Blood Moon_A novel of the Paramortals

  Blood Moon

  Destiny Paramortals, #6

  Livia Quinn

  Blood Moon

  Copyright © 2018 Campbell Hill Publishing

  Cover Art by Cora Graphics

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. To quote portions contact liviaquinn@liviaquinn.com

  Praise for Destiny Paramortals

  “My new favorite series!” “Okay, I’m hooked, Give me, give me some more!!!” “A bit of magic, a lot of fun and a budding romance!” “Tempest Pomeroy is the best new paranormal heroine of the year!” “OMG, I loved this book. Run don’t walk to the buy button.” “Destiny. . .is like a mini-vacation from the real world.”

  If you love Darynda Jones, Eve Langlais or Kristen Painter, you'll like Livia Quinn.

  Books by Livia Quinn

  The Destiny Paramortals

  Storm Crazy, #1

  Cry Me a River, #2

  Eve of Chaos, #3

  Blame It on the Moon, #4

  Take These Broken Wings. #5

  Blood Moon #6

  Blood Opal

  Undone

  Men of Honor (Contemporary Romance/Military)

  Ridge

  Luc

  Nick

  All I Want for Christmas

  Men of Honor Box set

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  Author Note

  Blood Moon was a surprise to me from the beginning. All I knew at page one was that it was River’s book but it turned out to be so much more. When I go to the muse pool as a writer friend calls my bath, the characters traipse along with me. And way before I’ve become a prune they’ve rattled off the next chapter in their story. Our Paramortal family is growing and I’ll keep the series going as long as Jack and Tempe and their friends keep talking.

  Happy Reading, Livia

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  Contents

  Introduction

  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

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  For Veterans

  Welcome to Destiny, home to the Paramortals since…well, forever…where human neighbors and their new sheriff live alongside shifters, dragons, vampires and a family of djinn. . . Just don’t tell the humans.

  There's a new warrior in town. Dressed in red leather, the stunning violet-eyed fae saunters into Destiny’s supernatural tavern carrying a giant head-splitter of a sword. Her mission is to slay a dragonhunter and she accuses djinn River Pomeroy of protecting her target.

  River feels an instant attraction to Cinder and relief from the despair that's served as his only companion since his rescue from kidnappers by his sister Tempe and Sheriff Lang. But with her news, his sense of doom returns. It’ll take more than three wishes to get him out of this mess. You see, River has a secret and ample reason for staying silent. No matter what he does, his enthrallment promises devastating consequences for his family and the other Paramortals.

  After his sister and the dragon sheriff go missing, River and Cinder join forces. But history has a way of coming full circle and the past brings shattering revelations about the dragonhunter’s true identity.

  Can they forgive the past to overcome their common enemy or will the news tear their relationship and the Paramortals apart forever?

  If you like Darynda Jones, Eve Langlais or Kristen Painter, you'll like Livia Quinn.

  Prologue

  "Of all the gin joints in all the towns

  in all the world,

  she walks into mine."

  Sam, Casablanca

  Just call it our last family reunion.

  Fierce Winds Isle stuck out into the middle of Storm Lake, invisible to human eyes, except for the boulders and trees lining the shore. River stepped onto the sandy beach and looked up at the ominous thunder clouds which had stalked him across the sky until he set down on the Isle. Now they hovered overhead. River took it as a warning, but of what?

  A male figure in a ragged gray cloak walked toward the Moat, Destiny's secret watering hole established centuries ago for supernaturals, most of them adversaries. However, the Moat was the one place adversaries could mingle without fear of conflict, and that only because of Morpheus’ judgment.

  The hooded man's back was to River as he studied the symbols above the entrance to the Moat. Each symbol, a ruby poppy surrounded by two black onyx wings, was a sign of eternal consequences for disobeying the rules of the tavern and incurring Morpheus' wrath.

  The seventh mark was added the day River's sister was confronted by a cantankerous wind fae calling himself the "Lord of the Wind". Morpheus had cut him down in front of everyone present.

  River slowed as the being turned and pushed the cowl back to reveal a face and neck covered in thick ropey scars. He was easily as big as River; his size and copper skin pointed to Djinn heritage, but there was something missing in this creature's Qi. Dead eyes looked back at River as he stared at the man's unfamiliar face.

  "I'm impressed." The stranger's head tilted as he studied River in return. "I'd heard you were a scrawny thing, sickly even."

  River frowned. Heard from whom? He didn't know this thug, but privately acknowledged the feeling of dread he'd felt when he’d first seen him. "Have we met?"

  "We haven't, no. The last time I was here for any length of time..." The man turned and scanned the lake looking off into the distance as if trying to remember the details of a past known only to him. His expression hardened and he aimed a glare at River. "Centuries ago, our father banished me from this place."

  River's mouth dropped open as he ran his words over again in his mind. Our father? What game was this stranger playing? River had no siblings besides Tempe, though, he acknowledged, he didn't know everything. He'd found that out when his father returned "from the dead" in March after River was kidnapped and his sister, who'd raised him since he was four, ended up in trouble with the law. The tale his parents told, purportedly to keep him and Tempe safe from their enemies, River called the big lie. It was still a thorn in his side. Ever since he and Tempe were abandoned, River had longed for the return of his family. For that closeness. And this…being claimed to be family?

  "I don't blame you, River," said the cloaked man. "You are somewhat innocent, though there is the unfortunate circumstance of your birth parents."

  River felt a su
dden tug on the invisible cord, the magical indicator between himself and the being that held him in thrall with a bartered wish. His eyes flew wide in dismayed realization.

  With a sneer, the man said, "So. You recognize my hold on you. I own that little wish our sister traded away.

  River couldn't speak, could barely draw a breath. His pounding heart almost drowned out the creature's next words. He wished it had.

  "But there's no such thing as small wishes doled out in our family name, right? That single behest made me your master. I could wish for anything, a vault of gold, a country all my own, or… say, to destroy my strongest adversary."

  The look he directed at River sent a chill of dread through him and he lashed out, "Who are you?"

  The scar tissue around the creature's lips twisted as pale blue teeth appeared in a humorless grin. "You may call me Styx. I wish I could say I'm here for a family bash but…" He propped his chin on his fist, eyes narrowed. "Actually, that might describe it perfectly. Let's just call it our last family reunion."

  River started forward though he had no plan in mind. His thoughts whirled with the implications of what Styx had said. Our father. Family reunion…and our sister. How could this be? His heart pounded like a jackhammer; he was surprised Styx couldn't hear it. Did he intend to call in the wish now? River searched futilely for a way to prevent it.

  With a wave of one hand as if to say 'ta-ta' and the other touching the necklace on his chest, Styx said, "Relax, little brother. I own you, and with this wish I finally have what I need to destroy my sire. But it will be on my terms." Like a statue, Styx waited until that sank in, then he raised the cowl obscuring his face again. "I'll be in touch."

  Chapter 1

  Something or someone was coming. . .

  River's shot glass hit the petrified top of the ancient wooden bar with a crack, splashing the amber liquid and making the creatures at nearby tables shift warily. A few reached for their weapons, before remembering they'd been checked at the door. Guiltily they glanced around hoping the ever-seeing Morpheus hadn't noticed.

  A burly three-armed Wite with crimson eyes and flashing fangs walked carefully from one end of the bar toward River and wiped up the spilled liquor. "You want another?"

  River shrugged. His gaze locked on the bartender slash gatekeeper. What did it matter? It was futile, this fixation he had on attempting to drown his problems in the amber liquid in front of him. Yes, he knew better. Djinn didn't—couldn't—get drunk, or succumb to the effects of any other human drugs. Besides, he had grown larger in the past months. Muscle and inches had been added to his frame. Mere liquor would not make him forget. It took special, spelled magic to affect him, like the poison he'd consumed at the hands of an old girlfriend back in February when he'd nearly died.

  He'd returned to his usual spot at the bar a half hour ago after his meeting with Styx to sit and think and drink. And since he'd been depressed for months and had just received the shock of his life, he decided his efforts wouldn't be for lack of trying. River looked down at the series of fresh shots the bartender placed in front of him and settled in to distract himself from his now exacerbated problem.

  The fourth shot was still burning the lining of his throat when River felt a stab to his chest, an alarm, the first one he'd received since he'd returned home from the healer. He searched the room using only his peripheral vision. Was the warning connected to the meeting with Styx, or an impending attack? He hunched his shoulders over the bar, glanced toward the tunnel and opened his senses to his djinn radar. The same beings he'd scanned upon arriving earlier were scattered about the cavernous room playing card games, wall boards, or simply passing the time, like him.

  River was just learning to trust his senses again but he knew his physical reaction meant something was amiss. He surveyed the room again, looking more closely. The two shifters playing cards sensed his gaze and met it as if they'd welcome a challenge but backed down when they saw the aggression, fury and danger reflected in his eyes. Raising their chins, they scented the air and quickly lowered their gazes. They knew better than to piss him off.

  Satisfied, River turned back to the bar and rested his head in his palms, releasing a long breath. He knocked back the next shot feeling the burn as it scorched a path from his teeth to his gut. As usual, there was no kick, no dulling of the senses, no welcome blankness. He exhaled, ran a big hand over his face. Why bother?

  His head snapped up. There it was again. Tensing, he prepared to set his djinn loose. As the son of a Djinn and a Tempestaerie he recognized the seismic shift of the molecules in his body. Like thunder announcing the arrival of a storm, electrical impulses set his spine zinging. Something was coming. It could be as momentous as a northwest firestorm or as devastating as a volcanic eruption.

  Then she walked in.

  Chapter 2

  Who me? I’m going to take his head.

  She was a vision in red, a beautiful wet dream in the disintegrating and volatile nightmare his life had just become. Only because of his djinn nature was he was still able to keep his hand steady on the bar in front of him, but when he caught a glimpse of sleek thighs, kick-ass high-heeled boots and lush hips, his reaction was like a physical strike.

  She strode through the main entrance and gave her fiery mane a toss. As she sashayed up to the bar, his eyes traveled from her red leather boots up the long length of her toned thighs to the silky, smooth skin above the red breastplate. He frowned. There was some kind of odd emblem etched in gold on the front.

  He tried to look away but it was as if his eyes craved what they saw, moving along her toned form, voraciously dining on her exquisite features, pert breasts and the shiny titian hair that spilled over her shoulders and curled around her waist, like a flaming nimbus. Every being in the room watched as those curls tumbled down her back to cup her butt. And like him, they wished for what they couldn't have.

  River was no different, apparently, and it surprised him. As if he'd been bewitched, his hands itched to touch her and with one glance at the others in the room he acknowledged he'd been right. He wasn't the only one.

  She had some nerve to walk into a place like this—no, he realized, it wasn't nerve. With a whisper soft snick, a long, medieval neck-splitter of a sword slid free of the leather sheath on her back and rose in an arc to land gently on the counter behind her. The gatekeeper admired it reverently then took it into custody, as was the custom for all weapons upon entering the Moat.

  River's eyes had been busy feasting on her fluid muscles and the sway of her hips, but snapped to her face when he identified her as a warrior. Took him long enough. Maybe he was drunk after all. But no—one look at her face, the flawless porcelain skin, rosy cheeks and stunning lavender eyes and he knew—he wasn't drunk. Or dead. Yet.

  She came to a stop in front of him, legs spread shoulder's distance apart and her eyes made a weird movement not unlike what his sister's did when she was about to throw a storm. It was too late to take a step back. Her pupils flared, snapped to slits then rounded out again as she studied him. She licked her lips once making him feel like a bug on a leaf, but didn't threaten or attack. What was she? Who—

  A movement to his left, one of the variants who'd challenged him earlier, raised River's protective instincts, and he prepared to fight, but a wall slammed down on his power. He gritted his teeth and pushed. The wall pushed back. Hard. Efrit. What was going on?

  In a flash of movement, her long heavy sword was hovering over his shoulder, the ornate hilt wrapped in her fist and the business end pointed at the largest of the shifters, who was, of course, unarmed.

  Having witnessed the appearance of Morpheus with Tempe's situation he whispered fiercely, "If you have a brain in that brassy head of yours, you'll send your weapon flying back to the gatekeeper." Her head angled sharply, eyes narrowing dangerously on his as she mouthed brassy? but he ignored her.

  Then, with a lazy smirk in the direction of the men she'd stupidly threatened out of self-defense—h
e hoped that made a difference to Morpheus—he said, "I can't take her anywhere. She's always showing off her fancy blade." He laid his hand on her arm. A snapping electric jolt shot straight through his system. She'd felt it too, her eyes glazing as she stared over his shoulder. Then those violet irises blinked and she turned back toward the men.

  River's scowl returned until she nodded, her eyes flitting from him to the others one last time, then the great sword arced over her head to the bartender, whereupon the hulking shifter eased back into his chair and River relaxed. Efrit, he'd relaxed when he figured out she was safe from harm—from these miscreants, or Morpheus? This day just kept getting weirder.

  She sidled in next to him, not scared in the least. His stomach muscles tightened when he got his first whiff of her scent, something powerful and exotic, and it slammed into him like a straight-line wind. If he hadn't been propped on the bar he would've been knocked off his feet, which made his scowl deepen.

  Her delicate brow rose and with a knowing smirk—it looked like that to him anyway—she said, "Sorry to interrupt your solitary pity-party but I'm looking for someone. Perhaps you've seen him?" Her gaze never wavered from his and River wondered if she'd been following him.