Blood Rites: (Royal Blood #3)
Read Blood Rites: (Royal Blood #3) Online
Authors: Amity Cross
Blood Rites (#2.5 Royal Blood) by Amity Cross
Copyright © 2015 Amity Cross / Nicole R. Taylor
All rights reserved. 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 the written
permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or
dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All song titles, song lyrics, products and brand names
mentioned in this book are the property of the sole copyright
owners.
Cover Design © Amity Cross / Nicole R. Taylor
Necromancers Motorcycle Club Logo by Jemina Venter @
#BookNerdFangirlDesigns
Contents
One
Vaughn
The thing about double lives is that no
matter how hard you try not to cross the streams…nature always
finds a way to fuck you over.
I stood on a side street in Kensington,
London, the noise of the city ebbing and flowing around me. This
whole area stunk of money and society, and the stores on this
street were of the boutique variety. High prices and quality.
My gaze ran over the display of
crystal in the shop window I stood out front of. Twenty-seven years
on the planet and my life had amounted to this? What was next for
my empire? Expansion was on the horizon,
international
expansion, but I needed a
partner to take me there.
“Vaughn?”
I glanced up at Nathaniel
Hawkes, my trusted bodyguard and advisor. He was the brawn of our
outfit. Standing at six foot five, he had the shoulders of a rugby
player and the aim of a military trained sniper. He was deadly with
a weapon
and
his fists. He was ugly as fuck with his shaved head
pockmarked skin, but he was quality. We looked a right pair
together, slick suits that screamed wealth and a dangerous kind of
refinement.
“Ready for some fun, Hawkes?” I asked,
grinning.
“Always.” He gestured for me to lead the
way.
Opening the door to the shop, I strode inside,
the little bell ringing to signal our entrance. The shop floor was
lined with all sorts of items, antique grandfather clocks, an
assortment of vases and sculptures and display cases of crystal and
jewelry. All old, all vintage and all worth a lot of money.
Our target emerged from out the back, a huge
smile on his face. He was this thirty something, deadbeat business
owner, who couldn’t seem to handle his cash flow very well for such
high-ticketed merchandise. His business was suffering for his crack
habit. When he laid eyes on us, his expression fell.
“Good morning,” I declared. “Expecting
someone else?”
I picked up a business card and
flipped it over.
Jameson Jones, Pawnbroker
. Glancing up at Jones himself, I flung it
at him, my eyes narrowing. He looked like he was about to piss
himself.
“
Your payment is late, Jones,” I
said, running a finger along the top of the glass display case.
Diamonds sparkled under the lighting as I moved. Rings, necklaces,
exquisite workmanship. Too bad he didn’t make them or I’d probably
spare him the right hook he was about to cop to his jaw.
“I know. I’m sorry, but—”
I held up a finger to silence his pathetic
excuses. Hawkes hovered by the door and there was a click as he
locked it. Jones glanced from me to Hawkes with a look of absolute
terror.
I rarely went with the brawn to send a
message to my clients, so Jones was right to be terrified. The
short of it was, from time to time I enjoyed getting my hands
dirty. As long as it didn’t mark my suit and I got what I wanted,
then we were all good.
“Fifty thousand pounds, Jones.” I leaned
over the display case. “That’s a lot of money for a man like
you.”
“Business is slow…”
Excuses. Men like Jones were all the same.
The never knew their limits, they always got in too far over their
heads and ended up paying the ultimate price. I glanced down at the
diamonds. Not quite fifty grand, but it was a start.
Jones began to pale. “No, not those, I need
them for a very important client, Mr. Vaughn.”
“Some society rich bitch?” I asked, cocking
my head to the side.
“They’re vintage…heirlooms.” He wrung his
hands together, becoming agitated.
Narrowing my eyes, I said,
“Come here.”
Jones hesitated.
“Come here, Mr. Jones,” I snapped, pointing
to the floor in front of me.
He rounded the counter, his
features pale, and stood before me. Curling my fingers into a tight
fist, I struck. My hand connected with Jones’ jaw and his head
snapped to the side. I sucker punched him so hard he stumbled
against the display case and fell to the floor. While he was down,
I kicked him viciously in the stomach.
I gestured to Hawkes who rounded the counter
and began gathering the diamonds as Jones moaned on the floor like
a pathetic weasel.
My daytime career was Financial
Investment. My secret nighttime career was hard drugs, women and
weapons. Military grade arms, cocaine, heroin, that kind of thing.
Big money, bad men. The two lives never crossed and that’s the way
I liked it. My extracurricular activities were kept off the society
pages and in the shadows, where they belonged.
I met the right people, or the
wrong if you wanted to look at it that way, at a young age and
found my talent for talking shit was well received. It made me
money and lots of it. Not that I needed it, coming from a rich,
titled family, but millions became billions and soon I’d be giving
daddy a trust find, not the other way around.
I was a bad boy well on the way to becoming
a very bad man. They didn’t call me the bad boy of High Society for
nothing.
“
Consider this a down payment,
Mr. Jones,” I said, fixing my sleeves. I made sure my cufflinks
were still secured and brushed my jacket with an elegant hand.
Appearances were everything. “I expect it will be no trouble
acquiring the other twenty-five thousand?” I glanced down at Jones,
who was holding his stomach, a pained expression on his ugly
fucking face.
He shook his head while he rolled around on
the floor like an animal. “No, no trouble, Sir.”
Turning on my heel, I gestured to Hawkes who
unlocked the door, the bag of diamonds firmly in the inside pocket
of his suit jacket. My mood was quelled for the moment, a nicely
aimed fist had done the trick as usual.
Stepping out onto the street, I pulled out
my mobile phone, Hawkes following me like a bad smell. The European
Summer was in full swing, but someone had forgotten to give London
the memo. What I wouldn’t give to piss all this shit off and fly to
Greece for three months. Nothing but sailing, beaches and plenty of
beautiful women to sink my cock into.
Turning, I went to stride down the street,
but I collided with a woman walking the other way. She smacked into
my chest, dislodging the phone from my hand. I grasped her
shoulders, steadying her before she bit the dust too.
The phone clattered to the
ground and I cursed loudly. The woman bent to retrieve it, her long
fingers curling around the annoying piece of metal and straightened
up. She was tall and slender, wearing a black sundress printed with
red flowers with a neckline that drew my gaze straight to her tits.
Her chestnut hair was loose around her shoulders and I caught the
scent of cherry blossom in the air.
My gaze met hers as her
expression fell, but I wasn’t sure if it was because she’d smashed
the screen on my phone or she thought I was hot. Her? Well, she was
fucking stunning.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed, looking
utterly forlorn. “I didn’t mean—”
“No bother,” I said, cutting her off. I
reached for the phone, my fingers brushing against her skin.
She glanced up at me and her cheeks flushed
a sexy shade of red.
It was like a goddamned romance novel, but
by the way my cock was reacting at the slightest touch from the
mystery woman, I knew that I’d do anything it took to fuck her. I
hadn’t felt anything like it in my entire life. Big brown eyes,
pouty red lips, flawless ivory skin… I could lose myself in a woman
like her in more ways than one.
