Such Violent Delights: A Holiday Paranormal Romance Anthology

by S. L. Jennings

  Not to change the future, she knew it couldn’t happen. Her death was written.

  There was nothing to do in the moment in front of her.

  Nothing but surrender to sorrow and disguise it as fury.

  “That is fucking ridiculous, Wolf,” she hissed, yanking free from his arms.

  His jaw stiffened as she began to pace the floor in front of the ruined bed as if she could stomp away the future, the past, the fucking present. She wanted to crush everything that wasn’t the two of them.

  “This isn’t fucking Twilight, Conall,” she screamed, hating how shrill her voice sounded. “You don’t just check out if your girlfriend dies. Or if you think your girlfriend dies because your sister can see the future and she fucked up when Bella was really just cliff diving.”

  The intensity in Conall’s aura wavered and his mouth twitched enough to give Sophie pause.

  “Two things,” he said, voice rough and low. “You watched Twilight? And you’re calling yourself my girlfriend?”

  The change in his demeanor was enough to give Sophie emotional whiplash. She didn’t think her brooding and intense wolf had the ability to switch gears so fast, and certainly not to tease her about vampire fiction.

  She crossed her arms. “I didn’t watch Twilight,” she snapped. “The books were much better.” Though she was always Team Jacob, not that she’d tell Conall. She narrowed her eyes. “And if you tell Isla that, I’ll skin you and make a fur pelt for my living room.”

  Conall made a zipping motion with his finger over his upward turned mouth. His eyes were twinkling again and fuck if it wasn’t chasing away some of Sophie’s dread.

  He watched her expectantly, eyes roving hungrily over her naked body.

  Wetness flooded between her legs from his gaze, from the desire that permeated the air. “I’m calling myself your girlfriend,” she said, voice thick. “But only in private. In public, we’re strictly fuck buddies.”

  Conall was off the bed and in front of her in less than a moment.

  He fisted her hair in his hands, yanking their bodies close, his cock was hard against her stomach. “All this talk of death,” he growled, biting her lip. “It only means I have to fuck you so hard, so deep that the grave can never find you.”

  And he did.

  Almost.

  Chapter 6

  Coming up from the last of her wretchedly beautiful memories, Sophie found that she was officially out of oxygen.

  She couldn’t say how long she’d been newly resurrected for, but it would’ve been kind of ironic if she came back to life only to die again suffocating in her fucking coffin.

  No way was that happening.

  She had shit to do.

  People to kill.

  She had her wolf.

  Her lungs burned with pain that made her certain her organs were liquefying. She sucked at empty air, getting nothing but panic and the rancid odor of death cutting the insides of her throat.

  Power shimmered at the base of her spine and her fingers began to warm up with magic. Magic that wasn’t warm at all. It was death, frozen with the power of the grave. Pure fear swept through Sophie’s system as that power gripped her. There was a moment of certainty where she knew suffocating in her coffin was preferable to letting that power take hold. Because she wasn’t sure it would bring her back to life.

  No, she was sure it would bring something else to life, and it would bury Sophie—Conall’s Sophie—somewhere she couldn’t come back from.

  Death distracted her by clutching at her throat, her eyes dried out and her vision flooded with red as something burst on the insides of her eyeballs.

  She was seconds from suffocating, and she was no longer certain that death was the only option. She told herself she could fight against this power inside her. She’d done it before. Life was too intoxicating to pass up.

  “You fucking fill me up, Sophie. So I know that the only thing in this world to fear is emptiness. And I will die before that happens. That’s my vow.”

  She told herself that she would not succumb to the grave power. She couldn’t. Because it would be the end of Conall. He was still alive now.

  For now.

  But she had to save him because she was a twenty-first century witch...kind of.

  First, she had to save herself.

  She fastened her mental grip on the power that had been taunting her with its proximity.

  The effect was immediate.

  The bloodied and torn coffin lid was no longer inches away from her gasping mouth. It was flying through the empty air of her grave. She had done away with the soil pressing down on it, it was her grave soil after all. The grave belonged to her.

  Air rushed into her throat. It was rancid. Cold. It was death.

  She hungrily sucked in more.

  In one easy move, she pushed herself up from her coffin and landed softly on the grass above it. It wasn’t flying exactly, but she knew she could manipulate the air. Bend it.

  Especially in this place. She craned her head to drink in the death surrounding her. The bones buried within the soil from which she emerged called out to her. The dead sensed her, the dead fed her, the dead powered her.

  She grinned with a smile that was not Sophie’s. It was cold, evil and full of nothing but menace. It felt right. Comfortable on her face. On her new face. She imagined it looked the same as before. On the outside, of course.

  Words whispered from an ancient witch floated through the air. Words that she had been spelled to forget until the right time.

  “Relax, child. This will be lost from your memory until I wish it. Until the time is right...”

  The wind picked up and circled around her as the words, the spell sunk into her, tattooed itself on her bones, charging her with more magic than she thought possible.

  Why had she been fighting this? There had been reasons, she was sure. Important reasons, at least important to her unenlightened mind. But she knew the truth now. She knew her destiny. It had been buried amongst the bones, amongst the decaying flesh of her sisters.

  As she scoured the silent cemetery, bright lights twinkled in a window in the distance. She squinted at the window, making out the shapes of children, tasting their glee, it was sweet and horrid on her tongue.

  It was then she realized it was Christmas Eve.

  She’d been in the grave for two months.

  She smiled with a mixture of dread and sorrow that was residual from the Sophie who she’d left behind in that coffin. Her lips felt new, her body no longer belonged to her anymore.

  It belonged to the dead.

  “Merry fucking Christmas,” she rasped in a voice that was thicker than she had remembered.

  Everything around her had withered and expired the second she exposed her power from the grave.

  Another smile.

  She took a step and death didn’t follow her.

  Because she was death now.

  The rest of Buried Destiny coming very soon. I hope you enjoyed this little taste...

  About Anne Malcom

  Anne Malcom has been an avid reader since before she can remember, her mother responsible for her book addiction. It started with magical journeys into the world of Hogwarts and Middle Earth, then as she grew up her reading tastes grew with her. Her obsession with books and romance novels in particular gave Anne the opportunity to find another passion, writing. Finding writing about alpha males and happily ever afters more fun than reading about them, Anne is not about to stop any time soon.

  Raised in small town New Zealand, Anne had a truly special childhood, growing up in one of the most beautiful countries in the world. She has backpacked across Europe, ridden camels in the Sahara, eaten her way through Italy, and had all sorts of crazy adventures. For now, she's back at home in New Zealand and quite happy. But who knows when the travel bug will bite her again.

  Stalk her:

  Website: www.annemalcomauthor.com

  Facebook: facebook.com/annemalcomauthor


  Instagram: @anne.malcomauthor

  Twitter: malcom_anne

  Also by Anne Malcom

  The Vein Chronicles

  Fatal Harmony

  Deathless

  Faults in Fate

  Eternity’s Awakening

  The Sons of Templar

  Making the Cut

  Firestorm

  Outside the Lines

  Out of the Ashes

  Beyond the Horizon

  Dauntless

  Battles of the Broken

  Greenstone Security

  Still Waters

  Shield

  Unquiet Mind

  Echoes of Silence

  Skeletons of Us

  Broken Shelves

  A Dark Standalone...

  Birds of Paradise

  Chapter 1

  I ALWAYS THOUGHT of Maude Earl as peculiar. Bright, clever blue eyes that sparkled with mischief with every word she spoke, her voice a gentle lint, calming and smooth to the ears. But her grades weren’t so charming.

  And now we sat in the nearly empty Firestone Memorial Library, books and papers scribbled in red and black and blue ink.

  She seemed extra edgy tonight, jumpy as she fidgeted with her sheer blouse. “What time is it Emma?”

  I glanced at my wristwatch, frowning. “Ten past eleven.”

  She grumbled, her shoulders sagging. “The university is trying to punish me. They just had to put my last exam tomorrow.” She grabbed a black pen and stabbed it against the book in front of her.

  “Hey, that’s a library book!” I whisper-hissed, snatching it back from her.

  She gave me a sheepish look, but a smile hinted at her mouth. Always amused.

  “We’re almost done,” I told her, closing the book and putting it far away from her delicate hands.

  Maude twirled her dark strands around her finger and leaned back. “December twentieth. Do you know what day that is?”

  I focused back on her mock-exam, grading her. She hadn’t been doing too bad so far, thanks to the last five hours of me testing her over and over again for Stats, but I could tell she was wearing thin. I was surprised she had kept her entire attention on me for the most of the time so far. Didn’t stop her from constantly fidgeting with everything—her hair, her blouse, her nails, the books, my books—

  I froze as I felt her twirl a strand of my dirty blonde hair around her fingers, eyeing it thoughtfully.

  “Do you ever let yourself go?”

  I frowned at her. “Yeah, of course.”

  Her brows knitted. “And I don’t mean running track.”

  I huffed out a heavy breath and sat up, causing her let go. “And to answer your question, it’s the longest night of the year.”

  Her eyes flashed wickedly. “There’s a party over Prospect Avenue tonight. I have an invitation and they told me I should bring a friend.”

  I refocused back on the test, reading over her answers. “But tomorrow’s the exam, Maude. Do you think you should be going out late tonight?”

  “Oh c’mon. We can just stop by, see some of my friends? It’ll be fun, I promise!”

  I gripped the pen tighter. Maude and I were both in Stats and we stay together during class and I had agreed to tutor her because math just wasn’t her thing, but I didn’t know the group she hangout with. I would catch glimpses of them around campus, but I didn’t party like them. I knew she belonged to one of the exclusive co-ed eating clubs on Prospect Avenue.

  Eating clubs had began in the 1800s around Princeton when some men wanted to socialize exclusively away from campus. What started as just eating meals together turned into a place where rich kids with power, money and connections made more connections. It wasn’t until the 1990s when they had allowed women to also join. No one lived in the estates, only used it for meals and partying. To join, you had to be invited and considering both my parents were middle-class, blue-collared people, I didn’t fit the bill.

  But I hadn’t wanted anything to do with those clubs. Sure, I knew lots of people who attended their lawn parties each of the eating clubs held, all large beautiful estates on Prospect Avenue, but I hadn’t cared to go.

  I had to admit though—Rosewood—the eating club Maude was in—had peaked my interest. Rumors spread of how wild the parties were and how all members had been connected before attending Princeton.

  Plus, I had heard the meals were so delicious.

  My stomach grumbled at the thought.

  “You can come and make sure I leave at a reasonable hour, okay?”

  I sighed and stared at her as she smiled sweetly at me. Somehow, Maude had me wrapped around her finger. But I wasn’t the only one. I watched her in class, I watched her flirt with the guys around us and even the TA and professor. She just had to flash her pearly whites and let her soft laugh seep in and no one could refuse her.

  “Fine,” I said and handed her back her mock exam. “And you passed. Barely.”

  She didn’t seem to care as she smiled at me, her eyes twinkling with glee. “They would eat you up, trust me.”

  I swallowed thickly, but ignored the heaviness on my chest and we both gathered the books and papers, packing up. Maude couldn’t stop talking, loudly.

  I said goodnight to the security guards monitoring the library as we passed through the front doors and out into the wicked cold. It hadn’t snowed yet, but I hoped we’d at least have a white Christmas. I had lived in California and even though I wouldn’t be going home for the holidays, I still hoped we got snow. It had only experienced snow the last few years I had been at Princeton, but I hadn’t stayed for the holidays here. It was the least the universe could give me as a white Christmas.

  I pulled my trench coat tighter around my middle and cursed myself for not bringing my gloves and hat.

  Maude squinted at me as I rubbed my hands together. “Not much of a cold person?”

  “Nah, I’m just used to California weather,” I said, shrugging and sticking my hands into my pockets. “You and your family live close by right?”

  Maude smiled, her nose bright red, but she didn’t seemed bothered by the cold. “My family’s been here for decades. We’re all connected here.” She gave me a smile that made her eyes gleam in the darkness. I nodded. Maude practically skipped along on her tiptoes. “My family helped founded the university, you know. I guess that makes me a founder.”

  I had known she had high, powerful connections at Princeton, but now it sort of made sense.

  As we turned onto Prospect Avenue, Maude’s excitement doubled. She gripped my hand and tugged me along, giggling as we bypassed party-goers dressed in whites and blues.

  “Is there a dress code?” I asked, gawking at a girl in long shimmery gown. I grimaced at mine: a plaid skirt and plain black sweater tucked in and knee length boots. Way too casual compared to everyone around me.

  Maude shook her head. “You’re fine.”

  I glanced at the other mansions along the avenue: Ivy, Colonial, and so many more Eating clubs and their large front lawns. All of the rest of the houses were silent and all of the attention was down the street at Rosewood. A white stone estate covered in dark green ivy and large double oak doors so sturdy looking. Groups littered the front lawn, red cups in their hands and dressed formally.

  Maude put her arm through mine and slowed her pace as we approached. “I should warn you first though…”

  I stiffened and glanced at her, but she was staring at Rosewood ahead of us. So close, the noise of laughter and chatter and music began to make my head pound.

  “What is it?”

  “Do not eat or drink anything. Even if someone offers,” she said, her tone for once deadly serious.

  I laughed. “I know not to accept a drink from a random person, Maude. Plus, I don’t drink much when I’m on the track team.”

  “Do not accept any gifts. Just don’t accept anything okay?”

  I frowned. “Okay?”

  “Do not be rude or insult anyone.”
>
  I snorted. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  Maude smiled sheepishly at me. “I know, but these people in here—they’re prideful.” She sighed. “We all are.” She had muttered the last part as she turned away from me, but I had heard her.

  “I promise to be on my best behavior,” I told her, feeling a twinge of anxiety coming off of her. She didn’t need to worry about me being a jackass to anyone.

  Just as we approached the stone path leading to the front of the porch, she halted and turned to face me, gripping both of my forearms.

  “And do not under any circumstances tell them your name,” she said, her bright eyes boring into mine.

  That made me pause. My name? “Why?”

  Like a switch, she turned on a smile. “Because trust me. Just give them a nickname, okay? Let’s call you…” She stood back, pressing a finger to her chin as she scanned me up and down. When her eyes landed on my ponytail, she snapped her fingers. “Blondie.”

  I felt the ends of my ponytail, staring at it. “It’s more of a light brunette?”

  “It’s whatever.” She snatched my wrist, making me release my hair and stare at her. Her eyes had gotten their gleam back and her smile grew as she watched me. “Tonight you are Blondie. Now c’mon.”

  I frowned, but followed her past the few crowds outside. She waved at everyone, sending her mega watt smile.

  I repeated in my head the strange rules as we made our way up the front porch.

  Do not accept anything.

  Do no eat or drink their food.

  Do not insult them.

  Do not tell them my name.

  Easy Peasy.

  Or so I thought.

  Chapter 2