Vampire Enforcer

VAMPIRE ENFORCER Nightshade Vampires ROWAN HART Copyright © 2023 by The Lion and Raven Press, LLC Cover by Covers by Combs 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. ALSO BY ROWAN HART Nightshade Vampires Vampire King Vampire Enforcer Vampire Savage (Spring 2023) Vampire Runner (Summer 2023) As Marie Robinson Blackfang Barons - Reverse Harem Fawn Fury Fate Keep up to date with Rowan Hart’s books, news, and even fire-hot monster art by signing up for her newsletter. Sign up today! CONTENTS 1. Deidre 2. Kasar 3. Deidre 4. Kasar 5. Deidre 6. Kasar 7. Deidre 8. Kasar 9. Deidre 10. Kasar 11. Deidre 12. Kasar 13. Deidre 14. Deidre 15. Kasar 16. Deidre 17. Kasar 18. Deidre 19. Kasar 20. Kasar 21. Deidre 22. Kasar 23. Deidre 24. Kasar Epilogue Acknowledgments Also by Rowan Hart About the Author VAMPIRE ENFORCER Chapter One DEIDRE Little bright, ultra-neon bubbles surround me with light, like oil sheens illuminating the world. They’re radiant enough that I can’t see beyond them. When one comes close to my nose, I reach up to catch it and scrunch my face when my arms are too heavy to move. I attempt again, not wanting a bubble of light to land on my nose. Embers flare to life, encompassing my wrists, and all at once, the lights disappear and pain overwhelms me. Whimpering, I’m paralyzed and forced to endure it without relief. The strange bubble lights begin to burst, resembling fireworks, delivering glimpses of lucidity until I remember why the darkness is preferable. The Gato’s Paw. Rough hands grabbing me. Taken somewhere dark; voices around me; a man and woman arguing. The compassionless hands forcing Rapture into my mouth. My body hurts too much to cry; I want to rewind time until the forced high feels good again. It had made me euphoric and giddy. I hate it, yet it’s these moments without the drug where my resolve cracks. How long can I endure this before breaking entirely? How long have I been here, tied to a bed by coarse rope? I want it all to go away. I want more Rapture. “Looks like she’s awake,” grumbles a familiar voice, sounding like I’m underwater. “When can we move the bitch? Ain’t fair that we get to shoot her up and not have any fun with it.” I shudder, forcing my head away from the voice. I had known the effects of Rapture even before my capture. At this point, I remember writhing on the bed, desperate to ease an ache barely out of reach. Not a single man has followed up on their lecherous musings, though, and I’m grateful for small mercies. “You know the boss is recording all of this,” the other voice says. His words are getting fainter, or the world darker, I’m not entirely sure. “See if she makes it...” The world slips away from me and I succumb to the freedom of the dark once again. Loud noises yank me out of my solitude, crashing me back into my painful reality. I shriek as my nerves become pure molten iron, my spine arching and popping. Someone pours more Rapture in my mouth; I choke on it, though swallow it down with relief and self-loathing. Gloriously, the pain melds into mind-numbing bliss even while lightning crackles under my skin, demanding I move, fuck, do anything to release the pressure building up inside. “Get up,” the gruff voice from before says, and time loses meaning. I find myself standing on weak legs, my arm thrown over his shoulder and his arm around my waist. He smells strange to my drug-heightened senses and I break away from him. I don’t get far, falling to my knees. Digging my fingers into my skull, my mouth opens in a silent scream as the world overwhelms my brain. Every sense is heightened and I retch, struggling against the drug lining my veins. Gunshots. Blood. Fear. Shouting. Bodies. Soil. Cigarette butts. Rats cowering in the walls. Citrus and amber. Rain hitting the ionized roof above. I sense it all and it’s debilitating. A vial appears before me, accompanied by the cloying scent of sugar and anise to cut through everything else. My body reacts on its own accord, my mouth opening, eager for more Rapture. It’s thick and syrupy on my tongue, and already high, I can taste whatever they added to it—putrid and revolting. I should gag, my body should reject it, except it keeps the pain at bay. “There you go.” The world begins to right itself. The world remains much more intense than when sober, however, a giddiness washes through me and dulls my senses. No, not dulling them, not quite. I can still hear the fight going on, taste the death of a shifter who wanted to use my body, and count the heartbeats of the rest of the supernaturals in the warehouse. I toss my head back in manic laughter, kneeling on the floor beside the gods-forsaken cot they’d tied me to. When the man—no, vampire—beside me snarls and shoves a gun under my jaw, I’m reduced to giggles. “Shut the fuck up, lady,” he demands, shaking my shoulder. “That shit is pumping through your veins and Garner wants to see how you hold up against the lion. If you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll put a bullet in you right now.” I can’t stop laughing long enough to beg him to do it. The vampire is hazy above me, his hair thin and greasy. His beady golden pupils are ringed in red, except he isn’t hungry. He’s afraid. I can taste it. Good. He deserves to be afraid. He tries to pull me up, and this time I’m strong enough to get my feet under me. Rapture is a