Chapter1

#Chapter1

Aiden Monroe had learnt a long time ago that when trouble came a-knocking, it usually didn't give a damn whether you felt like opening the door or not.

And sure enough, the two figurines of pure menace that dominated the roach-infested apartment, they'd hadn't let a closed door stop them; the hardwood had been kicked off its hinges.

And for as much as their presence demanded attention, every crevice of the room disrupted by the high-octane terror that pulsated from them in thick, suffocating waves, all he could seem to focus on was the cowering figure that had backed himself into the corner of the room. With long, greasy hair that reached his shoulders and eyes so pale they appeared without pigment, Marcus Matthew had become the dictionary definition of pathetic. Loud, noisy mewls of panic decorated his lips, and excuses were disrupted by loud, racking breaths that transitioned to sobs every now and again.

Aiden wanted to feel sympathy for him. Wanted to try and defend him, but he couldn't. And even if he could have, he wouldn't.

Betrayal was a poison dagger, and Marcus had just rammed one right in his back.

/"So let me get this straight./" Out of the two intruders, the dark-haired male was the one that unsettled him the most. The red-headed man was loud and aggressive, having made a show of breaking up furniture and spewing insults, but Aiden's every instinct screamed at him that it was dark-and-terrifying that he needed to be worried about. /"Not only do you have nothing — /"

/"Well,/" the red-head interrupted his partner from where he was emptying out the cabinet draws, sniggering as nothing but old paperwork and paperclips fell from the drawers, /"I wouldn't say nothing. This place is a breeding ground for legionnaires disease, so — /"

/"Shut up, Toby./" Dark-and terrifying pushed forward from the arched doorway, his boots crunching against the debris that now coated the living room floor. A sneer adjourned his lips, and the icy glaciers that were his eyes swept around the room in a foul sweep. They lingered on Aiden, but settled on Marcus. /"So not only do you have nothing to offer my father in terms of paying your debt, but you have the audacity to try and use a filthy fucking half-breed as a bartering chip?/"

The scary calm that worked the man's tone did little to take the sting from his words. They hit like a wrecking ball, devastating him from the inside out. But even still, they didn't compare to the agony that had tore through him when it had been Marcus speaking. When it had been Marcus offering him up like he was nothing.

/"No,/" Marcus stuttered out, his legs buckling. He slid down the wall, pale-faced and eyes bugging. /"I never meant — the boy . . . he — /"

Aiden looked away. His jaw anchored into a clench, locking down so hard his teeth ground, and his vision swam. Marcus had taken him in. Had promised him he'd be safe. Hell, he'd made a world of promises, and every single one of them had just been unraveled.

The word 'fool' serenaded through his head like a twisted lullaby, mocking him, taunting him as it drilled itself home. It branded itself against his tongue, leaving behind a taste so bitter that his mouth began to water and his stomach heaved as though it was preparing to evict his breakfast.

/"The boy./" Dark-and-terrifying jabbed a finger towards him. Flinching, Aiden stumbled back. His back hit the wall. His chest heaved. The whole room felt like it was closing in on him. /"The boy is worth nothing to us; your debt had just doubled for the insult./"

Ears ringing, what was said next distorted. Mutated to a grating, high-pitched whine that had a sea of nausea waking up and pitching one hell of a fit. And yup. He puked. Doubling over, knees smacking against the rough, stained blue carpet, hot streams of rankness followed.

/"Aiden, are you — are you okay?/" Marcus managed.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he pretended he hadn't heard. Wished the man hadn't even spoken. He'd basically just sold him and he was asking if he was alright? He should have been angry. Furious, even, but self-pity triumphed and there was only pain.

/"That's disgusting,/" the red-head said, kicking over the coffee table as he made his way over to dark-and-terrifying. /"But I think it improved the smell in here./"

/"Shut up, Toby. And you, boy —/" A thick, blunt finger was jabbed towards him. /"Get up. Now./"

Aiden didn't comply with the command until the guy took a threatening step towards him, and even then, his legs almost buckled. They knocked together like jelly sticks, and black spots polka-dotted across his line of sight, the spinning motion kick-starting once more.

/"We're actually taking it?/" The red-head, Toby, asked, appalled. He was as tall as the dark-haired man, and almost as broad, but looked younger. Remove the cruel, sadistic malic from his expression, and the freckle-printed features left behind were that of an awkward teenager transitioning into manhood. /"What are we supposed to do with a fucking defected half-breed? I suppose we could — /"

/"My father won't be happy if we turn up empty handed,/" Dark-and-terrifying cut in. /"I'm hoping presenting it to him will inspire the same level of offense and we'll be able to put this cur out of his misery for good./"

It.

In another life, he may have been insulted, but he was used to it. Half vampire, half human, a dhampir by street terms, he'd always been an outcast. The humans, though ignorant of his true identity, had never truly accepted him among them. It was as though they sensed the wrongness, as though their instincts warded them away. His time among them had been hell.

Marcus had been the only full-blooded vampire he'd ever met. He'd saved him from the humans. Told him how lucky he was that he'd been the one who'd found him because others of his kind were not so sympathetic to hybrids, and tended to hunt them for sport. Aiden had quickly come to understand that there was no place for somebody like him in this world, and he had gratefully latched onto the small shred of acceptance Marcus had provided.

But whatever, whoever the two thugs were, they were not vampires. Their scents were wrong. Deep and musky, rich like the pockets of the forest, they were something else. Not human. Not vampire. Something he'd never encountered before.

/"All half-breeds are defective in one way or another,/" Toby snapped, rounding on Marcus, who'd dropped his head, staring down at his shoes in misery. Aiden wanted him to look at him. Wanted him to understand just how much hurt he'd caused him, but there was a part of him that was glad that the other man didn't look up. Wasn't sure he'd be able to keep from breaking down. /"What's his?/"

/"He's mute./" Marcus finally looked up. Aiden looked down. His mouth was still burning from the vomit, and the front of his shirt had been a victim of the process. The smell was getting to him, but when added to the growing list of 'can-my-life-get-any-worse' it kind of took a back seat on the priority queue. /"He can't talk./"

Toby laughed. It was a wretched sound that splintered against his ears with the same smoothness as nuts and bolts being loaded into the blender and cranked to the highest setting. /"Oh, this keeps getting better and better. Eric, your old man is — /"

/"We're done here, Toby./" Dark-and-terrifying cast the room one last look of disdain before those cold, cold eyes came to settle on him. /"Say your goodbyes, Nihil. You belong to the Blackwater Pack now./"