Battle for the Blood (31 page)

About the Author

Lucienne Diver lives a life bound by books. Literary agent by day, author by night, she writes the
Vamped
series of young adult novels for Flux/Llewellyn and the
Latter-Day Olympians
novels for Samhain. She’s also had stories and essays featured in the
Strip-Mauled
and
Fangs for the Mammaries
anthologies edited by Esther Friesner,
Kicking It
edited
by Faith Hunter and Kalayna Price (featuring a
Latter-Day Olympians
tale) and in
Dear Bully: 70 Authors Tell Their Stories
edited by Megan Kelley Hall and Carrie Jones. More information can be found on her website:
www.luciennediver.com
and her blog:
luciennediver.wordpress.com
.

Look for these titles by Lucienne Diver

Now Available:

Latter-Day Olympians

Bad Blood

Crazy in the Blood

Rise of the Blood

Weddings can be war.

Rise of the Blood

© 2013 Lucienne Diver

Latter-Day Olympians, Book 3

Great. Tori Karacis’s face is on the front of yet another tabloid “news”paper, linked to Hollywood hottie Apollo Demas. It was ONE dinner, and she was pissed with him at the time. But that’s the least of her worries. Just before leaving for her cousin’s destination wedding in Delphi, she learns that her arch nemeses, Zeus and Poseidon, have escaped police custody.

Despite looking forward to seeing Detective Nick Armani in a tux, her bad pre-flight jitters are confirmed when Apollo, with his sexy new co-star on his arm, boards the same plane. A plane that a freak storm nearly tears out of the sky.

What awaits them atop Mount Parnassus is even more deadly. A prophecy, a kidnapping, and a bloodletting that stirs up the mother of all trouble—literally. Rhea is awakened, and she’s none too happy with her offspring for losing their usurped dominion over the Earth.

The Olympians have fallen. It’s time for the Titans to rise again. Which means it’ll be a bad day for anyone standing in their way.

Warning: Bloodbath or blissful union…either way, the stakes are high in this destination Delphi wedding high atop the peaks of Mount Parnassus. Passions will flare, Titans will rise, monsters will awake, blood will boil and some will spill.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Rise of the Blood:

My eyes snapped open as my body rocked roughly into something that grunted in pain. But opening them didn’t help; something was blocking my view. I couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. I remembered then being grabbed and reflexively jerked my hands toward my face to remove whatever kept me in the dark, but they wouldn’t move, lashed as they were to the sides of my body by some sort of restraint.

“Tori?” a voice came from beside me, the same direction as the grunt. It was muffled, but still identifiable.

“Apollo?”

He let out a breath. “Thank gods it’s you and you’re okay,” he said softly.

With every breath I took, I felt more lightheaded rather than less, and I knew the hood over my head must have been treated with something like chloroform. I didn’t think I was meant to wake, at least not so soon. Ambrosia gave me almost godlike powers of healing, but with so much time passed since my last fix, I didn’t know how long that would last.

I had to focus on keeping awake.

An engine coughed and then roared to life, and I could feel the rumble of the machine all around us. Wherever we were, we’d soon be on the move with no one knowing where to find us or even that we were missing yet. And the only person who could sense my alarm, through our unwanted mind link, forged when he granted my precognition, was right here with me.

“Can you move?” I asked in a whisper.

“No, you?”

“No.”

“See?” he asked.

“Not a thing.”

We were both silent then. What was there to say? Apollo was the god of many things—the sun, music, poetry, prophecy…none of them action hero oriented. Oh, he was wicked with a bow and arrow, but partial petrification and the lack of an actual weapon didn’t bode well for fighting our way out. Ditto for me. I could stop men in their tracks, but only if I could look them in the eyes. Whoever these men in black were, they’d come prepared. But for what? Who were they? Why were they after us? Where were they going?

All good questions. I wanted to demand the answers, but I didn’t see a reason for anyone to respond to me, even if I could make myself heard over the engine.

I squirmed as best I could, trying to determine, at least, whether we were in the trunk of a car or somewhere a bit more spacious. I hadn’t gotten the sense of a cramped space when I’d been struggling to bring my hands to my face, and sure enough, I could wiggle around freely, except backward, where I pressed up against Apollo’s hard body.

“I don’t suppose that’s something useful you’re sporting, is it? Like the handle of some kind of sword?” I asked him.

He snorted. “It’s called a haft, and no, that’s not what you’re feeling. Although, as far as usefulness, that would depend on the situation.”

I supposed that was true. If rescue depended on writing an SOS in the snow, he’d certainly be packing the right equipment. The mental picture somehow made breathing a little easier. My panic started to recede.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Don’t mention it.”

I wondered with that strange empathy between us whether he was breathing a little easier as well. I was glad he only sensed my emotions and not my mental pictures.

“So, how are we getting out of here?” I asked.

A sudden hard turn rocked me away and then back into him. Damned switchbacks. Were we climbing
higher
on Mount Parnassus? I was instantly back to hyperventilation and lightheadedness.

“Wait and see?” Apollo suggested. I could barely remember what we were talking about, gripped in the steel bands of fear.

Apollo squirmed closer to me, putting a chin over my shoulder to hold me in place as the vehicle rocked and twisted us farther away from help. “Hey, hey,” he murmured near my ear, “it’s going to be all right. I’m a god, remember. I didn’t get to be this insufferably arrogant without cause.”

He was trying to make me laugh, and I appreciated the attempt, but this time… I blacked out for a second as the scent of the sack over my head overwhelmed me and came back to him urgently whispering my name. “Tori! Stay with me, Tori. We’re going to need our wits about us.”

I couldn’t feel engine vibration anymore.

“Have we stopped?” I asked, still groggy.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Where?”

“Delphi,” he said.

Well, duh… But wait, did he mean the sanctuary and not the town? Given his connection to the place, maybe he could sense it like he could me…things bound to him. I pushed the thought down into a deep dark place along with my fear of the heights. Or I tried to.

“Your place of power?” I asked to be sure. “Can you—?”

“Trying,” he said. “There’ve been a few reenactments here over the years, some things that have kept the faith, but mostly lots and lots of tourists. I have to dig deep.”

The vehicle rocked on its wheels and a door slammed, then a second. Another one opened and in rushed cold air. Suddenly, Apollo’s comforting form was ripped away from me, and I heard him ooph as he hit the ground. I felt the impact myself as a sharp pain shooting up my back, a disturbing new feature of our connection. Was it the power of the place or the strengthening of my sixth sense with the elimination of my sight?

Someone grabbed me by the ankle, and before I could react, I was sliding backward myself, bumping over indeterminate things that clanked and bruised. Metal tools, maybe. I braced for the impact with the ground, but as I started to drop, I was grabbed around the waist and hoisted up onto someone’s back, a shoulder creasing my gut. I hung there like a sack of potatoes, my nose smashed up against knobby vertebrae.

I let out an “ouch” and started to squirm. My captor stumbled with the ferocity of my fight, and a second later pain burst through my skull as I was knocked over the head.

My awareness fled like shadows from Zeus’s lightning.

Fear woke me again. Pounding fear, and someone nudging my shoulder. “Tori. Tori, wake up, please.”

“Huh?” I asked brilliantly.

The pounding fear receded, and I realized it hadn’t been my own. I realized something else as well—I could see. Not much. Just enough to know that my view was unobstructed, but wherever we were wasn’t bright enough for much detail.

“I pulled it off with my teeth,” Apollo said, “as soon as I managed to get rid of mine.”

I squirmed around until I was facing him, ignoring the protests of my bruised body…and froze when I saw that the slight glow which allowed me to see anything at all was coming from him.

“Sun god,” he explained without me asking. “They don’t realize it, but the guys who captured us are fueling my power with their belief. Whoever they are, they know
exactly
who they’ve taken hostage.”

“They?”

“Your men in black. Skinny, unshaven, look like they haven’t bathed in a while. Smell like earth, patchouli and incense.”

Right, I remembered.

“What do they want with us?”

“They’re waiting for dark,” he said, looking away.

“Apollo—”

Reluctantly, he met my gaze again. “What do they want?” I repeated.

Apollo threw himself forward, and a wave of feeling swept me, crashing over me, submerging me just as his lips hit mine. I was so stunned, so overwhelmed, I just lay there. Lust and love and want and fear and regret and resentment, right and wrong and even more right…they were all jumbled, all powerful, and all poured into the kiss.

My arms strained against my bonds, desperate to get around Apollo even while I tried to find enough of myself left to push him away, but there wasn’t enough of me that wanted to, not enough to pull together into action.

The impact felt…cataclysmic.

I thought I’d drown in him with the tsunami of emotion crashing over me. I made a sound, like a whimper. Too much. It was all too much. He drew back.

I found his gaze easily enough, and he looked concussed.

“No,” I said, now that
he’d
found the power to stop. It was too little, too late, and I wasn’t even sure whether I was telling him no, don’t stop or finally drawing the line.

“I had to,” he said softly. “If we’re going to die, I had to do that at least one more time. But it…it wasn’t like the first time. It was….”

I latched onto the one part that I could deal with, as twisted as that was. “Die?” I asked.

My voice didn’t even quiver. No, that was for the rest of me, still shaking from the emotional storm or from ambrosia withdrawal or just from the cold.

She never knew this demon world existed. Now she just wants to survive it.

Forged in Fire

© 2015 Juliette Cross

The Vessel Trilogy, Book 1

Genevieve Drake never needed a man to come to her rescue. Not until the night of her twentieth birthday, when some dude nearly chokes her to death in an alley behind a New Orleans Goth club. And a hot stranger splits the guy in half, rips a monster from inside, and incinerates it into ash.

The hunky rescuer? Jude Delacroix—
Dominus Daemonum
, Master of Demons, now her guardian, whether she likes it or not. But she’s seriously beginning to like it.

Her would-be murderer turns out to be only the first of many minions of the demon prince, Danté, who has all kinds of lascivious and sadistic plans. Which means when the formidably beautiful Jude offers his protection, Genevieve has no problem accepting it.

For Jude and his fellow demon hunters tell her she is a Vessel, one who is born to serve the Light, but can be corrupted into a weapon of darkness. And to survive, she must trust a man whose unearthly eyes promise heaven…but whose powers unleash hell.

Warning:
Contains a dark and brooding demon hunter who harbors even darker secrets, a snarky heroine who’s being hunted by every demon in the underworld, and a sadistic demon prince with a fancy for violent sexual encounters.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Forged in Fire:

The music pumped hard and loud, wavering between old-school classics and modern tunes. Mindy suddenly squealed with delight. I knew why without asking. The Cure’s song “Fascination Street” started thrumming all around us. As much of a Barbie Doll as she was, Mindy had eclectic taste in music, and anything by The Cure required complete adoration. Taking my beer with me, I followed her back onto the floor, squeezing through the sweaty bodies.

Unfortunately, Steven did too. Persistence—I suppose that is a virtue in some people. Right now, it was just annoying. I sipped on the Abita to avoid talking to him and moved to the slow beat. Mindy and David shuffled off together, locked in an embrace. I feigned interest, pretending to listen to Steven yammer about who-knows-what, but all I wanted was to peer behind him at Mr. Rugged and Beautiful.

He hadn’t moved, still watching from his solitary post with hooded eyes. Actually, from here, I couldn’t really tell if his eyes were directed at me or simply in my general vicinity.

Oh crap! Here came sandy-haired gyrating boy again, more earnest than ever. His hands found my hips, quickly moving south.

“Back off!” I shouted over the music, elbowing him in the ribs.

Not too hard, but hard enough to make the average guy get the hint. He didn’t.

“Dude, did you hear her? Back off!” Steven stepped in.

For once, I was thankful he was present. Steven grabbed the guy’s shoulder, but Sandy-hair pushed Steven so hard he fell through the crowd into the DJ’s stage. Other dancers sidestepped and turned back to their partners, probably thinking him drunk. Sandy-hair swiveled to me. A cold expression shuddered across his face. I stepped back, but he caught my wrist in an unbreakable grip. He pulled me hard against his chest, knocking my bottle to the floor, pinning my arms under his. He grinned. Primal fear flared inside me. Something was very wrong here. Again, a flash of red skimmed across his eyes. Was I already tipsy from half a bottle of beer?

“Let her go,” a deep voice rumbled directly behind me.

Sandy-hair tore his gaze from mine. One glance at the deep-voiced person over my shoulder, and shock skittered over his expression. Or was it fear? He bared his teeth like a cornered animal, then let me go, backing away toward the exit of the club.

I twisted around, looking up, way up, into the face of Mr. R-and-B standing a head taller than me. I was five eight and wearing boots. Dark eyes, so dark they were almost black. An unreadable expression set in harsh lines. I couldn’t form a coherent thought, much less a sentence. From far away, he was stunning. Up close, I couldn’t even breathe. He gazed down at me for what seemed like an eternity while lights and music pumped around us. Captivating. Hypnotizing. Was he putting me under some spell? Why couldn’t I think straight? My mouth hung agape as I tried to regain composure.

Finally, he spoke. “Are you all right?”

Me? No! I’m about to need resuscitation from lack of oxygen. Preferably mouth-to-mouth. And from you, please.

“Yes. I’m fine,” I whispered, clearing my throat.

All of a sudden, it was very hot in here. Where was that beer?

He stared at me a moment longer. He appeared to be somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties, but something in those dark depths made him seem so much older. His olive skin reminded me of warmer climates; not here in Cajun country but somewhere distant, exotic. Wavy dark brown hair hung loosely across his forehead and to the nape of his neck. He hadn’t shaved recently, and man, oh man did I want to run my fingers across that scruffy jawline. I realized I was staring, no, gawking at him. A ghost of a smile flickered across his face. Without saying anything else, he pivoted and headed for the exit, which was quite a pleasant view.

By this time, Steven was back at my side, scowling.

“Where’s that dude? I’m gonna smash his face in!”

Yeah. Whatever.

I couldn’t figure out exactly what just happened. Of course I was thankful Mr. R-and-B showed up, for more than one reason. There was something very wrong with Sandy-hair. Maybe he was on drugs. Ecstasy could make people very touchy-feely, so I was told. The way he glared at me, the sheer menace in those strange-colored eyes—disturbing to say the least. Must be the laser lights in here.

I waved the bartender over and downed the beer the moment it was in my hands, I tried to chill out. Glancing back at the dance floor, I saw David half carrying Mindy toward the bar with a rip in her jeans at the knee.

“Mindy! What happened?”

“Fell and twisted it.” She winced with each step. I pulled up a stool.

“Let me go get the car,” said David. “I’ll pull it around.”

“No, David,” Mindy whined in her lilting drunk voice. “Stay with meeee.” She hooked her arm tighter around his neck. One too many appletinis.

“I’ll go.” I set my beer on the bar. “Wait here.”

Mindy grabbed my arm. “Sorry.” She pouted with glazed eyes. “Didn’t mean to ruin your birthday.”

“You didn’t.” I smiled. “Be right back.”

“I’ll come with you.” Steven took David’s keys and followed me. We pushed through the crowd back to the entrance, passing by big-and-beefy at the door.

“Later, Sunshine,” I called with a wave.

He nodded with a thin smile. Not a soul walked the street. I found it sort of strange to have a bar located in the more industrial end of town. But it was an eccentric place. Maybe that’s what they were going for. Exclusivity, to make it more appealing. A gust of wind whooshed by, lifting my hair. I wrapped my arms around myself as we angled down the side street toward the car.

“You cold?” asked Steven behind me.

“No.” But something made me shiver. “You have the keys?”

“Yeah, right—”

I heard the keys jingle and fall to the pavement, then a thump. I spun to find Steven slumped against the wall. Unconscious. Before I could register what happened, my body slammed up against the brick wall behind me. Pinned in place by none other than Sandy-hair, his hand grasping and squeezing my throat.

“Keep still.” Voice low and gravelly. “Don’t scream.”

As if I could. How could I, of all people, get myself into a defenseless position? I knew how to fend off an attack in a hundred different ways, but he already had me in such a tight grip. He crushed me against the wall, choking the life out of me. I stared up at him, hoping to memorize his face for a police report later.
If
there was a later. Spots hazed my vision, though I definitely recognized those hate-filled eyes, blazing blood-red down at me.
What the hell?

“Such a pretty one.” A guttural murmur. “Such a shame to have to kill you.”

Kill me? What! I squirmed, trying to pull free. Useless. A sinister hissing laugh in my ear. Lightheaded. Dark spots at the corner of my vision. I couldn’t see anything anymore. I drifted. I thought how sad my father would be that I died in such a violent way as I slipped further into oblivion. I thought of my mother.

Suddenly, I gulped air back into my lungs. I was free of him, sliding down the wall, feeling my way along the cold brick behind me. A dark shape loomed, grappling with my attacker. Finally catching my breath, chest still heaving, I focused to see a shadowed figure lifting my would-be killer by the throat off the ground, holding him midair. His words confused me even more.

“Stop human-hopping, and come out to play.”

I knew that deep voice from the dance floor: R-and-B. Sandy-hair held on to my hero’s arms. He laughed that wicked laugh again.

“Make me,” he hissed.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

R-and-B placed his free hand on the guy’s forehead, still holding him aloft. He whispered something I couldn’t hear. Sandy-hair screamed in agony. His body blurred. A second head twisted, separated from the first. How was that even possible? The second one was malformed and hideous with deep-set eyes, no nose at all and gnashing fangs. R-and-B pulled the monstrous head, slowly ripping a writhing, ghastly creature from inside Sandy-hair, letting the human host slump to the pavement. The monster screeched and hissed as my dark rescuer chanted inaudible words. Tiny hairs on my arms rose with a rippling chill. An aura of flickering golden light swept wide above his head and shoulders, beaming off his back.

I rubbed my eyes, sure I’d been slipped some mind-altering drugs in the club. R-and-B whispered more vehemently, words I couldn’t quite hear in another language, though they sounded familiar. The creature screamed, twisted, unable to free itself. The size of a small child with bony, spindly limbs and gnashing teeth, the thing beat and scratched and clawed the air. I heard the final words of the creature’s captor, his aura flickering like flame.

“Go back to hell.”