Vampire's Kiss: Mafia Monster Series, #1

PROLOGUE

Y ou gonna cry?

Shadows moved against the sun. Chubby fingers clenched around my wrist and shoved hard against the concrete walk. We were alone here, out of sight from the house, where no one would hear me scream.

Go on…cry.

Another’s hand over my chest, until I couldn’t breathe. His fingers searched, pinching the tiny pink nub as he licked his lips and sneered.

Daddy, where are you?

But no one was here to save me. No one but me.

I swallowed the pain. They’d caught me off guard. Next time I’ll know better.

"You tell no one, got it?" He pinched harder.

But I didn’t nod, not even when the tears came. They were supposed to be family. Supposed to be my friend.

Next time, I won’t be so powerless. I’ll run…I’ll fight…I’ll survive.

Next time, I’ll save myself.

Maybe then I’ll win.

1

Laughter filled the back room of the Jewel.

Deep, growling, raucous laughter that boomed from almost every seat at the table in the most exclusive bar this side of the river.

Crystal sparkled and champagne flowed.

There were mostly men, apart from the odd sparkling handbag; women who served no other purpose than to hang off the arm of their boyfriend, or gentleman friend for the night, and smile.

The women were few and far between, and they never stayed long. Long enough to show off their brand new breasts and sparkling Cartier, before they were gone, waltzing through the bar, with the doors closing behind them as the men stayed here.

Then there were no more women…except for me.

The rich were here…but that wasn’t what got them an invite. Power was the commodity these men traded. Power, money, drugs, and women. These were powerful men. I winced at the roar, and they were also fucking loud.

I singled out Dad’s laughter; deeper than the others, as though a single tone could epitomize the man. He was deeper, like a river carved through the belly of this city, stronger, and more powerful than any other man sitting here—and they all knew it.

Secret smiles for him. A nod of the head, first draw of the fat Cohiba Behike cigar while they all watched, eyes alight with ravenous hunger.

I glanced at the other side of the room, to the empty tables waiting for the other half of Crown City’s most elite, and felt my stomach clench. The ones who ran the ‘other side’ of the river.

The other side.

The words lingered as I stared at the three tables; three tables with six seats each. One for the Wolves, one for the Unseelies, and one for the Vampires. I’d heard that there were only three heads of each of the Immortal Mafia. The name made me wince, the M word. We didn’t say it in our house, not gang, or Crime Syndicate. Nothing that trashy.

We were businessmen—I glanced around the testosterone-drenched room—and woman.

I stared at the empty tables. Three heads of each breed and three other chairs. I thought they’d show. Thought they’d grace us mere mortals with their presence. Thought I’d get my first look at those monsters in the dark.

Maybe our whiskey wasn’t good enough for them…maybe our blood a little too tempting?

My stomach tightened and my blood ran cold as Dad threw his head backwards and clutched the white napkin. Something Irish said made him shake with a pent-up roar, like a volcano ready to erupt. And he did, spitting out small white plumes of the vile cigar smoke, until the laughter turned into something else.

A dry hacking cough gripped him, turning his face redder than laughter ever could, until he fought for a gasp of breath.

You okay? Sol called across the table.

Hey! Irish’s sparkling green eyes darkened with fear as he stood and slapped Dad on the back. Denny? You all good?

It was the same savage cough I’d been hearing for weeks now. The same one I’d fought with him over, making appointment after appointment with the doctor, only for him to have some lackey call behind my back and cancel.

He nodded, tears streaming down his cheeks as Irish gave him another thump on the back, shaking whatever shit was inside him loose.

Dad gulped in air and nodded, blue eyes sparkling as he looked at me. His hand rose from the table, fingers splayed as he patted the air. I’m okay, don’t call a fucking ambulance, kid. I’m okay.

His words rang inside my head as clearly as though he was standing next to me. My heart hammered, hands clenched around the end of the bar.

I watched them, had spent my entire fucking life watching them, actually…my focus mostly on Dad as he tried to follow that gulp of air with another and glanced at me once more with a nod. I’m okay, Ruthy.

The good ol’ boys’ club. If you wanted to take the crime rate down a notch in Crown City, then this was the place to bomb…on a night like tonight.

I hated the hacking sound, hated the laughter, really. I liked the quiet, and the cold. I liked it when I could fucking think. A smile in place of a wince. I gave a nod as every now and then someone at the table glanced my way.

I stood here as Ruth Costello, daughter of the most powerful man in Crown City. But no one really knew me. No one knew the woman screaming to get out, to be free, to be anything but the ball-busting, cold-hearted bitch they saw.

I was a product of my environment, a leather-leashed dog in the most vicious, vindictive dogfight this city has ever seen. I just needed to keep on fighting, keep on being the bitch they all saw.

Another? the bartender slid a tumbler my way.

Amber sparkled at the bottom, inviting. Why the hell not, I muttered, and grabbed the glass, downing the contents in one swallow and held it out once more. Another…on second thought. I lifted my gaze to the good-looking guy. Leave the bottle.

One slow nod. He glanced toward the table, then back to me. You waiting? He jerked a glance toward them. They might be a while.

His gaze slipped to the plunging neckline on my top. Cocky bastard. Yeah, I’m waiting. Waiting for my fucking turn at the table. Did that count?

So, are you exclusive? I mean, escort-wise? His gaze skimmed the tops of my breasts, I was bare under the shimmering material, bare and raw and savage.

The sonofabitch thought I was a hooker? He must be goddamn new. I leaned forward, grasped the bottle, showing him just a little more. Depends on what you mean by exclusive?

Chairs scraped behind me. There was a grunt, and a joke…a vile fucking joke. Still, I never turned away from the delicious morsel in front of me.

What I mean is, he smiled, showing me perfect white teeth, and gripped the bar with both hands, arms flexing, showing me the power I could enjoy with a simple, do you want to fuck me?

A hard, full-handed slap tore along my ass, stinging and burning.

Get us two more, will you, love? Underland never waited for an answer, just gave me a greasy smirk, showing nicotine-stained teeth, then a wink with his beady black eyes. That’s a good girl.

Anger plunged deep, swallowing the burn of my ass with a frigid touch. I rose, looked at the foul, fucking lackey who made every fucking attempt to put me down and met his stare. "How about you get your own fucking drink? Or I’m gonna take this bottle, smash the end, and glass your goddamn face. How ’bout that?"

He froze, and the roar of laugher inside the room quieted. I didn’t have to turn my head to see all eyes were on me. Ice cold cunt. Fucking frigid queen. I knew the names they called me. If not them, then the men under their rule, the ones they allowed to spread the hateful names.

Underland’s little black eyes widened. The hitch in his breath trembled the jowl of fat that hung under his chin. Jesus Christ, Ruthy. I was only making a fucking joke. One glance behind him and a jerk of his head my way, and the room rocked with howls and hoots of laughter once more.

Only this time, a little louder. I shifted my glance to my father. He never laughed, only smiled. A secret smile. One just for me, as he nodded his head and turned back to them.

The powerful.

The elite.

Just a joke, Ruthy. Underland turned to me once more and smiled his greedy fucking smile.

It was always just a joke. Always just a brush of the hand. Always just a boys’ club, and if you want to fit in…then do what we say.

I glanced at the barman. His eyes were wide and he was no longer smiling. Now he just looked at me like every other asshole in the city did—with fear.

I’m s-sorry, he stammered, and swallowed hard. Didn’t realize you were…

Didn’t realize I was what exactly? A woman. One who deserves a little goddamn respect, regardless of her profession? Forget it. I looked away and grabbed the bottle once more.

Two glasses hit the bar. Gin splashed the bottoms.

What is this, a fucking AA meeting? Underland snapped at the barman and jerked his head toward the glasses. Fill ’em up, dipshit.

I left them then, left them floundering, one asshole nursing his stinking fucking pride, and the other a desperate need to keep his goddamn job. I grabbed my glass and my bottle and headed for one of the empty tables.

The Wolves weren’t using them, so why the hell not?

Fucking Wolves. I can’t believe they wanted them here. I’d been asking the same damn questions since I arrived, and all I got in return was tight smiles and a pat on the back of my hand. I looked to Dad, sitting there amongst his followers, smile wide, blue eyes shining. But I could tell it was a lie. Something was up, something he didn’t like.

Something he wasn’t telling me.

The door to the private room opened.

Sir, you’re not permitted back here! growled a guard from the door.

The Jewel was glamor, and prestige. The most exclusive bar this side of the river, you didn’t pay to get into a place like this…you earned. Earned a name. Earned a reputation, and I wasn’t talking street-level though, with a Glock against his palm like it was a second cock. I meant dealings, power play. I meant the kind of acquisitions one makes with a simple nod.

Yeah, shit like that went down in the Jewel on a weekly basis. This place was more than velvet-backed chairs and the finest liquor you can buy. It was sacred…and also known to every two-bit gangsta thug who thought he was entitled to a piece of the damn pie.

All heads turned toward the commotion. Movement came from the side, from the row of tables set aside for the muscle. Hands went to hips, some were already lifting their hands, muzzles carving through the air.

Trouble would be one of them, one with his gun in hand. One stepping to the forefront, not giving a shit who he had to shoot in his way. I swallowed and searched the room for him.

There he was, quick brown eyes, muscled physique under his open jacket. He relaxed a little when he saw his opponent…or opponents. Five of them entered, dressed in baggy jeans with the crotch hanging somewhere near their knees. White, black, Hispanic, it didn’t matter. They weren’t one of us.

They weren’t born into it, didn’t forge it out of mud and blood with their bare hands. They were the babies of this pyramid of power. Infants still sucking on their momma’s tit.

The leader jumped and danced with a swagger that reminded me of someone with a disability, then pushed his way into the room.

"Sorry I’m late, Pops." He glared at Dad when he said it. "But I seem to have missed my fucking invite."

Movement came from the side again. Trouble, pushing forward. One wave of Dad’s hand stopped him. The napkin was set down in front of him, and Dad carefully rose to stand.

Power rippled around the room…deadly power. I could almost hear the hiss. I lowered my hand, fingers curled, sliding it under the rim of the table in front of me.

You didn’t get your invite because there was none sent, Dad answered.

The thug snorted laughter, looked behind him to his little harem of fuckboys and hangers-on, and shook his head. I don’t think you understand who you’re talkin’ to, old man.

"I know exactly who I’m talking to, Nathaniel Lorcrombe." Dad’s tone lowered, cold steel, cutting edge.

The kid flinched at the name, the smile disappearing from his lips. There was a spark in his eye as his hand rose, fingers dancing near the waistband of his jeans. One wrong fucking move and the room would light up like the Fourth of July. No one calls me that’round here. I’m Skull. I run these streets.

"You run what we allow you to run, Dad answered coldly. Remember that."

I reached a little further under the table, until the cold steel kissed the tips of my fingers. The movement drew the thug’s focus. His gaze slipped from my father’s as he turned toward me. There’s spare seats there, he said, dark eyes shining with the curl of his lips.

I swallowed a shudder of revulsion as his gaze skimmed my body, lingering at the open neckline of my top. "Plenty of seats. That bitch don’t need to be here. Move, bitch."

Shadows shifted behind him. Soft, heavy steps echoed, blurring all around me as I crept my fingers along the gun. My heart thundered as a deep, guttural snarl came from behind the piece of shit. "Exactly what I was thinking, move, bitch."

Fear crept along my spine as those shadows moved closer. Silver eyes glinted from the darkness. But it wasn’t me the Wolf was looking at. It wasn’t me his words were meant for. The mammoth male stepped closer, looming over the thug, curled lips revealing long, thick fangs.

The Wolves.

Two more stepped closer, flanking either side. They were just as big, hulking muscles straining the buttoned-up shirts they wore. Their hands were by their sides. I was gripped by the sight of the thick, calloused, curled fingers, and perfectly trimmed nails.

Were their claws just waiting? One thought and they’d shift into beasts and tear this entire room apart?

Panic seized me, tearing through my nerves.

Immortals.

I caught the whisper from my uncle to my dad, and pieced together the careful glances and quiet nods. They’d invited them here, those monsters. Vampires, Fae…Wolves. I’d seen those silver-eyed beasts only once, years ago as I waited in the back seat of dad’s car. I shivered now just as I’d shivered then, staring at the hulking shadows, too terrified to move.

You want me to ask twice? the Alpha sneered, and leaned closer to the mouthy piece of shit. I never ask twice.

Phantom’s right, he never asks twice, one of the other Wolves explained, then lifted his hand to stare at his nails. Usually just rips your head off and throws it across the room.

He has a temper, the other Wolf added.

Jesus, it was hard to tell them apart at first. The middle one, the Alpha of the three, had a scar that ran down the length of his cheek and cold dark eyes that shone with silver when they moved.

He was gorgeous, and totally not my type. Too…Wolfy.

And as though he heard my thoughts, he lifted his head and directed his cold, calculating gaze my way. The kid shrank from the beast’s presence, jerking a panicked gaze around the room as a deep, rolling, chilling sound reverberated from the men.

Now…, Phantom snarled, and glanced at the thug once more. You going to make me ask again, or do you want to lose your fucking head?

There was a whimper, and then a shuffle. But no swagger, not anymore, as the thug stumbled out of the Wolves’ way and scurried for the door.

That’s what I figured, the Alpha snarled, his hungry gaze finding me again, as they turned to the real reason they were here—Crown City’s most powerful men.

2

There was no ‘sorry I’m late’.

Just a nod.

A simple fucking nod, before the Alpha with the scarred face strode toward me, heaving all two hundred and twenty pounds of pure muscle my way. My finger danced near the trigger of the gun strapped under the table. Cold steel was all I felt. Cold steel and a healthy dose of fear.

He was tall, they all were six-three at least, muscles bunched around their shoulders like a second fucking coat. I tore my gaze from the scar on the Alpha’s cheek to the blue eyes and shaggy brown hair of his second. Heat spilled through me, making that nerve in my temple bite like a bitch.

This table for us? Phantom muttered.

He knew damn well it was. I felt Dad’s gaze on the side of my face as I gave a small nod and eased backwards, finger slipping from around the trigger guard.

’Bout fucking time you showed up. Diggery stepped closer, bottle and glasses clinking in his hand. People were starting to think you guys were nothing more than a goddamn fairytale. He turned his head to the others at the table when he said the last part.

Laughter followed.

The Alpha’s scar buckled with the wince, as he turned his gaze to Diggery, the dumb fuck. He was one of Dad’s friends, but that didn’t mean I had to like him. It just meant I couldn’t call him a dumb fuck to his face.

The Alpha’s second turned to the bumbling idiot and smiled, showing all white teeth and fangs. "Fairy-tale. I get it. Although, no offense taken, seeing as how Church over here likes dick."

A savage snarl came from the Wolf behind him. But Diggery’s eyes widened and the smile slipped from his mouth like he was a wax doll left far too close to a fire.

And these Wolves were all fire, all heat. I rose carefully, feeling that pounding in my temple spear its way across my head.

I d-didn’t m-mean… Diggery stuttered.

Forget it. The blue-eyed beast stepped closer, looming over the fool, and snatched the bottle in one movement, leaving the glasses behind. One bottle…is that all? We share some things, Diggery…but alcohol isn’t one of them.

He just blubbered and stuttered, something about the best whiskey…five hundred dollars a bottle. But the Wolf had zero fucks to give, just strangled the neck of the bottle and lifted the rim to his lips.

One draw and he lowered his hand and gave a contented sigh. "Fuck, that shit is good."

Dad gave a wave of his hand, shooing Diggery away, still clutching the glasses.

More bottles came as I gripped my own and reached for my glass, ready to move.

Stay if you want. The Alpha stepped closer and his dark, hungry gaze skimmed over me. But not like I was tits and ass for his attention, like I was dangerous…just as dangerous as the men—I kinda liked that. Our other guests decided not to attend tonight.

Your captives, you mean? The words just spilled from my mouth without thought. Now I sounded like the damn fool.

Only there was no stutter, no weaseling my way back from the fucking ledge. Instead, the Wolf leaned in, nostrils flaring. He’s inhaling my damn scent. The thought of that chilled me to the bone. Still, I refused to let the hairy bastard rattle my cage.

No, Phantom gave a chuckle. Our accountant, and chief of production.

"Chief of Production…hmmm, such a classy title. I prefer to call him what he is your pimp."

The room stilled. It was an unspoken rule, we never discussed specifics of our operations…and never so crudely. That wasn’t how we ran our business. But I hated it. I fucking hated it. I hated the thought of all those women being forced onto their backs. Hated the money just rolling into their pockets.

That is what you run, right? I glanced at the second as he took another swig from the bottle. You run the women, the Dark Fae run the power…and the Vampires…the Vampires run the money.

There was a spark in the Wolf’s gaze, a flare of interest. My pulse raced as that voice inside my head whispered ‘you run your goddamn mouth, Ruth.’

Still, I clenched my jaw and gave him my best murderous smile. I’d give him interest. Kick him right in the balls. But Jesus, those eyes…that hair, wavy and thick. He was all animal…all beast. It was hard not to be affected by him.

A fantasy came to life in my mind. The beast naked in front of me, all rippling muscles and ravenous hunger. I bet he’d have stamina, too…I’d bet he’d fuck all night.

My breaths deepened, desire flared for one fucking second…

What the hell am I doing?

I flinched and caught the Wolf’s lips twitch with a smile. He knew…he knew what I was thinking. Jesus…Jesus, no…

All legitimate businesses, Dad countered behind me. And there’s always a chance for Governor with the election coming up.

I flinched at his careful tone and jerked my gaze toward him. I’d lost myself there for a second, let the mask slip. I’d let plenty slip. But Governor? Election? What the hell did that have to do with any of this?

I caught a look that passed from Dad to the Alpha behind me…seemed like it had a helluva lot to do with it.

Which is why we’re here, isn’t it? To discuss more important matters.

A sting raced along my arm, then swept through my body. I sucked in a hard breath with the pain and turned my head. Black, that was all I saw. Midnight eyes, pale skin…black leather and long, thick, black hair that dropped over their shoulders as three of the most lethal-looking men I’d ever seen stepped into the room.

Car trouble, the center male muttered and glanced from the Alpha Wolf to me.

I felt myself cringe as they stepped closer, and the shadows of the room seemed to pull tighter like a cloak they wore.

We interrupting something? the taller Fae moved close, and snatched the bottle from the Wolf’s hand.

A savage snarl echoed, Hey, I was fucking drinking that.

There’s plenty enough to go ’round, Dad muttered and hurried the bartender forward. "Although now, I’m starting to think I underestimated your…thirst."

The empty-handed Wolf gave a shrug. Not the first thing you’ve underestimated about us.

But I knew the words were meant for me. They crowded the table, all six of them. And suddenly I felt this place wasn’t big enough for even one of them…let alone all six.

Air seemed to well in my throat, but no matter how hard my muscles worked to draw it deeper, the bubble was stuck. I think I need a little air.

I stepped away, taking my bottle and my glass. I didn’t know what came over me, blurting out like that. Making a fool of myself…and Dad.

I glanced his way as the asshole bartender stumbled forward carrying a tray laden with bottles. Glass bottoms smacked the tables as the Wolves and the Fae stepped further into the room.

The conversation seemed to settle, before a chuckle echoed from one of the men, and it was followed with another. Dad stepped closer, and reached out, offering his hand to each of the Wolves, and then the Unseelie Fae.

They shook his hand. One even drew him into a hug which was little more than a slap on the back. It shocked me how well he knew them. It wasn’t that long ago I’d never even known they existed…and now…here we were.

Wolves.

Unseelie Fae…

And Vampires.

I looked around the room, and froze as the door opened and a male dressed in an expensive suit stepped in. I scanned the neatly buttoned double-breasted jacket, then lifted my gaze.

But there was no shadow, no darkness spilling across the floor. Nothing that gave them away. There was just silence…and them.

The last Immortals to arrive.

The fucking Vampires.

My pulse spiked, ramming that needle of agony through my temples. I never waited for the rest of his clan, or coven…or whatever the fuck they called themselves, only stepped around the chairs and went to the bar. I had to get out of here, had to find some goddamn air.

I slid the glass along the bar, and took the bottle with me. The sharp roar of laughter filled the room, and before I’d even hit the end of the hallway to the rear of the Jewel, the room returned to its deafening, jovial state.

It was all too much.

Too much laughter.

Too much male.

Hey Ruthy, where’re you going? some asshole called out. "Ruth…Ruth Costello."

I strode along the hallway and headed for the service exit. A sign called me forward, one marked Employees Only! I didn’t care, nor did I slow, only shoved against the steel bar across the door and felt it give way.

The cold midnight air hit me like a slap across the face. I closed my eyes for a moment and stepped into the dead-end alley. Still the roar of laughter spilled out behind me. God fucking save me.

My stilettos clattered on the uneven pavers as I opened my eyes and stepped forward, letting the door slam closed behind me.

A shiver crept across my skin. In hindsight, the flimsy silver top may not have been the best decision. But I wanted to stand out, to be seen, and not just as a pair of tits and an ass, but as someone powerful, someone able to stand head to head with those in that room.

Someone who one day might be sitting at the seat on the executive table.

A shudder raced through me, reaching a little deeper than the tremor of cold.

I wanted it. Not now, of course. But one day. I wanted to be the Costello others looked to, the one who caught the secret smiles…the one with all the money…and power.

A whisper of movement caught my eye. Just a brush of fabric, or maybe it was a breath?

My pulse spiked. Pain rammed through my head, tearing a whimper from my chest. My fingers danced in the air before I pressed them against the bulging vein.

Sorry to startle you, came a deep murmur in the shadows.

I winced, pressing my fingers a little harder, and felt myself step backwards toward the door.

Don’t leave, he commanded, taking a step into the soft moonlight that owned a sliver of the alley. Not on my account, at least.

I stared as the long shadow fell across the jutting moss-covered pavers, and lifted my head. Pale skin peeked out as his shirt sleeve rode up. But it