Blood Obsession (A Vampire Paranormal Romance) (Deathless Night Series Book 3) Read online

  BLOOD OBSESSION

  (Deathless Night Series #3)

  L.E. Wilson

  Everblood Publishing LLC

  Copyright © 2015 by Everblood Publishing

  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 publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons – living or dead – is purely coincidental.

  [email protected]

  ISBN: 978-0-9863633-5-1

  Kindle Edition

  Publication Date: December 26, 2015

  Copy Editor: Nicole Middleton

  Cover Design: Joe Wilson

  Dedication

  I would like to dedicate this book to my Mom, who introduced me to my love of books and reading at a very young age, starting with such classics as Charlotte's Web and The Little House books.

  When I was a teenager, she handed me a book called Ride The Wind, by Lucia St. Clair Robson. That book introduced me to the world of Romance Novels, and being the romantic that I am, I couldn't get enough. I became a regular at a little bookstore near me where you could trade in old paperbacks and get store credit for new ones. Once a week, I would walk out of there with an armful of Historical Romances.

  Now, throughout all of this time, I was a huge paranormal junkie. I watched every show on Bigfoot, UFO's, ghosts...you name it. I also discovered Steven King and Anne Rice. So, imagine how psyched I was when I found...you guessed it...PARANORMAL ROMANCES.

  So, thank you, Mom. I couldn't imagine my life without books, and now, I write them! And I've never been happier.

  Books by L.E. Wilson

  Deathless Night Series (The Vampires)

  Blood Hunger - Will Nikulas release Emma to live her human life, giving up his own in the process?

  Blood Vengeance- One bound by chains and one bound by love, Luukas and Keira are forced into a nightmare, with no end in sight.

  Blood Obsession- Sacrifices must be made for the greater good.

  Thank you for downloading this eBook!

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Bonus Material

  WAIT! Before you start Blood Obsession, are you signed up for my mailing list? If so, you've already read the bonus epilogue to Blood Vengeance found exclusively on a hidden page on my website. If not, please go HERE. Enjoy!

  Chapter One

  He awoke with a jerk and tried to suck in a breath. Fine grain filled his mouth and nose, suffocating him. More came in as he tried to spit it back out, and he panicked. His heart rate rose to a violent staccato as he tried to raise his hands to his face to wipe it off, only to find he couldn't move at all.

  What the fuck?

  Adrenaline flowed through his tired limbs, flooding them with a sudden spurt of energy. He tried to swing his arms and legs back and forth, but it was so thick it was like pushing against a wall. Determined to find his way out of this wonky situation, he kept wiggling his body around, until little by little, the grain loosened a bit around him.

  More adrenaline surged into his muscles with every inch he gained, and a desperate longing to be free stimulated his exceptional strength until he was able to swim through the stuff.

  It was kind of like swimming through a mass of thick quicksand, but he kept going, hoping like hell that "up" was actually above his head and he wasn't working his way deeper into the stuff. He needed air. And he needed it now.

  The rough granules stuck to his sweat-soaked clothes and skin, but those that didn't stick trickled down the pile every time he raised an arm or a leg, gradually adding up enough so he had some purchase.

  It was an exceptionally slow and painful process, but after what seemed like an eternity, he managed to haul himself to the top. As soon as his nose and mouth broke free, he spit the crap out of his mouth the best he could and sucked in a huge lungful of hot, stale tasting air.

  Exhausted, he hung out where he was for a bit while he inhaled some much-appreciated oxygen. He didn't really need it to survive, but the habit was so ingrained, he couldn't help but freak out if he didn't have it.

  Gathering up some more energy, he pushed with his legs until his entire head was free. He worked an arm out and wiped the grit off his face. Blinking it out of his eyes, he took a look around.

  "Bloody hell," he rasped from his dry, aching throat.

  He was lucky he'd stopped "swimming" when he had, or he would've smashed his head into the top of the damn metal shipping container he was in.

  How in the world had he managed to get in here? And for that matter, where exactly was "here"?

  Following the line of the container around to the front, he found a crack where the door must be, and he started kicking and paddling through the grain towards it. He had just enough room to keep his head above the top of the pile.

  Keeping a wary distance from the opening until he saw that no sunlight was shining in, he moved closer and stuck his eyeball right up against it. Straining to make out something...anything...that would give him a clue as to where he was, he turned his head this way and that. But all he saw were more shipping containers.

  So he was either in a shipyard, or on a ship, and being that he wasn't feeling any movin' or groovin' going on, he would hazard a guess that he wasn't in the middle of the ocean.

  Now, how to get out of this bloody thing? There wasn't enough room for him to get a decent amount of momentum going to bust his way out, not fighting through the grain that filled this thing, and not in the weakened state he was in.

 
Maybe he could find the latch for the door? Bust it open? But at the thought of voluntarily burying himself again to get down to it made him shudder.

  Right then. Perhaps not.

  He was racking his brain for an alternative plan when he heard the beautiful sound of male voices heading his way. Tilting his head to hear better, he calmed his breathing and listened, trying to make out what they were saying.

  After a moment he frowned, pulled back from the door and shook his head. He must have grain in his ears, for he was having a hard time understanding them, even with his supernatural hearing.

  Working his way closer to the door again, he pressed his ear right up against it.

  He stared at the door in disbelief. Was that...Chinese?

  He was going daft.

  His heart rate accelerated back up to double-time as he pressed his eye back up to the crack: Nothing there but other shipping containers no matter how he strained to see around them.

  Okay, mate. Just stay calm. No need to make things worse by having a fit.

  He backed away from the door as well as he could and tried to think through this new information logically. Truly, he could be back in Seattle for all he knew. There was a large Chinese population there, and they spoke their native tongue with each other all the time. It didn't mean anything that these humans weren't speaking English. There was no need to get all riled up just yet.

  No matter how his instincts were telling him to do exactly that.

  The voices of the two males wandered closer, still talking. Aiden leaned in towards the crack again, and this time he could see them as they approached.

  In all of his years, why had he never bothered to really learn this language? All he could pick out was a word here and there.

  One of them swung his arm up as his voice rose with it, apparently to make an important point in the conversation. His scent wafted through the air and up to the small opening to infuse the air within the container.

  The scent of sweat, and spices...and blood.

  His gums burned as his fangs burst through, his body eager to feed. His guts felt shriveled and loose, and his stomach nearly about to cave in on itself.

  A feral growl rumbled from his parched throat, and his body tensed, preparing to strike.

  Crazed with thirst, he snapped into predator mode. Unnoticing of the sweat stinging his eyes, they zeroed in on the door as the humans approached it.

  A clanking noise resonated loudly throughout the metal container, followed by a low humming sound. The box jerked as the hydraulics underneath it came on, slowly lifting the back end and tilting it forward.

  His mouth watered and his throat burned with thirst as his muscles swelled and tightened in preparation for the hunt. The grain started to shift forward as the back end inclined, carrying him with it. He let it take him, not wasting his energy fighting the heavy mass, saving what he had left for taking down his prey.

  He needed to feed.

  The grain engulfed him completely again just as the doors began to swing open, concealing his presence from the humans. Closing his eyes, he pushed away the fear of being buried again, opening his remaining senses and moving within the grain to keep his body upright. The back end tilted up higher, and he slid out through the opening as the doors swung open wide.

  Landing in a graceful crouch on the concrete beneath a waterfall of grain, he wasted no time, launching himself to the side and barely escaping the gritty cascade of granules as it was dumped out of the container.

  Following the scent of the humans, he tracked them to the back of the shipping container, where they were waiting for the last of the grain to spill out so they could switch off the lift.

  They never even saw him coming. He moved so swiftly and silently, he was nothing but a dark blur in the deepening twilight.

  He grabbed one of the humans around the throat. Holding him at arms length with ease, he pulled the other one towards him and sank his fangs deep into his throat, directly into the artery. Sucking down deep swallows of the life-giving liquid, he quickly drained the first male dry and tossed him aside.

  The other human's eyes bulged from their sockets as he turned to him, the stench of fear and piss souring his scent right before he became the second course. The man's body quickly joined his friend's on the ground.

  As soon as he finished feeding, his knees buckled and he collapsed beside them, his ass hitting the asphalt hard enough to jar his teeth. He gripped his head in his hands as he fought down the guilt that wracked him.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  He hated killing them. He really did. It went completely against his nature. He never killed the innocent. Ever.

  He wasn't a bloody monster.

  Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he slowly lifted his head, and resigned himself to the fact that he didn't see how it could have been avoided. Although he couldn't remember how he'd gotten to this place, or how long he'd been here, it was obvious he hadn't fed in quite a long time. Really no sense in beating himself up about it.

  He stared down at himself. Looked like he hadn't changed his clothes for a while either, for that matter. Of course it was hard to tell with the coating of dust that now covered him.

  He slapped at his jeans and removed his hoodie to shake it out, trying to dislodge some of the stuff.

  The last thing he remembered was Leeha, the sneaky tart, filling him in on her latest hijinks. She had told him she was sorry, and her blood red eyes had filled with tears.

  His hoodie dropped to his lap as the memories came flooding back.

  She'd told him about the altar, and the demons that were tied to it, and how she was giving them bodies to possess. Vampire bodies. Vampires who'd been created by Luukas, the same Master vampire who'd created him, because the vamps she made weren't strong enough to handle the possession. That in spite of all of her efforts, her creatures were slowly rotting, turning into smelly, grotesque, grey monsters that resembled the demons that possessed them more than the vampires they'd used to be. They only lasted long enough for them to be used for the easier tasks, like guarding her lair and kidnapping unsuspecting witches.

  She'd seemed sincerely sorry that he was about to be the next one on that altar.

  He looked down at himself in confusion.

  But I'm not possessed. I'm still here.

  Was he?

  Yes! Of course he was! He was looking at himself at this very moment.

  Maybe she hadn't been able to go through with it.

  As he rolled that thought over in his mind, wondering if it could possibly be true, something within him seemed to sigh sadly.

  He stilled, listening, but that strange feeling didn't return again. With a self-conscious chuckle, he gave himself an internal shake and scrubbed his face with his hands.

  Get it together, mate.

  His hands came away bloody. Scowling at the memories and his unusual lack of decorum during his feeding frenzy (he wasn't normally quite so messy about it), he leaned forward and wiped his hands clean on one of the humans' pant legs, then ripped off a piece to wipe off his face.

  Well, he could at least give them a decent burial, and then he'd get back to the business of figuring out where the bloody hell he was. He needed to find a phone at least, and call Nikulas. His best friend was probably worried sick. He should be able to pinpoint the location of the call and come and get him.

  Also, a shower and some new clothes would be nice.

  Chapter Two

  Grace Moss dropped down behind the side a parked car before she was seen, ignoring the beep from a passing bus because she was in its lane. Duck walking awkwardly around to the back of it, she peered around the bumper and watched as the three men she'd been following walked up to the entrance of a tall, industrial looking building.

  The last one to enter paused briefly on the threshold and took a quick look behind him. He had a small, black duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

  She barely stopped herself from squealing with happiness when s
he spotted it. Until now, she hadn't been able to risk getting close enough to them in the darkness to be able to see if they still had it.

  As if he could sense her watching, he frowned suspiciously and gripped the bag tighter to his side. But after another quick scan of the empty street, he turned and followed his friends inside.

  Taking off as fast as she could go in her favorite strappy sandals with the wedge heels, she ran to the door and stuck her arm inside right before it closed and locked.

  She winced as the heavy steel smashed against her forearm, and stuck her sandaled foot in to share some of the burden. Dammit, that was gonna leave one hell of a bruise.

  If she were any kind of a witch worth her salt at all, she'd be able to open that heavy door with nothing but a thought. But unfortunately, she was pretty damn useless as far as witches went. Even her family thought so. Why else would her parents have risked death to bring her here when the new High Priest had taken over? Other than to hide their worthless daughter where no one would find her?

  Only she and her mother had made it out. Her father had died the day they'd escaped the coven.

  She stayed as she was for a few heartbeats, wanting to be sure no one had noticed that the door hadn't slammed shut. When she didn't hear any alarms being raised, she used her other hand to pry it open just wide enough for her stick her head through and peek inside.

  Leaning forward one cautious inch at a time, she squinted into the gloom, then pulled her head out again with a frown. It was pitch black in there. She couldn't see a damn thing. Why the hell didn't she carry a flashlight with her? Just in case?

  Oh, wait! She did have a flashlight. On her phone! If she could just get it out of her back pocket...