Chapter One
Present Day
“Gabriel, don’t! Shit.”
Gannon’s words barely carried over the gun fire and chaos, but they didn’t stop his king from charging into the fray.
Going for his Glock, Gannon slammed the van door closed. Rounding the vehicle, he pounded his fist along the side. “Get them to the safe house. Silvie will be there. Go!”
Without hesitation or question, the driver sped off, tires screeching. The pungent scent of burnt rubber mingled with the fragrance of sea air, gun powder, blood, and death.
Just another Saturday night, Gannon thought as he sprinted across the cement dock after his friend.
Joining his soldiers, Gabriel Erhard, King of the Tapof Clan, crashed into battle armed with only a pair of daggers and a set of throwing stars.
Naturally, Gabriel brought blades to a gun fight. Gannon knew his king and mentor was a Maniac, but he wasn’t sure if he should tag on Homicidal or Suicidal to the beginning of the title. There was one thing for certain, Gabriel was crazed and impossibly graceful as he fought. Slicing, cutting, stabbing, dodging bullets and hurling stars, gliding through the carnage with deadly elegance. He made murder and mayhem beautiful, like a true artist.
Gannon emptied a clip and loaded another as he barreled into the boathouse along with their soldiers. Boras’s guards were retreating, but they had no chance or hope of escape. None would survive, Gabriel’s orders. Not that anyone cared or would dare question their new king. As Clan leader, Gabriel’s word was law.
Gannon snarled as a bullet grazed his right shoulder, ruining his favorite leather jacket.
Son-of-a-bitch!
He fired back, taking down three more of Boras’s lackeys. More bullets whistled past him as he fought to reach Gabriel’s side. With a storm of gun fire surrounding them, Gabriel continued to strike, his gaze fixed on Pavlo who, according to their intel, was the commanding officer of this pack of slave traders.
Pavlo turned, abandoning his men. He ran toward the back of the boathouse. In a blink, Gabriel was in front of the cowardly vampire, blocking his escape. Unleashing an Earth shattering roar that drowned the thunder of the gun fight, Gabriel grabbed Pavlo by the throat. The weaker vampire struggled, scratching at Gabriel’s leather clad hand as he was lifted off his feet.
Silence slowly rolled over the waterfront like fog as the last of their enemies fell. Limbs, weapons, and shell casings scattered the floor of the weathered boathouse.
Gannon reloaded, but didn’t advance. He remained as if stuck in cement boots. The Tapof soldiers did the same. Gabriel’s demon had joined the party, making their king as volatile as a nuclear missile. Ready to detonate at any moment.
As his current target of frustration, Pavlo was experiencing Gabriel’s violence full force. The commanding officer flew through the air and bounced off the side of an old fishing boat. The sound of cracking bones hissed through the air as Pavlo rolled over bodies, his broken limbs flailed until he tumbled to a stop at Gabriel’s boots.
Gannon wanted to ask if anyone had seen their king move, but he kept his mouth shut.
Gripping a dagger in each hand, Gabriel slammed the blades into Pavlo’s shoulders like meat hooks and hauled him through puddles of blood. The commander’s flesh and muscle tore as he thrashed helpless against Gabriel’s strength and fury.
Kicking open the door labeled “Manager’s Office,” Gabriel threw the vampire inside sending him crashing against the cinder block wall.
Gannon holstered his gun and followed his king. “Find the security room. I want every recording. And take anything you find that could be of value. Plant the bombs, we’ll destroy what’s left,” Gannon instructed the soldiers.
The sound of sirens rang in the distance. Mortals would be here shortly. Gannon hoped Gabriel would be quick with his interrogation. They needed to torch the place and split.
Gannon stepped into the office and closed the door. Gabriel towered over Pavlo, who was now bleeding like a sieve. Gabriel pulled the daggers free, wiped the blood on the guard’s shirt before returning the blades to their sheaths, which were strapped to his forearms and hidden by the sleeves of his tailored black jacket. With gentle fingers, Gabriel drew a photo from his inside, breast pocket. A chill raced down Gannon’s spine. The woman’s image had triggered Gabriel’s savage, relentless rampage and decision to destroy Boras.
He shoved the image in Pavlo’s face. “This female, where is she?”
No answer.
Gabriel pressed his boot into one of the vampire’s mangled shoulders. “I know she was here.”
Gannon frowned. What made Gabriel believe the woman had been here? There hadn’t been an empty cell when they freed the mortals and when questioned, all the slaves had said they hadn’t seen her. Then again, the guards may not have kept her with the rest of the humans.
He bit back a weary sigh. Gabriel was tipping over the edge of madness and there was nothing Gannon could do to stop him. So, he would join him. He didn’t mind. Shit, he’d follow Gabriel into the Devil’s domain no questions asked.
Gabriel had been infatuated with Jordan Culver, the mortal woman in question; ever since he found her photograph at the first slave warehouse they’d raided. He’d spared no expense to locate her, convinced that she would be Boras’s next victim. Gabriel wanted to protect her and save her from the torment that no doubt awaited her if she fell into their enemy’s hands, but Boras’s men had gotten to her first.
After her abduction, Gabriel snapped. Over the past four months, they’d raided half a dozen slave warehouses, burned nearly every one of Boras’s clubs and attacked the depraved vampire’s allies, dismantling all of their businesses, claiming their territory. Still, they discovered no new information.
“Where is she?” Gabriel commanded.
Pavlo’s voice was a harsh hiss, “Fuck you.”
Gannon rolled his eyes as Gabriel slammed his foot down on the guard’s shoulder again. Pavlo yelped in agony.
“Where is she?” Gabriel roared.
The weaker vampire’s head lulled back. “She was m-moved,” he croaked, choking on blood.
Gannon’s heart jumped with a twinge of hope. He was as desperate as Gabriel to find the woman, but for an entirely different reason. Gabriel wouldn’t admit it, but he wanted the human female. No. Wanted wasn’t a strong enough word. Gabriel craved her. Never had he seen his boss so twisted up over a woman. And there was the little fact that Gabriel had endured the torment to become a Chieftain so that he would have the power and authority to shut down the mortal slave trade for good, a move that ignited a war amongst the Outcast Society.
Gannon took a step forward. “When and to where?”
More blood dripped from Pavlo’s lips as he laughed and shook his head.
“Talk!” Gabriel demanded.
The vampire didn’t answer earning him a vicious left hook.
Gannon’s fingers twitched for his gun. He wanted to plant a bullet between the bastard’s eyes, but they had to rescue the female. “Share or die. Where is she?”
The guard laughed, spitting blood. “You’ll never find her.” Then the corners of his mouth lifted with a taunting smile. Gannon whispered a curse and stepped back.
“Wrong answer,” Gabriel rasped past his fangs as a blade dropped from its sheath into his palm. With an effortless swipe, he decapitated the commanding officer. Blood spouted like a fountain and Gannon took another step back. He inwardly groaned. Oh, shit.
She was here and they’ve taken her from me!
Rage.
It sank into Gabriel’s bones, invaded his heart, and threatened to obliterate what remained of his soul. The sensation was nothing new. It had been his constant companion of late, drawing his demon to the surface. Fury heated his blood and honed his vision, turning his crystal green eyes obsidian. Red flames sparked within his gaze, his lethal fangs glinted in the darkness. Demonic shadows sharpened the harsh lines of his face.
This was to be a routine raid: infiltrate, rescue the human’s, kill the guards, and demolish the building. He hadn’t intended to fight, but as he helped the human’s into the van Gabriel had caught Jordan’s soft jasmine scent on the breeze. The light fragrance whispered to him, summoned the darkness within him. His demon uncontrollable, Gabriel drew his daggers and charged into battle. Slicing through his enemies with cold, calculating precision, consumed with the need to find her, free her. To have her.
Gabriel stroked the pad of his leather covered thumb over her photo before he tucked it safely away, restoring the image to its resting place over his heart. The delicate paper settled and pressed against his slave brand, the sensation intensifying his anger.
Gannon’s shoulders quaked with an exasperated sigh, “Pavlo must’ve been lying.”
Normally, Gabriel would agree but—he took in a deep breath—he could smell her. The scent was faint, but he knew she’d been here, in this very room, locked away. Kept from the general population.
Like he had been.
As a mortal man, the Madame had feared exposing him to other humans that possibly carried disease, worried that he may develop attachments to others, finding loyalty, developing relationships, and hope.
Alone. He’d always been alone. Until the Madame came to him…until she changed him…until humans had been brought to him…locked in the cell with him…
Gabriel’s fury erupted, the memories fueling his rage. He lashed out. Wooden desks and chairs disintegrated as they collided with the cinder block wall. Shreds of paper cascaded through the air like confetti as he tore apart filing cabinets. Finally, with nothing more to destroy, Gabriel unleashed an unholy roar, shattering the windows. Glass exploded, shards shot out like shrapnel. Pieces landed on the tips of Gannon’s boots and tore at Gabriel’s jacket.
Gannon remained silent and unmoving.
Smart.
Gabriel’s wide shoulders shook as he struggled to suck in calming breaths. Air hissed past his fangs. Closing his eyes, he focused on the soothing sounds of the night and the ocean. Waves softly broke against the rocks below the windows. The salted air mixed with the sweet scent of jasmine, burning his heaving lungs. Oh, how he loved it. The darkness within him cherished the torment her scent inflicted upon him.
“God, damn it!” Gabriel rasped. He was going mad.
Gannon muttered a tired curse of his own. “We’ve had our eye on this place for days. If the girl had been here, we’d have known.”
“Her scent,” Gabriel whispered, briefly closing his eyes as he inhaled her soft fragrance again. “It is light, but I’ve no doubt she was here.” He could feel it in his bones.
“The men are collecting the security tapes as we speak, but…Shit, man.” Gannon rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze dropped to the floor. “We’ve been searching for the girl for months and nothing has turned up. I hate to say this, but don’t you think it’s time you let her go?”
Gabriel scoffed. Did Gannon really think he hadn’t tried to forget about the mortal female? He hated how she plagued his thoughts, ignited his need, his hunger, his rage. She was a rare beauty, tempting beyond imagination, but obsessing over her was insanity at its finest. As the days had turned into weeks and weeks became months, he knew only by divine grace would he find her alive. He’d prayed to any deity that would listen to grant her a quick, painless death. And despite how futile it was, every raid, every attack on Boras’s territory, every reconnaissance mission, he allowed himself to hope, like a dumb bastard, that they’d find her. That he would be able to take her in his arms and release her from the hell she endured. Yet, every attempt produced empty results and the guilt had devoured him, the sorrow haunted him, and self-loathing settled even more deeply into his soul. He’d failed to protect her, just as he’d failed his tribe and wife all those centuries ago.
But Jordan is alive. She was here.
His hand flattened over his chest, his palm pressing against Jordan’s photo.
Gannon lifted his gaze, paused on Gabriel’s hand, and then met his king’s harsh stare. “I want to find the girl too, but we’ve been chasing a ghost. You’ve tried harder and much longer than anyone else ever would. There’s only so much you can do.”
“She resided on my territory, Gannon. She was one of my subjects. Boras had no right to enter my domain without permission let alone take what belongs to me,” Gabriel harshly explained.
The Outcast Society didn’t adhere to vampire law set forth by the Clans, but they did live by a straight code and Boras’s transgression demanded war.
Raiding the waterfront had been a tactical move, another nail in his enemy’s coffin. The boathouse had been a waystation for Boras’s slave trade, a place to hold his inventory until he could arrange an auction. The vampire relied on his sales to fund his businesses and support his meager army. Gabriel was systematically destroying him by freeing his slaves, burning every club and property Boras owned. Even the twisted vampire’s allies were abandoning him. Defecting, they came to Gabriel. Some pledged their never ending loyalty to the first Chieftain of the Outcast Society while others begged him for mercy. He had none.
“I understand. His blatant disregard for the code and disrespect for your territory must be dealt with.” Gannon took a deep breath as if summoning the courage to proceed. “I also understand the need to end the slave trade, but, fuck, you’ve started a new Clan and a war.”
“I did what was necessary.”
The Outcasts Society needed to be united. They needed order, law, and protection from cruel, corrupted vampires such as Boras, who would use them, and the Red Order witches that would hunt them to extinction. Gabriel knew creating a Clan and becoming King was the only way to gain enough power, authority, respect, and support to accomplish his goals: destroy Boras and his like, outlaw human slavery, unite, bring peace and honor to the Outcasts. He’d do all within his power to elevate the Tapof Clan to the level of the old Clans.
“Ever since you found her picture in that empty cell, you’ve been infatuated with her,” Gannon continued. “Hell, you purchased a record label after you learned she was a gifted singer and even flew to Denver yourself to sign her.”
Gabriel’s anger kindled and he snapped, “Say it, Gannon.” He knew where this conversation was headed. Gannon had remained silent for far too long regarding his obsession with the girl.
Gannon released a string of curses. He scrubbed his face with his hands then met Gabriel’s gaze once more. “I’m worried about you, man. It’s as if she has you under some kind of spell. You’ve been miserable and I can’t stand watching you torment yourself over her.”
“And?” Gabriel insisted when Gannon fell abruptly silent.
Gannon sighed, “In the 150 plus years I’ve known you you’ve hated humans.”
Gabriel’s hands curled into fists at his sides. Yes, it was no secret he loathed mortals. They were selfish, greedy, petty, weak creatures. Torturing himself over an insignificant human was beneath him, it didn’t make sense. They were fleeting beings, never worth developing an attachment to. He’d spent too much time, energy, and man power hunting her. Why? He didn’t know her. He owed her nothing. She was just like any other nameless mortal.
Focusing on his mission—destroying his enemies—was paramount. Running Boras to ground, uniting and strengthening the Outcasts and building his Clan had to come first.
Even if he did find Jordan, there was no telling what conditioned she’d be in. Humans were fragile and Jordan was small, delicate. He’d seen countless mortals like her who’d been taken from the realm of light and imprisoned in the darkness. Beautiful females were repeatedly raped and bled to the point of death until their soul’s perished leaving them hollow vessels—a twisted vampire’s favorite play thing. Jordan’s fate would be no different, unless he found her.
Mine, the vampire within him snarled.
His demon side had never craved a specific female. Hell, it couldn’t care less if he ever took a woman to his bed. It existed only for blood and death. But it wanted her.
Gabriel shook his head, confused by the driving, desperate need to hold her. To lose himself in her bright violet eyes. To be entranced by her angelic voice and hypnotized by her dance. To feel her. To possess her. Claim her.
He massaged his temples, a pathetic attempt at trying to ease some of the tension that coiled within him.
For fuck-sake.
Gabriel didn’t know how to respond to Gannon. He knew he couldn’t leave her to her fate and he loathed to acknowledge her situation was alarmingly similar to his own. But, she was mortal, and he cared nothing for their ilk. He used them, taking advantage of their repulsive nature. From around the globe they flocked to his city, Las Vegas, where he preyed on their sins. None were innocent, but…Jordan’s vibrant eyes had been honest, her words true, and despite her past, she was kindhearted. Someone like her didn’t stand a chance in the slave trade.
Gabriel imagined Jordan locked in a cell, shackles cutting into her delicate flesh, her battered body trembling. He cringed thinking of her chained naked to a male’s bed. Her beautiful face streaked with tears, her limbs covered with dark bruises from greedy hands. Her neck and wrists gnawed raw by jagged fangs. He knew her cries of pain would be ignored and her pleas for mercy would be mocked. After four months, there was likely nothing left of her.
Gabriel silently begged the Graces yet again for Jordan to be a fighter. Only a warrior could survive such torment.
You’ll never find her. Pavlo’s words drifted through his thoughts.
Gabriel cursed. “I need to do this.”
Gannon nodded and Gabriel was relieved his friend accepted his answer. He couldn’t explain, there were no words that could describe the unbearable ache that constricted his chest and heated his blood every time he thought of her.
“We should head out,” Gannon suggested after a long silence.
Dawn was quickly approaching. Gabriel should be pleased their raid had been successful. They’d dealt Boras yet another blow, but the victory was hollow.
“Come on, man, we need to get out of here. The mortals are getting too close for comfort,” Gannon stressed, referencing the sirens that were drawing near.
Gabriel nodded and turned toward the exit. The instant his frame moved from the moonlight, the room brightened. Pavlo’s blood gleamed beneath the shimmering rays, the pool of crimson soaking the discarded papers. A single, plain post card caught his attention. Something tugged at the edge of his memory, drawing him forward. Gabriel knelt, brushed aside slivers of wood and glass shards to grab the card. Despite being removed from the blood, the stain continued to spread, revealing elegantly scrolled letters.
Gabriel’s heart slammed to a stop, the air in his lungs painfully punched out as his brain struggled to process what he’d found. Stunned, he traced the numbers and words with trembling fingers. He hadn’t seen an invitation like this since his time spent as a slave. It was an ancient trick to conceal messages, a paper specially treated to share its secrets only when smeared with vampire blood.
“Find something good?” Gannon asked.
Gabriel stood motionless. The Graces had finally shone their light of fortune upon him.
Unbelievable. He shuddered. He had been about to leave and burn the boathouse to the ground. God, the thought twisted his gut. This card was the key to finding her and he’d almost destroyed it. He’d almost lost Jordan forever.
Gabriel turned the card in his hand to show Gannon the slowly fading words as the blood began to disappear.
Gannon frowned. “What the hell is that?”
The corners of Gabriel’s lips slowly lifted into a smile. “An invitation.” He tucked the once again blank, pristine white card into his pocket with Jordan’s photo.
“An invite?” Gannon arched a brow and chuckled, “Our presence has been formally requested?”
“Night after next, Boras’s head Slave Handler, Ross Klein, will be holding an auction on Mukwa territory where, and I quote, ‘an exotic, burgundy haired beauty with striking eyes will be the featured prize.’ What do you think,” Gabriel cracked his leather clad knuckles, “should we crash their party?”
Gannon chuckled again. “I think we must. After all, we were invited and it would be rude not to attend.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Gabriel agreed as he removed the dagger strapped to his thigh. Pressing a hidden button with his thumb, a pen sized bomb ejected from the blade’s hilt. Gabriel tossed it to the corner of the office then replaced the dagger. “Time to go.”
Gannon followed his king, together they to join the soldiers and climbed into the awaiting blacked out SUVs.
Gabriel gave a nod to his explosives expert. Instantly, the building fell. Wood planks shot out in every direction. Destroyed. The boom obliterating the stillness of the waterfront.
A dangerous calm settled over him as they drove away, leaving the former slave house engulfed in flames. The invitation had revealed much more than just a time, date and location for the next slave auction. It exposed Boras’s secret. The card was the vampire’s death certificate.
Destroy, the demon gleefully hissed.
Yes, Gabriel would take tremendous pleasure in destroying his enemy and all of his allies.
He absently brushed his hand over his chest, his fingers skipping past the slave brand on his left pectoral before tracing the outline of the invitation and the edge of Jordan’s photo.
He’d have her. In forty-eight hours, she’d be his. Gabriel’s eyes darkened and the tips of his fangs sharpened, excited anticipation charged his body.
The vampire within him growled low, Mine.