Deadly Seduction (Deadliest Love Book 2), page 1
DEADLY SEDUCTION
DEADLIEST LOVE SERIES
BOOK 2
HOLLY BLOOM
DARK BLOOM PUBLISHING
Copyright © 2023 by Holly Fox writing as Holly Bloom
Edited by Lunar Rose Editing Services
Cover design by Pretty in Ink Creations
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
If you’ve ever dreamed about being the filling of a man meat sandwich, this one is for you…
BEFORE WE BEGIN…
Please note, I’m a UK-based author.
This book is written in British English.
Spelling and word choice vary from US English—less z’s, more s’s, and all that jazz.
There will be some fun Brit slang too—hey, you may learn something about our quirky ways!
Be warned…
This book contains mature themes that may be distressing for some readers.
To see the full list of content warnings before reading, please visit Holly Bloom’s website for more details.
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Authors Note
About the Author
PROLOGUE
IVY
THAT NIGHT…
Opening one eye drains the little energy I have. The world rushes by. Fuzzy orange balls blur in and out of focus, streaking across my vision like shooting meteors, leaving a trail of fire behind. Have aliens abducted me, or are they streetlights? My eyelids are heavy, weighed down by the horror and impact of Spencer’s fists.
“Hang on.” A male voice I don’t recognise comes from nowhere. It’s deep, warm, reassuring… safe. “You’re going to be okay.” The man keeps talking, but his syllables merge into a long sentence I can’t understand. “Just a little longer…”
Everything aches. I can’t tell where the pain is coming from. It consumes me. I try moving my neck, but I groan from the effort.
“You have to stay awake,” my mysterious saviour urges.
I see him now. He turns to look at me over his shoulder. I can’t make out his features, but a halo of light surrounds him. Am I dead? We jolt abruptly. Nope, the afterlife won’t be plagued by potholes and speed bumps. We’re in a car. I’m sprawled across the backseat at an awkward angle. Where are the sirens and blue flashing lights? Where is…
“Daisy,” I croak. “Where’s Daisy?”
An overpowering foul odour assaults my nostrils, and I retch. Dirt, sweat, blood, and… something else. Aftershave. His aftershave. It oozes from my pores, making me want to scrub and claw my skin. Better still, I want to shed it like an unwanted outfit and leave it behind like a clingy dress that makes breathing difficult. But I can’t. I’m trapped in a body with no escape.
The man ignores my question. His faraway voice says, “We’re almost there.”
My hair falls over my face. It’s matted with brown leaves, twigs, and soil. I move my arm an inch, stroking a soft blanket laying over me, now damp from my weeping wounds. Underneath it, I’m naked.
Consciousness comes and goes. There isn’t a film of my life’s highlights or a long, dark tunnel with my dead relatives waiting at the end of it. It’s never-ending, like an open ocean at night. Violent images appear like snapshots.
I’m kicked to the ground.
Leaves scratch my tongue and silence my screams.
I’m suffocating.
His weight bearing down on top of me crushes my rib cage.
My lungs are about to burst.
Darkness closes in, smothering me with its inky cloak and forcing its way down my throat until it grabs my heart in its fist.
Panic should be taking over, but I have no fight left. My body is already shutting down.
This can’t be real…
It can’t…
The car stops abruptly, almost throwing me into the footwell.
The man opens the door and gently lifts me out of the car. He scoops me into his arms, and then I’m floating. Would he snap my neck if I asked him to? Anything would be better than this. The pain pulsating through my body burns hotter than fire, but that’s not the worst of it…
I see her now.
Daisy’s naked, lifeless body.
You have to save her!
I try sending mental signals into the universe, hoping someone will hear them. I’ve never prayed before, but God, if you’re listening, hear me now. Take me, not her. I’m the one you want! No one answers my desperate plight, but I hear Spencer. His callous voice makes me want to pour acid into my ears.
His feet smashed into my sides. My head. His belt unbuckled, and…
He didn’t stop when I begged.
“If I can’t have you, no one can.”
His laugh was more terrifying than his words. The laughter of someone so twisted they’d rather I died than live without him.
Another voice speaks now, “She’s dying.”
I hope so. Death is better than a life without Daisy.
Everything fades away…
I wake up to a stark, white light. Maybe I’m really dead this time. The pain has lessened, but my limbs no longer feel like they belong to me. I’m in a hospital bed, only it doesn’t look like any other hospital I’ve been to before. No nurses, doctors, or loud patients are complaining in the corridor.
I lift my arm to get a better look at the tubes going into my veins.
“It’s okay.” A stranger leans over me. Her brow is etched in concern. “You’re going to be okay.”
I try turning my head, but a brace locks my neck in place. Terror sets in as I realise I’m restricted.
“Try not to move,” the woman says, stroking the bandage wrapped around my forehead. “It’ll only hurt you more.”
She’s beautiful with blonde hair and kind, blue eyes. She’s the kind of woman you’d see flicking their bouncy mane to advertise shampoo.
“Am I…”
“Here.” She holds a plastic cup to my cracked lips and tips it for me to drink. Half of it sloshes down my chin, even as I do what I can. Swallowing hurts like a bitch. I manage to take a few sips before wanting to fall asleep again. “Better?”
I don’t reply. Words are too hard, too tiring.
A man speaks from the other side of the room, “Is she awake?”
My senses are back on hyper-alert again. I can’t see him from my position, but the woman nods in response.
“She’s too weak,” she says. “She won’t understand what you’re saying.”
“She’s a fighter,” the man insists. “Let me try.”
The woman’s lips purse in disapproval, though she nods and steps aside. A man covered head to toe in tattoos appears at the foot of my bed. He’s not a doctor—there’s no stethoscope or gown in sight.
“Don’t be afraid.” His voice has a deep, soothing quality. Maybe he’s a hypnotist. “You’re safe with us.”
Safe? I’d roll my eyes if I could. How can I be safe? I can’t remember how I got here—wherever here is—or who these people are. Girls are taught to never accept a lift from a stranger; we’re told to carry keys in our knuckles when walking alone in the dark and to text our friends to make sure they get home okay. None of those lessons covers what to do in this situation!
“My name is Alaric,” he says, “and this is Stephanie.” He gestures at the blonde, who wrings her hands nervously. “How much do you remember about what happened?”
We were on the road, then we weren’t. Moonlight bounced off the metal, shards of glass, and the blood… So much blood. My knees sting as I crawl through the undergrowth. I can hear their laughter. Hands grab my ankles. That laugh… Spencer. It was him. He did this.
“It’s too soon, Ric,” Stephanie intervenes. “You need to give her more time. Just look at her.”
My only consolation is that there is no mirror around.
“We ne
How does he know my name? I must be dead. Gone. Over. This must be purgatory for women who’ve lied about how many men they’ve slept with, bought gym memberships they never use, and accidentally-on-purpose forgot to scan items at the self-checkout. Surely, that’s not enough to go to hell for, right?
“Well, at least that’s what the rest of the world will think,” Alaric continues. A grin plays on his lips. “We’re part of an elite operation, a network of trained killers.”
I don’t understand. Killers? I might have preferred purgatory.
“Our agents are ghosts,” he explains. “They’re all dead in the traditional sense, but I will give you a choice now. Squeeze my hand if you understand.”
I squeeze. He stares into my eyes, searching for something, except I’m not sure what. Why do I feel like he’s testing me?
“You have two options,” he says. “Option one, you go back to your old life as Ivy Penrose. No one will ever know you’ve been here, or option two…” He drops his voice. “You stay dead and join us. We will train you to kill. We can give you more power than you could ever imagine.”
“Daisy…” I murmur. Stephanie rushes to my side and tries to give me more water, but I jerk my chin away and ask, “Where’s Daisy?”
Her face falls. She doesn’t need to say anything. Her expression speaks more than words ever could, confirming what I already know. I felt it from the moment I woke up like a part of my soul had been wrenched away.
“She’s dead,” Alaric answers. He bows his head. “I’m sorry.”
Since our parents died, it’s been me and Daisy against the world. Without her, I have no one. A single tear slides down my cheek, stinging my open cuts.
“Spencer Bexley.” My voice is hoarse and faint, but Alaric can hear me. “I want him dead.”
“We can help you kill him,” Alaric says. “However, it has to be your choice. After this, there’s no going back to your old life. Everyone you’ve ever known will think you’re dead. Do you understand?”
I muster all my energy and squeeze his fingers as hard as possible.
“Welcome to the Killers Club, Ivy.” Alaric smiles. “You’re one of us now.”
The old Ivy Penrose died that night.
I lost a part of myself that I’ll never get back and swore my unwavering loyalty to a club that gave me a second chance at life, but nothing prepared me for the test that was coming…
CHAPTER 1
FREDDIE
PRESENT DAY…
“My real name is Daisy Penrose, and…” Her sparkling eyes meet mine. “I’m in witness protection.”
My head spins. Witness protection? We’ll have to find out why she faked her death, but that’s not my first instinct. I need to know who she’s running from and who needs to die for hurting her so that I can tear them apart with my bare hands.
“And no one calls me Daisy anymore,” she continues, wincing when she says her name. There are painful memories attached to it. “I’m Rose now. That’s what you should call me.”
She’s changed her name, but what else is different since I last saw her?
“Before we go any further,” Callen says, leaning to snatch her bag from her lap and hurling it out of the window, “you won’t be needing that.”
“What the fuck! My phone and purse were in there,” she objects. An elderly woman hobbling along the pavement narrowly avoids getting knocked out by the flying bag. “You almost killed her!”
“I’d be putting her out of her misery.” Callen shrugs casually, then smirks. “And don’t worry, princess. I’m sure one of your boyfriends can fight over who buys you a new bag.”
Seb grits his teeth while I hiss, “What’s wrong with you, Callen?”
“Stuff is replaceable,” Callen says. “How can we trust her when we don’t know who she really is?”
“You don’t know who I am?” She laughs dryly and turns on us. “Are you forgetting that I was having an innocent drink, then dragged into the middle of a shoot-out? Who are you?”
“We should be asking you the same question,” Callen flips her question around, treating her like a mass murderer on trial. “Why are you in witness protection?”
“Enough, Callen,” I growl.
My fists clench, resisting every urge not to throw him out of the moving car.
Daisy—Rose—sniffs beside me. I want to hold her in my arms to block out the world and slay every fucker who ever hurt her.
“I know you’ll have questions,” she murmurs. Her earlier confidence vanishes as she hangs her head. Her mind is transported elsewhere, a dark place where I can’t reach her. “It’s a… long story.”
A tear slides down her cheek. I wipe it away and see Seb’s eyes narrow in the rearview mirror like he wants to tear someone’s throat out. I can’t decide whether his anger is directed at me, or whoever caused her pain. Probably both.
“You don’t have to tell us now,” I say, wrapping my arm around her shoulder to pull her close. She doesn’t resist and snuggles into my chest. She fits perfectly. “But you don’t have to worry. No one will hurt you when you’re with us. Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
Seb’s cheeks redden. Having the dead woman of your dreams come back to life is as shocking as finding out she’s the mysterious redhead who’s been driving him crazy for the past few weeks. Right now, that doesn’t matter. She’s alive, and I won’t let anything happen to her again.
“I don’t want to piss on your parade,” Callen says, “but aren’t you forgetting about Bram? We were supposed to be leaving there with him, not a piece of resurrected pussy. Those bastards still have him.”
“Those bastards you shot at,” Seb corrects. “You broke the rules.”
“Rules are meant to be broken.” Callen rolls his eyes in his usual infuriating way. Sometimes I question why I employed him at all. “Rose knows all about breaking the rules, don’t you?”
“Go to hell,” she snarls viciously. There’s a glimpse of the fiery woman I met at the bar five years ago. The woman I fell in love with at first sight.
Seb snorts, and Callen opens his mouth to retaliate, but I shoot him a menacing glare to silence him. He needs to be careful, or I’ll break my own rules and plant a bullet in his chest.
“You know they’re going to be looking for us now,” Seb says, taking a sharp turn onto our street.
“Who are they?” Rose asks. Her face pales as reality sinks in. “Are you guys in the mafia, or something? What the hell have you got me into?”
“Something I hoped you’d never find out about,” Seb replies. “We’re nearly there now.”
Rose straightens, nervously peering out of the back window to check whether we’re being followed. We’re not. Seb will have made sure of that.
We pull up outside the nondescript grey brick building behind a uniform hedge that’s become our home and base.
She cranes her neck to get a better look. “Where are we?”
“Our house,” Seb answers. “The Dukes’ house.”
“The Dukes?” Her eyebrows dip in confusion. “But you don’t have a royal title.”
