Evading (Regent Vampire Lords Book 4)

E
vading

Copyright © 2016 by K.L. Kreig

P
ublished by K.L
. Kreig

ePub: ISBN-13: 978-1-943443-10-9 ISBN-10: 1-943443-10-6

mobi: ISBN-13: 978-1-943443-09-3 ISBN-10: 1-943443-09-2

A
ll rights reserved
. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author.

T
his book is
a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

C
over Art by Yocla Designs

Editing by Nikki Busch Editing

P
ublished
in the United States of America.

T
o my Grandma Eleanor
. If you were still here, I’m not sure you would love my racy stories, but I know you would love my accomplishments. I feel your pride even from afar. Thank you for your influence in shaping my life.

T
his book
certainly
can
be read as a standalone and still enjoyed. HOWEVER, this story does pick up in the middle of Mike and Giselle’s relationship, to a degree. For their entire backstory to make sense, it’s important to start with the three previous novels in the series,
Surrendering
,
Belonging
, and
Reawakening.

A
s this novel
takes place during and shortly after
Reawakening
, for continuity purposes in storytelling, I have lifted a paragraph or two, or in one case, an exact partial scene as written in
Reawakening
. In addition, there are some minor threads created for future stories, but you will not have to read
Evading
to keep up, as I will reintroduce them in the next book.

T
his story is
all about Mike and Giselle and how they finally find their way to each other and to their happily ever after.

H
ang on
. Grab some tissues. You’re in for a bumpy ride. I hope you enjoy reading their story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

B
lack death rained
down around her. Each diabolical soul released for banishment into an eternal pit of flames and suffering was a breath of fresh air she could take once again. She relished each lungful.

Ancestry was destroyed.

Families decimated.

Retribution delivered.

She was the punisher.

She was deliverance.

She was hate.

She was vengeance.

Sweet, sweet vengeance.

Unrelenting pain—finally
theirs
—warmed her insides, lighting her ablaze.

Each filament attached to her limbs was a lethal weapon of inexorable suffering they couldn’t escape. Saccharine lifeblood lifted to her nostrils. She took in the intoxicating, liberating scent.

Their bloodcurdling screams were music she wanted to savor for eternity.

Long sought after peace was finally within her grasp. It hung like mist in the air around her, cooling her overheated flesh.

She felt it.

She tasted it.

It’s all she thought about.

It’s all she knew.

It’s all she lived for.

It was finally hers and she would gladly serve her due penance for the devastation she’d just deluged.

T
he sweet
, fruity alcohol went down too well, too fast. It was her tenth, but it wasn’t enough. There wasn’t enough liquor in the world that could ease her suffering.

A slight tingle from the wine coursed through her bloodstream. That’s all she’d get. Imbibing didn’t do much for vampires, so she wasn’t really sure why she bothered. But she needed something to keep her mouth, her hands, and her mind distracted so she wouldn’t focus on events that had unfolded over the last day—events that would mean her own demise when Devon Fallinsworth, Midwest Regent Vampire Lord, caught up with her. And he would catch up with her…sooner rather than later, of that, she had no doubt.

That was okay, though. At least his justice would be swift. Merciful. Which was more than she’d been granted over the last five years. She’d accepted her fate. Looked forward to it, actually. Begged for it many a time over. Every time she was tied down. Every time she was violated. Every time those who were supposed to love her most broke her trust, using her body for their own selfish gain.

“This is your plight for what you are. Your penance. You took something from us and you will spend the rest of your days suffering for your pathetic existence.”

The same words were repeated every time she was bound and blindfolded, naked, in that small, filthy room that smelled of wet dirt, mold, and perversion.

Human or vampire, it didn’t matter. Bonded or single was irrelevant. Social status immaterial. They all were given a go, for the right price. Vampires were far rougher and liked to draw blood any way they could. Of course, many human males weren’t that different. It’s amazing how being completely at someone’s mercy draws out the beast that hovers and lurks inside all of us, regardless of species.

Her brothers, the stupid twats, thought a paltry piece of fabric that took away her sight created anonymity for the males they let desecrate her day after day. But she knew every one of her abusers. Take away one of the senses and the others sharpen considerably.

Hers could cut glass.

She may not have seen them with her own eyes, but just like our DNA is unique, so, too, are our scents, the rhythm of our breaths, the ridges of flesh in our fingertips. The second they walked into that dank room and laid a hand on her, every characteristic was cataloged and tucked away.

And after five long years, it was done.

The righting of wrongs had been equaled.

All the intricate preparations had finally come to fruition. Every painful detail executed with near perfection.

The torment that started with her second blooding at fifteen ended with her final blooding yesterday at age twenty. She’d had one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days to pour over every aspect of her vengeance.

She found flaws. Fixed them.

Practiced, reassessed.

Repetition, repetition, repetition. Until every scenario was covered, every defect eliminated. When you lived with the enemy, you got to know them pretty fucking well. Every chink, every weakness, every habit, no matter how small, could mean the difference between victory and failure.

They all thought she was weak, helpless,
hopeless
. But she wasn’t. She was just fucking smarter than they were, biding her time until she could unleash the beast they’d created.

Giselle had been victorious, cutting down each offender with stealth and efficiency and no fucking mercy, starting with her two brothers. Every one of them was now rotting in a hell of their own making.

Except one.

Somehow, he’d known she was coming for him and had fled. She’d spent the last twenty-four hours hunting him so she could go to her grave with a clear conscience and no regrets, but he remained elusive.

And didn’t that figure? He was the most sadistic, evil bastard of them all. A weekly regular since day one, he delivered punishing blows and vicious agony. But he never left any visible marks behind. Instead, he left the worst kind of scars that never healed. And since he was vampire, he had countless days yet to deliver his special brand of pain to other innocents.

The worst of it was he was also her pappi’s best friend. He was supposed to love her like a daughter, not treat her like a whore. Like her brothers, he preached about “leading by example,” only no one ever suspected he was a vile, malevolent creature who preferred the screams and cries of an innocent to that of his own mate.

As long as she remained free, she’d track him. She’d find him. Then she’d end him, too. Only then, would she rest. She may go to hell for the retribution she’d unleashed, but she was not about to go down without dragging the bloody remains of every last one of those sick fucks that preyed on the young and weak. She’d drop them personally at Lucifer’s feet with a smile on her face and consummation pumping in her veins.

She threw back the cool wine, signaling for another when she felt
them
.

“Giselle Petrova?”

Her heart sank to her feet.
Shit
. Time was up.

The thought of fleeing briefly crossed her mind, but only so she could end what she’d started, not to escape punishment. Even if she did make an attempt, in her heart she knew she wouldn’t get far. Lord Devon wouldn’t send just any lunks to bring in a mass murderer. He’d send his best.

No. This was the end of the line for her. She sealed her fate with the first strike of her sword. And payment would be in the form of her own life. She’d been prepared for this outcome from the very beginning. At least, it would be on
her
terms, under her control. And she’d hold her head high until her last breath, proud that she’d rid the world of at least a few slivers of evil.

Breathing deeply, she stood, squaring her shoulders. “Yes.”

“Lord Devon has required your presence. Come with us.”

Her gaze swam over the two broad, handsome vampires who were clearly old and powerful. Definitely, more of a match than she could take. Standing, she allowed lefty to grab her elbow, and while his grip was firm, it wasn’t bruising.

Once outside, in the safety of the grove and away from humans, they flashed to a modern-day dungeon of sorts: packed dirt floors, crumbling stone walls, and cells with thick, wrought iron bars. Not much different than the way she’d lived.

They placed her in a dank, musty unit and closed the door, their faces remaining impassive. She was sure they used the same magic her brothers had to imprison her. A halfhearted attempt to escape proved that theory out.

This is was it, then—the end of a long, desolate road. In just a matter of hours, her existence would be no more. All that would remain of her were glorified stories of a heinous act no one would ever fully understand. She waited for sadness to drown her, but it never came. Instead, she felt a strange, calming peace settle in her bones.

Sliding down to the floor, Giselle leaned back against the cool rock and released a genuine sigh of relief. Yes, she was imprisoned and death loomed, yet she was actually smiling. Relishing in the fact she was
free
.

Tonight would be the first night in over five years she wouldn’t be raped and tortured. She wouldn’t be bound. She wouldn’t be in pain. She wouldn’t be belittled or bled or scourged. Her stomach wouldn’t cramp with hunger. She would actually be able to open her eyes and see something other than the color black.

She was free. Blessedly, truly free.

She wanted to bask in her newfound independence for every minute she had left, but the lethargy she’d been fighting began to win. The adrenaline, which had pumped her up over the last twenty-four hours took a nosedive, sending her crashing. Unable to keep her eyes open, she gave in to its pull.

This time, though, instead of the usual nightmares that plagued her, she dreamed of her mammi: a female Giselle had never known because she’d died while giving birth to her. Giselle’s lifetime of torment at the hand of her brothers was her punishment for taking both her parents’ lives. And for being female, she thought. Would a male have suffered her same fate? She didn’t think so.

The dream started out with Giselle as a little girl. She sat on a shaky, three-legged wooden stool, balanced on an uneven earth floor as her mammi stood behind brushing her blonde locks in languid, easy strokes, singing an unfamiliar tune. Her mammi stood for hours in that exact same spot, singing the exact same song, grooming her the exact same way. She brushed so long Giselle’s head started to hurt, but she begged her not to stop because each pull of the coarse brush was mystical, turning the strands into spun gold.

“
M
ammi
, what’s happening?” she asked, staring in awe at the heavy gild in her tiny hand.

“It’s magic, my darling. But it can only happen to those who are noble and pure.”

But that was wrong. Giselle wasn’t noble and pure; she was vile and hated. She didn’t know how she knew that…she just did.

“No, Mammi. You’re wrong. I’m not noble or pure.”

Her beautiful mammi leaned down to whisper, “Mammis are never wrong about what matters most, Giselle. I’m sorry I left.” Drops of disgrace chased down her face, one after the other, falling into a pool of water that rapidly swelled around her. Panicking, she looked back to her mammi for help, but she was gone. When Giselle glanced down again, the water now lapping at her waist wasn’t really water at all.

It was thick and scarlet and held the sins of men. It rose quick, like a tide, and threatened to drown her where she’d be eternally trapped in their unanswered, undeserving pleas for mercy.

Just as she was going under, the scene morphed. Now she stared at a vision of herself covered in blood and hate and violence. A gore-covered sword hung limply in her hand. Once-shiny gold locks were now caked with dirt and relief. Taking in the carnage all around her, her heart was equally dense and weightless.

Her mammi’s disembodied voice whispered, “You’ve made me proud.”

“But I killed your sons,” she replied on a sob.

“You righted wrongs, Giselle. There is honor in that.”

The cackle of unrepentant evil in the distance taunted her. “One got away.”

“Karma chases the perverse, though sometimes she needs an edge.”

T
he rattling
of the cell door woke her. Giselle jumped to her feet in defense, momentarily forgetting where she was. The vivid dream hung over her like a thick fog she couldn’t shake.

“Female, it’s time,” the handsome vampire chimed.

Blinking off the last remnants of the illusion, she simply nodded. Resigned to her fate, Giselle followed without a fight. Eyes forward, back straight. As they wound down hallways, marching toward her penance, though, she couldn’t stop hearing her mammi’s words.

“Karma chases the perverse, though sometimes she needs an edge.”

A flash of remorse fired hotly through her, but it wasn’t because of the lives she’d taken. It was because of the one she hadn’t.

Giselle had originally vowed to go to her grave silent. In her mind’s eye, she was justified in every casualty that sullied her hands, and she would not repent or defend or explain. No one deserved a fucking thing from her.

But what if Lord Devon was karma’s edge? What if he believed her story? What if
he
was the conduit to vet due justice since she wouldn’t be able to?

If she said nothing—
did
nothing—she would never know and Siobhan would win.

He couldn’t win. He couldn’t
live
. He didn’t deserve to take another breath while she was punished for righting evil wrongs. If she didn’t stop him or at least try, the realization that she’d failed would haunt her for all eternity. She couldn’t live with that.

She had to do this one last thing. As abhorrent as the thought was.

Mind made up, in her final words she’d humble and humiliate herself, revealing repulsions no one should ever hear. Relive degradation she could barely acknowledge had happened to
her
.

In her last breaths, Giselle would remain strong. She’d do it in hopes that the Midwest Regent Vampire Lord was as benevolent and fair as everyone said he was. And that he’d exact the justice she needed so she could finally rest in a peace she had more than earned.