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Kingdom Volume 1
De RJ Scott
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Commencer à lireNotes:
Évaluation : 4.5 sur 5 étoiles4.5/5 (3 évaluations)
Longueur: 326 pages5 heures
- Éditeur:
- RJ Scott
- Sortie:
- Jun 13, 2017
- ISBN:
- 9781785640643
- Format:
- Livre
Description
The Vampire Contract
Micah is a vampire guilty of murdering his human husband. He's on the run from execution and hopes he can make it home before supernatural law enforcement catch him. Connor, the werewolf sent to retrieve him, is convinced that only the guilty run.
The Guilty Werewolf
Declan is the best Retriever that Glitnir has, but when he's forced to team up with an incubus assassin, Levi, to locate a renegade vampire, he begins to question everything he loves.
The Warlock’s Secret
In a world where magic is rare, Joseph is one of the most powerful holders of power. Phin is the son of the Elf King and has magic of his own. The rules say two supernatural beings with magic cannot be together and Joseph and Phin have lived by that rule despite their attraction to each other.
Informations sur le livre
Kingdom Volume 1
De RJ Scott
Notes:
Évaluation : 4.5 sur 5 étoiles4.5/5 (3 évaluations)
Longueur: 326 pages5 heures
Description
The Vampire Contract
Micah is a vampire guilty of murdering his human husband. He's on the run from execution and hopes he can make it home before supernatural law enforcement catch him. Connor, the werewolf sent to retrieve him, is convinced that only the guilty run.
The Guilty Werewolf
Declan is the best Retriever that Glitnir has, but when he's forced to team up with an incubus assassin, Levi, to locate a renegade vampire, he begins to question everything he loves.
The Warlock’s Secret
In a world where magic is rare, Joseph is one of the most powerful holders of power. Phin is the son of the Elf King and has magic of his own. The rules say two supernatural beings with magic cannot be together and Joseph and Phin have lived by that rule despite their attraction to each other.
- Éditeur:
- RJ Scott
- Sortie:
- Jun 13, 2017
- ISBN:
- 9781785640643
- Format:
- Livre
À propos de l'auteur
RS![]()
RJ Scott is the author of the best selling Male/Male romances The Christmas Throwaway, The Heart Of Texas and the Sanctuary Series of books.She writes romances between two strong men and always gives them the happy ever after they deserve.
En rapport avec Kingdom Volume 1
Aperçu du livre
Kingdom Volume 1 - RJ Scott
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Chapter 1
I know you’re out there!
His quarry shouted into the darkness. You may as well show yourself.
Connor tensed.
The vampire knew he was here?
How the hell could a blundering and uncoordinated vampire know that Connor was tracking him?
What do you want, wolf?
The vampire shouted again.
Exhaustion dripped from each syllable and Connor focused in on the body language of a defeated man. Was Micah Jamieson, the vampire he’d been tasked to track, giving up and giving in?
Connor hesitated. This could well be a trick. No way was he going to let himself be swayed from what he had to do. His claws extended he rolled his neck with the itch of change that pressed on him.
Come out and talk to me,
Micah demanded. From here Connor watched his quarry turn in a circle as Micah peered into the undergrowth, the bushes that surrounded him, and high into the tall oak trees.
Connor watched with amusement. The vampire may be intelligent enough to figure out a wolf was tracking him, but he didn’t know where he was. Then Micah, a murderer and criminal, due to be executed, turned and faced exactly where Connor was hidden.
Retriever or not, I could do with the company and we need to settle this nonsense of you chasing me down so you can go home.
The vampire’s voice was sad and held a quality of loneliness that Connor thought only he had the capacity to feel. He shrugged away the sudden and inappropriate twinge of empathy.
Here, here, wolfy, come on out and play with the scary vampire.
Micah ended on a chuckle and crossed his arms over his chest.
Dark haired and dressed from head to toe in black, Micah was merging with the smudge of gloom in the approaching evening, but Connor could still scent him from where he was—a combination of fresh forest air and something else that he couldn’t put his finger on. Micah didn’t smell like a typical vampire, if anything Connor found his scent weirdly comforting.
Shorter than the average vamp, sweet scent or not, he was an easy takedown. That was exactly how Niceros had sold this particular hunt to Connor. Easy. His boss always used words like easy and quick, but at the end of the day, Connor was hunting a paranormal called Micah who had ripped his own husband’s throat out and carved words in the fragile human’s skin. Short or not this vamp was dangerous and possibly psychotic.
Forcing his claws to retract as he straightened, was an effort. Connor’s lupine half clung to his thoughts and demanded attention. Not now, he thought as he stepped into the clearing to reveal himself. The scent in the air was charged with moonflowers and there was magic stringing its way through the topmost branches of sprawling trees. Micah Jamieson’s scent was intermingled in it all.
Assessing Micah and the threat he posed was like breathing. Vampires were sneaky, scrappy fighters, fond of using a combination of teeth, knives, and formidable muscle strength. Added to which, vampires were renowned as selfish, spoilt superior beings who disregarded society and its norms. No wonder this husband of Micah’s only lasted three weeks of marriage to the vamp.
Connor Strand,
he said firmly. Senior Retriever.
The words were familiar and rolled off his tongue with ease. Step one of retrieval: state your name and rank and ensure the convicted knew who you were. As soon as they left his mouth, he waited for a reaction. This was the point that those facing Court-assigned punishment reacted one of two ways: begging or running. Connor could deal with either.
Senior?
The vamp huffed a laugh. I was that much of a flight risk they sent a top grade hunter?
Just come quietly.
Micah scanned Connor and let out a short laugh. You’re not even armed.
Connor took another step nearer, his arms loose at his sides and his hands ready. No wolf shifter Retriever was ever armed, they didn’t need to be.
I’ve come to take you back.
He moved closer and could see Micah’s face more clearly. He was a lot smaller than other vamps Connor had taken down, and he was resigned. Giving in, Micah shrugged and held out his hands in front of him, palms up.
You can try,
he finally said.
There was no bravado in his voice, merely plainspoken words with an edge of that same exhaustion Connor had heard before. Was the vamp really considering he could take on a senior wolf shifter? Connor had never actually seen bravado before in his prey. He’d seen begging and crying and witnessed a whole lot of running, but never this quiet acceptance.
They stood in a tense face-off about three feet apart. Connor was in the range of both vampire fangs and sharp, skin-slicing knives if Micah had any. He couldn’t see knives but rule one was never to underestimate any supernatural.
Come quietly,
Connor said. It will look good for you at Glitnir Court.
Micah shook his head at the mention of the supernatural Court. You mean they’ll cut my sentence from execution in a week, to that of beheading in a month?
You will have more time to say goodbye to loved ones,
Connor said calmly.
Glitnir says I killed my only loved one.
Temper sliced into Micah’s words. Why would they even think of giving me more time to say goodbye when I have no one to say goodbye to.
Connor could see sense in Micah’s words. Knowing what Glitnir would do to the vampire when Connor took him back was not his concern. For what Micah had done he was lucky the vampire had been given time to settle his affairs. The quickest trial in the history of Glitnir, and a punishment of death by beheading had been handed down immediately. The evidence was there. The husband’s human body drained of blood, the throat torn right through to the spine, and the vampire words, centuries old, cut into flesh. All of it led to Micah.
Come quietly and I’ll tell them you were cooperative.
I’m not going anywhere,
Micah snapped. I think you should shift and run back home.
Retrievers never return empty-handed.
Connor widened his stance.
Micah unfolded his arms and allowed them to hang loose with his fingers clenched into fists. Sorry, dog, this time one will have to. I don’t have time for games.
The single word dog was the ultimate insult to a race as old and proud as werewolves, and the vampire knew this. Rage sparked in Connor, but he had to balance it if he didn’t want this to go to shit. Micah opened his mouth to say something else, but Connor acted on pure instinct and moved like lightning.
Connor leaped before Micah could move, and in that single second where he must have known Connor would be on him, there was acceptance etched into every line of Micah. Connor’s attack was instant and he kicked with his powerfully muscled legs dead center in Micah’s chest. Micah fell off balance, slamming back against the tree. Connor followed Micah onto the ground and crouched over him, hands scrabbling to catch hold of Micah’s throat. Micah pushed back and his strength was enough to force Connor back and away. The plants and bushes around them caught on their clothes as Micah threw himself at Connor with a knife in one hand as his fangs descended. When they connected, Micah’s breath left him in a swift huff.
Come home,
Connor snapped as Micah pinned him. The gleam of a blade was inches from his face and as much as he pushed up, Micah met with equal force. He flipped the other man with a knee to his balls and despite the yell of pain, Micah didn’t retreat. He lay under Connor with absolute determination in his expression.
For a second, no more, they were held in a match of force and Connor knew in an instant that this was not going to be a graceful fight but a scrappy uncoordinated battle for the upper hand. His wolf side took over and he found extra strength even as Micah pushed that little bit harder upwards and the knife moved dangerously closer to Connor’s face.
No!
Micah said, and with a mighty heave, he had Connor sprawled on his back with his breath lost to the impact.
Connor used the momentum of his fall to roll on his side and then flip up standing. He charged at Micah without hesitation. Claws extended, he grabbed Micah’s knife hand and then used his other hand to dig through material and into skin below.
His long claws pierced the clothing and Micah yelled in pain before rolling them again so Connor was under him. He felt like the heaviest weight and now Connor had a hand trapped between them with claws still extended into Micah’s skin. He dug deeper, this wouldn’t kill the vampire, but it would surely incapacitate him for a while. Micah cursed and pushed up and away, and Connor felt his claws wrench free of the bloodied mess.
Stumbling back, Micah didn’t check the wound that was a ripped hole through jacket, shirt, and skin. There was real fear in his eyes as he fell to his knees. Connor howled in excitement at the ecstasy of ripping through his prey and he could almost taste the thrill of the win.
Micah scrambled away, with a hand clutched to his side and then used the trunk of a tree to stand. He took a step away from the bark and near doubled in pain.
Don’t make me hurt you,
he begged as he straightened.
Connor growled in frustration at the nonsense Micah was spouting. He took the two steps up and away to jump at Micah. The vampire reacted instantly. He spun on his heel and suddenly the two were a mess of nails, claws, and teeth. The snarling, spitting fight had them pitted evenly against each other despite Micah’s injury.
Micah would get the upper hand only for Connor to switch and force Micah to the ground. He needed to pull the cuffs from his belt at that single point he had the upper hand, but sensing the loss of focus, Micah scrambled and fought his way free. His pale skin was marked with mud, leaves, and blood and the spread of dark on his shirt was dangerously large. Even a vampire would take a few days to heal from that.
You chose to run,
Connor spat the specific words he needed to say on retrieval. The Glitnir Court wants your return to carry out punishment for the crime of murder of Ethan Harris.
He didn’t finish as, with a yell, Micah rushed him and near head-butted him in the stomach. The two men fell and rolled over and over down a small incline. Connor’s head smacked a stone and he felt the pain reverberate through him. Then the moonlight glinted on the sharp fangs that descended in Micah’s mouth and there was blood on his lips, Connor’s blood. They had both tasted blood tonight.
No,
Micah spat at him in a fury. I didn’t kill Ethan.
Connor’s pain increased and Micah was pushing and stabbing with the knife. Connor felt the snap in his left arm as it broke against a fallen tree. Adrenaline spiked and he pushed through the grating pain to force Micah off him and in a smooth move, had the cuffs in hand and was inches away from getting one wrist of the hissing, spitting, snarling vampire handcuffed.
No!
Micah shouted. Terror widened his eyes and he was screaming and pleading and none of it made any sense. Don’t make me hurt you.
Connor carried on with the rights he needed to say. An appointed council member will review—
I can’t go.
The first cuff snapped around Micah’s wrist and Connor suddenly had the upper hand. Micah threw himself back and pulled Connor with him in a mess of twisted limbs while he was talking, chanting, saying something. Connor shook his head and scraped claws along every available inch of skin he could find.
This wasn’t a clean fight, this was desperation, fear, and a crawling despair in Micah. The scent of terror was ripe in Connor’s nose. He could work with fright and panic in an escaped prisoner, it made them careless and vulnerable to attack. With a final lunge he aimed for Micah’s other wrist.
A scream of anguish from Micah and he pushed out his hands, palms flat, and an invisible force lifted Connor from him and threw him across the clearing where he contacted with a tree.
I didn’t mean to hurt you! I didn’t want to hurt you!
Micah shouted, and then began to sob.
Connor was losing consciousness. Heaviness pulled him apart inside and his mind went blank.
Chapter 2
Micah paced the small clearing and stopped every so often to catch his breath. The knife hung loosely in his hand, scarlet-tipped and heavy. He dropped it to the ground and pressed his hand to his side. It came away with red streaks and that was not a good sign. The wolf’s claws buried in his side were agony as each strong sharp hook tore through muscle and skin. The pain was concentrated, but it lessened in fiery intensity with every moment that passed as his body attempted to heal itself from the inside out. A wolf scar would always remain on his skin and he’d have to live with that.
Well, for as long as he actually lived.
He hadn’t meant to let things get out of hand. The wolf, Connor Strand, murmured while unconscious. Cautiously Micah approached him. Carefully he pushed aside Strand’s shirt and winced at what he uncovered. Blood, bone, and skin on strong arms with a dusting of fine hair and a serrated knife wound across his chest. Sickness churned inside him at what he had done.
Strand’s arm was undoubtedly broken. In two separate locations ivory bone jutted through bruised flesh. Micah knew he needed to do something before the wolf woke up and he forced himself to consider what he had done impassively. He may have lost control, but the outcome had been what he needed. He couldn’t lead this Retriever to the next safe house and he needed to deal with him. Micah’s freedom was vital to proving his innocence.
He had to consider tying the Retriever down, but from a humane point of view he knew he couldn’t.
I need help, Joseph, he thought.
What happened? His twin’s voice was as clear in his head as if he was standing next to him.
We hurt someone when we connected, we hurt a wolf.
The Retriever found you? I was scared for you, little brother. Though Micah was younger by only a few minutes, Joseph never failed to remind him who the eldest was.
Summoning a small amount of his brother’s powers through the connection they had, he circled one hand on Strand’s shoulder and the other on the wrist. Gently Micah pulled and the sickening sound of bone and flesh tearing all over again had him stopping as nausea washed over him.
Is he okay? Joseph asked.
He’ll be fine.
A short pause and then Joseph asked the inevitable. How about you?
He dug his claws in my side.
Blood loss?
Not much, Micah lied.
Joseph didn’t call him on it. Micah knew this was why supernaturals like him should be kept away from others. No person knew their own strength when faced with extremes. There was enough animal instinct in everyone to cause irreparable pain to those around them. Sitting here with emotion choking his throat, covered in his own blood and that of an innocent sent to find him was a testament to that. He’d written about it enough, but no one listened.
Are you okay? Are you still under house arrest? Micah asked. There was a pause in the thoughts and Micah shook his head. Sometimes the connection stopped.
Yes, his twin thought gently. I can’t talk any more. Hurry home.
I’m sorry,
he whispered to the night air. He was sorry he hurt the wolf, sorry that his twin was in trouble, sorry that Ethan had died. Sometimes it was all too much sorry in his head.
Connor moved beneath his touch, but stayed unconscious, which was a blessing. The tingling of magic pulled from inside Micah, it burned in his hands and enabled him to at least set the arm as best he could before placing his palms over the wound and concentrating on knitting the particles inside, bonding together what Micah had broken.
Releasing his hold on Connor’s shoulder, he supported the strong wrist and used his free hand to wipe at the stray blood with a corner of Connor’s shirt. He wasn’t sure if the blood was his or Connor’s.
The wound was closing and finally there was nothing else Micah could do. He laid his hand flat on the wolf’s bare chest and then arranged himself in a seated position next to him. He would stay until the wolf woke enough to know he would survive, and then he would get him to forget, and Micah would be free to continue his journey.
He examined Senior Retriever Connor Strand, a werewolf with fire in his belly and absolute faith in the system. No one got to be a Retriever as a career choice. It was an option given in lieu of punishment from Glitnir, only offered to werewolves with pure blood. Very few who trained and carried out retrievals made it to senior status, a vast percentage left as soon as their debt was cleared.
Either Connor had committed a crime so heinous that his sentence was still running or he was one of those rare wolves that decided to make Retriever a vocation. Whatever. The poor guy was hurt and bleeding and it was Micah that had done that to him.
What did I do?
Micah whispered. He needed to go. To move away from this place and try to follow the guide he had from memory to get him to the house, the home of his twin brother Joseph and a place where he could be safe.
I can find evidence that exonerates you, Joseph had said—or rather he’d thought. They didn’t need words between them, with the blood that ran in his veins the same as his twin’s they had a unique bond that not even Glitnir Court could stop.
The shifter stirred and Micah leaned over to check the wound. There was bruising and dried blood, but other than that there was no real sign of the trauma. Tracing the wound on Connor’s chest, he was pleased to see it, too, was fading. What the sites would look like in daylight was another matter.
A simple shift and the werewolf would be entirely back to normal, which was more than could be said for Micah. His own wound oozed with scarlet and refused to heal. He’d tried everything to stop the bleeding, apart from using magic. The wolf was lucky that Micah broke his oath not to connect with Joseph and used what little skill he had to heal him.
He should go. He had two more days to make his way from here to there while avoiding transport, roads, and using safe houses where he could. As he stood and stretched tall, he hissed at the pain in his side, the fiery tendrils of acute discomfort curling around his spine and front to his chest. He had to slow a little and nurse his injury, but was it too soon to leave Connor? Steel stiffened his spine. Connor, however much guilt Micah felt at hurting him, was part of the system.
He crossed his arms over his chest and considered the unconscious shifter. Having the benefit of time to do so was nice. All he’d had before were snatched views. Connor may well be a stealthy hunter, but Micah had a few tricks of his own that didn’t involve using his unique skills.
Images of what he had seen before when fighting were easier to see with Connor unconscious. The Retriever was a tall man with dark blond shaggy hair shot through with red, almost sable. He was sturdy with a muscular physique—Gods he was strong, unyielding. Micah felt small next to him, small and intimidated despite the fact he’d brought the wolf to his knees. He wouldn’t have been able to if he hadn’t used some of the magic that his brother had sent him.
No sense in thinking about that now. Shrugging off his jacket, as it was more show that necessity, given he didn’t feel the cold; he placed it carefully over Connor and then backed away. He retrieved his bag that he had hidden in a hollow of a tree and made his way out of the small clearing with every intention of leaving Connor. He was five minutes away before the pain in his side and the storm of emotion in his head told him he needed to stop.
Justifying the decision he had reluctantly come to as a need to rest, he retraced his footsteps to the place he had decided to confront his shadowy stalker. To his relief, Connor remained still. The only thing indicating life was the soft rise and fall of his chest.
With a sigh of resignation at the trouble he was in, Micah went about finding dry wood and kindling and began a fire in a small area enclosed by stones he placed in a circle. There was food in the bag he had hauled with him and limited water, enough to last him the proposed eight-day journey moving from safe house to safe house through forest and valley to Joseph’s house. He only had two more days and the nearest safe place to sleep was another four hours walk. Not possible now.
The fire lent an otherworldly glow to the immediate vicinity and cast shadows around them. Micah attempted to relax in the mesmerizing glow and even slept for a short while, his dreams full of pain.
He woke aching and thirsty and aware that Connor was awake. How he knew he didn’t think to worry about. His immediate concern was that Connor was not only awake, but shifting. Only the tattered remnants of his pale-colored shirt remained as he tore at his clothes and crouched over the material. There was nothing he could do but watch.
Micah had known that sooner or later, if he stayed, that he would see Connor shift. Watching the human shape morph to wolf was as intriguing as the first time he had ever seen it as a child: the face lengthening, the shimmer of the air as it heated around the human form and the final shudder from nose to tail as a dark-haired wolf stood in Connor’s place.
For a second the stunning animal remained still, and then he lifted his muzzle and inhaled the air around them. Shaking himself, he stretched back and then forward.
Curiosity in his steps, wolf-Connor circled the fire and Micah. Micah held his breath as Connor moved behind him. He couldn’t sense anger in the shifter or a need to eat him, but Micah wasn’t taking any chances. Connor stepped closer and the fire sent shimmers of orange-red light into the thick sable fur.
You’re so handsome,
Micah whispered.
Connor sat and cocked his head and then in a smooth motion leaped at Micah and pushed him flat on the ground, caging Micah under four paws. He nuzzled Micah’s neck and then licked a long stripe from his throat up and around his neck.
Micah came to the conclusion that this strong wolf shifter, who in human form wanted to imprison him, actually found Micah acceptable to mark, especially when the big wolf rubbed his muzzle against Micah’s face. His fur was very soft with the tiny hint of prickle on the end. Tentatively Micah pressed a hand to the back of the wolf’s head and scratched the fur there. Why he did that he didn’t
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