Scorched Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  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

  Teaser chapter

  “I urge anyone who is a fan of urban fantasy and paranormal romance to put Sharon Ashwood at the top of their list!”—Night Owl Romance

  Praise for Ravenous

  “A multilayered plot, a fascinating take on the paranormal creatures living among us, plus a sexy vampire, a sassy witch, and a mystery for them to solve . . . Ravenous leaves me hungry for more!”

  —Jessica Andersen, author of Skykeepers

  “Sexy, suspenseful fun. Ashwood really knows how to tell a story.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Kelley Armstrong

  “Strong world building.... Readers will look forward to the sequel.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Intriguing and darkly entertaining—not to mention sexy. Ashwood is definitely making herself right at home with this genre.”

  —Romantic Times

  “The world is interesting (I look forward to seeing more of it!), the romance gorgeous, the sex sizzling. There’s plenty of action, as well.”

  —Errant Dreams Reviews

  “This tongue-in-cheek, action-packed urban fantasy hooks the reader from the opening moment . . . and never slows down.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “A fast-paced urban fantasy . . . nonstop action that will keep the reader turning pages long into the night. Ash-wood has created a wonderful fantasy romp that’s tough to put down until the end. I look forward to reading the next installment in this series.”

  —Romance Junkies

  “The world building is complex and absolutely terrific. But, most of all, it’s the powerful attraction between the spunky witch heroine and her sexy vampire partner as they battle evil that makes this story a real page-turner! With demons, hell hounds, weres, and vampires waiting in the wings, I can’t wait to see what happens next!”

  —Alexis Morgan

  “I think I have found a new favorite series.... I guess I have to wait for the next story, hopefully not for too long!”

  —The Romance Studio

  “Ravenous is a fantastic read, filled with action, suspense, lush details, sizzling romance, and very memorable characters. Ms. Ashwood has created a very compelling world and left us with enough questions about the fate of certain characters to have us hoping that this is the start of a very promising new series.”

  —MyShelf.com

  “Ms. Ashwood has created an intriguing world where both good and evil dwell in the shadows and things are rarely what they seem. Ravenous is a well-written and sexy read that makes for a great escape from the norm. I look forward to the next visit with the Dark Forgotten.”

  —Darque Reviews

  “Ravenous is packed with action, humor, and a droolworthy vampire. The demons and the hellhounds and the evil house with a killer mind (oh my!) are what set it apart from the fold. A whole new mythology surrounding the supernatural and how humans police them is introduced, and I can’t wait to see where Ashwood takes it. This book earns 5 tombstones for creativity, sex appeal, and one kick-ass house.”

  —Bitten by Books

  “Sharon Ashwood hooked me from the first page! Ravenous gets off to a roaring start and the fast pace never relents. Ravenous has all the elements of a top-notch urban fantasy tale.... It will be hard to surpass this book! I can’t recommend this one highly enough!”

  —CK2S Kwips and Kritiques

  Also by Sharon Ashwood

  Ravenous

  SIGNET ECLIPSE

  Published by New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,

  New York, New York 10014, USA

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:

  80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First Printing, December 2009

  Copyright © Naomi Lester, 2009

  All rights reserved

  SIGNET ECLIPSE and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  ISBN : 978-1-101-56373-1

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

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

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

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  This one’s for my emergency readers.

  It wouldn’t be a deadline without you.

  October 1, 7:15 p.m.

  101.5 FM

  “Good evening to all you fanged and furry listeners out there in radio land. This is Errata, your hostess from CSUP, the FM station that denies and defies the normal in paranormal. It’s October first and a crisp evening up here on the Fairview U campus. Looks like there’ll be frost on the pumpkin tonight.

  “We have our usual dark and dangerous lineup ahead, but first a special alert. It’s come to our attention that a certain demon detective is back in town. Word has it he’s been lying low for the past while, but my informants spotted this local bad boy out and about last night. Welcome back from the dark side, detective, but be careful of all those bridges you burned last year. I think the footing’s a little tre
acherous.

  “Oh, and by the way, I wouldn’t count on running a tab at the local watering hole—I think a Thanksgiving turkey has a better chance of long-term credit.”

  Chapter 1

  So, they buried her at a crossroads.

  Some folks just bring that out in people.

  Conall Macmillan shoved his hands into the pockets of his Windbreaker. Autumn dusk closed around him in shades of blue and charcoal, heavy with seaside moisture. It would be dark in minutes. He could hear the wash of waves in the silence. St. Andrew’s Cemetery was empty, except for the dead. And him, of course, though where he fit on the whole dead/live continuum was open to debate.

  The grave lay at the intersection of two white paved walkways, smack in the way of joggers and dog walkers. Not much of a crossroads, but enough to keep her down. It said something that the ones doing the burying had been vampires. They didn’t scare easily, but the woman now resting beneath the earth had been a demon, a monster’s monster, evil pure as . . . What was the right comparison, anyway?

  Mac looked up at the fading horizon, memories as black and sharp-edged as the cedars etched against the ocean. Sudden, cold nausea invaded his gut, riding a wave of remembrance at once intimate and brutal.

  What could compare to the desperate, terrifying hunger that had flayed him until he shrugged off humanity like a tattered bathrobe? What could compare with the silver sweetness of each human soul as it slid over his teeth and down his throat like a delicate summer wine?

  Each life was a drop of relief in a desert of desperate need. That was the thirst of a demon, a soul eater. A murderer. He knew, because the woman beneath the crossroads had made Mac just like her. Walking evil.

  The brass plaque on the headstone simply read: GENEVA. It had been a year since she was placed, suddenly human and instantly dead, beneath the dirt.

  A breeze hushed through the leaves that littered the lawn, an anticipatory sound. The wind was changing as the sun bloodied the sea, carrying in the smell of brine. Mac walked around Geneva’s last home, viewing it from every angle.

  What am I looking for? To reassure myself she’s really down there—human, deceased, and rotting the way she’s supposed to? Not a good thought. Geneva had been beautiful, for all her wicked ways. The memory of her still brought heat to his flesh.

  He’d always gone for the wrong women, the kind who weren’t interested in forever. After years on the squad, his heart was entombed in dead bodies and paperwork, insulated against a cop’s daily dose of carnage. A quick and dirty grapple in the dark was all he had to give and those mad, bad babes fit him to a T.

  So when a pretty blonde had invited him for a drink, he’d considered it lucky, but business as usual. Bad mistake. Life-ending mistake.

  Now the forever kind of woman was beyond his grasp. Even if he dared to make her his own, one day he might fall off the wagon and then it would be, “Sorry, darling. I scarfed down the kids.”

  A short brick wall encircled Geneva’s plot, holding in the sod. The site was on a hill and had views of everything: the ocean, the acres of yew trees and headstones, even glimpses of the strip mall to the north. It was fitting. Geneva had loved to be in the center of things.

  Dead center, ha-ha, Mac thought bitterly.

  A desolate feeling stole over him. It was bad when you had to laugh at your own lousy puns. Fortunate that he wasn’t a drinker. It would be far too nice to forget everything, even for just a little while.

  Thunk!

  A knife thrummed into the dirt at his foot, silver blade quivering as it struck. The dark steel hilt had the elegant simplicity of all vampire armaments.

  Mac hunched, his spine itching at every spot where the knife might have struck. “What?” he snapped to the empty air.

  The answer was dry with sarcasm. “You finally showed up. It’s been a year.”

  Mac had forgotten how much he hated that low, smooth, arrogant voice. His teeth clenched so hard, pain shot up his left temple.

  Between one blink and the next, Alessandro Caravelli appeared on the other side of the grave, his weight resting on one hip. Yes, it had been a year since they last met. Shrink-wrapped in leather, the vampire still had the rock’n’ roll biker vibe going on: boots, studs, and attitude. Curly wheat blond hair fell past his shoulders; his amber eyes were steady, unblinking, and not at all friendly.

  “The sword’s a nice touch,” Mac said. “Very retro.”

  The vampire held the huge blade loosely at his side. “Special edition. It kills everything. Even demons.”

  Despite himself, Mac felt a sizzle of fear. “I’m not a demon anymore. I’m not evil. I’m cured.”

  Caravelli’s chin lifted; he took a subtle sniff of the breeze. “Faint, but the demon stink is there.”

  Mac’s lip curled at the insult. “Oh, yeah, and seeing you brings back all the good times, Caravelli. I’ve so missed your bad-assed sheriff-to-the-Undead routine.”

  “I still keep the law among the supernatural citizens in Fairview.” Without a flicker of expression, Caravelli took a step closer. “And you’re still a danger. You were Geneva’s thrall. Our enemy.”

  “Yeah, well . . .” Mac trailed off. The events of a year ago were confused in Mac’s mind, but he remembered the essential facts. Geneva picked a fight with Fairview’s supernatural community—werebeast and vampire, demon and fey—in a bid to control the territory. Yes, he had fought with the black hats, being a demon and all at the time.

  His side lost. Holly Carver, a witch, had turned the tide, blasting Geneva with a spell so powerful that it had stripped away the demon’s powers. The moment Geneva became human, her own soldiers had killed her. Drained her blood. Left her corpse to the mercy of her enemies.

  It’s hard to get good help when you’re an archvillain. It’s even harder to change careers from henchdemon to harmless civilian.

  Caravelli frowned, a slight movement of his foot signaling his impatience.

  Oh, crap. Shifting his weight, Mac forced himself not to bolt, though the urge burned along every nerve. Never show a vampire fear. He couldn’t take his eyes off Caravelli’s sword. How come I’m walking around unarmed? Stupid! He’d lost the habit of carrying weapons during his demon days.

  Mac played his only card. “Hear me out. I was caught by the same spell as Geneva. If she was made human again, so was I.”

  It worked. The vampire lowered the blade an inch or two. “Then tell me this. You disappeared after the battle. We looked for you. The queen offered a reward for your return. Where have you been?”

  “Out of my mind.” Mac looked away. “Yeah, I feel guilty. I was a cop, for God’s sake. Geneva made me turn against everything I stood for.” Heat rushed up his face, but he forced himself to meet Caravelli’s gaze. “I didn’t join her willingly. She corrupted me. You know that. You were there.”

  For the first time, Caravelli showed emotion. Damn him, it was pity. “That would’ve been the point, with her.”

  Mac used a few pithy obscenities. “Yeah, ain’t that the truth.”

  It had taken only one long, hot kiss to infect him with that craving for human life. A hunger he hadn’t entirely lost. Not that he was going to mention that to Caravelli and his meat cleaver.

  Now Mac let himself take a step back, then another. “I’m sorry for what I did. I’ve prayed for some means to atone. It’s not enough, but there’s nothing else I can offer.”

  “Not so fast.” With a rush of wind and leather, Caravelli sprang into the air, sailing lightly over Geneva’s grave. For a moment, he hung there like a biker bird of prey.

  Mac scrambled backward, the instinct to run winning out. His legs felt clumsy, as if he were trying to run on bags of water. Caravelli’s arms stretched out, the moonlight kissing the sword and the studs on his coat and boots. He had barely touched down when he bounded again, right over Mac’s head. Mac spun. The vampire landed with a muffled thud, his boots sinking into soft grass as he turned to face him. The force of his landing sti
rred up the smell of dewsoaked grass and leaves.

  Crouching, Caravelli lifted the sword in both hands, the tip level with Mac’s chest. “You have to pay,” he said softly. “Sorry or not, you broke the law. We can live among the humans only so long as we do not harm them. You drank them down like cheap beer. Perhaps it’s not your fault, but demons destroy. It’s their nature.”

  Caravelli said it with the tired cadence of a cop reading a criminal’s rights. Mac wondered whether he’d sounded the same when making an arrest—utterly, remorselessly cold.

  “Not anymore. I’ve lost the ability to feed,” Mac replied carefully, keeping his own voice level. He would not beg to live. He would never beg Caravelli, the bloody-fanged poseur, but he had to set the record straight. “I eat spaghetti now. Bagels. Frosty Flakes. No souls. I’m corporeal. No magic tricks. I must be human.”

  The lie was ash on Mac’s tongue. They both heard the falsehood.

  “But you’re not human, so what the hell are you?” asked the vampire.

  I’m hungry. He might have lost the ability to feed, but not the desire. “I haven’t a clue.”

  The statement hung between them, the deepening darkness giving a hazy aura of nightmare. “The spell didn’t Turn you all the way back,” Caravelli said neutrally. “It’s not over.”

  An involuntary shiver made Mac cross his arms. The pain of the spell’s blast had been surreal, almost beyond his perception. “I was at the edge of the spell’s power.”