Wrath and Retribution Read online

  About This Book

  In this highly anticipated conclusion to Blood and Damnation, cursed vampire Marcus St. James must choose between wrath and retribution—or love.

  Following a lead from a seer, Marcus St. James left Victorian England and has landed in Havenwood Falls, still searching for Catriona, the girl who’d managed to break through his fortress and ensnare his heart. He’s been searching for her for over a year, since the night she was captured by gypsies and stolen away. But it seems he and his trusted assistant Knox have traveled halfway around the world only to arrive at a dead end.

  Cursed to exist as a blood-drinker, Marcus is no stranger to gossip and speculation, so when dead bodies start appearing in Havenwood Falls, he is immediately under suspicion. With two telltale vampire fang marks scarring each body, fear begins to circulate, bringing his own investigation into Catriona’s whereabouts to a grinding halt.

  But once the dust starts to settle, a new discovery threatens to shatter his world, forcing Marcus to make his most devastating choice yet. Will he forgo his thirst for retribution and abandon justice to keep the peace? Or will his wrath be his undoing and leave him forever cursed?

  Wrath and Retribution

  A Legends of Havenwood Falls Novella

  Belinda Boring

  Contents

  Legends of Havenwood Falls Books

  Also by Belinda Boring

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Legends of Havenwood Falls Books

  Lost in Time by Tish Thawer

  Dawn of the Witch Hunters by Morgan Wylie

  Redemption’s End by Eric R. Asher

  Trapped Within a Wish by Brynn Myers

  Blood and Damnation by Belinda Boring

  Fated Beginnings by E.J. Fechenda

  Emeline by Katie M. John

  Released From a Curse by Brynn Myers

  A Pack of Lies by Kallie Ross

  Kiss the Ashes by Desiree Lafawn

  Hidden Truths by Colleen Nye

  Wrath and Retribution by Belinda Boring (May 2019)

  Changing Fate by Char Webster (June 2019)

  Also try the signature New Adult/Adult series, Havenwood Falls, and the YA series, Havenwood Falls High

  Stay up to date at www.HavenwoodFalls.com

  Subscribe to our reader group and receive free stories and more!

  Also by Belinda Boring

  The Mystic Wolves Series

  The Mystic Wolves

  Forget Me Not

  Testing Fate

  Forever Changed

  Savage Possession

  Darkness Unleashed

  Last Wolf Standing

  Blood Oath

  A Very Mystic Christmas (Collection of Christmas Memories)

  Damaged Souls Series

  Bittersweet Melody

  Bittersweet Symphony

  Enchanted Heart

  Loving Liberty

  Broken Promises

  From My Heart To Yours

  Havenwood Falls Titles

  Nowhere to Hide

  Addicted to You (Sequel to Nowhere to Hide)

  Blood & Damnation (Legends of Havenwood Falls)

  The Collector: Awakening

  Short Story Anthology 2018

  Wrath & Retribution (Sequel to Blood & Damnation)

  Copyright © 2019 Belinda Boring, Ang’dora Productions, LLC

  All rights reserved.

  Published by

  Ang’dora Productions, LLC

  5621 Strand Blvd, Ste 210

  Naples, FL 34110

  Havenwood Falls and Ang’dora Productions and their associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Ang’dora Productions, LLC.

  Cover design by Regina Wamba at MaeIDesign.com

  Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the owner of this book.

  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

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

  To my sister from another mister, Laura Benedict.

  Thank you for being such a wonderfully supportive friend and someone to go on adventures with! Don’t ever change! Love you!

  Prologue

  Catriona

  1879

  The brisk night air felt like a rough slap across my face.

  After weeks of endless travel, we’d finally come to what I hoped was the end of our grueling journey. Not that our sudden stop would aid my escape. I was in no condition to flee—to gather up my tattered rags of a skirt and run as though the Devil himself was after me.

  Days had stopped making sense in my jumbled thoughts. The months had long since blended into one another, and although I’d valiantly tried to keep track in the beginning, the world was merely a haze of places and strange faces.

  There was a small part of me that tried to remain brave and strong. It was from there that a voice whispered to not give up hope, because my husband would find me. Marcus St. James. How the mere thought of him had roused my spirits in the beginning.

  Now, a more sinister feeling crept around the edges of my mind—delivering the sober truth that no one was going to rescue me, because I wasn’t something he treasured. Should Marcus and Knox indeed find me all the way across the sea, it would be for the sole purpose of satisfying his thirst for vengeance.

  No matter how hard I struggled to keep that realization from taking root, the evidence became clearer and clearer as time continued to blur by. He’d once told me I was his property. It was foolish to cling to my heart’s hope that he’d grown to care for me.

  A brusque female voice broke through my despondent musings. “Is this her?”

  I was roughly pulled off the horse, my captor’s strong grip wrapped around my arm.

  He grunted in response, shoving me hard so I stood within the light’s faint halo. “Can you take her?”

  My heart skipped a beat. Was this finally the end of the road—an end to the harrowing journey the gypsy had taken me on?

  England felt so far away as I slowly looked up and found myself under the intense scrutiny of a dark-haired woman. My gaze quickly darted up and took in my surroundings. Dusk was now upon us, and the night air was filled with the sounds of people heading home for the day. Not this building, however. More light spilled out from the plain glassed windows, seeping out through the lace curtains that hung within.

  Piano music unlike any I’d heard before echoed about, matched only by the cheery sounds of chatter and laughter. If I was to wager a guess, my captor had brought me to a saloon or some kind of establishment that catered to drinking and pleasures. We’d stopped at enough along the way for me to recognize the telltale scent of ale and whiskey.

  I was definitely a long way from home and the sheltered life I’d been brought up in.

  The woman began her slow catlike stalking around m
e, and suddenly, I felt very, very naked beneath her gaze.

  “I have no use for more girls,” she tutted as her lips pursed in thought. “Unless you believe she has a talent to please.” Without warning, the strange lady grabbed hold of my face, her fingers squeezing my chin until I squirmed in pain. “Do you still have your virtue?”

  Part of me wanted to scream . . . wanted to reach out and slap her hard. Once upon a time I would’ve scratched out her eyes, fought tooth and nail to be free from both of them, but that was then, and this was now. Wisdom was needed—courage—to survive.

  I shook my head and looked at my captor, Dimitri. My own personal monster had a name, one he’d boasted in sharing the second he knew we were free from England and his revenge had been successful.

  For the briefest of moments, I thought I caught a glimpse of compassion in her eyes. Dimitri was a hulk of a man with a dark piercing stare that caused other men to give him a wide berth. The woman had assumed rightly that he’d taken from my body what he wanted, and that he was far from a gentle lover.

  Those were memories I buried deep inside me—far away from the light of day where they wouldn’t drive me insane. There were many things I locked away now. The only memory I entertained was Marcus’s shout into the night air that he would find me.

  I knew that made me a fool, but my stubbornness was the only thing I had left. My pride had been stripped away with each of Dimitri’s rough touches.

  “She is for my pleasure alone,” he responded, slapping me hard on the behind. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself not to cringe or fall to the ground from the force. I still didn’t know whether this new woman would become my new jailor or indeed my salvation. I wouldn’t show her weakness. I wouldn’t show her how completely broken I felt.

  “If I take her on, and that is a huge if, Dimitri, I ask that you not manhandle the poor thing.” The gypsy male easily towered over her, yet she showed no fear as she pointed her finger, chastising him. Wrapping her arm around my shoulder, she did the unthinkable. For the first time since this whole ordeal begun, someone protected me. “I’ll do this because of our family.”

  And then, as the conversation broke down into a familiar language, my stomach dropped, and my fragile hope was shattered yet again.

  Romani.

  She wouldn’t become my savior or someone I could possibly win over and earn my freedom from. The more I stared at the woman, the easier it was to see the similarities she shared with Dimitri. There was no mistaking that they were kin. The false sense of security that had begun to blossom within me shriveled and died like a neglected rose beneath a cruel sun.

  I stared down at the ground and wrapped my arms tightly around myself, hoping to keep the chill from shaking me into pieces. The harder I tried, though, the stronger the quaking became. I was just so tired—exhausted from trying to remain brave. Tears began to flow down my cheeks. They were a luxury I refused to allow myself, but as the sound of their heated conversation broke against me, I lowered my guard and the pain swept in.

  Tears for me.

  Tears for my future.

  Tears for the life that I’d been cruelly ripped from. Never would I complain again about Marcus and his neglect. My heart longed to be back at Smithersby Field—to be standing outside the door to his office where I’d faithfully knocked, hoping to be admitted. I would welcome back that uncertainty a hundred times over if it meant that I could be safe within his home.

  “Look, you have made her cry, you oaf,” the woman blurted, finally turning her attention back to me. The look of compassion had returned to her face—features I’d only just judged as kind, but now couldn’t believe. Even as she gently wiped away my tears with the lace handkerchief she pulled out from the front of her bosom, I steeled my resolve. If she was related to Dimitri, then she couldn’t be trusted. She was simply another threat to endure.

  Pushing past her, Dimitri grabbed me once more and shook me by the arm.

  “You’re to stay here until I return.” His demand was delivered with enough force not to brook any argument. I already knew that any disobedience would incur his anger.

  I nodded quickly and returned my gaze to the floor. Submission pleased him. It always hurt less when I pleased him.

  He barked out something else in Romani before swinging his leg up and over his horse. Dimitri was going to leave me here—leave me alone for the first time in a year. Traveling from England, he masqueraded us as a married couple, playing the overly protective husband. There hadn’t been more than a few seconds where I wasn’t being watched by him, yet now he rode off into the night without a single glance back.

  The thought of being here in this strange place alone would’ve once excited me with all the possibilities for adventures. Now, it sent another round of tremors through my body, weakening my knees to the point I staggered forward and clutched onto my new jailor.

  “You are safe for now,” the woman whispered as she steadied me back on my feet. She remained quiet until I eventually looked up and found her waiting. Now that Dimitri was gone, I studied her.

  Her dark hair was pinned back from her face into a loose bun that had pretty white flowers threaded through the strands. I imagined her the age of my mother, had she survived the pox that had rampaged through our small town when I was still a young child. Her cheeks were reddened, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the chilly air kissing her skin or because she was a woman who wore rouge. Unlike mine, her clothing was beautifully stitched, fitting her form perfectly.

  “My name is Mrs. Fanny Webster, and this is my home.” She gestured back to the building where music still flowed from. That wasn’t what confused me, however. She must’ve been used to people responded to her name because she broke out into laughter. “That is my English name. I adopted a more appropriate one when I arrived in this great country. In my family, what you are called holds certain power, and in the case of the Romani, it often generates fear and hatred.”

  All I could do was nod in agreement. I’d seen that same emotion consume Marcus—his loathing for gypsies was deep-seated and overshadowed his life. His wrath was at least justified, because of the curse he bore as a result of dealing with them. I’d also seen that same skepticism in the strangers I encountered with Dimitri.

  “So,” I spoke, my voice soft and scratchy from the lack of use, “you are to be my new owner?”

  This earned me another round of laughter, this time louder and heartier than before. “Do you desire that?” She reached to brush aside a strand of hair, and this time I did flinch. I wasn’t used to being shown such kindness. “What shall I call you?”

  “Catriona,” I answered reluctantly.

  “Well, Catriona, while you are not free to leave, you are not prisoner here in my home. You will simply stay with me until Dimitri returns.” She said it so matter-of-factly, as though the lies that came rolling off her tongue didn’t bother her.

  “I believe that’s the very definition of being owned, Mrs. Webster,” I uttered, surprised at my brazenness. I waited, breath held, for the slap that would’ve followed such a retort to Dimitri, but none came.

  “We all have our parts to play,” came her response. Hitching up her skirts, she guided me up the back wooden stairs into the building she called her home. One glance inside told me everything I needed to know. This was far from the kind of “home” I was accustomed to, and more like the establishment I’d assumed it to be.

  Everywhere I turned were half-dressed women being intimate with gentlemen. Some were leaning in close, engaged in sordid conversations that made them blush. Even more disturbing were the few who had hands up their skirts, their heads tipped back in fake delight.

  “He left me here in a whorehouse!” I exclaimed in shock. My eyes grew as wide as saucers. Soon other sounds filled my ears—a different kind of music than the piano. I started to back away to the door, careful not to touch anything.

  “Things are not what they seem, child.” I expected Mrs. Webster to be offend
ed by my disgust, but instead she looked quite proud. “You’ll learn that quickly here.”

  I shook my head back and forth. I squeaked out loud as I bumped into a very large, extremely jovial man. His arms shot around me, and he bellowed in excitement over catching me.

  “A new girl!” the drunk gentleman called out, his fingers splayed across my waist. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t bathed in weeks and carried the dirt from the road on my clothing. Judging from the way his tongue lolled out of his mouth and how his lecherous lips then pursed into a kiss, he only had one thing on his mind.

  Mrs. Webster stepped into action and slapped away his advances while tugging me toward her. “Patience, Mr. Jefferson. This one is not for you.”

  Before he could pout or argue his case, she called for someone—a young girl in a deep green dress—to bring him something more to drink.

  I followed behind her in silence as we crossed through the room and then up the stairs to the second floor. It wasn’t until she’d successfully gotten me through a small door at the end of a very long hall that she spoke.

  “While you reside here with me, I will protect you, but make no mistake. The life you were once accustomed to is over. The sooner you welcome your new reality, the easier you will adjust.” She rattled off a short list of instructions—where I’d be sleeping, the few meager dresses she’d managed to find for me, and eating arrangements, but it all became a blur again as exhaustion took over.