Ravaged (Vampire Awakenings, Book 7) Read online

  Ravaged

  By

  Brenda K. Davies

  Copyright © 2017 Brenda K. Davies

  All rights reserved.

  Distributed by Smashwords

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  Books By The Author

  Books written under the penname Brenda K. Davies

  The Alliance Series

  Eternally Bound (Book 1)

  Bound by Vengeance (Book 2) Coming Winter 2018

  Hell on Earth Series

  Hell on Earth (Book 1)

  Into the Abyss (Book 2) Coming spring 2018

  The Road to Hell Series

  Good Intentions (Book 1)

  Carved (Book 2)

  The Road (Book 3)

  Into Hell (Book 4)

  The Vampire Awakenings Series

  Awakened (Book 1)

  Destined (Book 2)

  Untamed (Book 3)

  Enraptured (Book 4)

  Undone (Book 5)

  Fractured (Book 6)

  Ravaged (Book 7)

  Historical Romance

  A Stolen Heart

  Books written under the penname Erica Stevens

  The Captive Series

  Captured (Book 1)

  Renegade (Book 2)

  Refugee (Book 3)

  Salvation (Book 4)

  Redemption (Book 5)

  Broken (The Captive Series Prequel)

  Vengeance (Book 6)

  Unbound (Book 7)

  The Fire & Ice Series

  Frost Burn (Book 1)

  Arctic Fire (Book 2)

  Scorched Ice (Book 3)

  The Kindred Series

  Kindred (Book 1)

  Ashes (Book 2)

  Kindled (Book 3)

  Inferno (Book 4)

  Phoenix Rising (Book 5)

  The Ravening Series

  Ravenous (Book 1)

  Taken Over (Book 2)

  Reclamation (Book 3)

  The Survivor Chronicles

  The Upheaval (Book 1)

  The Divide (Book 2)

  The Forsaken (Book 3)

  The Risen (Book 4)

  Table of Contents

  Other books by the Author

  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

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Where to Find the Author

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  The ends of the black trench coat brushed his ankles when Aiden shrugged into it. He felt like a walking vampire cliché every time he put the thing on, but it had a lot of places to stash his weapons. It also covered the blood seeping from the gashes on his back and staining his shirt.

  The lacerations would heal soon enough. When he pulled the shirt off later, he knew from past experiences some of the material would stick to his wounds. It would take time, and more pain, for the material to work its way out of his flesh, but that fresh pain would help to once again re-center him, for a time at least.

  “I can do more for you tonight,” Carha purred and fondled his ear.

  Aiden recoiled from her touch. She repulsed him almost as much as he repulsed himself these days. “No.”

  He didn’t know why she’d bothered to offer. Every time he came to her, she did the same, and every time he turned her down. He’d already acquired what he wanted from her tonight. Dipping into his pocket, he pulled out a roll of hundreds and threw them on the table. Sex with her would be free, but no one would inflict the amount of torture on him Carha did, and for that, she charged a lot.

  The money was worth the release she gave him. Or at least it used to be worth it. That release had once lasted a month, then a couple of weeks. Then a week. Now, an hour hadn’t passed, and he could already feel the tension creeping back into him. He’d have to find a different way to get some release soon, but it would not be with her. Not even he had sunk that low yet.

  No. Never so low as to be with Carha. He knew if he did, he wouldn’t be himself anymore. He would be a far more twisted version of himself, one he could never come back from.

  He’d love nothing more than to walk out of here and never see Carha again, but every time he tried to keep away, he found himself irresistibly drawn back to this place, and Carha. He’d started losing the battle to stay away at an accelerated rate.

  “You don’t have to pay.” She rubbed his ear again.

  “I said get off!” he snarled and bared his fangs at her.

  She smiled back at him, unfazed by his fangs as she leaned close to offer him a view of her cleavage. Despite his revulsion of her, he found himself growing aroused before he tore his eyes away. He didn’t desire her, but he craved sex as much as pain, and he hadn’t fucked anyone today. Unlike some of her other clients, he received no sexual release while in this room. This place was strictly about the pain for him.

  “I already got off,” Carha replied and slid her hands between the legs of what he knew were crotch-less black pants. She’d flashed him more than a few times while she’d been cutting him. Pulling her hand away from herself, she flicked her whip against the ground. Drops of his blood splattered across the floor when they flew off the tip of the whip. “Now I’m offering to get you off too.”

  Within her green cat-like eyes, he could see the sick twistedness of her soul. She was not a killer of innocents, he would smell it on her if she were, but she couldn’t hide the evil nature within her. If she started killing innocents and turned Savage, he wouldn’t be surprised. It shocked him more she hadn’t already done exactly that.

  Carha’s black hair hung in a thick braid over her shoulder. She was one of the most stunning women he’d ever seen with her Jessica Rabbit body and refined features, yet his arousal faded while he gazed at her.

  Perhaps she had such an adverse effect on him because, in her eyes, he saw where he was heading. Carha was beautiful, yet twisted. And he came to her once a week to ease his needs. No, now he sought her out more than once a week.

  After
only making it six days last week, he’d been determined to make it seven days before turning to Carha; he hadn’t held out past day five. With the way he’d been descending this past year, and his increased spiral into his viler inclinations since Christmas, he would find himself coming here every day within three months.

  But maybe, even if he did have to come here every day, have sex once and sometimes twice a day, as well as feed more than an average vampire, and if he continued to kill Savages, he could keep himself in control. Maybe he wouldn’t spiral into the thing he hated the most: the killer vamps who stalked the innocents of this world.

  He told himself this and tried to hope it would be true, but he knew eventually he would need more. He always needed more. This insatiable, empty pit inside him couldn’t be filled no matter how hard he tried.

  He should go to Ronan and ask Ronan to kill him now, before he lost complete control and turned into a bloodthirsty monster.

  His fingers tore into the flesh of his palms as he turned away from Carha. No, no matter how empty he felt, he would hold out. He may be cracking, but he would not break. Not yet anyway. He still had time to find a way to get a handle on this before it became too late for him.

  Inhaling a deep breath, his gaze fell on the metal poles sticking up from the concrete ground in the center of the room. A dim red bulb, hanging directly over the poles and the heavy chains attached to them, was the only illumination in the chamber. The thick cuffs dangling from the ends of the chains had never bound his wrists. If they did, he would be able to break free from them, but he would never allow Carha to chain him.

  Between those poles, puddles of his blood glistened in the light as it had countless times over the past year and a half he’d been coming to Carha. Near one of the puddles was a drain. The body fluids spilled here were hosed into the drain before the next client entered.

  The room sickened him. Two years ago, he never could have pictured himself walking into such a place. Then, he’d stopped aging and everything changed. Now, he couldn’t picture how he would survive without the relief Carha’s whip gave him.

  He wasn’t Carha’s only client, but she’d once revealed to him that he was the only one she flayed open until even she flinched. He hadn’t believed Carha could flinch for any other living creature, but he’d seen her do it for him. It didn’t stop her from pulling her hand back and slicing him open as it had the other women he’d gone to before her.

  Carha expertly sliced him until his ribs showed through and the blood loss made him unsteady. Earlier, he’d only remained upright by holding the chains while she delivered blow after flesh-rending blow. Only when his legs were about to buckle, and he was dizzy from blood loss, did he ask her to stop. That had been less than half an hour ago, but he already felt stronger. It would be a couple of hours before the world stopped spinning whenever he turned his head too fast.

  “I’ve never seen anyone who can withstand my whip like you,” she murmured.

  Carha had no idea he was a purebred vampire, and she never would. He wouldn’t put it past her to try to use the knowledge to her advantage. The underground ring of vampires Drake had run to capture purebreds—like his sister, Vicky—and feed on them, was mostly eradicated. There were a few stragglers who had helped Drake, but they’d scattered when Drake died. However, there were those out there who would use a pureblooded vampire to their advantage, if they could find a way to do so, and Carha was one of them.

  “Soon,” she purred when he turned away from his blood and the posts. “You’ll be begging to have me.”

  “That will be the last time I come here,” he assured her. Or it would mean he’d lost control and someone like Carha was who he would prefer having sex with. The possibility made him shudder.

  “Oh, I doubt that will be the last time,” she murmured.

  He didn’t look back at her as he opened the thick metal door of the soundproof room. He didn’t need the door to hide his cries. No matter how deeply Carha cut him, or how often she did it, he’d never screamed. Stepping into the hall, lit by the flame-shaped candles casting shadows over the red carpet, Aiden closed the door behind him.

  CHAPTER 2

  He pulled his coat tighter around his throat as the blood oozing from his gashes slowed to a trickle. He’d have to change before he met Saxon for their hunt tonight. Otherwise, he would be ringing the dinner bell for the increasing number of killer vamps roaming the streets of Boston. A new threat had started to rise from the Savages, one Ronan and his men were working to take down.

  Striding forward, the carpet muffled his steps as he passed the closed doors lining the corridor. Not even his enhanced vampire hearing could detect any sound from the rooms. This hall was a place of hedonism for those who could afford to pay for it.

  He’d been in a few of the other rooms, with other women, before moving onto Carha’s area. Carha’s was the biggest out of all the rooms, but they all had a similar setup. However, each vampire who ruled behind these closed doors did something different with their space.

  At the end of the hall, he pulled open another heavy, metal door and stepped into the main club area. Unlike many of the other clubs in Boston, this one didn’t pulse with rapid dance music and flashing lights. Bodies didn’t pack the dance floor because there was no dance floor. The humans came here to pretend they were vampires; the vamps came to feed on the fools and to indulge their debauchery in the back rooms.

  Numerous booths, mostly hidden in shadow, encompassed the club. The only light in the place hung over the bar. It illuminated the bottles lining the twenty-foot-long, glass mirror. Most of the bottles were only liquor, but at either end of the bar were massive jugs that held special, bloody concoctions. Those exclusive mixes sold with far more speed than the regular alcohol did.

  A few of the jugs were nothing but straight blood, kept at 98.6 degrees. Usually, no one bothered with the blood; it was mostly for the ambiance, but occasionally a famished vampire would drink some while stalking their prey.

  People gulped down their fake bloody mixes, while the vampires sipped at theirs and pursued what they’d come here for, humans. Aiden scented the air as he watched the occupants, but he didn’t detect the scent of refuse wafting from the inhabitants.

  The sun had just set, so he hadn’t been expecting to find any killer vampires here, but he had to be certain before he left. Carha made sure this club remained exclusive, but turned vamps couldn’t scent the killers of their kind like a purebred could so she wouldn’t know if one walked through the door. He’d encountered a few killers in here before. Carha prohibited killing in her club, but they still came for some of the other decadences she offered.

  On the rare occasions he’d scented the killers in here, he’d waited outside to destroy them when they left.

  Ronan and his men called the killer vampires amongst them Savages, Aiden had mostly adapted to that, but he and his family had always called them killer vamps, and occasionally he slipped back into that.

  He’d better start adapting faster if he was going to be one of Ronan’s group, the Defenders. Every day he was getting closer to making it through his training and joining Ronan. It might still be a couple of years before they fully welcomed him into their group, but Lucien had told him he was progressing faster than most and was already way ahead of the curve.

  He suspected he’d done so well because he’d gone at his training with a single-minded determination and a sick joy at being able to bestow death on those vampires who deserved it. He needed that outlet to kill. Otherwise, he would go for an innocent.

  At one time, joining Ronan’s group had been a dream he’d worked tirelessly to achieve. Now, the goal felt as empty and hopeless as the rest of his existence. He’d been confident that training, fighting, and killing would ease this nothingness in him, but it was becoming as unfulfilling as everything else that once eased him. All the fighting, bruises, and broken bones endured while training with Ronan and his men had done nothing to curb his hunger for
more.

  He’d tried meditating for a while, but a couple of months ago he’d found himself fantasizing more about tearing a person’s throat out and drinking all their blood than focusing on his breathing. He’d stopped afterward.

  As time progressed, staying still became the worst thing he could do, so he moved constantly. He hadn’t gotten more than a few hours of sleep a night in the past six months because he hated closing his eyes.

  He slept only when exhaustion took over.

  The smoke of the room stung his eyes, and he blinked against it. Some of the smoke was from cigarettes, as no one in this place obeyed any law set forth by humans. The people here believed the flaunting of rules and health codes was another sign they skirted the edge of danger; the vampires did it because some of them liked to smoke.

  The rest of the smoke in the room came from the fog machines in the corner, discreetly hidden within decorative coffins. The music speakers were also concealed in those coffins. The woeful music made him snicker, but the humans ate it up, and they were the main menu for the vampire clientele Carha wanted to attract.

  Studying the room, Aiden picked out each of the separate heartbeats and the blood pulsing through the occupants’ veins. His fangs pricked, his mouth watered, and his cock stirred as he pictured sinking his fangs into the throats of some of the women here.

  Sometimes, after a session with Carha, he would find a woman to take into the second hallway leading away from the main barroom. More soundproof rooms lined that corridor, and each of those rooms held only a bed. The staff changed the sheets every time a couple exited one of the rooms, but he never used the beds.

  For him, sex wasn’t about touching or love. Like the whip, it was a way to find an escape from himself, if only for a short time. He preferred as little contact with his partners as possible and found standing made that goal easier to achieve.

  He became semi-erect as he watched the couples fondling each other, but he would deny himself sex today. He hadn’t been able to deny himself the gratification of Carha’s whip for a week; he would forgo sex for one fucking day.

  It would be his penance for the weakness that had propelled him to seek the brutal slices of Carha’s whip. He’d lost count of the lashings after twenty-five tonight, but she’d beaten him more than usual before he’d stopped her.