FIRST Kiss
OF FREEDOM
A Whitemoon Warriors Novel
First Kiss of Freedom
© 2018 Nichole Wolfe. All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please contact the author at:
Nichole Wolfe
1727 W. Main Street
Valley View, PA 17983
[email protected]
ISBN: 9781719918831
Visit the author’s website at www.nicholewolfe.com
This book is dedicated to:
My parents, who nurtured my love of books
My best friend, who shared in my passion
My husband, who supported my dream in every way
From the depth of my soul
And the bottom of my heart
I thank you
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank the indie author community for being so incredibly supportive and helpful in my journey. Special thanks goes to D.S. Murphy for his amazing design tools and online community, Kris McCormick for her spectacular blurb writing, and to Jacqueline Eve for her honest and encouraging developmental and editorial feedback. This book wouldn’t have turned out half as well without all of your fantastic skills.
CHAPTER ONE
I hate this place, Charlie thought as he gazed up at the mansion before him. After nearly a decade away, he had been anxious to return and get back to his real work. Serious business awaited him within its walls, and when your Maker calls, you answer. And when Jacques de Portea was your Maker, you didn’t argue. Unless you wanted your head swiftly detached from your spine...if he was in a good mood. Charlie happened to like his head just where it was, thank you very much.
Pine trees and bushes were painted with snow, and solar lights dotted the path, welcoming visitors towards the tall double doors of the luxurious estate. Power and prestige resided within, and Jacques made sure it showed with every inch of expensive marble. Charlie sneered as his steps swept a path through the snow. Welcomed, indeed.
Pushing his way through the doors, he didn’t make it far before one of the slaves came and insisted on taking his bags. Charlie nodded, squinting at the balding man as he crouched to pick up the heavy suitcase.
“Paul? Is that you?”
The man gave him a wide grin. “Good to have you back, Master Charles.”
Charlie gaped at him. “Good gods, man. You’ve gotten old! I’d barely recognized you.” Having been surrounded by the ancient, but ageless for the last ten years, Paul’s loss of hair alone was a shocking reminder time had certainly marched on.
Paul laughed, a warm, hearty sound that brightened the gloomy mood Charlie had been carrying around with him. “And I see you haven’t aged one bit, sir.”
“Being undead will do that,” Charlie said, shrugging.
“Wait until I tell Nessie you’ve returned. She’ll be so surprised,” Paul exclaimed, huffing as he lugged the suitcase across the room towards the stairs.
Nessie. The young child had been one of the reasons Charlie had been so anxious to return to the mansion. The girl had always made him feel better. They would sit in the study for hours as he’d listen to her tell fantastical tales of adventure. Ironically, one of her favorite stories had been Peter Pan. “You’d make a perfect Peter, Charlie!” she’d chirp. “You never get any older.” Even now, he smiled at the memory of the lively little girl. Almost made him forget all the horrid things he’d had to do during his never-ending service to Jacques.
“Charlie, my boy!”
Charlie ground his molars. Speak of the devil. Jacques swooped into the room, clapping him on the shoulder. A vivid picture of punching the bastard in the nose crossed his mind, but, instead, he managed a smile. Hopefully, his face cooperated. The grin on Jacques’ face told him he’d managed well enough.
“How did we do at council?” At least Jacques didn’t waste much time on niceties. Straight to the point. Thank the gods. Less time he had to pretend to smile.
“Well, sir. The council seems quite interested in your proposal to expand the blood and slave markets across seas.” Charlie’s gut churned. The use of human slaves had been made common practice again ever since the “supernaturals,” a collective term for any more-than-human beings, had come out of the closet, so to speak. And that was nearly two hundred years ago. The practice had never sat well with him, especially having fought in the American Civil War almost four centuries earlier. He had survived the hell of battle only to be thrown back into the pit a few short years later. Thanks to the son of a bitch clutching his shoulder like a long-lost friend.
“Excellent, excellent. Took them long enough to decide,” Jacques said as he finally stepped away, crossing the room toward the wet bar. Charlie resisted the urge to wipe his shoulder clean.
“Yes, sir. I apologize for the delay in my return, but-”
Jacques laughed, a cold contrast to Paul’s hearty one. “With those old windbags, I’m surprised it didn’t take you a century to convince them. And never, ever apologize. It’s weak to admit you were wrong. Makes other people question you. And we can’t have that, especially now.”
“Now, sir?”
“Of course!” Jacques exclaimed, pointing at him. “I expect you to hold down the fort while I’m at council setting up the expansion operations. And these slaves need a firm hand. Hell, even some of the vampires do. Otherwise, they forget who the master is.”
It took Charlie a moment to compose himself. Master...of the entire estate? He cleared his throat. “Are you sure, sir? Aren’t there more experienced-”
“No, no, no,” Jacques interrupted, shaking his head. “You’ve shown me dedication, loyalty, and quite a sharp mind to deal with the council members. You’re the best man for the job. Besides, Kat would be the next eldest, and I’ll be damned before I put a woman in charge of my estate. Gods know what I’d come back to! Am I right?”
“Of...of course, sir,” Charlie stammered. “I’m honored to do this service for you,” he lied, forcing himself into a small bow. This, of course, pleased Jacques immensely. Gods, I fucking hate this. But sacrifices had to be made if he wanted his revenge. Patience, he told himself as he glanced up at Jacques’ glowing face. He’ll get what’s coming to him soon enough.
***
I hate this room. Nessie dragged her feet through the door and entered her least favorite place on the entire estate. The white furniture and rugs only served to make her more anxious. One little accident, which would, of course, be her fault, and she’d spend the next several hours on her hands and knees scrubbing the entire room.
“Don’t slouch, Vanessa,” her mother chided from behind her.
She narrowed her eyes, ready to stick out her tongue at her mother until Master entered the room. Immediately lowering her gaze to the floor, the two of them bowed their heads as he passed them. She noticed a second pair of feet cross in front of her vision a few moments after and her stomach cramped. Logan, the younger male who usually fed from her, had wandering hands and a penchant for sinking his teeth to the bone. Vampires were assholes like that.
“C’mon, I haven’t got all
day!” Master bellowed as he lounged on the sofa across the room.
She scrambled over to sit on the cushion beside Logan, her eyes focusing on her fiddling hands in her lap. Any moment now he’d snatch up her wrist and dig his ugly fangs into her vein. Her breaths came unevenly, her heart racing, her body bracing for the coming pain.
“You seem uneasy,” the man next to her said.
Her breath hitched as her gaze shot up. Not Logan. Definitely not Logan. That face, like a distant memory, yet so familiar. It was him. The vampire she had once called friend. Best friend, if she was being honest with herself. Before he disappeared on her, never to be seen or heard from for the last ten years. The one who’d left her here to rot like a forgotten piece of garbage. Vampires were assholes like that.
“It’s alright,” he said, reaching for her hand, which she snatched out of reach without a thought.
His eyebrows raised in surprise.
Shit. Slaves don’t behave like that. Your hand isn’t your hand when you’re a slave. She slowly held out her hand, staring at him. His face was exactly as she remembered. Dark, stormy eyes under thick brows that matched his perfectly styled black hair. His nose slightly veered to one side, and his lips were a tad too big for his face.
He glanced down at her offered hand. “Are you sure? You don’t seem like you want me to,” he asked, shocking the shit out of her. She wouldn’t be surprised if her jaw just fell off her face.
“Are you daft, man? You don’t ask her permission. She’s a fucking slave, for gods’ sake! What did those council members teach you!” Master’s eyes landed on her, and her body froze. “Come here, girl,” he commanded in a low tone that made her knees wobble as she crossed the room. Shit, now she’d done it. You couldn’t just hand over your hand like a good little slave, could ya, Ness?
As soon as she was within reach, he snatched her arm. She could already feel it bruising beneath his grasp. He yanked her down onto the unoccupied cushion, his other hand gripping her thigh to hold her in place. As his fangs jabbed into her wrist, she yelped. Even Logan’s bite had never been that bad. Like someone jabbing a needle into your vein and twisting. She clenched her teeth as Master took long, painful pulls. Don’t cry. Tears are weakness. Thankfully, it didn’t last long.
When Master released her, he shoved her off the couch. She landed on her ass on the pristine white rug. Son of a bitch! Now, there was a big red mark on the floor. “There. That’s how it’s done, boy!”
She risked a glance up at Charlie’s face. He seemed perfectly calm except for the slight ticking in his jaw. Was he upset at her ill-treatment? Or was it just a muscle spasm? Probably the latter. He hadn’t cared the last ten years, why care now, right?
***
The woman glared death at him as she shuffled back across the room. Charlie wanted to throw an identical look at Jacques, the cruel son of a bitch, but he managed to keep his face neutral. Jacques had to think he worshiped his every move, took every barbaric lesson to heart, blackening his soul for the chance at vengeance. But watching his Maker rip into that woman’s arm like a savage had made him tense with rage. It had taken serious effort to keep himself from flying across the room and attempting to separate Jacques’ fangs from his jaw. Which made no sense. He had witnessed Jacques do far worse over the long years. A nasty bite was child’s play for him. So, why such a strong reaction now? After all these years? Was his soul crying out for an end to all the depravity?
Slowly sinking back down onto the cushion beside him, the woman’s eyes still held a promise of murder. She seriously did not like him, and she was not doing a good job hiding it. As she closed the distance, her scent wafted towards him. In a single moment, all thoughts ceased. His mind fogged by the aroma of her sweet-smelling lifeblood. Without thinking, he caressed her hand, lifting it, bringing the taste of paradise closer to his mouth. Nothing mattered but getting her skin against his lips and her blood inside his body. Nothing else mattered. Not him, not Jacques, not even his revenge. This moment. Only this moment had any meaning for him.
He gently pressed the tip of his tongue against her open vein. The first taste was better than he ever thought possible. It had him clutching her wrist as he sank his fangs into her delicate flesh one inch at a time. And as her blood slipped past his tongue, his body flushed. Waves of warmth swept through him. The numbness that had kept an icy grip on his body shattered as his heart began beating for the first time in almost four hundred years. He released her wrist on a silent gasp, his eyes snapping open.
As his mind and vision cleared, a deep scowl on her full mouth caught his eye first. With her blood pumping its way straight to his heart, he gazed into the bright hazel eyes of the child he had so missed over the last ten years. A gaze that seemed to reach inside him and put a vice-grip on his warming heart as recognition slammed into him like a sucker punch to the gut.
Nessie.
Gods, he should have recognized her before. Those hazel eyes. Long, honey-colored waves pulled back from her slender face. Skin that looked to be kissed by the sun itself.
But before he had time to take in the new woman that had taken the place of the young girl he so fondly remembered, Jacques snapped from across the room, “You’ve done your job, girl. Now get out.”
Nessie clenched her jaw before bowing her head and swiftly moving toward the exit.
Look back, look back at me.
And she did. With a look that almost froze his heart all over again.
CHAPTER TWO
Nessie collapsed into the chair at the small kitchen table. What a night. Being worked like a slave was grueling enough, but to have not one, but two, bloodsucking fiends at your wrist in one night. No wonder her legs felt like jelly. Admittedly, the second bloodsucking fiend had been a tad gentler. Okay, fine. He’d been the gentlest feeding she’d ever experienced. But he was still a fiend! No matter how gently he used those wretched fangs of his.
And the way he’d looked at her when he was finished...the nerve of that man! Vampires were assholes. Period.
“Drink your tea, Vanessa,” her mother said, placing a steaming mug in front of her. She wrinkled her nose at the horrid smell. Why did her mother have to make the worst tea on the planet? And why did she have to drink the disgusting stuff every day? Her mother narrowed her dark, brown eyes on her and pointed at the mug. “Drink.”
“Good morning, my lovely young ladies,” her father said as he walked into the room. His eyes drooped and the dark bags under his eyes gave away his weariness, but it couldn’t wipe the smile from his face.
“I’m hardly a young lady anymore, Paul,” her mother said as she wiped out the sink.
Skipping over to her, his smile widened. “You’ll always be young in my eyes, my darling Eva,” he said, pecking her on the cheek. She rolled her eyes at him and continued wiping the counters.
Nessie smiled at them before her father pulled his gaze from her mother to look at her. “Speaking of not being young anymore.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her as he pulled a package from under his shirt. Setting the package on the table, he sang a very off-key version of “Happy Birthday,” his face glowing as he smiled down at her. By the second verse, several others crowded the small kitchen and joined in.
“Happy Birthday, Nessie. Eighteen already. I can’t believe it. You’re soon gonna have grey hair like me,” he said, nudging her with his elbow.
Nessie’s face heated. “Aww, Dad, you shouldn’t have.” She unfolded the wrapping, her heart fluttering as her fingers clutched the new notebook and quill. She glanced up at him, finding tears pooling in his eyes. “I love it,” she said, standing to give him a well-deserved hug. “You’re the best.”
He clutched her back, sniffling. “Well, it was your mother’s idea. She said you’d like that.”
Nessie glanced over at her mother, her smile faltering. Her mother had suggested this perfect gift? Surprising. “Thanks, Mom,” she muttered.
Her mother nodded, smiling as her cheeks reddened. �
��You’re welcome, honey,” she mumbled.
She and her father sat back down at the table as she admired her gift. It felt wonderful as she ran her fingers through the crisp, blank pages waiting to be filled.
“Nessie,” her father said, making her lift her head. “Drink your tea,” he commanded, pointing at the untouched mug.
“But, Dad,” she whined.
Her father chuckled, “Don’t ‘but, Dad’ me. Drink.”
Nessie groaned, grabbing the mug and chugging the nasty liquid down trying not to gag.
***
Charlie stumbled down the hallway as he struggled to get a handle on the sensations rampaging through him. What the hell was wrong with him? He felt like a fledgling all over again. Only, instead of struggling with the icy cold breaths and widespread numbness, he felt like he was about to combust at any moment. Like fire licked through his veins, spreading from his heart outward. Sleep, he thought. He needed to rest after the long journey from the council. His kind couldn’t go more than a few short days without blood and rest or they’d start deteriorating. Yes, that was it. Gods, please let that be it. Because the alternative...he didn’t even want to think about.
“Charles!”
He groaned as a tall, curvy body crashed into him. He’d completely forgotten. Katherine. The vampire lover he’d left behind all those years ago. And, quite honestly, hadn’t thought about one bit since.
“Oh, how I’ve missed you,” she purred into his ear. His skin crawled as her hands clutched him.
“Not now, Kat,” he grumbled, peeling himself from her embrace.
“What do you mean ‘not now’?” she cried. “It’s been ten long, lonely years,” she moaned, her fingers already gliding under his shirt. “Haven’t you missed me?”
First Kiss of Freedom: A Vampire Shifter Hybrid Romance (The Whitemoon Warriors Series Book 1) Page 1