Odette's 1st Chapter

I have been a busy little bee the past week and a half and have finally made up the covers of Rebel Swan and book 4 in the Galoria Hunter Series, SIGN OF THE NEPHILIM. I've also finished SotN and started on Book 5.

I'm still neck-deep in Odette and Caden's story and it's been a crazy ride so far. I decided it's about time I come on by - change up the layout of the blog - and post Odette's first chapter. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing for her.




WARNING: MATURE CONTENT

Go beyond the jump at your own risk.

“You’re a dick,” I said without much emotion.

“That’s not very nice, O.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Everyone calls you O.”

“Not everyone and especially not you.”

“Come on, sweets, I’ve called you worse.”

I glared down at Hugh before grabbing his throat. I squeezed, feeling the pulse jump underneath my fingertips. My fangs extended just before I drove them into his jugular. It was taboo to drink from the “main vein” these days, but I was above all of those petty laws. I’d never cared about Hugh and if I drained him dry the world would be better for it anyway.

The human writhed underneath me as I drank from him and as I rode him to the point where he called out his usual orgasmic expletives. I’d been having sex with Hugh Owens for years and never once had I ever reached a point of ecstasy. Two years ago, I stopped trying to hide the fact that I wasn’t using him for anything but blood. He didn’t seem to care as long as I was naked and I didn’t care what he did as long as he didn’t ask me how I was feeling. I hadn’t been okay since the day I was born, but no one needed to know that. Especially not my blood whore.

“Are you doing anything later?” he asked as I started getting my clothes on.

“Who cares?”

“Andrew wants to know if you’re available.”

“Tell your brother he should get reacquainted with his hand.”

“You’ve spoiled us, baby,” he said, grabbing me by the waist. “You’ve given him a taste of this sexy vampire ass and he can’t get enough now. He wants you like I want you.”

“You two can just fantasize about me while you fuck each other.”

“Don’t be like that, O.” I grabbed his throat again and squeezed. “Ready for more already? You’ll have to do some teasing, but I’m sure you can figure out how to get me going again.”

“If you call me that one more time, asshole, I will rip you apart.” I watched the veins in his brown eyes rupture. “I have no need for you. I’m running out of patience for you and I will kill you if you keep pushing my buttons.”

I released him and continued getting my stuff together. I was just throwing my jacket on when he grabbed me from behind and tangled his fingers into my hair. He pulled my head back so I was looking at our reflection in his full-length mirror. He pushed me up against it and ground himself into my back.

“I’ll push your buttons, baby. I’ll push all your buttons, you sexy bitch. I’ll make sure your mother proud of you.”

I watched my blue eyes liquefy into pools of electric aquamarine and my fangs fully extend before spinning around and driving my fangs into his jugular. He fought against me, but I easily held his arms down at his side as I drained him dry. When his heart started to sputter, I let his body drop to the floor. He wasn’t dead but if I’d had less self-control he would have been in a nanosecond.

Odette Marvelle de Beaufort. That was the name I was given when I was born. My twin brother was cursed with an even worse name, Asher Jean de Beaufort, an homage to the sperm donor who helped create us. Jean-Claude de Beaufort disappeared the day our mother killed herself, eleven years ago, and no one was really sure what happened to him or if he was even alive.

Our mother was Sarah Barker. Saying that would usually be a cue to go into some spiel about how many titles she had and what she meant to the supe community, but to us she was just Mama. Even though my brother and I were only seven years old when she died, she was already a permanent fixture in our little minds. There weren’t many things I could do where her face didn’t show up. It was usually just a split second, but seeing her meant I should absolutely do whatever I was thinking about or I should grab whatever was closest, make like a tree, and haul ass out of there.

I got back to the Crystal Lake house as the sun started to rise. The sound of some weird indie experimental techno band coming from upstairs let me know that Henna was home. My baby sister had gotten into something worse than drugs or drink – the arts. She stopped going to the Academy when she was fourteen to go after her dream of being a music producer. A wonderful pianist, she hated performing in front of people, but she loved music so that was what she was going to do. Stage fright was odd in our family and considering her parents were Sarah Barker and the super creepy Sampsa Auvo, Henna was a rare creature indeed.

There was a second body in the house. Josaphine, daughter of Catahecassa Aleeyhi and Jody Flood, was the first vampire unicorn hybrid ever. She was high-spirited and not conscientious at all of the world around her. Little Josie Aleeyhi was a bad influence on my baby sister, but she was also her best friend and the only person outside of the family that Henna talked to. I couldn’t fault her for wanting to spend as little time as possible with the family. If crazy-ass Josie was the one she chose to hang out with then it was tolerable, I guess.

“Whatever,” I mumbled to myself, taking the random clip off the kitchen counter and pinning my hair back. I grabbed the blender from the cabinet above the stove and started making margaritas. Well, I was going to make margaritas, but by the time Amelia walked in, I was just drinking it out of the mixer.

Amelia Decker was a saint of a woman. Her daughter was my best friend, but somehow Amelia had become like a mom to all of us. She just moved into the house with us when she and her husband lost their house. Trevor was a good guy, but he’d jumped head-first into his work at the law offices of Brindle & Windham after their downfall. He just couldn’t take it, the disappointment, the shame. They really lost touch when their son Jason died in a car accident a little over six months after they lost the house.

“Odette, sweetie, what are you doing?” I just looked at her over the rim of the giant cup. “It’s six o’clock in the morning and you’re drinking already?”

“Haven’t stopped actually.”

“What happened? Let’s talk it out.”

“You know,” I said, putting the now-empty container in the sink. “I don’t really want to talk. About anything. At all. I’m just gonna go.”

“Where?”

“Wherever the hell I want.”

“Is this about your mother?”

I glared at her. “Not everything is about that woman.”

“You’re upset about something, tell me,” she murmured in the sweetest motherly voice you could ever imagine. It was hard not to unload on her. I wanted someone to drop all of my problems on. It couldn’t be Amelia though. That poor woman had been through enough. “You should give Ally a call. She’s been worried about you.”

“She’s always worried. She’s a very worried person.”

“She’ll be at the Gnat tonight with the whole group if you want to get out of the house for a while.”

“Thanks, Mrs. D, but I think I’ll pass on the little reunion.”

“Well, maybe you should give her a call sometime. You guys used to hang out all the–”

“I know, Mrs. D. People just grow apart, you know. It happens. Goodbye,” I said, waving as I walked out of the room.

She meant well, I guess. Her daughter, unlike Ms. Josie, was a wonderful influence. She’d graduated from high school a year earlier than the rest of us did and instead of joining her brother in the pre-med field, she decided she wanted to become an actress. I guess if your life was that squeaky clean and brightly lit with no skeletons in any of the closets, you’d want to obviously pretend to be someone else.

I couldn’t pretend to be anything but what I was born as. Fucked up.