Read Half Truths (A Helheim Wolf Pack Tale) Online
Authors: Lauren Dawes
Books by Lauren Dawes
The
Half Blood Trilogy
Half Blood
Half Truths
Half Life
A Helheim wolf pack tale
|
Copyright
© 2012 by Lauren Dawes
First
Edition, 2012
Printed
by CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
The
right of Lauren Dawes to be identified as the author of this work has been
asserted by her under the
Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000
ISBN:
978-1-48108-749-0
All
rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written
permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a
review.
All
characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real
persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover
image © 2012 Dreamstime stock images
Cover
design by Gareth Dawes.
For
Phil;
for
all the usual reasons.
Acknowledgements
I’d
like to thank the following people:
First
and foremost, a huge thank-you to my wonderfully supportive husband. Without
you and your encouraging words, the books just wouldn’t get written.
To
my critical readers, Sarah B, Sarah F and Kylie. Never before have there been
better sounding boards.
And
lastly, to my parents for their unwavering support and pride that they finally
have a writer in the family.
The club was dark except for bright
pulses of light coming from the strobe every few milliseconds. It illuminated
the heavily made-up faces and the glittering piercings through every imaginable
piece of flesh of the people packed into its heaving walls. The heavy
industrial music was pounding through the club, vibrating through his chest,
shaking the marrow in his bones. All around him, PVC-clad bodies pushed and
jostled against him, dragging him further into the club. He pulled up abruptly
when the group he’d followed in stopped near the bar.
‘Drink?’ asked
the girl he’d come to the club with. Cherry’s honey-brown eyes were smudged
black, her lips the same colour. She was wearing a black PVC dress and fishnets.
She looked fucking hot, and with any luck he’d be the one to get her out of her
clothes later on that night.
He leaned in
close to answer, shamelessly rubbing against her. ‘Yeah. Beer.’ He leaned back
to see Cherry shaking her head teasingly at him. He mouthed ‘What?’ to her and
smiled his million-dollar-smile that guaranteed he’d be getting laid later on
that night.
Standing on her
toes, she pressed her breasts against his chest, the plastic crackling between
them. ‘I’ll get you something better suited to the scene.’ He watched Cherry
disappear into the waiting crowd around the bar before walking over to the
railing that looked over the cavernous space where bodies writhed together with
the deep beat of the music. Around the edges of the dance floor, there were
couples fucking each other against the walls while others were just beginning
the slow dance of foreplay. Not one for voyeurism, he looked away.
On the other
side of the room, there was a black velvet rope in front of heavy, black
curtains. Outside the curtains, stood a bouncer who looked like he could bench
press a small car. He figured it was the VIP area … either that or the bondage
room. He’d heard The Imp had one.
He turned to
face the dance floor again. Everywhere he looked, there were people wearing
fishnets, latex and velvet. Girls were either dressed in leather or lace
lingerie; the guys were wearing black pants with high-collared, full-length
jackets and bondage shirts. When he caught people’s eyes, they were giving him
a once-over before moving along.
Cherry twitched
her way back over to him with two drinks in her hands. She handed him one,
clinking the side of her glass with his.
‘What is it?’ he
asked, looking down into its red depths.
‘Vodka
cranberry,’ she replied, taking a sip.
‘It looks like
blood,’ he commented, still looking down into the tall glass.
Cherry smiled.
‘It’s supposed to.’
He took a sip,
watching Cherry tongue her straw over the rim of his glass. He was instantly
hard. ‘So what do you think?’ he asked, hoping she would see his hard on and
jump on for a ride. Cherry’s eyes travelled over his body stopping when they
reached his cock. It jerked uncontrollably as she smiled at him, taking a
deliberate step forward.
‘If you’re
talking about what you’re wearing,’ she gave him a knowing smile, biting down
hard onto her bottom lip; eyes lingering at the bulge in the front of his
pants, ‘It almost works, except for the Chuck Tailor’s. They kind of ruin it,’
she smiled devilishly. ‘But what you really need is some eyeliner.’
He was fantasising
about all the kinky shit Cherry must be into when his mind snapped back to the
conversation they were having. Eyeliner? His head shook defiantly. ‘No way. No
fucking way am I putting make-up on.’
‘I’ll do it for
you,’ she pouted, putting a hand onto his arm. ‘It’ll make you blend in a
little better. Promise,’ she said, biting down on her black-painted bottom lip
again like she knew just how much of a turn on that was.
He looked at her
through narrowed eyes. ‘Fine.’ He would do just about anything to nail her. She
gave him her drink and pulled something that looked like a pencil out from
between her cleavage.
‘Sit down,’ she
told him. Looking around for a place to park it, he found the arm of a dirty
black armchair free. Placing their drinks onto the floor beside it, he perched
himself on the end while Cherry sat in his lap, facing him. Her face was so
close to his that he could smell her skin. She licked her lips, wriggling
closer to his cock. It jerked at the proximity, and she obliged him by grinding
herself onto him. He was enjoying watching her hips roll in his lap before she
snapped her fingers in front of his face to get his attention again.
She applied the
liner heavily, smudging the edges with her pinkie finger. ‘Close your eyes.’
She did the same again, applying the pencil and forcing the colour to bleed
out. ‘Open.’ His eyes opened slowly. ‘Something’s missing,’ she said, chewing
her bottom lip. She smiled devilishly after a second. Leaning into him, she
kissed him roughly, biting down on his lip. His blood was suddenly on fire, his
erection straining to the point of pain as it pressed against his fly.
‘You needed some
colour on your lips,’ she said, sliding off his lap and straightening the hem
of her dress which had ridden up so far he could see her garters and matching
black lace underwear. Anticipation tripped his heart.
After adjusting
his erection, he stood up again, picking up their drinks as he did and handing
her hers.
‘I’m just going
to go find the others,’ she smiled that same naughty smile again. Shaking his
head, he turned back around to face the crowd, taking another sip from his
drink. As he looked around, he noticed there were a lot of people there who had
really pale skin. When he looked a little harder, he also saw that they had
fake fangs peeking out from the bottom of their top lips. He laughed derisively
to himself.
‘Fucking
vampires. Well, that’s new.’ He shook his head, running a hand through his
hair. He turned back around, putting the railing at his back, surveying the
other side of the club. His eyes scanned the wall that had booths set up
against them, stopping when they reached a dark figure leaning against the wall
near the door. He looked away quickly, but found himself being drawn back to
the woman again.
From this
distance, her eyes looked black, matching her dark skin. She was taller than
most of the women in the club, dressed in black leather pants and a black
leather bustier that tied up in the front. He noticed that a lot of men were
staring at her too. Figuring she was a pro, he was about to look away when she
smiled at him.
She pushed off
the wall and approached him; her body a graceful collection of muscles moving
seamlessly together. Up close, her skin was as smooth as polished obsidian, her
eyes bottomless black. ‘Hi,’ she purred.
‘Hey,’ he
replied, shivering when her eyes were on
him, staring at him so intently.
‘You want to get
out of here?’ she asked.
‘I … err … how
much?’ he asked; the words falling from his mouth without thinking. He didn’t
fuck hookers. He’d only come to the club to get into Cherry’s pants. He glanced
around nervously. He looked back at the woman again when she touched his face.
Her fingers were blazing hot.
‘For you?’ she
asked with a smile. ‘Nothing at all.’ He noticed her canines were a little
longer than usual, but maybe they were fakes like everyone else was wearing.
Her eyes drilled
into him until he finally found his voice. ‘Al-alright,’ he said. ‘Is there
somewhere we can go?’ he asked, looking around for a dark corner. Was he
actually just going to fuck her against the wall? Then the idea dawned on him
at the same time she said ‘Bathroom.’
‘Okay,’ he said.
Taking him by the hand, she led him down the dark hallway to the bathrooms. Her
palm was so hot against his as she tugged him further down the narrow hallway.
There was a line outside the women’s toilets, but the men’s was empty except
for one guy at the urinal.
‘Get out,’ she
growled. The guy looked her over before glancing at him. He shrugged and left.
Locking the door after the guy left, she stalked over to where he was waiting
at the sink. She took off his shirt wordlessly, dumping it onto the floor at
his feet. He reached for the tie on her bustier, but a growl broke free from
her lips and he stopped. So, it was going to work like that, was it? He dropped
his hand, letting her do whatever she wanted to do to him.
‘Close your
eyes,’ she said close to his ear. He could feel the heat coming off her body.
He did as he was told, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath to settle
his sudden nerves. Had Cherry seen him walk away with her?
He gasped when
something sharp sank into his neck. When he put his hand to his throat, it came
back red. Blood ran down from the wound, inching down his chest like a long,
hot finger. He looked back at the woman. She had a double-edged blade in her
hand. He hadn’t signed up for this BDSM shit. He should have realised this was
how it was going to be.
‘What are you
doing?’ he demanded, trying to take a step away. She grabbed his arm roughly,
stopping him. He was surprised by how strong she was.
‘Let me go!’ he
demanded, trying to pull free of her vicelike fingers.
Pressing the
knife to his throat, her hypnotically dark eyes fixed on his, holding
him—trapping him there.
‘I’m sorry,’ she
replied in a voice as dark and deadly as her eyes.
He tried to
break free from her again, but the next thing he knew he was on the floor of
the bathroom; the tiles warm against his bare skin. Agony rippled over the
front of his throat. Metal sliced flesh and he smelled rust. He licked his
lips, feeling his throat working over the lump that had formed there.
His wide eyes
went to the woman straddling his waist. He tried to speak, to call for help,
but the sound didn’t come out. He tried again and again until he was sure he
could only hear the words he was screaming in his head.
The pounding of
his pulse was beating in time with the heavy bass of the music from the club
now. He felt it through his entire body like a second—stronger—heartbeat. His
panic was cut when pain suddenly tailed down his chest like fire. Trying to
lift his head, he found it felt like he was trying to lift a hundred-pound
weight attached to his neck. The coppery tang of his blood stung his nostrils.
Another round of
pain erupted across his chest. Every one of his nerve endings were firing; his
head telling him to get out of there, but his body reluctant to play along. The
pain stopped as abruptly as it had started, and a shadow hovered over his face.
With his last ounce of strength, he opened his eyes to find the woman looking
down at him. Her eyes flashed a different colour, and he let out his final
breath.