Wicked desires, p.1
Wicked Desires, page 1
part #7 of Cursed Coven Series
Table of Contents
Wicked Desires: Cursed Coven © 2019 by Kristin L. Bone
Works by K.L. Bone
Dedication:
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Thanks & Acknowledgements
About the Author
Have you read K.L. Bone’s other Midnight Coven novellas?
Wicked Desires:
Cursed Coven
K.L. Bone
A Midnight Coven Novella
Wicked Desires: Cursed Coven © 2019 by Kristin L. Bone
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Cover Design © 2019 by Skyla Dawn Cameron
First Edition: September 2019
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Works by K.L. Bone
Rise of the Temple Gods Series
Rise of the Temple Gods: Heir to Kale
Rise of the Temple Gods: Heir to Koloso
Rise of the Temple Gods: Heir to the Defendants
Rise of the Temple Gods: Heir to the Prophecy (coming soon)
The Black Rose Series
Black Rose
Heart of the Rose
Blood Rose
Shadow of the Rose
Silver Rose
Princess of the Rose
Daughters of the Rose (coming soon)
The Flames of Kalleen
Embracing the Dragon
Releasing the Dragon
Forsaking the Dragon (coming soon)
Other Works
The Indoctrination
Undying Embrace: A Dracula Novella (coming soon)
Midnight Coven Novellas
Forever Chosen: Vampire Brides
Immortal Skye: Vampire Mates
Wicked Desires: Cursed Coven
See www.klbone.com for more.
Dedication:
This book is dedicated
to Skyla.
Thank you for your
guidance and friendship.
Welcome to the magical world of the Midnight Coven. Within the pages of our books, you’ll find vampires and demons, witches and fae, dark magic and happily ever afters. Each Midnight Coven book is a romance novella, featuring characters who occasionally cross over to different stories, so we hope you’ll read them all. You never know when your favorite character might show up again.
Your initiation begins now…
Chapter I
AD 1999
Brighton, England
Asleep before her second-floor window, the child did not hear the blaze’s ominous crackle, nor the groan of sizzling wooden planks. She did not rouse to the seeping smoke, which rose to replace the once crisp air, nor realize the danger of each polluted breath as the thick grey cloud clogged her delicate lungs, smoke blanketing the room with a suffocating grip.
A loud shudder of crashing wood finally woke her from the flame’s threatening embrace. Rising, she wiped at stinging eyes, deep coughs rattling her chest, threatening to make her gag.
Bewildered, she rose from the bed and moved toward the door, calling “Mommy!” Smoldering planks squeaked under her weight. Unfamiliar, eerie sounds, crackles and pops, answered back.
She reached the door, but when she touched the bronzed handle, the metal seared her tender palm, drawing a high-pitched scream from her throat as she jerked her hand back. A gooey trail of skin connected her hand to the door before she pulled it back further. Wrapping the throbbing limb in the hem of her nightgown, tears filled her eyes, her hand in agony due to exposed nerves.
“Daddy?” she called for her other parent, a quieter, hopeless plea.
Only the floor groaned in answer, warming her feet as unseen flames steadily weakened the home’s structure.
Heart hammering, she rushed to the window and gazed fearfully out at the beach. Through sobs of pain she managed to cry, “Help! Please, help me. Daddy? Mommy?”
The beach was empty. No one heard her cries. She attempted to open the glass panel, but found it locked and, as she looked to the left, caught her first glimpse of the yellow-orange flames licking the side of the room, crawling toward her.
“Help!” she repeated her plea, but again none answered.
Unable to leave the room, she moved to the bed. Crawling between the blankets, she clutched Lady, a stuffed blue dog. Violent coughs rattled her chest, the last of her breathable air transforming to poisonous fumes.
“Mommy! Daddy!” This time, her voice came as a choked whisper, her mouth painfully dry. The room grew warmer, flames coming closer with a devouring hunger. Between tears, and smoke, her vision blurred. Burying her face in Lady’s worn fur, she closed them, but the sting did not dissipate. Her lungs burned as she struggled to breathe the toxic smoke. Soot lined her throat to constrict her airway, making each breath a struggle as the heat continued to increase.
A sharp clatter broke through the flames’ roar and groaning wood. Barely conscious, the child did not open her eyes to the icy touch when arms lifted her from the bed. A quick movement, and a strong push of wind, caused her to tuck her injured hand protectively under Lady, and then she fell, plunging downward in a way that caused her stomach to churn. The fall came to an abrupt stop.
“Breathe,” a deep, masculine voice commanded.
Spasms ran through her poisoned body as she struggled to follow the command. Ragged coughs rattled her thin chest as air attempted to penetrate the soot-filled lining of her throat.
“Kiera,” the man encouraged, “you have to breathe.”
Cold air surrounded her as the chilled ocean winds soothed her flushed skin. “Kiera,” the man again spoke her name, tones soothing, “I’ve got you.”
She tried to speak, but no words would form in her clogged throat and parched mouth. Unable to breathe, she slipped toward unconsciousness.
“No,” the man’s voice called. “You must stay awake.”
Clinging to Lady, she turned to the sound of his voice.
Something pressed against her lips.
“Drink, child.”
Kiera’s head tilted back as warm, thick liquid passed her lips. A coppery, bitter tang filled her mouth, but she forced herself to swallow. When the viscous liquid reached her throat, the taste sweetened, as though sugar had been added to the mixture. She swallowed again.
“Keep drinking,” he urged.
She complied, the act becoming easier with each desperate gulp. Against her lips, the flow of liquid increased before the source drew back.
Kiera gasped and, to her surprise, found her airway cleared. Finally able to draw breath, she pulled in shaky gulps of the oxygen her body craved.
“That’s it,” the man coaxed. “Breathe, Kiera. You’re all right.”
Body trembling, Kiera struggled to control her frantic breathing as the man gathered her against his chest, holding her in his arms as though she weighed nothing. Tucking the stuffed dog more securely between them, she wondered why her hand didn’t hurt anymore. Confused, she pressed her cheek to his shoulder, vision blurry with tears, but the stinging in her eyes, like her hand, had also eased.
“You’re safe, Kiera,” the man promised, holding her in a comforting embrace. “You’re safe.”
Kiera gave in to painful exhaustion, eyes closing as darkness descended.
“I’m sorry, Kiera,” the man spoke with deep regret. “I wanted to save them. I’m so sorry.”
Chapter II
AD 2019
New Orleans, Louisiana
Eighteen hours—the required travel time to fly between London and New Orleans, including multiple delays, and an annoyingly long passport control line. Kiera failed to comprehend the logic in this new system; having passengers fill out hand-written forms, only to then enter the exact same information into a computer system, which, in turn, required an actual human being to verify, for a third time, the information was correct. And all of this before one even reached customs, where the triple-checked story had been verified all over again, due to winning the randomly selected security lottery.
After what amounted to an entire day’s travel, Kiera was grateful to be in the muggy city, but too exhausted to appreciate her evening arrival, heading directly to the Hotel Monteleone. Dating back to 1886, the historic hotel, located in the heart of the French Quarter, was a breathtaking structure. The pristine white front, with marble footings and detailed carvings over every window and door, managed to be both awe-inspiring and welcoming.
Entering through the golden doorways, Kiera walked across a tiled floor under crystal chandeliers and painted coved ceilings to the desk, where she gave her name to the woman standing behind it. After a few clicks on the computer, the modern equipment seeming out of place
“Room 433,” the woman supplied. “Elevators are to the right. Would you like help with your luggage?”
Shaking her head, Kiera thanked the woman before walking to the elevator, pulling a single rolling suitcase behind her while carrying a garment bag containing her formal attire.
She had not been to the city in years, having managed to avoid the annual gathering. This year, though, the trip had become inevitable. As heir apparent to the Bargarran Witch Coven of Scotland, despite having been raised in England, Kiera answered the summons to New Orleans, where all current coven high priests and priestesses were expected to gather on their most sacred of hallowed nights.
Stepping off the elevator, Kiera walked down a narrow hallway, the wheels of her rolling suitcase gently thumping along the patterned carpet until she reached her room. Though a luxury hotel, the room itself was smaller than other modern suites. What the accommodations lacked in size, they made up for in opulence. Carved sinks lined with spa soaps topped marble counters, while designer bedspreads and high thread count sheets covered an expansive bed.
As she hung her garment bag, and parked her suitcase underneath, Kiera’s exhaustion became overwhelming. After retrieving her toothbrush and a simple satin slip from the outer pocket of her suitcase, she stumbled into the washroom. Unable to stifle a series of yawns, Kiera took a fast shower. Stepping out, she ran a comb through her hair before wrapping the wet strands in a towel.
She knew nothing more until morning, when sunlight streamed through curtains she had failed to close.
Nine o’clock.
Lying there for another half-hour, Kiera eventually rose, lifting her suitcase to the bed before pulling out a pair of jeans and a light blue top. After brunch, she spent the day wandering through the French Quarter.
Despite her reluctance to take this trip, the city was one of the most unique places she had ever been. Entering a Gothic clothing store, she sifted through an assortment of colorful masks until she came across a deep blue one etched in gold trim. Walking to the front, she purchased the item, along with a few touristy trinkets for friends.
When she arrived back at the Monteleone, Kiera checked her phone, and headed to the Carousel Bar. Well-known for its expansive and classic cocktail list, the bar’s center was on a circular cut-out, featuring intricate carvings alongside typical carousel lights and mirrors. The entire platform rotated slowly, making a full 360-degree revolution every fifteen minutes.
Finding two unclaimed seats, Kiera ordered a champagne cocktail. She did not wait long before her friend, Betty, arrived. A member of the local coven, the two had first met at this very event nearly ten years earlier. Both children of high priestesses, the girls had formed a fast friendship, though they rarely were able to visit in person.
After exchanging a brief embrace, Kiera retook her seat, motioning her friend to take the stool beside her.
“Manhattan,” Betty replied to the bartender’s welcoming smile and lifted eyebrows. “So, they finally got you back out here, eh?”
“No,” she answered, rolling her eyes. “I’m a figment of your imagination.”
The retort brought a soft chuckle to Betty’s overly rouged lips. “I always knew I’d go crazy one day.”
“And here I thought you already were.”
“Oh, probably.” Betty flashed the bartender a flirty smile as her drink was placed before her. “So, are you ready for tonight’s ceremony? Though your birthday isn’t for three more days, I think they’re planning to give you your initiation rites tonight.”
“Tonight?” Her smile faltered.
Betty rolled her eyes. “I don’t get it. Why aren’t you excited? Not every day a coven as ancient as the Bargarran anoints a new leader.”
“So I’ve been told,” she grumbled.
Taking a deep sip of her cocktail, Betty placed the glass down and sighed. “Still not pleased about the new role, I take it?”
“Of all people, you should know this is not what I desired. Most covens choose their leaders nowadays, and not based on birth. By what right is Bargarran mine? Not to mention I’m only twenty-four.”
“Almost twenty-five,” Betty corrected. “And you’ve got every right. Your family has run the coven since, what, the 1600s?”
“Longer, if the stories are to be believed.”
“I’m aware life has been more difficult for you than most. Normally you wouldn’t inherit this responsibility until much later. But, Kiera, you’re ready for this. You’ve been trained your whole life for the role, and you’re the natural heir. It’s your destiny.”
“Destiny? Don’t tell me you’re embracing that word now too? I’ve heard it from so many. Please, not from you as well.”
“It’s the truth though, Kiera. I don’t understand what you’re so afraid of.”
“I’m not afraid of anything,” she said defensively. “I simply want a say.”
“A say?”
“In my life!” she exclaimed. At her raised tone, multiple sets of eyes flicked her way. Cheeks flushing, Kiera gave an apologetic glance and drew a breath, lowering her voice. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Betty’s southern twang contrasted with her own British tones. “Hey, bartender, could we have another round, please?”
“Sure thing,” he replied, moving toward the opposite side of the bar to get fresh glasses.
“Look,” Kiera said, seeking a calm tone for her explanation, “most witches have a chance to live their own life before inheriting titles. My mother was married for years before she inherited the high priestess responsibility. She had traveled the world.
“Me? All I’ve ever done is train for this position.” Kiera shook her head. “I’m too young. There’s so much I haven’t done. And I’m the youngest member of my coven. Why should I rule over so many who have more experience?”
“Kiera, the fact you’ve trained all of these years is why you are ready to take over. You know the role, and the obligations, better than anyone. You respect the magic you’re about to inherit for both its power and limitations. You’re ready for this.”
Silence passed between them, Kiera reaching for her champagne to mask inner turmoil. “You’re right,” she said, hoping the faux smile would be convincing enough to cause Betty to drop the subject.
While she maybe saw through the act, like any good friend would, Betty understood her intent and obligingly asked, “So, what are you wearing to the ball tonight?”
Chapter III
AD 2019
New Orleans, Louisiana
The Witches Ball was a grand gala, an annual gathering of various covens from around the globe. Normally this event would be optional, but this year Kiera had received a direct summons from one of the highest ranking coven priests, which meant other attendees would also be of significant importance.
Kiera had initially planned to decline the invitation, citing her aversion to such gatherings. Her aunt Roslyn had insisted. The discord had led to a tense argument, which had left her more anxious than usual.
Of all years, Kiera was especially reluctant to attend this event. Various covens operated under different rules, but in the Bargarran Coven, the first-born child of a high priestess or priest would inherit the title when their predecessor passed from the mortal realm. However, as Kiera’s mother had perished in a horrific fire when she was a child, custom dictated she would inherit the title, and responsibilities, upon her twenty-fifth birthday.
After her parents’ death, much to her aunt’s dismay, Roslyn learned her sister had left Kiera’s wellbeing in the hands of not a sole guardian, but of two. Kiera’s training in witchcraft was directed by her aunt, while all other choices concerning Kiera’s life were to be approved by Nicholas Rochester, head vampire of the Turrim Londoniarum Vampire Clan based out of London.
Traditionally, vampires and witches did not wander compatibly through the circle of life. Many deaths had occurred between clans and covens when priorities and lifestyles clashed. This historical point of conflict made Kiera’s upbringing unique among both worlds.
