Made of Scars Read online

  Blood Slave #3: Made of Scars

  By

  Eden Wildblood

  Licence Notes:

  This ebook is licenced for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please destroy it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  PLEASE NOTE

  This story depicts explicit sexual relationships between consenting adults, including elements of coercion and intimidation, which may be a trigger for some readers.

  This story is not suitable for those under the age of 18.

  Cover art by LM Cover Designs

  Cover photographs courtesy of www.depositphotos.com

  One

  Wynter hit the sand hard and she got a mouthful of the stuff as the vampire soldier tailing her took her down from behind. He might have been told to deliver her to Marcus in one piece, but he certainly wasn’t being gentle about it, and the soulless creature seemed to think nothing of then tossing her over his shoulder roughly and carrying her back up towards the cliff above. And of course, she was powerless to stop him. Her previous spike of adrenaline was already on the downward slope and she cried out as the pain from her broken collarbone struck now that she was upside down and the blood was rushing to her chest and head.

  She turned her head to look at the other soldier that had attacked them, and found him still fighting with the strange black creature who had seemingly come from nowhere to save her from being the vampire’s next victim. As she continued to hang there limply, Wynter wondered again who the black figure even was and why he’d intervened. She wanted to ask him. To ascertain why he’d stepped in, but of course she could do nothing of the sort. She could barely even move, and so she simply watched him from her upside down position.

  He was an odd protector of sorts, still made up of nothing more than black wisps. She could see them swirling around him, giving him the shape and form of a man, but evidently he was nothing more.

  Or maybe she was just imagining it. Maybe he was simply a man like any other? The bodyguard she’d been promised.

  Wynter wasn’t actually sure she could tell what was real at all anymore. The pain was really starting to set in now, plus there was this terrible ache in her chest. Like her heart was breaking. She wanted to scream and cry out Jakob’s name. To holler for him to come back to her, but knew there was no point. She’d done what she’d needed to do and helped him escape, so had to pretend as if she didn’t feel like she might die now that he’d done exactly that.

  He would return for her though, and when he did, Marcus wouldn’t know what’d hit him. She could hardly wait for him to have his comeuppance, regardless of knowing she’d have to concede defeat to him in the interim. To play the game of the doting manager, but all the while Wynter would belong to another. And soon, Marcus would discover her truth, but not until she was ready for it.

  There was nothing else for it, she knew she had to be strong of mind and will. To take everything her awful boss would throw at her and not let it sway her resolve. She was going to get away from him, no matter what.

  The vampire holding her repositioned her across him, gripping tighter, and Wynter cried out with the pain, coming back around from her thoughtful haze with a start. She got the feeling she had been moments from passing out, and wished she had. At least that way she could save herself the embarrassment of watching the world from her upside-down position over the soldier’s shoulder.

  She tried, but couldn't move a single muscle, and then looked down at her arms that were now dangling before her limply. She couldn't move or try and get away. All she could do was hang there, and as the tears began to flow, she noticed again how the bracelet on her wrist was still white all over. Could it really be possible the odd man had come from there—a simple piece of costume jewellery?

  She turned her head to watch him in continued to wonder. As soon as her captor began to storm away from the beach, she saw the creature seem to disappear into a puff of mist that dissolved into the air, and Wynter did a double take. Part of her was sure she must've imagined that too, but then she saw something else that made her cry out in shock. There were footsteps pressing down behind them in the sand. Imprints being made by no one at all. As if a phantom was hot on their trail.

  Wynter looked around for Jakob, but knew it couldn't be him. She knew it with all her aching heart that he was long gone. She had sacrificed her freedom to save him and trusted that he would come for her, but found herself already wondering when? And how? There was no way of knowing. All she could do was wait for him, and to say safe in the meantime.

  The huge vampire holding her somehow scaled the rocky cliff with his bare hands, and they neared the top of the impossible climb in no time at all. Wynter gulped when he scaled the ridge at the top and she saw the other four soldiers that had then regrouped and gathered at the top of the incline in wait. They were watching her with wide, red eyes and she cried out when they began to close in around her as the one carrying her reached them.

  Their cold hands reached forward and they touched her hair and back, and she heard hisses and groans as the biggest one continued to carry her forward.

  The handful of soldiers Marcus had employed seemed hungry for her and Wynter realised why when she looked down at her arms again. She was covered in scrapes that were oozing with blood. Not enough for her to be in any trouble, but certainly enough to get the immortal gang’s attention.

  That wasn’t the worst of her problems though. The vampire they were approaching was—Marcus. Wynter felt his presence before she saw him and she shuddered when the icy chill he was emitting reached her.

  He was furious. No doubt with her, but she hoped it was more at the situation as a whole. And he also ought to be mad with himself, or so she thought.

  She intended to tell him so, but felt herself starting to lose consciousness again thanks to the pain she was in. When the soldier bent forward and threw her onto the cold and hard ground, the air rushed out of Wynter’s lungs and she could do nothing but lie there gasping for breath, winded with the shock of it.

  She lay strewn there desperately trying to breathe, while the soldiers and all the other vampires closed in around her again. They were indeed hungry for her, like a pack of dogs that had been given a sent to track with the promise of a taste when they hunted down their prey, only to discover they weren’t allowed it after all. One’s jaw snapped open and closed, his teeth echoing with the sound, while others were licking their lips and sniffing the air around her, as if relishing in her scent.

  The five soldier vampires terrified her, but there was only one she focused on. The only one with any normal colour in his venomous eyes, and the one she knew she had to try and fool into believing she was still his perfect prize. That she could remain his and not be thrown to the wolves like he’d threatened her with no end of times before.

  “Gentler next time, if you please,” Marcus groaned to the huge alpha vampire, who grunted and then led the others away. Her master then leaned down and gathered Wynter up into his arms, where he checked her injuries with a frown. “Broken collarbone. How did this happen?” he then asked, and she tried to answer him, but instead she heard another voice do it for her. A deep and masculine sound that, while real, didn’t quite seem whole.

  “Ask your soldier
s…”

  She turned her head in the direction of the sound and saw nothing but emptiness, but then the void was suddenly filled with the wispy black form of a man. It was as if he had appeared out of absolutely nowhere, and the abrupt arrival made her jump. It was the same man who had come to her aid on the beach. He wasn’t only real, but exactly as she’d imagined.

  “What are you?” she whimpered, but got no answer. The conversation, it seemed, didn’t include her.

  “She was in the behemoth’s way so he apparently thought nothing of laying a punch meant for Jakob on her. The smaller one then tried to bite her so I was forced to intervene. You have to take control, Marcus. They need to know she’s not fair game,” he added and she could see his black eyes dart to her and then back to the vampire still clutching her tightly. The dark man was brave to chastise him, and Wynter smiled to herself, but was sure to hide it from Marcus.

  Her strange protector then raised his hand and touched her with it, and Wynter saw a band around what would’ve been his wrist should he be whole. It was made up of black beads exactly like the one she had on her own bracelet, and yet one of them was white. She could just about see it in the sunshine and frowned. The beads matched the ones on hers, but were the opposite way around. Was that really how he’d known to come to her aid just at the right time? Was it the simple bracelets that connected them after all? It had to be, she was sure.

  “Well, your service is commendable, Brodie. Thank you,” Marcus replied in what appeared to be a genuine tone, and she was surprised to find him so ready to accept his advice. “You may go home,” he then added, and as quickly as he had appeared, the man was gone again.

  Wynter let out a garbled cry as she saw the black bead return to her bracelet the moment he was gone. At least that meant she was right about it somehow magically connecting her and whatever the hell this Brodie was.

  In fact, what was he? She tried to ask again, but knew she was fading fast.

  Marcus shushed her and held her tighter to him, and Wynter was sure she heard him thank whatever God he might believe in for bringing her back to him.

  She wanted to pull away. To fight him off her, but everything hurt too damn much. Every part of her body was weary. There was no strength in any muscle left. No fight left in her at all.

  Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and the darkness began pulling her under, and this time, Wynter gladly let it take her.

  When she awoke, it was with a pounding head and a great deal of heaviness behind her eyes. She tried to move, and started to panic when she couldn’t so much as sit up, thinking she’d been tied down. But then Wynter realised that she was immobile only thanks to having been strapped up on her right side. Her arm was bent and then pulled up towards her neck, protecting the broken collarbone there and ensuring no further harm could be done while it healed.

  Someone had worked on her while she was out cold, and they had secured her arm so that the damage could be rectified. Whoever it was had taken a great deal of care to make her comfortable, and she could tell they'd even bathed and dressed her in the process. Perhaps Marcus, if he were feeling compassionate enough to do so? The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She didn’t want him touching her, not so intimately as that, but knew she couldn't show it.

  Pushing the thought away, Wynter tried to get her bearings. To listen to the sounds around her and focus on what she could hear, feel and smell, even if she was unable to see. She was propped up against some pillows in the pitch black room, and instinctually knew without needing the light on that she was back in the bedroom Marcus had built for her at the club. They had to have travelled a long way, and yet Wynter couldn't remember a moment of it, and neither could she tell whether it was night or day, or how many hours it’d been since they were at the beach.

  And then of course, her thoughts went to the beach and what had happened there. How long had it been since she and her darling Jakob had last seen each other? She felt bereft without him, and knew it was thanks to their merged souls. But Wynter knew she couldn't show how she felt. Not to anyone. No matter what, she had to remain true to herself and the promises she’d made to stay strong. She had to hide the truth, regardless of the consequences.

  There would be a way out of this mess—all she had to do was find it.

  But first, she needed to figure things out.

  She had no doubt the door would be locked like always and so didn’t even bother to climb out of bed to try it. She did, however, scoot sideways to where she had learned a lamp ought to be.

  Wynter found the switch and breathed a sigh of relief when it turned on. She thanked God for the small things. At least she wasn’t going to have to stay there in the darkness like she had on that first night Marcus had forced her to stay in his private prison cell. He’d taken everything away from her again and now she was back in his keep. That she’d have to deal with, but being stuck in there blind would’ve been even worse.

  When the sleep had cleared from her eyes and she had gotten over the shock of the sudden invasion of light, she moved back to her spot in the centre of the bed and took a look around. It seemed unchanged from when she’d left it, but at the same time there was something different she couldn't quite put her finger on. It was only when she shuffled down and turned onto her good side that she saw what it was. Marcus had built her an even bigger en-suite, complete with bath and shower in place of the tiny washroom she’d had before. He’d given her that one thing she’d been missing to create the ultimate self-contained space for him to keep her in.

  Oh great, she thought. Now he really could keep her locked in there day and night.

  Damn him. She truly hoped one of those curses he threw around without a care would someday come back to bite him. Perhaps one day he’d get his just desserts, but she decided not to let herself fret over what was to come. Or to obsess about where Jakob was now, and if he was okay. Her heart yearned for him and she knew it was not only because of their bonded souls, but because she really had wanted to run away with him.

  It had been a wonderful dream.

  One she had been so sure could come true.

  Double damn him.

  If Marcus hadn’t gained the upper hand yet again she would be with Jak now, when instead here she was. Locked away and so far from her soul mate it made her want to die. And of course, she was still waiting to find out what her captor actually had in store for her. She got the feeling he wasn’t going to be best pleased with how things had gone down, but she wasn’t going to let him beat her.

  Wynter decided she would keep fighting no matter what he said or did, and she would lie through her teeth if she had to, just as long as it made sure Marcus didn’t know the truth about her and Jak. He wouldn’t forgive her for merging with another and she knew it.

  She eventually dozed back off, still thinking of Jakob, and dreamed she was with him. That they’d gotten away and were on some remote sandy beach together. It felt so real, too. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her skin and smell the salty air. It was a lovely dream, and Wynter woke with a smile, which faded as soon as she saw who was standing vigil at the end of her bed.

  Marcus was scowling down at her, his arms folded across his chest and his rage palpable from where Wynter still lay a few feet away. She went cold as a shudder spread down her spine, her skin puckering with goose pimples at the sight of the dastardly vampire standing over her so creepily.

  He didn’t say a word, as if he was waiting for her to beg him for mercy or break down in tears, but Wynter wasn’t playing this particular game. She was looking out for number one, just like she’d promised herself she would, and so pushed herself up into a sitting position and met Marcus’s icy stare.

  “Thank you,” she forced herself to say with a soft smile, “for saving me from Camilla.”

  Marcus’s eyes flashed and Wynter watched him soften just a touch. So, he hadn’t expected that. Good.

  She’d been right to appeal to his gentler side rather than
instigate an argument. And to coax it out using her compliance and timid nature as bait. She might be faking it, but that didn’t mean she wanted to fight. Not quite yet. Being a good girl was far easier, so she would continue to play along. At least until Jakob came for her.

  “You tried to run from me,” he growled, but Wynter shook her head. She tried for the biggest doe eyes she could manage and peered up at him in surprise.

  “I was kept prisoner at that mansion for days, Marcus. When we left it was only because Camilla had allowed it. I needed food so we had to go, plus she wanted me as far away from you as possible,” she replied, and ensured her voice had a strong pleading edge to it. As if she was worried about upsetting him.

  “Did Jakob hurt you?” he asked, and she shook her head again. At least he’d moved on from the accusations.

  “No, but I knew he would have if she gave the order.”

  “But you still fucked him,” Marcus bit back, and while it was a shock to discover how he’d known they’d been together, Wynter still didn’t let him rile her. She could tell him some truths, and this one was quite a juicy little titbit.

  “Yes,” she confirmed meekly, “but you always said I was free to be with whomever I wanted? He told me himself he’s a soulless killer and so it wouldn’t matter.”

  “Indeed,” he replied with a sneer. “And I have it on good authority he’s been with many women over the years. Probably thousands.”

  Wynter knew what he was doing. He was trying to see if she got jealous, but she knew better than that. Along with his soul, she’d accepted Jakob for everything he was and knew that whatever his past, she and him were united now and that he would never take another lover. She wouldn’t either if she could help it, but knew Marcus still had her in his sights so would undoubtedly try and touch her like he had before.

  But she didn’t want him to, and in fact the idea made her feel nauseous. She just hoped she might be able to fend him off the next time his hands roved over her body or he had her in turmoil thanks to his bite. She would simply blame it on her injuries and hope for the best.