A Thread of Deepest Black - Samhain Publishing

A Thread of Deepest Black

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The seduction of his enemy is the ultimate hunt…

When his mortal enemy, the handsome and deadly Colton Dècarie, shows up on his doorstep asking an unspeakable favor, Killian Frost is cautious—and curious. What could drive a shape-shifter to beg a werewolf for an honorable death in the line of duty—defending humans from soul-stealing Lycans? Moreover, why ask Killian, who has kept his own feet off that dark path?

Colton’s conflicted heart can take no more of the violence that consumes more of his humanity with every hunt. Even now, Killian’s werewolf scent makes him burn with the instinctive urge to shift and destroy. Death would be a mercy, but the price is impossibly simple: one night of submission in Killian’s bed.

Yet as Killian extracts payment in flesh and pleasure, Colton finds himself giving all that’s demanded of him and more, feeling something he hasn’t felt in a long time. Alive. And Killian discovers the hidden cost of sleeping with the enemy. To keep the balance between light and dark, Bella Luna binds his Lycan blood with a quest to unravel a conspiracy threatening all his kind. If he’s brave enough, he’ll discover a love that means more than the power of a dead man’s soul.

Product Warnings

Contains plotting and scheming, a wicked, whip-wielding werewolf whose favorite word is “Mine” and a sexy shifter bound with red ribbon whose favorite reply is “I hate you.”

Copyright © 2011 Finn Marlowe
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

“Give me one night in my bed and I’ll consider your request.”

His answer—his conditional answer—was met with an expression of profound disbelief, comical in its absoluteness, followed by the loud slam of the door when the requestor left without further comment.

Still staring at the rattling doorframe with his own not-insignificant disbelief, Killian Frost decided the best remedy for this confusing and utterly bizarre episode was a large, stiff drink. Yes, a very large drink and several much-needed gulps of air. Aside from the needing-a-drink idea, the only thought his stunned brain kept repeating was…what the hell?

The liquor was fire on his tongue, no mixer. The fumes curling up into his nose tamped down the lingering smell of his recently departed guest. What the hell? Collapsing into his favorite chair, he barely managed to avoid spilling his drink. Outside the window he noticed the darkened sky and the promise of the cloud-obscured half-moon. After several swallows, he set the drink aside. Perhaps this was a matter that would be better served in contemplation with a clear mind. Better served by closing the curtains too—any Lycanthrope was more rational without the lure of the moon and the rousing of one’s blood, and he was no exception.

In this room, his private sanctuary, he had no surveillance. No hidden cameras, no hidden microphones, and he bitterly regretted that hasty decision. He’d give just about anything to replay that conversation, witness the scene again. It wasn’t that he wondered if he’d imagined it. It was just, well…maybe he’d imagined it. Considering the possibility he was losing his mind was actually easier than recalling who, and what, he had let into his house.

His enemy. Let him in freely too—opened the door and allowed him across the threshold. Curiosity always got the better of Killian. Seeing his adversary standing there through the glass pane on the door had filled him with terror, yes, terror, real and absolute. True, it had lasted only a few seconds, but it was not a sensation he liked much. Shaking it off, he’d opened the door—he had nothing to hide, after all, nothing to fear, so why not?

They had a smell all their own, shape-shifters, a scent that set them apart from pure-blooded humans, not that he needed it to tell them apart or anything. Shifters were larger than life, absolutely deadly, and besides, he’d known of that one since birth, so it—he—needed no other identification. As far as shifters went, he was a good one. Snorting, Killian shook his head. Yeah, right—a good shifter! Was there such a thing? Still, if it was a case of the devil you knew versus the devil you didn’t, Killian would take that particular one over any other.

His enemy’s family was full of naïve do-gooders, shape-shifters who obeyed the law, kept up their end of the treaty as long as Killian’s family kept up theirs, which was why he’d opened the door. Elvis was more likely to show up on his step than one of them. Closing his eyes, he replayed the whole thing over in his mind, having no electronic back-up to rely upon, from his first glimpse to the last, the one ending with his making that improbable—no, that impossible—statement.

They’d eyed each other through the glass, taken each other’s measure. In his human form, the shifter didn’t look so scary, but looks could be deceiving, couldn’t they? Lycans tended to be dark, and Killian was no exception, from hair to eyes, both blue-black. The shifter on his step was his opposite: blond, and he liked blonds, male or female, and not just blond either, but…pretty. Not exactly handsome to his eyes—women would call the shifter handsome—but his enemy was just a tad too beautiful to be called handsome by any man. Very nice hazel eyes stared back at Killian, eyes a touch too watchful to make you forget what he was, and a mouth made for sin, or would be if he wasn’t such a goddamn do-gooder.

“Killian Frost,” he’d said simply, softly. Damned shifters always had seductive voices—not unlike Lycans, he supposed.

“Colton Décarie.” When the mutual staring, hate and distrust waned and it became obvious the man wasn’t going to shift into something nasty on his porch and kill him, Killian managed to find his voice. “What do you want?”

“A word. If I may.”

“A word?”

“Yes. May I come in?”

Fortunately Killian was a master of self-control. In his family, it was necessary for survival, and he schooled his face into a forced, unreadable blankness. “Come in? You want me to let you into my house? Are you fucking crazy?”

“I just want to talk.” The shifter smiled sweetly. “I’m not hunting.”

“That’s so reassuring! Why don’t you just get in your fancy little car there and go back to the crazy place you came from? You can talk there all you want. I’m sure you’ll be all alone with no one to interrupt you.”

“It’ll be worth your while, I assure you.”

“There’s nothing you could possibly say that would be worth letting you into my house.”

“Oh but there is. I promise.”

“No.”

“I promise not to shift if you don’t.”

Killian’s throat offered up a derogatory noise.

“You know I keep my word. You know.”

Killian did, in fact, know it. Stupid shifter! And this one was guileless, positively radiating innocence. Only Killian knew he wasn’t innocent. Colton was a killer. Still…if a Décarie gave his word, he kept it. While Killian’s blood ran thick with the power of his kind, never having hunted humans before put him at a distinct disadvantage when it came to fighting shifters. He had no experience. Even an inexperienced shifter could likely kill him, and this one was by no means inexperienced. Word was Colton was talented, a prodigy amongst his kind, a superb shifter and very powerful despite his gangly human frame. But there it was…that stupid prickle of curiosity that sang to his blood almost as sweetly as La Bella Luna.

“You promise you won’t turn into something with big teeth and do something you won’t be proud of later?”

“I promise,” Colton said solemnly. Killian still raised a disbelieving brow. “On my very soul,” the young man added.

A promise on his soul? Whatever this crazy shifter wanted, he wanted it bad. Not only was he a master of self-control, Killian also was a master manipulator. That too was necessary for survival in his family, since Lycans were naturally untrustworthy, even kin. He might have liked to consider things further, but what he said was, grudgingly, “Come in.” There was no way he could pass up on an opportunity to have a shifter owe him.

At least the strange one seemed hesitant, not quite happy, either, to be entering the den of his enemy. Apparently, werewolves didn’t smell very good to shifters—rotting meat and a touch of brimstone, with a wisp of death thrown in. Killian hoped Colton was choking on it. “Is this going to take long?” Killian asked. What was the protocol for conversing with your ancient enemy? Did one offer him a seat? Certainly not a drink. He’d die first.

“Depends on your answer,” replied Blondie.

“Shit,” he mumbled, leading him into his study next door. His enemy in his sanctuary—could he sink any lower?

Colton remained standing, tense and alert, while Killian chose to sit on the loveseat, settling slowly, playing it out for effect, waiting to see what favor he could bestow on this most unlikely of all askers. Blondie was nervous. Killian liked it very much. “Well?”

Pretty blond boy licked his red lips.

“Spit it out, shifter, I haven’t got all day.”

With a deep, pained breath, Blondie did. “I want you to kill me.”

Numbness spread from the tips of his toes all the way up to the roots of his hair. It invaded his brain, rendering him thoughtless and speechless. His heart might have paused in its beating—felt like it, anyway. Then his nerves woke painfully—a flash fire. “Pardon me?”

Blondie’s external façade of cool calmness wavered for a split second, revealing a weak link in his personal chainmail. “I want—” His breath hitched. “I want you to kill me.”

Nothing was better than exploiting a weakness, even if it belonged to a pretty, but obviously demented, shifter—especially a pretty blond shifter. “Kill you?” Killian repeated, the words falling off his tongue. Was that his voice sticking just the tiniest bit?

Killian had to hand it to Blondie. Colton’s wide-open eyes met his with a directness Killian found disconcerting, even though he could see the shifter struggling, struggling and trying to cover it, quite masterfully, but Killian was better at it and could spot every tell.

It’ll be worth my while? Bullshit! This is worth so much more than that.

Displaying 1 to 3 (of 3 reviews)

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by YU

Date Added: Sunday 18 December, 2011

Simply gorgeous!

Rating: [5 of 5 Stars!]