Dangerous Misery (The Harcourte Vampyre Society Book 3) Page 2

  He was starving her.

  Now, she was weak, a victim who could never escape his captivity.

  It was exactly what he wanted.

  With hate in her eyes, Jolie watched him strip. The bile rose up into her throat as he peeled the houppenlande from his stocky, disgusting body.

  His flesh was pale and scattered with little patches of hair. Just the sight of him made Jolie’s stomach roll with the urge to vomit. Being forced to stare at him, naked, made the hate build up, bubbling through her veins until it threatened to explode from her body. One day, she would enjoy feeding him piece, by bloody piece, to a pack of wild mongrels.

  It was her greatest dream.

  Jolie could hear his screams now…

  As the bed shifted under his weight, Jolie found the crack in the wall which had become her focal point for the last one hundred years. When he, or his guardians, abused her, it was where she would go. It was the only safe place where she could find an iota of peace until it was over. Jolie imagined herself escaping through that tiny fissure, free from all the pain around her.

  Through that crack, she was free to the world.

  She was desperate to not feel. The cold stone was the only protection she had left from the hideous monster above her.

  “Look at me!” he demanded.

  It wasn’t going to happen.

  There would be no satisfaction for him.

  No eye contact.

  There would also be no acknowledgement as he used her body, taking what wasn’t his.

  When his nails sunk deep into her thighs, she held back the scream that struggled to escape. She would hold strong the entire time. Unfortunately, as he pummeled his erection into her already battered body, the need to whimper won out. A tiny sound escaped her torn, swollen, bloodied lips, alerting him to her discomfort.

  “Ah, finally, you’ll admit that I’m hurting you, my little toy,” he hissed in sick victory over the broken vampyre beneath him.

  Jolie continued her defiant silence. The only tell-tale sign of her breaking was the single tear sliding down her cheek.

  Vengeance would be hers.

  It was her right, and the time was coming…

  As suddenly as it began, it ended with the pictures fading as the darkness slipped away from her body. Jolie could feel herself breaking through death’s hold, finding herself not with Goethe, but safely tucked between the men she loved most in the world.

  She was safe.

  She wasn’t back in hell with that monster.

  Jacques and Flynn were there.

  As she glanced around, the light missing from the windows told the tale. It was almost dusk, and she was waking from death to find her mates.

  Jolie was really confused.

  What the hell had just happened?

  Never before had she been cursed with what she’d just lived through.

  Was she now dreaming?

  When had that become a possibility?

  Then again, that wasn’t a dream. What she’d just relived was a nightmare. Death had held her trapped in her past memories until it ran its course.

  Shit!

  This had to be yet another little present from their mistress.

  Could there be a more useless gift?

  Jolie really wished it could be returned. After all, she’d already lived through hell. There was no reason to visit it nightly when she was supposed to sleep.

  The sick feeling rose up, filling her stomach with an ache. All she knew was that she needed to escape. Sliding away from her mates, Jolie headed to the bathroom to look in the mirror, unsure what she would find.

  Would it be a body abused in the dream or her unmarred flesh?

  God!

  Could Death be more cruel?

  Would she be forced to tell Jacques and Flynn what she’d lived through? One bruise on her body, and the jig was up.

  Staring into the large mirror, Jolie was grateful that everything looked normal. From the outside, she looked as serene and calm as ever. Her long black hair hung silkily down her back, and her violet eyes shone in the darkness.

  There was relief.

  She wasn’t trapped in the hell that she had already lived through. For now, she was safe with her mates as primus of her own society.

  A tear slid down her cheek in relief that it had all just been a nightmare. Had Jolie known coming home was going to be this hard, she wouldn’t have done it. Granted, she wanted to make memories with Flynn, and relive ones with Jacques, but they wouldn’t want to be privy to what she lived through.

  If they saw her past, it would damage their future.

  It reminded her of the next issue.

  Oh shit!

  Jacques.

  Flynn.

  How was she going to be able to protect her dirty little secret from the men she loved?

  Until now, she’d sworn that she’d buried the memories so deep that no one would find them. That was until Death had forced her hand. All the scary things in her past were being dredged up, haunting her. If they chased her, they also chased the men she adored and loved.

  ‘Damn you, Death!’ she called into the darkness of her mind.

  Jolie instinctively felt both her mates coming awake, and she couldn’t help but be flooded with fear and panic. Before they found her cowering in the bathroom, she needed to compose herself. Hopefully, she could re-hide this nightmare back into a little pocket of her mind. There she would keep the past horrors hidden from her mates.

  If they suspected anything, she would be forced to relive it over and over again.

  There was no question that they would love her, but then again, that wasn’t the issue. Jolie knew that once they discovered her dirty little secret, how they treated her would change.

  And she wasn’t ready to be pitied as a victim.

  She was a survivor who had done everything to make it out of hell alive...

  Now she needed to survive living.

  CHAPTER One

  Saturday Evening

  She wandered through the Marche Aux Puces, carrying a few treasures that she’d decided to purchase. They were little things that normally would have tickled her fancy. She was desperately trying to get lost in the pretty presents, hoping that they would help her forget.

  Yet, it wasn’t working.

  Yes, she was blatantly attempting to cheer herself up, only it wasn’t having the desired effect.

  Great.

  So much for retail therapy.

  Along with the men in her life, they had left their rental home to get out into the Paris night. Beside her, Chloe walked, continually touching her arm as a means of security. Not for Jolie, but for herself. Their donor feared her old master and mistress were waiting behind every corner, ready to jump out, grab her, and take her away from their family.

  Jolie kept reassuring the woman in her mind. It wasn’t like anyone, after all these years, could spot her in a crowd. Chloe had altered her appearance hundreds of years ago to blend in. They both knew that it wouldn’t be her looks that gave her away, but her energy.

  It was distinctive.

  It was like a fingerprint.

  The only thing they had going for them was that Chloe would recognize their energy too. She could warn them.

  Getting the donor to join them was a true feat in itself. It was like pulling teeth. Chloe really didn't want to leave the sanctuary of the house. The only reason she gave in was because she realized that everyone else was going.

  Being alone scared her more than being out in the open.

  So, it was decided. She was going to head into the city with them, taking her chances with the unknown.

  That was probably why she was holding on to Jolie like she was the only vestige of safety remaining in her world.

  “Let’s do some shopping, Chloe,” she offered, trying to get the demon’s vise-like grip to lighten up. At this rate, she was going to leave a bruise.

  Jolie stopped to look at a pretty lavender scarf made of sil
k. Running it through her fingers, it was something that normally would have piqued her interest. It was smooth and absolutely gorgeous, and still it brought her no joy whatsoever. She let it drop to the vender’s table before absently walking to the men who were laden with their bags.

  “Mon amour, would you like for me to take those packages?” inquired Jacques, who was patiently playing pack mule for four women. In his opinion, this should earn him sainthood, or at least a kiss from his favorite vampyre.

  “Pardon?” she asked, as his voice brought her back into reality.

  “Your packages. Would you like me to take and carry them for you?” He was concerned. Jolie was a creature of habit. It was rare that she’d leave their bed first, instead of remaining to enjoy waking with them both.

  Something was wrong.

  This morning, he found himself facing a sleeping Flynn and not the woman who owned his heart. That wasn’t like her. Plus, Jacques could feel the tension emanating from her body. She was upset about something.

  In over six centuries, he learned to gauge her moods.

  This was a troublesome one.

  That morning, when asked what was bothering her, she denied it, lying to him. To his knowledge, that was the first time she’d dared to do that, and to his face. Jacques was trying to be patient, but the lies hurt him the most. They’d built their relationship from the ground up, and to his knowledge, neither had ever hid behind half-truths.

  “Oh, no, thank you, Jacques.”

  “Very well,” he replied, his eyes never leaving her face.

  Jolie wanted to escape. This was what she feared. Already, she could feel the tendrils creeping into her mind, seeking the truth. Jacques wasn’t buying it. Soon, both men would be on her trail, trying to figure out what was wrong.

  Shit!

  She needed some more space between them, but how?

  “Are you finished shopping?” asked Flynn, taking in the blasé look on her face. From that alone, he knew something was definitely wrong.

  His Jolie loved to shop.

  Normally, her violet eyes would be shining, and she would be bouncing around as she conquered the many shops in Paris. Today, she was carrying an enormous weight on her shoulders, and it was obviously crushing her.

  “Yes, I think so.”

  Yeah, Flynn was perplexed. There was something beyond wrong going on. In fact, the mere sight of the misery showing behind her eyes was scaring him senseless.

  This wasn’t Jolie at all. Immediately, his mind went to the previous night. She’d been fine as the three of them drank wine and made wild, crazy love until early morning. Flynn couldn’t help but keep playing the night over and over in his mind, trying to see what could have soured her mood and tarnished their day.

  Jacques noticed that Mathew, overburdened with Clariel and Trina’s packages, headed toward the other two women. He wasn’t complaining about the burden of being their pack mule, but that was simply Mathew’s nature.

  As of late, he had become calmer and was finally starting to come around to accept them as his family. He no longer flinched when Jolie touched him, and he appeared to be fine when around the two males.

  Well, on most days.

  When Mathew was out of ear shot, Jacques was compelled to push Jolie for an answer.

  “Bébé, I implore you. Please! What’s wrong?”

  Jolie looked up at her mates, emotion void from her lavender gaze. “I’m sorry, but what are you talking about, my loves? I assure you that I’m fine.”

  Her latest denial was the end of the line. Flynn dropped the handled bags that were in his hands. “Bullshit, baby! Tell us what’s wrong!”

  Jolie was shocked that her Flynn would take that tone with her. Since both men were opposites, she expected the push from Jacques, not from her detective. After all, he was normally tender and very gentle with Jolie. It wasn’t lost on her that neither man looked happy with her denial.

  It only added to her discomfort and pain.

  How could she explain to them that she was only trying to protect them out of love?

  “Nothing, really.” Jolie turned to walk away from the men, hoping they would just let it go. When both of her mates roughly grabbed her arms, the previous night’s dream rushed back. It whipped through her, causing her stomach to roll with sickness. Jolie’s head whipped around, her eyes meeting theirs as a spark of anger sizzled down her body and into their hands. Death moved toward the surface to nip at the men’s touch, a warning of her mood and the potential anger.

  “Kindly remove your hands from my body. I don’t wish to be touched right now by either of you!” she ordered, unable to believe the words were coming from her mouth.

  That was furthest from the truth.

  What Jolie wanted was to be held.

  Cuddled.

  Caressed.

  She wanted to be protected by them in the worst way.

  Shock reverberated through both men as her words ripped at their hearts. Reality struck--she didn't want their hands on her body.

  At first, it was anger that surfaced, and then fear found its way to the forefront. It befuddled them. What had they done to make Jolie hurt them this way?

  The look they shared was that of confusion and devastation from her words.

  This was so unlike her.

  Vampyres tended to be touchy-feely creatures, who thought nothing of physical contact, but the slap they both received had them reeling in shock.

  If they needed more proof, here it was. Something was most definitely wrong with their mate. Now she was with their vampyres, trying to escape them.

  It infuriated the men.

  When they watched Mathew, the look of concern crisscrossing his face, it irritated them to no end. He was offering so much tenderness to Jolie, and before they knew it, she was connecting her arm through his, joining their bodies.

  It pissed them off.

  Both mates felt the vicious slap of rage and anger.

  Jacques couldn’t take his eyes off them as resentment formed into little balls, rolling around viciously in his belly.

  “He’s touching my mate,” he hissed, low enough that Flynn barely picked it up.

  For some reason, they were being vilified for her bad mood as she rewarded another vampyre with the privilege of comforting her.

  The predator rose to the surface.

  A growl began low in Jacques’s chest, and only when Flynn placed a hand on his arm, sending him peace and calm, was he able to stop picturing what he longed to do to Mathew. It was the first time he’d ever wished him harm.

  “This needs to wait until we’re home,” whispered Flynn. “Here isn’t the time or place. We can’t create a scene. We’re out in the open.”

  Jacques forced the fangs back into hiding. “Yes, my friend, you’re correct. Thank you.” Somehow, he was able to swallow his anger--at least for the moment. “We’ll deal with this at home, whether she likes it or not.”

  It was rare for the men to lay down the law.

  Unfortunately for her, it needed to be done.

  Jolie could feel them both.

  Neither man was happy.

  Guilt washed over her at how she had just vented her anger and frustration on her very innocent mates. They’d done nothing to incur her wrath, but be near her on a day when she was in a bitch of a mood. What a vile mess this had all become, and oh, how she longed for a way to escape it to find some inner peace.

  As she spotted a bench by the fountain, she sent Mathew off to continue shopping with the women. For now, Jolie would take a break from it all as she tried to regroup.

  Deep in her heart, she knew that getting Mathew as far from her would be a good thing. It would save him from the anger that she was sure her mates were feeling.

  All she needed were a few moments alone until she could compose herself. Then, she would face them again, but this time with an apology.

  Closing her eyes as she breathed in the brisk air, Jolie felt the somewhat familiar vampyre
energy near her. Immediately, she prepared to fight for her life.

  Her whole body went on alert--just in case.

  “Jolie, is that you?” came the soft voice that tickled her memory, drawing her back through time.

  Opening her eyes, a flood of memories overwhelmed her. This time, they were of joy and happiness. It only took a second for her brain to process the figure before her. It was the very familiar green eyes that gave her away.

  They were her mate’s eyes, and so was the silky blackness that framed the familiar face.

  “Jasmine?”

  “Oui, is that you, Jolie?”

  She jumped up from the bench and flew at the screeching woman. Together, they were locked in an embrace as they made a scene.

  “My God! Jasmine, it’s been centuries since I’ve seen you!”

  “Oui! I’ve missed you so much, Jolie! I haven’t heard from you since you left Paris back when things were getting bad.”

  “Oh, Jasmine! I can’t tell you how nice it is to see a friend right now!”

  The emotion was there, simmering beneath the surface.

  “Jolie, what’s wrong? Why are you sitting here alone and crying? This is Paris--the city of love and possibilities!”

  Jolie smiled through her tears. “It’s nothing, my friend. I’m just dealing with coming home after all these years, and it isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. It seems there are so many demons I left behind.”

  Jasmine smiled. “I understand. Sometimes I want to leave too.” She kissed Jolie on the cheek. “Tell me, is my brother well?” she asked hopefully. “I haven’t heard from him for almost two hundred years. Is he still your guardian or have you two parted ways?”

  “Yes, Jacques is doing really well. Right now, he’s across the square. Do you want to see him?”

  Jolie avoided the final part of Jasmine’s question, knowing that Jacques’s family wasn’t happy when he announced that he was leaving his society to be her guardian.

  In fact, unhappy was an understatement.

  When he left, there were bitter, angry words that were full of resentment and hate. His mother and father were both disappointed in his choices. The Degaul patriarch made his hostility clear, telling his son to never return. There was so much disappointment in their child. When he left with her, they believed that he was selling himself short.