Nightshade's Bite (Blood Wars) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  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

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Discover more Amara titles… The Warrior King

  Bane’s Choice

  Night’s Kiss

  The Black Lily

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2021 by Zoe Forward. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  10940 S Parker Rd

  Suite 327

  Parker, CO 80134

  [email protected]

  Amara is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

  Edited by Tracy Montoya and Candace Havens

  Cover design by LJ Anderson/Mayhem Cover Creations

  Cover photography by Period Images

  ISBN 978-1-64937-067-9

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition March 2021

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for supporting a small publisher! Entangled prides itself on bringing you the highest quality romance you’ve come to expect, and we couldn’t do it without your continued support. We love romance, and we hope this book leaves you with a smile on your face and joy in your heart.

  xoxo

  Liz Pelletier, Publisher

  For Hannah. May you always be the hero in your own story.

  Chapter One

  “There’s a new hunt underway.”

  “Now?” Every time the Werewolf Termination Squad went after someone, the timing sucked. Kiera Rossard adjusted her crepe Dior evening gown, the one she’d picked out two months ago for the event she was about to attend. She sensed Finn Travers, her driver, bodyguard, and co-conspirator, watched her reaction in the SUV’s rearview mirror. “Who’re they after this time?”

  Finn shifted the vehicle into gear then sped in the direction opposite the Paris Fashion Week after-show party. “Not sure. Given the texting chatter, I figure this guy is either an ancient wolf or a key player in the war. Whichever, he’s worth us saving his ass.”

  “Can we make it before they kill him?” She squinted into the rainy night to make out the glittering lights of the Eiffel Tower in the distance. The windshield wipers went from delay wipe to fast speed in an attempt to clear the rain. Winter in Paris was supposed to be pretty with flaky snow, not sloppy like this.

  “I think we can, but…” Tension laced his voice. “Vampires raised the price on your head to three million today. Well, that’s to capture the Nightshade League’s leader. Thank God they don’t know it’s you.”

  “They’re feeling threatened by us.” She caught his eye in the rearview mirror and flashed a small bit of fang. Or, rather, Elise Simonet did. The dazzling blonde in the mirror was fake. She was the product of heavy makeup and custom prosthetics to turn Kiera into the fictional persona. She used Elise to mingle with elite vampire society since she couldn’t as Kiera Rossard. Her real self wanted to avoid unnecessary attention for as long as she ran the Nightshade League.

  A year ago, she’d banded together ten wealthy vampires who opposed the new vampire initiative to force werewolves back to their pre-1852 state of being enslaved. The League’s goal was to save as many wolves as possible from execution.

  “Vamps declared the wolves were less than a month away from surrendering,” Finn said. “It was in the Termination Squad’s monthly newsletter. Took a while to decode the email. They’re getting better at encryption.”

  “Propaganda bullshit.” So far, the loss suffered on both sides was about equal, but the longer the fighting continued, the deeper the divide between species became, and the less likely either side was to compromise.

  This most recent inter-species conflict arose out of spiteful jealousy. Not a Romeo and Juliet drama, which she might’ve appreciated. Elder vampires coveted the wolves’ prowess in business and at accumulating wealth at an exponentially faster rate than those who drank blood, especially in tech industries.

  Kicking off her heels, she craned around to unzip her gown. From a secret compartment beneath her seat, she retrieved her dark tactical pants and custom armored shirt that cost more than the dress.

  “The streets are crawling with unfriendly vamps tonight. If they catch you…”

  “They won’t.” She wiggled to change clothes. “I thought I’d command more money. Guess I’ll have to irritate them a little bit more to get it cranked up to five million. Although ten sounds like a better number.”

  He twisted around at a stoplight. Wrinkles creased his brow. “The hunt is miles away from the party. Best if we skip the party.”

  “We’ll be done with this before the festivities wrap up.” She compressed her lips. “You think I can’t handle Viktor if he’s there, do you?”

  “Viktor DiFalco wants to get the ditzy Elise naked and bite her—er, you. If he finds you duped him and are actually Kiera, or that you run the Nightshade League, he’ll disconnect your head from your body on the spot. No mercy.”

  “Beheading…” She paused the act of drawing on her socks to consider. “It’s effective. But not nearly brutal enough for Viktor. He’d feed me werewolf blood. More dramatic to watch me bleed out and choke on my own blood. Messy, though.” She wrinkled her nose.

  Another option was to burn her in sunlight, but death would only happen if she’d suffered severe wounds first. Stakes through the heart, garlic, and holy water—all myths.

  Most vampire lore was pure fiction. You couldn’t even become vampire from a bite, as was the case in pretty much every vampire film or book known to humankind. The same was true for werewolves. You were either born with the cursed genetics of one species or another, or you weren’t. She descended from an ancient line of super vampire shits she wasn’t proud to call relatives. Werewolf slaves raised her and showed her the meaning of familial love, not her parents. Those slaves were the ones to whom she owed allegiance and the people she’d fight to defend.

  Was she a traitor to her species? Not really. She’d never killed a vampire during their rescues. Had she embarrassed the hell out of them? Yes. Kicked their asses? For sure.

  Finn slammed to a stop at a red light. “You joke about him killing you, but the vampire king can pretty much do whatever the fuck he wants.”

  She pulled on her boots. “He doesn’t know I’m Elise. Nor does he suspect he has a boner for the werewolf-rescuing leader of the Nightshade League. Even if he did, he can’t kill me without Foundry permission. He’s t
heir puppet.”

  The Foundry of Ancients, composed of six ancient vampires, served as the worldwide ruling body. They appointed a “king,” currently Viktor, to run the Werewolf Termination Squad and enforce their dictates, but the group of scary elders called the shots in the vampire world. She could take down Viktor in a head-to-head battle, but she wasn’t so sure about any of the elders.

  “Relax. I can handle Viktor. Even though we’ll miss the fashion show, I’d still like to try to attend the runway after-party,” she asserted. “Paris Fashion week only happens once a year. Plus, I’m meeting an important contact there who says she has valuable information.” Using her compact mirror, she carefully removed the fake latex nose, chin, and eyebrow pieces from her face. A few swipes with the flat sponge she kept inside the compact smoothed out the rough lines of makeup. “Once they realize we’re on scene at the fight, how long until the vamps’ reinforcements arrive?” She unpinned the blonde wig and carefully placed it inside its storage box.

  “Fifteen minutes tops,” he said.

  She shook her head to free her long, dark hair from its tight binding and wove it into a quick braid. “This will all be over by then.”

  From the center console of the backseat, she removed her custom handgun. By the time she finished loading bullets, he’d parked.

  He read a message on his phone and then craned around to look at her. “I hacked into the phone of a vamp on the Squad here in Paris. His most recent message said they’ve got a wolf cornered a half block up in the alley on the right.” He pointed out the windshield. “Let me check the license plate on the SUV up the street. Looks suspicious. Damn, it’s hard to see through the rain.” He squinted into the distance and then typed on his phone. “It’s a Termination Squad Vehicle based on the plate registration. I’ll deal with whoever’s inside it while you get the guys guarding the alley. Hold on a sec before you get out. I’ll grab the masks.”

  He shrugged into his SWAT-worthy tactical vest and did a weapons check before popping the trunk. When he opened her door, he handed her a Venetian Carnival mask before he put on his own. Both were high-quality, custom, full-head coverings, not the cheap plastic crap manufactured in Asia. Hidden identity while fighting was a must.

  “Chose the blue one with feathers for me today, huh?” She adjusted the close-fitting mask over her head.

  “It’s distracting, and its leer is a bit terrifying. It suits you today.”

  “Let’s go do what we do best. Try not to get hurt.” She chuckled at his disgusted grumble. The rain dampened her clothes too fast and drew the iciness of the night so deep into her skin that her bones felt cold.

  Finn strolled ahead and knocked on the window of the SUV parked near the alley. The window rolled down. Finn shot. He reached in to unlock and yank open the door, leaning over the tranquilized vampire. “Clear.”

  “Watch the alley’s entrance,” she commanded.

  They slowly moved toward the alley, the grunts and thuds of hand-to-hand combat growing louder as they approached. Expecting the Termination Squad vampires to be overtaking a wolf they’d sedated, she was surprised to find a small Squad contingent fighting a cornered wolf in the alley. In a blur of speed, the wolf decapitated one of the vampires. He propelled himself off the wall to dodge a volley of sedation darts. In seconds, he’d relieved another vamp of his head.

  Maybe this guy didn’t need their help.

  Not smart to approach a well-trained werewolf on a vamp-killing spree, especially when she was a member of the enemy species.

  She peered through the rain and darkness. The stench of sewage and vampire blood filled her nostrils.

  The vamps shot…oh dear Lord, was that a harpoon gun? They pinned their quarry to the wall not once but twice. That was her sign. Now, he needed her help.

  A vampire clutched his injured side as he propped himself against the brick building. Boom. She center-chested him with damned fine shot placement. He went down from the tranquilizer in the pneumatic dart within seconds. A second vamp charged her before she could aim. His knife arced toward her jugular. She dodged but slipped on the slick street.

  Fuuuuck…

  Knife slice to the shoulder.

  “Traitor.” He targeted her heart with his gun.

  She shot before his finger caressed his trigger, firing twice more as insurance. Her second shot hit his gun hand, neutralizing the threat his weapon posed. Her weapon’s kick, even though mild, blasted pain through her shoulder.

  The vamp didn’t go down. Three hits with the kind of drug she’d loaded would’ve downed two adult elephants. His legs tangled as he lunged at her, ending with him in free-fall on top of her. Her head whacked the stone street. And now she was pinned beneath his heavy chest. Her skull pulsed with each beat of her heart. Blackout threatened.

  You. Will. Not. Pass out.

  She pushed the guy off using her non-injured arm and cradled her head until the world stopped spinning. Damn the rain-slick streets.

  Excuses. She was better than this.

  Water seeped through her clothes, making her ass sloshy.

  Finn had already shot the four remaining active vamps by the time she stood.

  “Head in the game,” he whispered. She could feel the burn of his glare as he stormed by to resume his post as sentry. She’d hear about her going down later. No reason to alert him she’d been cut. He’d smell it, but he wouldn’t make a fuss in front of the wolf. A renewed quarrel over her safety, and advised retirement from her secret life, would come later. The smell of her blood put her at high risk to be remembered later. Vampires never forgot a blood scent, be it human, wolf, or vampire. If it was human—i.e. edible—their brains immediately evaluated its palatability and catalogued the odor. Fortunately for Kiera, the League knew how to mask scents and evade vampire detection.

  The alley dead-ended into a white painted brick building. Although the light was too dim for sharp human vision, vampires and wolves saw best in the dark. No more Squad vampires stood between her and the wolf. The werewolf male remained pinned to the wall by spikes through his left side and right thigh, but his hands were free. The thwap-thwap of her heels on the uneven stone echoed above the drizzling rain as she approached him.

  The wolf’s scent was… Holy mother, he smelled incredible. This was nothing she’d ever run across before. Then again, she’d never met a warrior like this guy. He was enormous with a huge shoulder span and thick arms. His heavy thighs were encased in dark pants, and big boots covered his feet. But it was his face that got her attention. Intelligent ice-blue eyes glared threat from beneath long, dark, wet hair. Bottom line, the fact he seemed unconcerned about his state of restraint while a new vampire approached made sense. He intimidated with his sheer presence alone.

  She asked, “What are you doing out here? Alone…in Paris, which tonight is a vampire mecca with Viktor in town?”

  He squinted. Blood mixed with rain dribbled from his forehead to his nose, but he didn’t wipe it away—as if the red trickle was a badge of honor. He remained laser-focused on her as his newest threat. Even trapped, he’d fight, brutal to his last breath.

  “I’m here to help you,” she announced.

  “You’re a vampire, just like them.” His rough, low-timbre accusation revealed a foreign accent she couldn’t place.

  “Not arguing that. I’m going to get you out of here.”

  “As if I believe anything from a leech wearing a mask.” The stubbornness of his expression beneath at least day-old facial scruff represented six and a half feet of determination that was about to become a pain in her ass.

  She pointed at his skewers. “How would you suggest I get those out? We could—”

  “Stay away from me.” He raised his knife in a clear I’ll-rip-you-to-shreds-if-you-touch-me message. Interesting he preferred a knife, which suggested he was an up-close fighter. That required a higher
level of skill and made any fight personal. Most younger wolves favored distance weapons like guns.

  “I’m going to have to get personal to get those out of you.” The aroma of his blood tickled her nostrils. She stumbled backward a few steps when her mind wobbled, and blood craze exploded inside her head. Her fangs tingled with desire to latch onto his neck and taste the red vintage pounding through his veins.

  Oh, hell no. His blood is toxic.

  Call it evolution or a kick-ass defense mechanism. Either way, werewolf blood toxicity guaranteed her kind wouldn’t feed from them. Usually, the smell warned a vampire off. It never called to a vampire.

  Until now, apparently.

  He broke off the front portion of each harpoon and pushed forward to unimpale himself. Witnessing the sheer strength necessary to break one of the metal spikes shot a shiver of warning through her. Not a single grunt of complaint came from him. Amazing he didn’t have broken bones, or maybe he did.

  He dropped the metal and stilled. His gaze dipped to her shoulder and returned to her face, an obvious show to alert her he’d identified her injury—her point of weakness. This hesitation before attack was calculated, which she found far more intimidating than an overt assault. Tension layered the air between them.

  Few beings awed her, but this guy…wow.

  No, he’s most certainly isn’t a wow. He wants to attack. This awe is blood craving talking. And it was suicidal.

  Shaking herself out of her daze, she slammed the lid closed on blood fixation. “I don’t want to fight with you. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Go to hell.” He kept his knife ready.

  Time to use her gift of reading emotions. Some might think it was a vampire-enhanced sense. She considered it magical since this witchy-type power was not inherent to being vampire.

  She opened up her mind to him.

  Interesting.

  Mostly, he felt confusion. He wasn’t sure what to make of her.

  Her head buzzed. A flutter started in her stomach and spread outward. How unusual. She found him fascinating? Attractive? After walking the earth for three hundred seventy years, new experiences were rare. Her curiosity about him went beyond blood craving. She wanted to know everything.