Blood Torn (Blackthorn Book 3)

  BLOOD TORN

  PART OF THE BLACKTHORN SERIES:

  BLOOD SHADOWS

  BLOOD ROSES

  BLOOD TORN

  BLOOD DEEP

  Published by Bookouture

  An imprint of StoryFire Ltd.

  23 Sussex Road, Ickenham, UB10 8PN

  United Kingdom

  www.bookouture.com

  Copyright © Lindsay J. Pryor 2014

  Lindsay J. Pryor has asserted her right to be identified

  as the author of this work.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-909490-18-5

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For Moth

  With very special thanks to:

  Aimee, Anita, Fiona, Incy, Jane, Kelly, Linzi, Tima and Tracey

  for your openly-unremitting support for Blackthorn.

  You ladies are incredible.

  Every reader who has got in touch to share your enjoyment of the books so far – you make more of a difference than you know.

  And Bookouture

  for your continuing dedication both to this series and to me as a writer. I’m so proud and fortunate to be a part of

  such an awesome publisher.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Epilogue

  LETTER FROM LINDSAY

  Chapter One

  Chapter One

  This was not good. This was not good at all.

  Just when she thought the night couldn’t have got any worse, Jask Tao walked into the equation.

  Sophia glowered into the lycan leader’s exquisite azure-blue eyes, his dark lashes a sharp contrast to the untamed fair hair that fell around his defined, stubbled jaw.

  ‘You need to let me go,’ she said, as he remained crouched in front of her at eye level, his firm grip on her jaw as unrelenting as his gaze.

  ‘And why would I want to do that?’

  It undoubtedly sounded like a ludicrous suggestion, surrounded as she was by four lycans, her outstretched wrists roped to the rusted rings embedded in the dank, subterranean walls. But she said it anyway. ‘I’m warning you – you’re making a mistake.’

  He examined her pensively – those uncompromising eyes betraying his angelic, albeit rugged, appearance. He let go of her jaw and stood up, his candlelit shadow looming on the moss-encased walls of the ruins.

  It had been three days since Marid had abducted her – ambushed her. The sleazy vampire knew about The Alliance. And if word was out there about the covert operation, the others were at risk too. She’d already wasted the time Marid had held her hostage, let alone the past three hours she’d been trapped down there since he’d sold her on. She needed to get back to the rest of the group. She needed to warn them.

  But more than that, more than anything, she needed to find out what the hell was going on with her two sisters.

  She glanced at the two dead vampires lying on the stone-slabbed floor ahead – the vampires that had bartered with Marid over her like she was nothing. Her skin crawled as she thought back to the way they’d grinned conspiratorially at each other as they’d tied her to the wall. And she’d known from the malicious look in their eyes, let alone the conversation they’d had whilst drinking and laughing at the table, they’d planned far more than just a feed.

  But the events that had followed had been a surprise to everyone.

  She’d realised what had happened the minute the shock had subsided. There was only one explanation – only one type of blood that killed a vampire that quickly and that painfully: serryn blood.

  She sure hadn’t been a serryn before she’d entered that chamber – the leech, Marid, had proven that point. But the evidence spoke for itself – the vampires’ bodies now twisted and contorted from biting into her, her blood having imploded every one of their veins. It had taken only seconds for her toxic blood to penetrate their systems.

  She knew only too well from her research that only serryns caused that reaction – a rare bloodline of witch long thought extinct. Just as she knew there was only one way anyone not born a serryn would become one – the so-called curse jumping from an older sibling to a younger one if the former committed either of the two serryn taboos: suicide by their own hand, or falling in love with and consummating that love with a vampire. Right then, both ideas seemed as implausible as her big sister Leila being a serryn in the first place.

  If the indisputable proof hadn’t been plain in front of her, she would have laughed off the possibility. Now she needed to know exactly what was going on. Forget The Alliance’s rules about no outside contact – this was family. Not only was her little sister, Alisha, in trouble, but now seemingly so was Leila.

  Which meant, even more so, that she had no time to waste on lycans.

  She glowered back up at Jask.

  Feet braced apart, hands low on his lithe hips, she had no doubt his stature was imposing enough when stood eye-to-eye with him. The last thing she needed was her forced submissive position on the floor exacerbating it.

  It wasn’t helped by the fact she knew more about the uncomfortably good-looking lycan than just his zero-tolerance leadership – he was bad-tempered, temperamental, and fiercely protective of his pack. And – though it was irrelevant it slipped into her mind anyway – rumoured to be proficient in bed. He was certainly well-equipped enough to live up to his reputation – his jeans temptingly fitting those solid thighs, his biceps distractingly taut through his shirt, those rolled-up sleeves exposing well-toned forearms. She lingered over the brown leather straps wrapped around his wrists, matching the ones around his neck, a small platinum pendant nestled in the hollow of his throat.

  She glanced at the other lycan beside him: Corbin Saylen – Jask’s second in command, with a reputation as equally uncompromising. He had a presence all of his own, stood there, arms folded, his grey eyes locked on hers.

  But then, when you were one of the minority third s
pecies in Blackthorn, you had to have a reputation to survive.

  ‘Get in here and tell me what happened,’ Jask demanded, summoning the two lycans from beyond the doorway.

  The one she knew to be Rone entered first. On appearance they had to be twenty years younger than Jask – but it was as impossible to tell with lycans as it was with vampires. Rone and his comrade, Samson, had deliberated over what to do with her for the best part of an hour after gatecrashing the vampire feast gone wrong. They’d paced the room, arguing over whether to just leave her there. Despite having tried to barter with them, she’d seen their faces and that was finally enough for them to relent into calling for backup. Backup being Corbin and, from what she had picked up from overhearing their panicked phone call, and despite their protests, Corbin deciding to inform Jask.

  ‘We were across at the warehouse,’ Rone stated. ‘We heard the noise she was creating so came out to look. She was putting up a hell of a fight.’

  ‘And then?’ Jask asked.

  ‘We saw them bring her down here.’

  ‘And knowing you never interfere in vampire business, you walked away,’ Jask added, the disapproval emanating in his eyes.

  ‘We were going to,’ Samson said.

  ‘But it was two on one,’ Rone interjected. ‘They were getting violent with her.’

  Jask looked back at Sophia, but she knew he wasn’t looking at her – he was examining the evidence of the cuts and grazes on her face. ‘The vampires do their thing, we do ours,’ he said, looking back at Rone and Samson.

  Sophia raised her eyebrows at the indifference in his words. Seemingly his reputation as a heartless bastard was equally justified.

  ‘That’s the only way the segregation works and you know it,’ he added. ‘We have enough to do in protecting our own, without trying to save every helpless victim in this district.’

  She nearly protested at the victim remark, but resolved to keep her mouth shut. All that mattered was getting loose.

  ‘We thought she was just a girl,’ Rone explained. ‘What did she do to them? I’ve never seen vampires go down that fast. It was all over within minutes.’

  ‘Just be grateful your discovery is sufficient enough to save me ripping into you right now. What were you doing on this side of the district?’

  The two youths glanced nervously at each other.

  ‘We had a deal going,’ Rone declared, instantly dropping his gaze to the floor in response to Jask’s thunderous glare.

  ‘A deal? With vampires?’ he asked, distaste exuding from his tone.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Rone gave a single nod.

  Jask exhaled with exasperation. ‘So there’s someone who knew you were here?’

  ‘What if they think this was something to do with us?’ Samson asked, echoing the line of thought that had no doubt provoked Jask’s further irritation with them.

  He took two steps towards them. ‘This is why you don’t come here. This is why you stay in Northern territory. This is why we’re going to clear up this mess and get you back to the compound so I can deal with you properly.’

  He removed something from his back pocket, flicked open a switchblade that glinted in the candlelight as he turned to face her.

  Sophia braced herself as he expertly sliced through the ropes that bound her arms to the wall. She barely had time to rub her throbbing wrists or rotate her aching shoulders before he’d grabbed her by the upper arm and tugged her to her feet as if she was weightless.

  ‘Corbin, get her up to the bikes,’ he said, shoving her towards him. ‘We’ve spent too long here already.’

  She was a little unsteady for a moment, but quickly regained her balance as Corbin wrapped a firm hand around her upper arm.

  She refrained from struggling, knowing she stood a hell of a better chance one-on-one against Corbin if Jask and the other two remained distracted for long enough.

  As Corbin led her towards the door, Jask stepped over to the table to pick up what was left of a bottle of whisky and the remains of one of the burning candles. It took no imagination to work out how he planned to get rid of the bodies, especially all traces of serryn blood.

  Corbin tugged her out into the corridor before she could see any more.

  His eyes were fixed ahead, his grip on her arm unrelenting as she tried to match her strides to his. His shoulder-length hair blew in the mild breeze as they turned the corner. Tall, broad and with the lithe strength of all lycans, they may have been no match on appearance, but she’d taken down bigger than him.

  Just as she’d take Marid down when she caught up with him again. Because she would. And the sharper the object she used to say what she had to say, the better.

  The stone corridor seemed endless. She hadn’t seen much of it on the way there – she’d spent too long slamming her heels or fists into every available inch of soft flesh on the two vampires who had dared to drag her down there.

  The stairwell, when they eventually reached it, was as narrow as she remembered, her knees having scraped against stone as one had held her legs, the other restraining her arms around her as they’d carried her bucking and protesting down there.

  Now Corbin pushed her up ahead of him, his size forcing him to be more behind her than next to her, but he didn’t let go of her arm.

  As soon as she saw moonlight on the steps, she tried to yank her arm free. ‘You’re hurting me.’

  ‘Then keep moving.’

  ‘Seriously,’ she said, stopping abruptly. ‘Just give me a second, okay?’ She wrenched her arm from his as she feigned weakness. ‘I don’t feel too good.’ She slid down the wall to collapse onto the steps.

  He let go of her just for a second.

  It was what she needed.

  She snapped her head towards the top of the stairwell and faked a look of shock. As she’d hoped, it was enough to evoke his curiosity – a luxury of a split second when his eyes were averted from her.

  With both hands she grabbed his lower leg and yanked with every ounce of strength she had left.

  Corbin’s startled gaze met hers as he slammed his hands onto either side of the wall to brace himself.

  It granted her another split second to slide along to the middle of the step, to pull back her leg before slamming her foot hard into his groin.

  He instinctively bent over double and lost balance. He tumbled backwards, but she didn’t stop to watch.

  She turned and clambered up the remaining steps, her thighs heavy as she struggled to her feet to take the last few steps two at a time.

  She heard Corbin’s voice echo up the steps behind her – one single call: ‘Jask!’

  She fell up the last step, her palms scuffing concrete. The dark and barren wasteland loomed ahead – nowhere to hide for at least seventy feet to where the outline of some old factory buildings lay in the distance against the overcast night sky. She had to get to them. Hiding was no use with the lycans’ proficient sense of smell, but something would be there that she could use to defend herself. Damn it, the outskirts of the east side of Blackthorn were renowned for their reclusiveness.

  Like a runner at the start of a race, she lunged forward, taking off with as much speed as her aching body would allow. She kept her attention firmly on the closest building, her eyes blurring against the cold night air, the terrain rough and uneven beneath her boots.

  She told herself not to look over her shoulder, not to dare lose her pace for one moment, but instinct overwhelmed her.

  She turned to see an outline closing in on her from maybe only forty feet behind.

  Her heart lunged and she ran faster, her throat parched and constricted. She ignored the shooting pains in her chest, the laceration of agony in her side that under any other circumstances would have forced her to stop.

  But common sense screamed in her head – she couldn’t outrun a lycan even on the best of days. She had to conserve what little energy she had left if she ever wanted to escape.

  She forced herself t
o stop despite her instincts urging her to keep running.

  She struggled to catch her breath in the few seconds she had as she turned to face Jask coming to a standstill a few feet away.

  He clearly hadn’t expected her to stop. The dance of amusement in his eyes almost masked the irritation, had the latter not exuded from him so intensely. ‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough fights for one night?’

  ‘I’m not going with you,’ she said through annoyingly ragged breaths.

  He raked her swiftly with his gaze. ‘So you seem to think.’

  ‘Walk away, Jask, and save yourself the trouble.’

  She could have sworn she saw another glint of amusement in his eyes.

  ‘Walk to the shed over there with dignity,’ he said, cocking his head over his shoulder. ‘And we can forget you tried to run on me.’

  ‘I have a better idea. Go join your puppies and bike it back to your Northern pound. You’ve got no business being here. And you’ve got no business with me.’

  He took a few steps closer. ‘I’ll let that first comment go, on account of it being a stressful night for you. But as I’m making what’s in those veins my business, you either be a good girl and do as you’re told or I’ll be a bad lycan. Your choice.’

  The sincerity in his tone, the slight darkening in his eyes, made her stomach jolt and, to her distaste, not just with apprehension. She rolled back her shoulders, preparing herself for battle. ‘You’ve got to get to it first.’

  He raised his eyebrows slightly, only this time a smile escaped – a stunning, fleeting smile that ignited those azure eyes and annoyingly only enhanced his handsome face further. He rested his hands back on his hips. ‘Seriously?’

  It was one mocking look too much.

  She closed the gap just enough to lift her leg with lightning speed, less than an inch from making impact with his chest before he moved his foot just as swiftly, swiping her other leg from under her, causing her to hit the floor.

  Leaning back on braced arms, she stared up at him; not so much as a hint of a glitch in his composure.

  It was a move she’d developed to perfection, and he’d kicked it from her as if it was nothing. His self-assurance riled her as she looked squarely into his unperturbed eyes.