Page 1 of Fated In Blood (Nocturne Vampire Clan #1)

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EVANGELINE SILVERWOOD

W hat the hell was I doing?

Standing in the center of an underground, illegal fight ring, high on adrenaline, my heart hammering in my chest?

On the outside, I was the picture of calm, but inside, I was a shit show, my knees weak, palms clammy. Sweat pooled in the hollow of my back beneath my plain black t-shirt, soaking the waistband of my jeans as I wished for the hundredth time I had a choice.

The excitement buzzing around me turned to silence when my opponent stepped into the ring.

I used the term ring loosely, since we were crammed into the ancient stone basement of the sleaziest dive bar in Thorndale, cigarette smoke clogging the air, tinged with the pungent aroma of nervous sweat and recently legalized marijuana.

The cracked linoleum floor was too stained to notice the still-wet blood splatter from the previous contest and the single flight of steps leading out was a fire marshal’s worst nightmare. Pipes and ductwork slithered between the hand-hewn rafters like snakes, and limestone block walls were covered with peeling beer posters decorated with tinsel, a pathetic attempt at holiday spirit.

“Put on a good show tonight, Evie, and I’ll throw in an extra fifty bucks.” Vincent Valentine was even sleazier than his namesake bar, beady eyes shining as he slithered up to me in handmade red lizard loafers, which did nothing to distract from the matching silk shirt open to his navel. My boss was flying high because he’d finally blackmailed me into joining his underground fight club.

In truth, I’d gotten desperate enough to give into his demands.

“Sure, I’ll do my best.”

Yeah, I’d do my best to cut this travesty short.

My opponent preened to the ooh s and aah s as he stripped his pastel polo off an impressively sculpted chest and scowled down at my scrawny, buck-thirty frame like this was some kind of joke. I smiled back, glad I’d worn my favorite boots tonight.

This was the same bland smile I pasted on my face every fucking night I showed up here in my sinfully short skirt for the past three months, tying on my black apron and slipping my blistered feet into towering black heels.

That’s what the college boys like, Evie , Vince pointed out, flashing his trademark slimy smile the day he’d hired me. The bastard patted my ass exactly one time.

I’d knocked him on his in return, which was the whole fucking reason I was standing here right now.

Because Vince had discovered I could handle myself.

Tonight, I wasn’t serving overpriced drinks to bloodthirsty spectators.

I was the spectacle.

If I managed not to get myself killed, I’d leave the bar with information.

Information I needed desperately enough to take this insane risk and step into the ring with a dude twice my size, with fists as big as dinner plates.

But if Vince kept his word, every bruise would be worthwhile. That end goal fueled my rage and offered me something to fight for, not just against.

Chuck? No, Brad…no, Brock—grinned, his gleaming veneers blindingly white.

Fuck . I’d heard this dude’s name before, but like every other frat boy who crept in and out of this club on the weekends, he’d hit on me a few times and, from his sulky pout, still held a grudge I’d turned him down flat.

Payback , that dark glare promised, and my back stiffened when he leaned close enough for me to smell the whiskey coating his breath. “I’m going to fuck you up, bitch. Teach you the consequences of telling me no.”

My eyes narrowed. I’d agreed to this fight as a business proposition, but for this guy, our match was personal. Which made him dangerous and unpredictable.

Best I finish this quick.

Vince stepped between us, rubbing his hands together like two slabs of meat. “You know the rules at Valentine’s.” His leering grin revealed double gold incisors. “There are none.” Literally the same spiel I’d heard a hundred times and still, he cackled like a madman.

“Do me proud, Evie.” But he caught my arm, dropping his voice as I stepped forward. “Remember. Win and you get your answers, lose and I own you for a year. Chad’s out for blood. I hear the boy has a score to settle. Put his name in the hat the moment he heard you were fighting tonight.”

Of course, the douchebag’s name was Chad. And what a surprise he holds a grudge. Rejection was so hard to handle for this walking red flag. Maybe it was time for him to learn that actions had consequences.

I kept my eyes on Chad and off the disturbing amount of chest hair poking through Vince’s unbuttoned polyester shirt. “I suppose it was pure luck you pulled his name first.”

“A grudge match sells drinks, Evie.” The sleazy bastard had the audacity to wink. “Now go make me some money, honey.”

Chad squared his sculpted shoulders. All bulky gym muscle, which was definitely to my advantage. And with that perfectly maintained face, I doubted he had much actual hand-to-hand experience. Just a pissed-off gym bro here to work out his sexual frustrations with his fists.

And with that scornful grin…yeah, Chad-the-douche-canoe figured this fight was already a done deal. Anticipation shivered through me.

I hadn’t been underestimated in a long time.

Still, Chaddy Light was huge, strong, and pissed off. But he didn’t have my training. And he was overconfident. Predictably, his face tightened the second before he came at me, those long arms scooping up nothing but air.

I spun to my right, staying well within the circle of the crowd, landing directly behind my opponent, his powerful back muscles bunching as his hands swept through the empty place I’d just been.

I only wished I could see his face as I raised my foot and crushed my boot heel down onto the center of his overextended calf.

His tibia shattered like kindling wood, and a newbie on the far side of the room retched, the hyped-up crowd quieting in confusion. Friday night cage fights at Valentine’s were drawn-out, bloody spectacles, meant to ramp up the thirsty crowd and sell over priced drinks.

This one was over before it started.

But I had places to be tonight.

Chad crashed to the floor in a sobbing heap, clutching his ruined leg.

Normally I would have taken pleasure in his tears and blotchy face, but tonight, I felt nothing but disgust. I stepped over him and leaned in until we were nose to nose. “Now that everyone sees you for what you are, here’s a tip, and one you’d better remember. No means no. Now stay the fuck down or I’ll break your other leg, too.”

When I straightened, Vince was a red-faced wall of outrage, finger stabbing me in the chest. “I told you to make me money,” he hissed. “Fucking hell, Evie, that didn’t even last a full minute. Now what the fuck am I supposed to do? You owe me another fight.”

“An opportunity presented itself.” I narrowed my eyes. “I’d think the money-grubbing mercenary in you would appreciate the efficiency.”

“You ruined my entire night.” His mouth worked over the word bitch , then he thought better of it. “Cost me thousands. And don’t even get me started on the bets I fixed.”

He could not be serious.

“So throw another two losers in the ring and let them pummel each other to dog meat until you get your pound of flesh. Not my problem and I’ll be at the bar having a shot.” I stepped over Chad again on my way toward the stairs, Vince dogging my heels, his hulking bodyguards not far behind.

“You were tonight’s show. You, the high-and-mighty waitress who thinks she’s so much better than everybody else. Do you know how many people came to watch you get pummeled to death?” Vincent gestured at the now-silent crowd. “All of them.”

What a fucking piece of shit . He probably wasn’t lying, given most of the spectators were glancing between Chad’s writhing form and little old me, everyone miserably clutching their betting slips.

Well, that’s what they got for wagering against me.

Nothing .

“Wow, I guess I should be flattered. Or start a fan club.” I started up the steps, half wondering if Vince was going to stroke out in front of everyone, and for one glorious second, I imagined crushing this slimeball like I’d pulverized Chad’s tibia.

But…Vincent had the answers I needed.

And I couldn’t risk jeopardizing my chance at getting them.

“Fine.” I stopped halfway up, fingernail tapping the handrail. “Give me what you promised and I’ll fight for you one more time. But only once.” His satisfied grin told me I was on a slippery slope and we both knew it. If Vince wanted, I would fight another ten times, because that’s how this shit hole college town worked.

Vincent Valentine owned everything in Thorndale.

Including, apparently, me.

But when Vince leaned in and whispered a name into my ear, that one name changed everything.