wrapped for free.

  “Solstice and Christmas aren’t until next week, but if you want to open th
em now,” I shrugged and turned away from her surprised, happy flush. My pulse picked up at her delight. I felt the heat of embarrassment climb my neck as I stuck my head in the fridge as though I couldn’t see the food I’d put right in the front that morning.

  “Morgan, get back here. My God.” I grabbed my food, jostling it like I’d finally found it. “You’re ridiculous. You get me a gift every birthday, why are you acting like you’ve never bought me anything before?”

  “I dunno, Pen. It’s Christmas. You know this time of year makes me weird. I’ve never made the conscious choice to celebrate the human way before.”

  “Shit. That is a big deal. You know, we should see how many different winter traditions we can corrupt this year.” She grinned and winked at me, but I shook my head hard.

  "Uh-uh. No way. I’m still recovering from when you decided to celebrate Easter by erecting a full-size crucifix in the parking lot.” I picked at my salad. “No one was amused by it, and you scared the hell out of the ladies in the nail shop across the street when they looked out the window, and you were hanging on it.”

  She chuckled and sighed. “I still think Jesus was a woman.”

  “Fine. But no shenanigans. I haven’t had a pedicure in months. I’m too embarrassed to go in there now.”

  Pen laughed aloud, choking on her coffee. “Gods that was a good one.” When I glared at her, she sighed and raised her hands in surrender. “Fine. I’ll go sing to them and make them forget. But you have to admit, we really stopped traffic with that stunt.”