Blood Taken: Blood Mafia Book Two, page 1
Blood Taken
Rory Miles
Contents
Author’s Note
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
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
Also by Rory Miles
Author’s Note
Hello! Welcome back to Demi’s world. As always, this book is a little stabby, a lot steamy, and filled with sarcasm. If you don’t enjoy any of those things, this is not the book for you.
To my especially violent readers, I see you. I heard your reviews. I hope you enjoy Demi’s awakening… I made it extra special just for you.
P.S. Please do not attempt to stab or snap the necks of your enemies. 10 out of 10 would not recommend.
Copyright © 2020 by Rory Miles
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.
Cover Art by Covers by Aura
Editing by Jennifer Jones from Bookends Editing
Created with Vellum
Chapter One
Demi
Colt's blood is slick on my palm. I shove him off of me, rolling out from under him and pulling the knife from his chest. My hands are shaking.
I toss the weapon on the bed.
There's no time to waste.
I have no idea how long it will take him to heal.
Rushing into the bathroom, I quickly wash my hands. Red tinged water swirls down the drain. Then I wet a rag and wipe down my body. I press my lips together, refusing to feel bad about what I did. The motherfucker kidnapped me. Sure, he was nice after they decided I was special enough not to die, but that doesn't negate all the awful shit he did. Saving Lexi doesn't change much either, because if not for the bloodsuckers, she'd be fine.
Now, because they took me and Lexi witnessed it, she came to save the day and foolishly got taken in as a blood whore.
After drying my hands, I throw on the workout pants and shirt, yank my long hair into a messy bun, and slip on my socks and sneakers. I tip-toe into the bedroom, half expecting Colt to jump up and grab me.
He's lying there, face down on the bed so I can't see if his eyes are open. Either way, he's not trying to force me to stay and I'm ninety-three and a half percent sure Colt will stay dead until I make it out of the building. Even old vampires need time to heal, right?
A small voice of doubt creeps inside my head, telling me I've crossed a line. I shake the voice off, ignoring that dumb bitch because fuck her. He deserved the stabbing. Plus, he'll survive. At least I didn't truly kill him.
Get moving, Demi.
I grab a scrap piece of paper and scribble a quick note, then place it on the pillow next to him. I use the knife to pin it in place, ensuring he won't miss it.
Time to go.
Closing the door in a lame attempt to slow Colt down, I rush out of my apartment. Luckily everyone must still be at the club, because the halls are clear as I walk to the elevator.
My heart is pounding against my ribcage as the engine whirs; it's taking far longer than I like to arrive on my floor.
"Oh thank god," I say when the doors swish open.
The carriage is empty. I jam my finger into the button to close the doors and hit the switch for the parking garage. My stomach lurches when the descent begins, but it's not entirely because of the downward motion.
Every second I'm in this tower is a moment I could be caught. A chance Colt could wake up and realize what I've done. A second where I could run into another vampire who isn't friendly.
I have a weapon, a chef's knife I snatched from the kitchen on my way out, that will help me get away from exactly one vampire.
I can only hope there isn't more than one.
The doors open and I exhale, rushing out of the elevator. My footsteps echo painfully loud in the concrete parking garage. I race to Evelyn's beautiful Lamborghini and try the door.
Son of a bitch.
It's locked.
I check the next car, a sleek two-seater, grimacing when I find it's also locked.
One of these fang bangers has to be stupid enough to leave the keys in the car. When the door handle to a blue SUV is unlocked and the keys shine like they're lit under a shaft of sunlight in the cupholder, I nearly whoop for joy.
Crazy I may be, stupid I am not. I wisely keep my mouth closed and slide into the vehicle. I exhale loudly when the engine starts. I ease out of the parking spot and make my way out into the night, escaping from my captors. The men who made me hate them and like them all in one go.
A big grin splits my lips. They thought they had me figured out.
I'd give a pretty penny to see Mateo's face when he learns what I've done. Colt probably never expected me to turn a knife on him, even though I threatened to several times.
Fools.
All of them.
Stupid, stupid, fools.
They're going to regret taking me.
Mark my words, Blood Mafia will pay.
I park a few blocks away from my apartment and use the fire escape to get to my living room window. Thankfully I left it unlocked and it opens without much protest. My feet hit the floor and then, and only then, do I feel my heart rate calm.
I lean against the wall next to the window and close my eyes, taking a moment to breathe and process my actions.
I've royally messed up.
Stabbing Colt is probably the equivalent to signing my death warrant.
It's only a matter of time before they come for me.
There's no way I can stay here. This is the first place they'd check.
With that thought slamming around in my brain, I snap my eyes open, fully prepared to pack a bug-out-bag as fast as possible. My apartment is dark in the early morning hour; it’s one. The darkness only lasts for a few seconds.
Someone turns the lights on.
I blink rapidly, holding the chef's knife in front of me.
How did he heal so quickly?
When my eyes adjust to the sudden brightness, I see it isn't Colt waiting for me. I glance over the two women standing before me, both familiar but for entirely different reasons. One I recognize from when I was a teenager, the other is a faded memory tacked to my bulletin board.
"Hello, Demi," my mother says.
I scrunch my eyebrows together, trying to understand what's happening. Why is she with Ms. Hammon, my high school history teacher, and why is Ms. Hammon wearing leather pants?
My mother—scratch that, egg donor—takes a step closer.
"Don't," I say in a low voice, hefting the knife in her direction. "This won't be the first time I've stabbed someone and trust me, Mother, I'd have no qualms with stabbing you."
Resentful? Who, me?
Never.
Okay, I'm pissed. I do not understand why she is here, but the important thing is that she left me when I was a child. I have an actual mother and she's not her.
The stupid picture I kept of her and my birth father are the only reason I recognize her. My whole life I assumed she'd never return. Yet here she is, not looking a day over thirty, and smiling at me like I've just won first place in a spelling bee.
"Why are you here?" I direct my question to Ms. Hammon. I can't quite bring myself to look at my egg donor again. It hurts too much and I'm already a frazzled mess. They're delaying my plan.
"We've come to take you home," my teacher says in her firm but kind voice.
Aside from the leather pants and my mother, Ms. Hammon looks the same. Her light brown hair is piled into a bun, and she’s wearing a patient look like she’s waiting for me to understand what she’s explaining.
"This is my home." I use the knife to gesture around my living room.
The woman I'm refusing to acknowledge sighs. "Demetria, I know you must be upset, but if you come with us, we can explain everything."
I glare at her. "How you expect me to listen to anything you say is astounding to me. You lost all right to talk to me the moment you left. You're a coward."
Her face pinches in frustration, and she narrows her eyes. "I am your mother, you will not—"
"I will do whatever I damn well please. You gave up the right to pull the mother card. You are not my parent, and even if you were, I'm a grown ass woman."
She seethes, her chest rising and falling as she tries to control her breathing. Could it be she's on the verge of losing her shit?
Well, welcome to the club, bitch.
We're all a little mad here.
"Demi," Ms.
I know this game. She's here to play peacekeeper while my mother makes some half-assed attempt to make amends.
"I don't know what to think of you yet, but you won't speak to me. I'm not having this conversation and you're only holding me up. If you haven't been able to tell by now, I don't want to talk to either of you."
My mother is standing in the way, so I knock my shoulder into hers as I pass, heading to the bedroom.
Studiously ignoring them, I grab a backpack from my closet and pack a few changes of clothes, some shoes, and my travel toiletry kit. I try not to let them see how much their presence affects me.
In reality, I'm freaking out. I have no idea how to handle this situation, and I sure as shit don't need another bomb dropped in my lap.
"Demi," Ms. Hammon's voice is soft when she says my name. "Can you please let me explain before you rush off to wherever it is you're going?"
I scoff and zip the black backpack up, using my legs to smash everything inside so it'll completely close. I may have over-packed, but give me a break. This is my first time running away from the mafia.
Next time I'll pack more efficiently.
Placing the straps over my shoulders, I pull them tighter so the bag sits slightly higher. "No offense, but I don't give a shit what you have to say."
What can they offer me? I'm an adult, I don't need a mommy.
My egg donor holds out her hand to Ms. Hammon, who is grimacing. She takes out a small envelope from her back pocket and gives it to my mother.
I roll my eyes and leave the bedroom.
"You can't escape the vampires on your own," my mother calls after me.
Stiffening, I stop walking and scowl at her over my shoulder. "Have you been following me?"
She pulls out folded papers and straightens them before gesturing for me to take the small stack. I squint at her, still wary of her in general, but step forward and grab them.
They're pictures of me. Pages and pages of my face. From elementary, middle school, high school, college, and most recently, me at dinner with Mateo. The last picture is of me with my mouth firmly pressed to Mateo's bleeding wrist. He's entirely focused on me, and if I didn't know the bastard, I'd say the look is almost affectionate.
I rifle through them again, scrunching my face as rage sweeps over me. "This whole time I thought you left me for good. What are these supposed to prove?" I shake the papers in my hand and throw them on the ground. "All this means is you were here, but didn't have enough spine to raise me yourself."
"I left to keep you safe."
"Sure you did, Mother. Do you know what it's like to be a small child and lose both your parents? When Dad died, I needed you most. You. Left. Me."
Her eyebrows press together, and her eyes fill with shame. She looks at the papers on the floor, opening and closing her mouth.
"What?" I ask. "What could you possibly have to say that will make what you did okay?"
Ms. Hammon places her hand on my mother's shoulder. "It's okay, Maria."
Well, at least now I have a better name for her than mother.
"Demetria," Ms. Hammon begins in her voice of authority, the one I recognize from all of my history classes with her. "You are a Hunter. We—" She gestures between herself and Maria. "Are Hunters."
I don't react on the surface. I keep my eyes narrowed and my lips firmly pressed in a line while I try to connect the dots. Mateo read to me about Hunters. Van Helsing's book. Was it a story or something more?
My blood is special because I'm one of them.
Blaze knew what I was.
"Okay," I say. "That doesn't change anything. I wish I could say I was happy to see you both, but I'm not. If you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way."
Ms. Hammon steps aside when I reach the doorway, looking as though she pities me.
I liked her a lot in school. She was always kind, and her lessons on supes were my favorite. I'm halfway down the hallway when I stop and pivot to face her.
"Are you really a teacher?"
She gives me a rueful smile. "No."
That's what I thought. I nod and turn around. When I reach the front door, Maria's voice stops me.
"You can't hide from them on your own, Demi. We can help you."
I grind my teeth together.
Goddammit. Yet again, another person baiting me into staying. I fucking hate this.
"How?" I ask Ms. Hammon.
Maria makes a small noise in her throat, like she's displeased with me ignoring her.
Good. She should have thought about that before she left. I don't care what her excuse is.
"We have a friend, a witch that can help hide your scent and obscure your location from their vampire senses."
"Where?"
"At our compound." Ms. Hammon glances at Maria. "If you come with us, we can look after you and teach you the things you need to know."
"There are more of you?"
She nods.
My hate filled gaze finds my mother's. "Wow, so there's a whole compound of people like me? I totally understand why you left now."
Her eyes harden. "You don't get to judge me, Demetria. Had I not taken steps to protect you, you'd be dead. You're welcome."
I burst out laughing and walk toward her, shaking my head. "Oh, that's rich. Thank you for leaving me without explaining why. Thank you for making me think I was the reason you left."
"Demi," Ms. Hammon chastises me.
"No, really. Thank you so fucking much." I stop mere inches away from Maria.
Hurt ripples over her face. I don't feel bad.
I know what I have to do if I want to learn about my powers and stay safely out of the Blood Mafia's reach. It doesn't mean I'm happy about it.
"Okay, I'll take the bait. On one condition."
Ms. Hammon meets my eyes and holds my stare. "What's that?"
A nasty smile curves my lips. "This."
Before she can react, I punch my mother in the face. Bone crunches under my fist. She cries out in surprise and covers her nose with both hands. "That's just the beginning," I warn her. "I don't forgive you, and I probably never will. The only reason I'm coming is because you have information I need."
Ms. Hammon wraps her arms around my waist and pulls me away from Maria before I can hit her again. She's a lot stronger than she looks and no amount of thrashing loosens her hold. I growl low in my chest, tossing my head back into hers. She dodges the strike though and squeezes me tight enough a rush of air passes my lips.
"I will hurt you if you don't stop, Demi. Don't make me."
It's incredibly difficult to reconcile the steel undercurrent of violence lacing her words to the teacher I used to know.
"Fine, but she doesn't touch me." Jerking my chin toward Maria, I let out a dark chuckle when I see blood covering her face.
Maria's eyes are lit with fire, something akin to the rage I've become familiar with this past month. She whirls around and punches through the drywall, letting out a furious scream as she does so.
Guess that answers the question as to where I got my temper from.
Chapter Two
Demi
Ms. Hammon drives a discreet sedan while Maria nurses her broken nose. The visor is pulled down and she looks over the damage I've done in the mirror. I cringe when she places her fingers on either side and presses her nose into place, making the bone and cartilage crunch.
Damn.
I'm not even sure I'd have enough guts to set a broken nose by myself.
Her brown eyes flash to mine in the reflective glass and I shoot my gaze out the window, pretending I wasn't staring at her. I'm furious at her for several reasons. My anger doesn't prevent the desire to learn more about the woman who birthed me.
