Tortured Soul Read online

  “He doesn’t have a heart, Max,” Evangeline said forlornly, looking him dead in the eye.

  Maxwell didn’t say anything more. She was glad, too. Every word he said was disheartening and unfortunately true.

  Evangeline leaned forward to put her head in her hands. The room was becoming extremely warm and she was beginning to feel dizzy. A thought came to her then and an anxious laugh rose out of her. She glanced up at her father and Max, who looked like they were seriously worried she was losing her mind.

  “I have a date tomorrow with Richard. We’re supposed to go to the movies.”

  “Angel…” Her father reached for her hand and refused to let her pull away.

  She nodded at him, letting him know he didn’t have to explain. There wasn’t going to be a date tomorrow night with Richard. She was going to meet the vampire king. She had been picturing this moment for years, and now she had the chance to meet a vampire in the flesh and all she could feel was anger and anxiety. This was all wrong.

  Evangeline continued to sit motionless, staring dejected at the floor. “What if I refuse?”

  Geoffrey looked at her poignantly. The creases around his eyes more pronounced now than ever. She knew what would happen if she refused the king, but she had to hear it. Somehow, hearing the words from her father would give her the push she needed to go through with this.

  “Then, I will be called before the vampire tribunal.” Evangeline squeezed her eyes shut as her father continued, fighting the tears now threatening to spill. “I think you know what will happen there, but as I am human, I’ll be sentenced to a human prison. There will be no more income and your mother and sister will be left with nothing. We will lose everything.”

  He was right. They had no other family and nowhere to go. The Wolcott family had been a part of Wilmington for years, but gambling and a bad economy had swallowed up their fortune. Their good name was all they had, but if her father went to prison, it would be gone too.

  “I can pay him back. I’ll start up more classes. I can help out with the bills,” Evangeline put in weakly, knowing full well her meager salary at Valentino’s could never support her entire family and pay Cyrus Stewart the money her father owed.

  Geoffrey’s hands shook in hers. He looked as if he were fighting a battle in his head as his eyes glossed over. He remained silent, staring miserably at her.

  She never disrespected her father by cursing in front of him, but now seemed to be the perfect time to toss her manners out the window.

  “I can’t believe this. I can’t fucking believe this.”

  ****

  Mona Vance closed the bedroom door behind her and stepped into the elaborate master suite in the King’s Coven. Her body reacted instantly to the man sitting in front of the fire with stunning urgency. The king sat with his beautiful profile to her. The fire, blazing to his left, cast him in a silhouette of massive, sexual masculinity.

  She felt herself moisten in excitement at his large frame filled so alluringly with self-confidence. Mona both loved and hated how her thoughts always returned to the enigmatic king.

  Cyrus Stewart looked up from his favorite lounger and stared languidly at her. His black eyes gleamed in the dim light. As usual he seemed distracted, in a different place, never giving her the attention she craved.

  She didn’t care. She wanted this powerful man and she wanted him now. Twice a week, she would sneak away from her weak, balding husband and give herself to this man in any way he desired. Mona had done things she had never dreamed in a million years she would do.

  Staring longingly at the massive king-sized bed behind him, she wished he would go to her, lift her up in his arms and take her there. Alas, Cyrus simply turned his head and continued to gaze forward.

  Mona walked slowly over to him in the skimpy red dress she had worn just for him, swaying her hips provocatively. Bending down in front of him, she gave him an ample view of the D-cups spilling out of her dress. “I’ve been dying to see you all day.” Her breathy voice shook with excitement.

  Cyrus did not return the smile. Instead, he simply continued to stare at her as she knelt in front of him. “Really?” he asked as he took a long swig from the glass of amber liquid in his hands. He continued to hold the glass as he placed an arm on each side of his chair. He looked at her with little interest. She felt insignificant, ignored, alone.

  Mona tilted her head to the side, trying with all her might to entice him. She wanted to hear more of his sexy voice. He spoke from a different time and it drove her crazy. Cyrus Stewart was born in Painswick, England in 1750. He had been turned during the American Revolution when he fought against the colonists at the age of 25.

  The king continued to look bored, but his stony expression did not deter Mona. Cyrus looked good enough to devour. Having discarded his suit jacket and tie, he lounged with his delicious pecs peeking through the top of his dress shirt.

  He watched as her hands slid slowly over his thighs and up his body. As usual, Cyrus kept his body temperature warm by keeping near fires and sipping hot drinks. Mona guessed the drink in his hand was Grand Marnier, heated. She looked down at his pants then up at him.

  Cyrus knew what she wanted and gave a small nod of his head to indicate she could proceed.

  Mona did not waste another second, and reached forward fervently. She unbuckled and unzipped with skill then reached up to pull down on his briefs. His erection appeared in all its glory, huge and golden in the firelight.

  Smiling to herself, she grasped the base of his member and slipped it in her mouth, taking him to the hilt. She took long draws, relishing the feel and smell of him. Her head bobbed over him again and again, the skin of his shaft sliding easily over her tongue. The only sound coming from the room was the sound of her wet mouth moving over his slick sex. She waited to hear moaning or feel a hand on her head, urging her to go on, but none came. Feeling a little perturbed, she made her movements faster, sucking him hard, filling her mouth with him until her jaw locked.

  Her efforts were rewarded when she heard the click of his fangs elongate, a wonderful sign he was very aroused. She moved her hair to one side and glanced at his hand. It gripped the arm of the chair and when his knuckles turned white, she knew he was about to finish. His thighs tightened underneath her arms and his hips jerked up.

  Instead of releasing him to let him spill himself on her chest, she kept him inside her mouth, letting him fill her up with his juices. As he pumped once, twice, and once more into her hot mouth, she felt her own body climax and she reached around to grab his ass, loving him in her arms and in her mouth.

  When they were both spent, Mona lazily lifted her head to gaze at her lover. Cyrus watched her lick her swollen lips and smirked.

  “Well, aren’t we eager today.” His voice was smooth and laced with conceit.

  His fangs retracted as he reached down to zip up his pants and stood up, leaving her on the floor in front of the chair.

  “The Alderman is a lucky man, Mrs. Vance.” Cyrus slipped his shirt in his pants and walked over to the bed to retrieve his jacket.

  “I don’t want to talk about my husband with you, Cyrus.” She stood up gracefully and moved toward him. The king usually fed from her when they were together and she couldn’t wait for him to be inside her again with his glorious fangs sheathed in her skin.

  Cyrus put a hand up and said, “You should refrain from calling me Cyrus from now on, Mrs. Vance. It’s Your Grace.”

  Her face fell. “Uh…if that’s what you want. I’ll call you whatever you like.”

  “You won’t have to call me anything, my dear. You’re services are no longer needed. As of today, I am spoken for.” He turned back to the side table near the chair he just vacated to pick up the glass. He downed the rest of his drink and slammed it back on the marble. To add to the chill she felt run through her, he willed the fire in the hearth to die out with his mind and the room’s cozy atmosphere instantly vanished.

  “What are you talkin
g about?” Mona asked. Hurt and anxiety filled her chest.

  “I am engaged to be married and I have no further use for you.” He put both hands in his pant pockets and looked at her. She saw his Adam’s apple shift up, then down.

  “Engaged?”

  “Yes. My intended will visit tomorrow night.” Cyrus put on a look as if he were actually moral bound and placed a hand on his chest. “How could I face my fiancé with another lover waiting in the wings? No, no. That won’t do.”

  The shout burning to come out was stifled by a knock on the bedroom door.

  “Come in,” Cyrus called out.

  The king’s enormous nineteenth-century manservant walked in, filling the entire doorframe. He scared the hell out of Mona. His expression always gave the impression of a cold-blooded murderer and his deep baritone was even scarier than his face.

  “Your Grace, Mr. Wolcott just called to confirm dinner tomorrow with his daughter. Evangeline will arrive at eight.” He waited for a response.

  Jealousy oozed through Mona like a heat wave. How could the bastard do this to her? He was engaged to Evangeline Wolcott, that spoiled ballet dancer, but he had let Mona blow him off one last time?

  Prick.

  “Wonderful, Victor. Thank you.” Cyrus marched to the door to precede his manservant out of the room. He paused for a moment to look at Mona. “Victor, will you see Mrs. Vance out?”

  “Of course, Your Grace.”

  Chapter Two

  The sun had descended over Wilmington, falling out of sight on the other side of the west woods. Jason Linus drove south through the summer evening, heading toward Adam’s octagonal home on Water Street. The black pick-up cruised at about fifty miles per hour with the windows rolled down and the radio off. Jason preferred the quiet hum of his truck to any loud nonsense on the radio. His shoulder length hair blew in the wind and his natural scowl was in place.

  He had no idea why Adam summoned him. His friend didn’t give any details when he’d called twenty minutes ago. Jason had been on his knees working on a leaky pipe under the kitchen sink of his apartment. When he’d pressed the end button on his cell, he’d tossed back the last few sips of his beer and grabbed his keys. When the alpha called, you went, plain and simple. There were no arguments and no questions. Even if Jason didn’t want to go, he was still honored bound to the alpha of the pack. As the Blacktail beta, it was essential for Jason to stand next to his master at all meetings.

  Jason pulled up to the front of the round house. He got out, stuffed the keys in his jean pocket and walked up to the front door. As he waited for one of the pack members to answer the door, Jason thought about Tyson. The Blacktails, in retaliation of their pack member’s murder, had captured and killed two vampires. But there was something still nagging Jason from that day. Tyson did not have any evidence of a vampire encounter, other than the bite marks on his neck. Why had they not been able to smell a vampire on his clothes? Why was he shot in the chest when a vampire could kill with their bare hands?

  Nevertheless, the two bloodsuckers they had managed to capture deserved what they got, a long and gruesome death, befitting a nasty species.

  After Tyson was found, two of his fellow Fighters cornered a vampire in a deserted alley one night. Before the vampire could teleport, they grabbed him and morphed enough to bite him, making it impossible for the son of a bitch to travel anywhere.

  Adam caught the second vampire during the last full moon. Jason witnessed the grisly encounter. Luckily, what was left of the bloodsucker had incinerated in the sun.

  Since then, two members of the Blacktail pack had gone missing. One of them was Adam’s younger sister, Serena Perez. The other missing werewolf was Benjamin Michaels, the town’s librarian. The pack had taken up searching for them in pairs, rotating shifts.

  Jason finished a four-hour shift last night with no luck. There was no hint of Serena or Benjamin anywhere around Wilmington. Their hopes of finding their pack members alive grew dimmer by the day.

  He was jerked out of his thoughts when Adam answered the door. Jason nodded his head in greetings. “Hey.”

  Adam Perez was huge with black wavy hair and piercing blue eyes. His face was grim as usual these days and he sported dark shadows like he hadn’t slept. The alpha resembled his mother in so many ways, but Adam’s dark coloring and black hair were from his Mexican ancestors, along with strong facial features permanently sculpted in a stressed expression.

  The pack leader was usually in control, a Fighter through and through. But from the moment Serena had gone missing, Adam lost it.

  He searched everywhere, day and night, pushing the pack to find her. He believed his sister was still alive and his desperation to find her was weighing on all of them.

  The man standing in the doorway was a complete mess.

  “Hey, J. Come in.” Adam moved aside to let Jason through and closed the door behind him.

  “Why are you answering the door? Where’s Ramo?” Jason asked, his deep, solemn voice was always at the same pitch, low and subdued. He looked around at the empty foyer. The octagon house, dubbed “the round house” by his pack had a wide spiraling staircase placed directly in the middle, which spanned up to the second floor. The foyer, living room, kitchen, and dining room encircled the stairs on the first floor. It was quiet in the house, which was not the case when the pack Fighters came together.

  There were twelve—eleven now with Tyson gone—in the Blacktail Fighters and they worked together to protect their pack. Six—now five—members resided in Wilmington with the alpha while the other six patrolled in Chicago, taking care of the remaining Blacktails in the city.

  “He’s not here. I didn’t call anyone else.” The alpha’s voice echoed somberly in the hall.

  “I thought we were having another meeting…” Jason started.

  “It’s just you and me,” Adam said brusquely as he walked around Jason and marched through the dining room to the left of the foyer and into the spacious, empty living room.

  Jason followed his friend, growing more curious by the minute. His friend’s presence in the quaint home always baffled Jason. Adam looked like an enormous beast that didn’t belong.

  They entered Adam’s cozy living room decorated in reds and browns with thick velvet drapes and plush sofas. The paintings on the walls hung there since the nineteenth century and depicted watercolors of the countryside.

  Adam stopped in the middle of the room and motioned for Jason to have a seat on one of the sofas. Jason sat and waited for Adam to explain what was going on, but his friend simply stared at the floor with his hands on his hips. Jason wasn’t the chatty type either, but what was the sense of him coming over here if his friend wasn’t going to speak.

  “Adam, what the fuck? Talk man.”

  Adam looked up and nodded seriously. “Ok.” The look on his face was freaking Jason out. And Jason never freaked out. Whatever Adam had to say must be serious, because the guy looked like he was about to kill his best friend.

  Oh, shit.

  “Adam—”

  “I have an assignment for you,” Adam finally said.

  He relaxed a little. “Sure, ok. What do you need?”

  Adam looked away again, focusing on the end table to the right of the sofa. “You’re going to judge me, but, fortunately for me, you have to do it.”

  Jason raised an eyebrow.

  “We’ve been hitting dead ends out there, but I haven't lost hope…” Adam stopped and raised his hands like he’d given up. Without further preamble he said, “Fuck this. You’re kidnapping Cyrus Stewart’s fiancé tomorrow night.”

  ****

  Jason’s usual stern expression suddenly shifted. For the first time in a long time, Jason looked totally baffled.

  Adam sat on the love seat across from Jason, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tight in deep concentration.

  Tension ebbed through his shoulders. He sat across from his long time friend and beta, wishing to God there were another option.


  He thought about the call he’d received an hour ago.

  Mona was a crafty bitch. He’d met her two months ago in Joliet, at some dive bar where she flirted with him outlandishly. He knew who she was and knew her husband, the Alderman, associated with vampires. Before making her acquaintance he’d followed her for days, learning her secret rendezvous with men, women, and the supernatural. After a very long and strange conversation, Adam offered Mona five grand to seduce Cyrus Stewart and become his new plaything while collecting information for the pack. Mona didn’t hesitate and agreed on the spot. He suspected Mona had her eye on the king anyway, as did a lot wives in Wilmington. His little trust in her had dwindled, however, until today.

  He didn’t hear from Mona for nearly six weeks. He was sure she had fallen in love with the vampire king and had no wish to fulfill her duties to the Blacktail pack. Adam didn’t worry she’d sell him out. The vampire king would kill her instantly if he knew what she had agreed to do. Adam had recorded their entire conversation.

  Finally tonight, Mona called with some interesting news.

  Cyrus Stewart planned to marry Evangeline Wolcott, daughter of one of Wilmington’s prominent and wealthiest men. Adam had never met Evangeline, but he knew who she was, as did everyone. The moment he’d heard the news, the wheels in his head started turning.

  It was crazy to even contemplate kidnapping a human, but Adam was running out of ideas. He was certain Cyrus was behind his sister’s kidnapping. Serena and Benjamin were not Fighters. They were easy prey for a monster like Cyrus. As Adam saw it, the only way he was getting his sister back, was to take something of the vampire king’s.

  “What?” Jason spoke up from across the coffee table, where he lounged on the sofa with one arm draped around the back and the other in his lap. Jason wore his usual garb of blue jeans and a black t-shirt. His beta’s hazel eyes watched as he waited for Adam to explain.