Dangerous Misery (The Harcourte Vampyre Society Book 3) Read online

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  Dangerous Misery

  By Morgan Kelley

  Copyright © 2015 Morgan Kelley LLC All rights reserved. Without limiting rights under the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, introduced into a retrieval system, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including without limitation 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. The scanning, uploading, and/or distribution of this document via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and is punishable by law. Please only purchase authorized editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrightable materials. For permission requests, email [email protected]

  Content Advisory: This book is intended for mature audiences and contains graphic violence, explicit sexual activity and disturbing imagery. This is paranormal erotica.

  © Paperback Cover Copyright 2015 Morgan Kelley LLC Cover art and design by Laura Gordon www.thebookcovermachine.com

  © Ebook Cover Copyright 2015 Morgan Kelley LLC Cover art and design by Rachel Zellers

  Other works by Morgan Kelley:

  FBI standalone Thrillers

  The Junction

  Serial Sins

  The Blood Betrayal

  FBI Thriller Series

  The Killing Times (Book 1)

  Sacred Burial Grounds (Book 2)

  True Love Lost (Book 3)

  Deep Dark Mire (Book 4)

  Fire Burns Hot (Book 5)

  Darkness of Truth (Book 6)

  Devil Hath Come (Book 7)

  Consumed by Wrath (Book 8)

  Redemption is Here (Book 9)

  Dead Shall Speak (Book 10)

  Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Series

  Celestia is Falling (1)

  Vegas is Dying (2)

  Christmas is Killing (3)

  Love is Bleeding (4)

  Heaven is Weeping (5)

  Littlemoon Investigations

  Blood Red Rage (Book 1)

  Lost & Broken (Book 2)

  Unthinkable Games (Book 3)

  The Carter Chronicles Trilogy

  Sinner Repent (Book 1)

  Sinner Realized (Book 2)

  The Harcourte Vampyre Society Series

  Dangerous Revelations (Book 1)

  Dangerous Choices (Book 2)

  Dangerous Misery (Book 3)

  Behind Closed Doors Anthology

  Illegal Fantasies ~ Behind Closed Doors (1)

  Romance Under Arrest~ Behind Closed Doors (2)

  ∞∞∞∞ About the Author ∞∞∞∞

  Morgan Kelley lives in the beautiful Pocono Mountains with her husband and two children. After attending college at Penn State University and studying Criminal Justice, Morgan knew her only true passion in life would be murder and books. She put them both together and began her career as a writer. Other than books and writing, you can find Morgan hanging out in her garden and digging in the dirt.

  Her other works include: The Junction, Serial Sins, The Blood Betrayal, The Killing Times (1), Sacred Burial Grounds (2), True Love Lost (3), Deep Dark Mire (4), Fire Burns Hot (5), Darkness of Truth (6), Devil Hath Come (7), Consumed by Wrath (8), Redemption is Here (9), Dead Shall Speak (10), Blood Red Rage (1) Lost & Broken (2), Unthinkable Games (3), Celestia is Falling (1), Vegas is Dying (2), Christmas is Killing (3), Love is Bleeding (4), Heaven is Weeping (5), Dangerous Revelations (1), Dangerous Choices (2), Dangerous Misery (3), Illegal Fantasies (Anthology 1), and Romance Under Arrest (Anthology 2)

  Please feel free to visit Morgan at her website: www.morgankelley.com, email her [email protected], or visit her blog at www.morgankelley.blogspot.com.

  Going home isn't always what it’s cracked up to be…

  prologue

  France, 1302

  She sat in the dark, a feeling of complete and total loss overcoming her as she touched the burnt flesh that was once her beloved father. He had suffered terribly in his attempt to avenge the slaying of his wife. Her mother was his world, and it was all taken away from the family by a hunter, solely because they were the undead.

  Judgments were made, death warrants signed, and yet the killers did not take her life because she was feeding on a human. No, it was because she had helped a human in their household escape from a deep, dark well.

  By using her preternatural abilities, she had marked herself the undead. She knew the risk, and yet her compassion for the human outweighed her own self-preservation.

  The humans, shortly thereafter, went to the hunters and collected their gold pieces for the information that they had offered up.

  It wasn’t bad enough that her mother was destroyed for gold and greed, but her father had been staked to the ground to wait for the impending sunlight.

  He’d fought valiantly to free himself, and had obviously been in excruciating pain, but in the end he had joined her mother, his lovely mate, by immolation.

  At least now he was with the sunshine of his soul. Jolie could find some solace knowing that they were again one.

  A plethora of emotions overcame her, as she sat there gently touching the cremains of her father, silently vowing to never let her life end like this. His life amounted to a pile of ash and bone, running like sand through her fingers.

  Now, it was only Jolie and her brother left to survive among the humans.

  It would now fall to her, as the one bound to protect them both at all costs, and it wouldn’t be easy. It was now her duty and she would do it to her best ability, making her father and mother proud.

  Unfortunately, as a mere child herself at just one hundred, her defenses were still weak.

  Jolie knew that in her heart, she was still far from an efficient killer. In her arsenal of survival were only the basic skills. There would be a monumental fight ahead of her, and she knew it.

  Closing her eyes, Jolie said silent goodbyes to her mother and father, for she would be going to live with a new master today. One who would take over as primus of their society, replacing the position her father once held.

  Goethe was next in line for control after her parents, and now, instead of being at the top of the food chain, she and her brother were at the very bottom.

  The weakest must be tricky as they prepared for anything that came at them, and what was coming would be a fire storm of danger.

  If lucky, one, or both, would survive.

  The game was now stacked against them. It was survival of the fittest, but at least they were going in with eyes wide open.

  It was time.

  Jolie stood, freeing her feet from her dress by lifting up the hem, so she could move easily toward their old home.

  This would be her last allowed visit to their homestead. It would no longer be a fond memory of laughter and love, but one of death and emptiness. Surely, there was something of her mother and father’s that she could keep, reminding her of them.

  Although, there was no doubt that they would never forget the parents they cherished. True, he wasn’t their biological father, but he’d raised them, loved them, and taught them the essence of who they should be as adults.

  Just inside the homestead, hanging above the hearth, was her mother’s amulet. Jolie took it as a sign that she would always turn up in the most unusual of places if the need for her would arise.

  Jolie was touched that her father had the precognition to place it there. When he was t
old that his beloved was beheaded, it was as if he knew what was coming. He must have wanted to assure that his daughter would have that little trinket to ease her broken heart.

  The amulet still had her mother’s blood dried to the chain, and it was now mixed with the cremains that covered Jolie’s fingers. It was fitting that she carried them both with her on her new journey.

  Carefully, it was slid into her pocket for safe keeping. From here on out, a new journey was afoot, and life as they knew it would start anew.

  Drastically altered and unmapped, it was now time for them to find their way.

  Outside the home, her brother and Master Goethe waited for her arrival. There was no smile on her brother’s face, and the sadistic leer plastered to Goethe’s made her ill.

  Possibly, it all was foreshadowing of what was to come in their new life.

  “I’m ready,” she said haughtily, unwilling to give her father’s replacement any satisfaction. He wouldn’t terrify her, for the Harcourte family was powerful. One day, they would be a force to reckon with, even if it was the final thing she accomplished in life.

  They would be the phoenix reborn from the ash. It was apropos, since that’s how her father went out. There would be rebirth from the fire.

  There was no choice.

  Jolie made the vow and would take it to her grave.

  “Very well, Jolie. We’ve prepared for your arrival,” stated Goethe, almost licking his lips in anticipation of his time to be spent with the young vampyre. He was going to enjoy being her master, and he meant that in every sense of the word…

  Jolie’s brother took her hand, placing himself protectively between Goethe and his sister.

  When he reaching for her mind, Jolie opened for him.

  ‘I fear that this shall be bad.’

  “Oui, I believe you’re correct,” she said, shuddering, glad to be sheltered behind her brother’s body.

  ‘I’ll protect you Jolie, I swear it!’

  ‘I know you will, Alexzandre.’

  Jolie flinched as Goethe’s hand touched her shoulder. That simple act violently turned her stomach. It had her skin crawling. Jolie supposed it was her survival instinct warning her that she should run, and fast.

  It was a sure sign that what was coming would be ugly.

  Alexzandre had been dead wrong.

  This wasn’t going to be bad.

  This was going to be hell…

  * * * H a r c o u r t e * * *

  100 Years Later

  Lifting her head, Jolie defiantly glared at Goethe as he struck her again. The bones in her ribs took the full impact, snapping like dried sticks beneath feet in the woods. Yet, she didn’t scream or cry out in pain.

  Over her dead body would she give him the satisfaction.

  He could rot in hell.

  Many years ago she’d learned that lesson, and well. To cry out only gave Goethe more fuel to add to the fire of cruelty. All that he longed for was to hear her fear--it excited him. After one hundred years of torture, abuse, and rape at his hands, she knew what to do.

  Show him nothing.

  She would most definitely not let him win, even if it cost her blood, pain, and ultimately her life. As far as she was concerned, Goethe could kiss her ass.

  “Scream for me, Jolie,” he whispered into her ear, breaking her concentration as he licked along her lobe to her throat, trying to bait her. “Give me your pain, and I’ll let you rest for a little while.”

  The promises meant nothing.

  That was one more lesson she’d learned, falling for them way too many times. He was nothing more than a sadistic liar who couldn’t be trusted.

  “No. You can go to hell,” she hissed through the pain and clenched fangs, her own blood tasting like old copper across her tongue. The taste sickened her.

  Jolie could take the pain and the humiliation of being chained to a wall and beat. She was biding her time.

  In one hundred years, nothing had changed but the style of clothing he wore, or lack of decency she was permitted.

  The torture was always the same, and that was his mistake. The daily routine had desensitized her to the methods of torture. If anything, she just had to get through it and focus on her final goal.

  Then the misery would end.

  One day, Goethe’s blood would be pooling at her feet. Jolie Harcourte had sworn it with her own spilled blood.

  “I want you to scream for me. Then I’ll take you over and over again.” He ran his hands over intimate parts of her body purposely to humiliate, hurt, and ultimately break her spirit.

  “No.” More defiance built behind her will to survive.

  All she had to do was stay focused.

  “If you’d just give in to me, this would be far more pleasant for you. Who knows? You might even come to enjoy your time with me,” he whispered, trying desperately to seduce her and punch through Jolie’s seemingly impenetrable defiance.

  Jolie wanted to laugh at his pathetic attempt.

  How many times had he said that in one hundred years?

  It had to be almost once or twice a day, and yet Jolie knew that she couldn’t believe it. In her heart, she knew that she would never look forward to his touch.

  It was vile.

  Disgusting.

  Accursed.

  Goethe liked this little game when he was bored. He was sick like that. The only thing that kept her sane was the overwhelming need to kill him, so that she could feed on his tainted blood.

  The visual of her driving something through his heart warmed her body, giving her a purpose and a final goal. It might not be today, but soon, she’d stake him in his sleep.

  In her mind, she pictured him begging for his life, and her showing absolutely no mercy.

  Jolie flinched as he struck her again, pulling her from her daydream. He hated when she went to that happy place, because he would get no satisfaction. With another strike, and his gleeful chortle, Jolie felt her bones re-knit themselves together.

  Damn him!

  Damn him to the hottest pit of hell--if it existed.

  “More, Jolie?” he asked, enjoying the game.

  She would take all he had. Jolie had to. Her bones would heal, and the bruises would take a day or so to disappear. She was stronger than this.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  The next strike stole her breath.

  “Don’t worry… you’ll feel better soon.”

  She knew he was right. Her body would heal, all in time for his next brutal session. Even though she was hurting beyond words, Jolie continued to stare straight ahead and take his punishment.

  Oh, what she wouldn’t give for a bubble filled tub, and some luxury instead of the ice cold bucket of water he allowed her. One day, when she was free from this nightmarish hell, she promised herself she’d reward herself daily when returning from death. A tub laden with the sweetest scented bubbles would be her reward, and she would feel no guilt at the decadence.

  It gave her something to look forward to.

  He struck again, tearing her from her distraction and fantasy. Jolie was just thankful that he had sold her brother years before. It was his big mistake. Now, she didn’t have to obey him. There was no fear that Goethe would hurt Alexzandre in her place. Just the idea of the abuse toward her beloved brother, sickened and fueled her desire to survive and continue.

  He might damage her body, but her mind was fast and calculating the exact moment she could make her move. In time, she’d be the instrument in his demise.

  Goethe was getting frustrated as she wasn’t responding to his actions, yet again.

  Jolie could not only see it in his eyes, but feel it in the air as it rippled around them.

  She was ruining his fun.

  Jolie celebrated silently at the idea of destroying his moment. After all, he had desecrated her. Making him sulk was just another simple pleasure that she could tuck away for her own happiness. Somewhere deep inside, there was the secret hope that he would ti
re of the games and end it all.

  Then she would have peace and a way out from under his control.

  Yes, she would welcome death.

  Willingly.

  Jolie was snapped back to reality again as he pulled on the chains to drag her to the bed. Now that he was obviously done with the beating portion of tonight’s party, he was moving on to the rape.

  It was the most hideous part, but at least it took the least amount of time. Over the many years, she had perfected the ability to go within herself to feel nothing.

  Escaping inside herself, she could hide.

  Jolie could find a few seconds of nothingness to forget the atrocities that he was committing. If she did ever get free, Jolie swore that no one would touch her again. How could she ever find anyone who didn't turn her stomach?

  That ship had sailed.

  No matter what, she wouldn’t sleep with anyone unless it was love.

  That made her want to laugh.

  Who would find her desirable?

  She was nothing.

  His laughter and stale bloody breath filled her senses as Jolie braced herself as Goethe tossed her haphazardly onto the bed. It was almost as if she were nothing more than a soulless, broken doll. Her bones crunched and crackled, brittle from the punishment they had been forced to endure.

  She ached.

  Hurt.

  Wanted to weep.

  While she was immortal, her body was healing very slowly. It was all due to being starved of blood and energy. Goethe only allowed her the bare minimum to stay alive.