Blood Moon RISING (Blood Moon Series Book 2) Read online

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  Lord Sebastian is struggling to keep his inscrutable mask in place as the Bloodmaiden expresses her disdain for Keres’ lack of respect for his authority. He chokes off a wave of laughter as he looks into the waste bin that Celeste presents to him. Shreds of paper lay at the bottom, just as they have every day since Keres was confined to solitary.

  In the beginning, Keres’ disobedience infuriated Sebastian. He wanted to begin counseling with Keres immediately, but her refusal to follow a basic instruction of journaling her thoughts halted everything. His intention was to use Keres’ journal to understand what drove her to such desperation. To understand how she came to feel that killing a human was her last resort. When she refused to use the journal, Sebastian refused to see her.

  Days turned into weeks and the weeks into months. Although she is held under the same roof as he resides, Sebastian has not laid eyes on Keres since the day he brought her to Luna de Sangre, nearly two months ago. He second guessed his decision not to see her many times, but in hindsight, he feels it was a good decision. It gave her time to sort through her reckless actions and the events that led her to make them.

  Sebastian’s fury at Keres’ disobedience has transfigured into his own personal humor at her stubbornness. However, his humor must remain private. As coven leader, he cannot be seen as having a miniscule of tolerance for member defiance, no matter how minor. As such, he needs to nip Keres’ obstinacy.

  With an implacable glare, Lord Sebastian instructs Celeste to convert Keres’ punishment and implement the hard labor portion of her sentence.

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  A blanket of anxiety drapes over Keres. Her sentence has been accelerated and the intensive-labor portion of her punishment has commenced. She had been looking forward to having a bit more freedom; more personal interaction. But now that the time has come, she is not sure she can endure the scrutinous eyes of others. Most importantly, the eyes of Lord Sebastian.

  Being locked away in solitary protected her from seeing the contempt and derision in Lord Sebastian’s eyes. Someone she holds in high esteem. Someone she dreamed of continuing to work alongside on the coven counsel. Aside from Marco, Lord Sebastian’s opinion is the only one that registers within Keres’ conscientious. That was, until now.

  Keres balances herself on one hand while scrubbing the rock fissures between the granite tile with the other. Gel cups strapped to her knees to protect the knobby joints from the harshness of the floor.

  This is the House of Luna de Sangre, there is not a speck of dust to be found in any crevice. The inessential task meant for nothing more than chastisement for Keres. The humbling chore serrates her polished image, exposing raw insecurities.

  The heat of the stares, eyes like lasers, bore into her soul. Bloodmaidens, masters, and servants – all, passing assessing and judgmental glares her way. Each one amassing with the previous, like pelting salt in a wound.

  Normally Keres invited the stares and gawking of others. Ravishingly beautiful, both men and women alike, are drawn to her. And the glances laced with jealousy and spite only fueled and energized her.

  However, Keres’ self-esteem has been pummeled and beaten down, barely hanging on by the tips of her fingers. The current attention she’s receiving clearly stripping away the fragile remnants of her self-worth.

  With only a few days of the labor portion of her sentence behind her, the scowls, snickering, and whispering are pushing Keres to the brink. She’s spiraling toward a black hole. An abyss she fears she will not recover from.

  As Keres relocates her supplies to the next section of the floor to clean, she catches a glimpse of her reflection in a mirror. Sunken, hollow eyes with the dullness of primer, stare back.

  Who is she? Keres thinks to herself, startled at the soulless image staring back at her. The sparkle in her eyes diminished, gone, much like her spirit.

  The refection in the mirror is not that of Keres Re, but of a cowering, broken girl. A reflection Keres knows will become permanent if she doesn’t fight the urge to drown herself in pity.

  Approaching voices startle Keres. She refocuses on her task and resumes scrubbing the floor. A thousand thoughts flicker through her mind; the past, the present, and her hopes for the future. Her introspection leads to a transference from feelings of despair to a resurgence of her dignity.

  The voices linger behind Keres, interrupting her mental solitude. Keres hones in on their whispering. The conversation is breathy and unintelligible, though it doesn’t matter to Keres. Her hackles are already up in defense. She has no doubt they’re talking about her.

  Most hush their snickers as they pass by, but the woman standing behind Keres is making no attempt to disguise her mockery. Cutting her eyes under her left shoulder, Keres gets an inverted view of the woman.

  Dressed in civilian clothes and not the traditional, flowy garb of a Bloodmaiden, the immortal woman appears brash and tawdry. Her insolent demeanor strikes a raw nerve in Keres.

  “The beautiful Keres Re ... on her hands and knees scrubbing floors like a wretched pauper,” the woman sneers. “I can't think of anyone more deserving and qualified for such a task.”

  The ‘in case of emergency’ glass shatters within Keres, prompting an instinctive need to defend herself. Whether triggered by her current thoughts or the internal volcano of heartache and loss over the past few years, fury rips through her.

  For a split second, Keres considers potential consequences for her impending actions. As much as she doesn’t want to see Lord Sebastian, she doesn’t want to do anything that would send her back into solitary confinement. Despite the looming presence of an audience watching her every move, she enjoys her break time outside, under the canopy of a Spanish Oak. Times up ...

  In the blink of an eye, the belligerent woman is slammed to the wall and held in place by Keres’ grip around her neck.

  “This wretch will pull your spine through your throat,” Keres blasts in the woman's face. “You may know my name, but you don't know who the fuck you're dealing with.”

  Chapter 3

  Flanked by Herculean sized guards, both stoic and mute, Keres is escorted down a palatial corridor. She has no idea where she’s being led, but considering her recent behavior, she can only assume it’s nowhere pleasant.

  Not remembering much after pinning the brazen bitch to the wall, Keres’ current surroundings are disconcerting. Her fury over the wench’s goading ignited an explosion of psychedelic flashes behind her eyes that briefly blinded her vision as well as her memory. The physicality of being manhandled; pulled and jerked in opposing directions incited Keres’ consciousness to the two burly men separating her from the loud-mouthed woman.

  Though not gentle, the guards’ current treatment of Keres is not as brusque as it was initially. Each have a firm grip around her bound wrists as they continue leading her down the incandescent hallway. Not a sound has been uttered; their breathing barely audible.

  Keres’ curiosity piques as she realizes they have not passed a single doorway on their journey down the expansive corridor. It’s possible they’re taking her back to her room a different way, she thinks to herself, but there's a gnawing in her gut that signals something a little more ominous.

  In a few short strides, Keres notices a recess in the wall to her right. Their pace slows and with a couple shuffle steps, Keres finds herself in front of an enormous, ornate door. The gnawing in her gut becomes more ravenous.

  “May mercy find you,” the taller guard states in a hushed voice. His blessing cloaked in warning. He raps lightly on the beautiful Italian style door.

  Four panels of the door are intricately carved in an identical design. Keres admires the raised scroll work outlining the edges. The work so detailed, it had to have been hand-carved by a master woodcrafter.

  Staring into the spiraling design directly in front of her, Keres mentally prepares for what awaits her on the other side. Apart from the common areas of the compound, all the doors and walls o
f Luna de Sangre are lined with graphene, the strongest metal in the world, as well as impenetrable by the mental telepathy of vampires. It provides a layer of security and privacy. Therefore, making it impossible for Keres to know exactly who or what is awaiting her. But she has a pretty good idea.

  The click of the door releases adrenaline through her veins, her heart pounding in her ears. The repercussions of her violent outburst and disobedience are drawing near.

  The door swings open and Keres drops her gaze in reverence to whomever is standing before her. She doesn’t dare sneak a peek, as she is almost certain who is assessing her presence. She nervously awaits her judgement.

  “I’m disappointed to find you standing before me, Keres.”

  His resonant, baritone voice is unmistakable, confirming what Keres has known all along. She is standing in front of the one person she did not want to see, Lord Sebastian.

  The coven leader steps aside allowing access to the room. The guards step forward guiding Keres into the room.

  “Remove her bindings and then you are dismissed,” Lord Sebastian instructs the guards.

  One of the guards raises a questioning brow at the leader’s order. Not questioning Lord Sebastian’s authority, but questioning his safety. After all, the guard witnessed Keres’ ferocious temper first hand.

  Regardless of the intention, Lord Sebastian does not tolerate being questioned under any circumstance. Especially when one doubts his ability to protect himself from a woman.

  “Unbind her,” Sebastian orders in a menacing tone.

  The guards do not waste another second removing the shackles from Keres’ wrist and quickly see their way out. Sebastian turns his vehemence toward Keres.

  “Know your place, Keres. On your knees ...”

  Keres drops to her knees, bowing her head in a subservient pose. Her recent behavior is no reflection of her admiration for Lord Sebastian. There is no one she respects more than her coven leader. Disappointing him shames her to the core.

  “How does someone so intelligent and confident, driven and determined ... how do they find themselves drowning in a cesspool of despair? Pushed to the point of self-destruction,” Sebastian asks into thin air, talking aloud more to himself than anyone else. “How does this happen, Keres?”

  With no response to his barrage of questions, Keres remains motionless with her eyes cast to the floor. She is certain her silence is being interpreted by Lord Sebastian as a sign of disrespect, but that could not be farther from the truth. Her silence is the result of not knowing how to respond because she doesn't have the answers.

  “Show me your eyes, Keres. I want to see the black abyss in your soul. I want to see what has driven you to shame yourself, dishonor your family, and nearly ruin your life. Lest we forget risking exposure of the coven to mortals.”

  Those ten words cut deeper for Keres than she could ever have imagined. The coven means everything to her. She would never intentionally do anything to jeopardize it or its members. Keres shudders at the thought.

  Taking advantage of the respite from Sebastian’s verbal assault, Keres briefly assesses her surroundings. Before Lord Sebastian's chilling gaze draws her attention away, a shimmering light catches her eye. With only a split-second glance, Keres was not able to discern with certainty the object reflecting the light, but she saw enough to make her imagination run wild with excitement and trepidation.

  “You put your wants and needs before the coven. You allowed vengeance to corrupt your thinking. Not only did you reveal your true existence to the mortal Melaina Harrison, you were willing to kill her for the sake of unrequited love,” Sebastian rails on Keres.

  “So blinded by an infatuation that you perceived as love, that you refused to believe your own brother. Marco brought to you the truth of your beloved, Andrew Collier. His love for another, as well as the fact his relationship with Melaina was a façade to hide his homosexual proclivities from his family. Yet, you remain fixated on destroying Melaina Harrison, blaming her for Andrew’s death.”

  Every word Sebastian utters is a stab to her heart. Listening to his blunt presentation of the facts leaves absolutely no defense of her actions.

  “Above all else Keres, your worst transgressions were against Marco. Your spiteful thoughts and behavior were bad enough, but you coaxed Marco down your rabbit hole of malice and destruction.

  Marco is an adult and is responsible for his actions, but he was led on by your warped sense of betrayal. He felt his responsibility was to protect you. Your blame of Melaina for the death of your chosen mate, spurred Marco to do whatever he had to do to avenge your heartbreak.

  Do you have any idea how hard it was for Marco to come to me for help? To admit his own malfeasance concerning Melaina. Seducing her for your wicked intentions, only to find himself falling for her. Yet, he lost her as a result of your iniquitous behavior. The only way to preserve Melaina’s life and protect the coven, was for Marco to wipe her memory and refrain from having any contact with her. So, you see Keres, not only did you risk destroying your own life, you gave no regard for the well-being or happiness of your brother.”

  Shackled to her legs, guilt and shame pull Keres to the bottom of the sea of pity. She can’t muster the energy to challenge Lord Sebastian’s interpretation of the events. His bare-knuckle version sounds almost foreign to Keres. No resemblance to the memories that flood her mind each day. If the circumstances are truly as black and white as Lord Sebastian presents it, then Keres is a monster in every sense of the word.

  However, life is not black and white. Life is colorful. Hues of blue providing stability while yellow electrifies and energizes. The joy of orange and the royal abundance of purple fill our lives. Then one day, broad strokes of red streak through. Passion, fire, and intensity igniting us. And on occasion, this brilliant stroke of red combines with the jealousy of green. The colors muddle into chaos. Life muddles into chaos. Life is not black and white, nor were the circumstances that led Keres to her current imprisonment.

  Over the past sixty days, Keres has thought a lot about Marco. She wonders what he thinks of her now. Does he still love her? He is her brother, but that doesn’t mean he must love and care about her. Having completed the solitary confinement portion of her sentence allows her the opportunity to have visitors. Well, that was before her little stunt in the foyer. She desperately wants to see him. She would be devastated if he refused any contact with her.

  Keres has thought about Melaina, too. About whether Melaina honestly has no memory of her or Marco. Has she moved on? Was she telling the truth about Andrew? But what she hasn’t thought about, not even for a second, was the relationship between Marco and Melaina. Did her brother love Melaina? Is Marco heartbroken? Was Melaina his chosen?

  Keres has been so consumed, floundering around in her own self-loathing, that she hasn’t considered the sacrifices that Marco made for her. He has potentially sacrificed his own happiness to satisfy her deranged need for revenge.

  Marco is not a dedicated follower of coven law. He adheres to the main principles, but blurs the lines when it comes to humans, finding a mate, and carrying on coven formalities and traditions. He steers clear of Luna De Sangre unless it’s absolutely necessary for him to visit. Therefore, Marco reaching out to Lord Sebastian for help is a sign of how desperate he was to protect Keres from herself.

  That act alone is a major sacrifice for Marco. It puts him on Lord Sebastian’s radar. Not somewhere you want to be when you’re more of a coven rebel and not an obedient loyalist.

  “Being that you’ve had a flagrant disregard to anyone’s authority, even refusing the most elementary task of journaling your thoughts, you’ve left no choice but for me to personally see to your rehabilitation. You’ve shown no respect to those I’ve charged with your care. You’ve thumbed your nose at my rule and the sanctity of our coven. But be assured, before you leave the confines of these four walls, you will have a deepening respect for my authority.”

  A sliver of fear sli
thers along Keres’ spine. She has worked alongside Lord Sebastian. She has witnessed his keen and compassionate leadership as it pertains to the progressive development of the coven. As well, she’s witnessed a malicious streak when he feels threatened in any way; especially his authority.

  “You’ve shown no appreciation for the benevolent accommodations that I’ve provided to you during your stay. Out of respect for our friendship, I wanted to make your time here as comfortable as possible, but you threw it back in my face. Therefore, you are remanded to this 32-square foot cell to contemplate your actions. As your rehabilitator, I will provide stimulating encouragement to set you on the path to becoming a positive member of the coven once again,” Sebastian feigns a smile as he sees the apprehension in Keres’ eyes.

  Keres turns her head, getting a long look at the glinting metal that caught her attention moments ago. She chokes on the bile surging upward looking for an escape. This can’t be happening. He’s locking me in a fucking cage like an animal!

  Chapter 4

  Lately, Marco has not had many opportunities to make the first move and initiate sex. Since Melaina’s transition, she is mauling him throughout the day and night; though he is not complaining. A newbie’s high sex drive typically wanes after a few weeks, but that hasn’t been the case for Melaina. She is full throttle into overdrive. But currently, Marco is in the driver seat.

  His own thirst has intensified his sense of smell and he is drowning in the sweet scent of Melaina’s arousal. Reaching under her, Marco slides his finger between the swollen flesh of her sex, manipulating the little button that makes her purr.

  Stretching out across Melaina’s back, Marco’s fangs extend as his hips pound into the soft cheeks of her ass. He enjoys the occasions when Melaina takes control, but nothing stirs his soul as having her body wilt under his hand, his domination, his love.

  Marco is intoxicated by Melaina’s exotic scent. The urge to feed from her is overwhelming his thoughts. There’s no greater high than a climatic feeding. It's exhilarating! But Marco knows he can’t.