Cloak of Deceit: An Alex Moore Novel

CLOAK

OF

DECEIT

An Alex Moore Novel

By Gwen Mitchell

When her latest bad-boy lover accidentally turns her into a vampire, college senior Alex Moore discovers her latent telekinetic ability. Psychic powers mark her as one of the Grigori, the sworn enemies of the Undead. No one has ever been both. Caught in the middle of a war she doesn’t understand, Alex’s only hope for survival is a Knight of the Cloak — a sexy Undead enforcer named Julian. But will he give up his rank and cast aside old loyalties to save her? Can she harness her psychic powers and her Undead instincts while being hunted by both sides? And given her track record, can Alex really trust any man she’s that attracted to?

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Dedication & Gratitude

To everyone who believed in me when I first got the crazy idea I wanted to write novels, especially: Dawn, Eden, Fey, Jean, Noony, Michael, family, and friends. Gratitude to Chrys, Evey, Tilia, and Thomma Lyn for edits and beta reads.

Special thanks to Amber Snow, for proving we create our own destiny.

Chapter One

E
veryone has a vice — something they know is bad for them, but they do anyway. Since the third grade, mine had been boys. I managed to live up to my mother’s expectations in every other area of my life. I was a star student and athlete, accepted to a prestigious pre-med program, and spent too much time studying and working out to get into any serious trouble. Life was going according to plan, except that I couldn’t get past two dates with any of the duds Mom pre-approved. I had a craving for more edge, and it usually led me to the men that would hurt me the most.

The latest example was an on-again, off-again thrill-seeking hellion named Cody. According to my mother, he had a bad track record, bad manners, and no future prospects. According to me, he was exciting, easy-going, and we had wickedly hot sex. So it was really going to piss me off if she turned out to be right again.

He had dodged my texts and calls all week.

Most girls would hole up in their dorm rooms eating double fudge brownie ice-cream and watching a marathon of Jane Austen movies. Instead, I was spending my twenty-first birthday scouring the local freak show — some dark wave punk club called the Sweat Shop that featured an underground “dungeon” — for my supposed boyfriend. He’d been spending a lot of time there the past few months, drawn in to the bondage scene. I had been underage, until tonight.

In an attempt to shake my homegrown look, I’d dyed my forgettable brown hair a glitzy, sex-kitten auburn. Add to that three-inch spike-heeled boots, a black leather skirt, and extreme make-up. As long as I remembered not to smile and show off my dimples, I was five feet nine inches of badass babe.

Cody wouldn’t know what hit him.

I emerged from the main entry of the club to find myself on a narrow grated catwalk thirty feet in the air. My hand instinctively shot out for the railing as I hissed in a breath. I could deal with a new wardrobe, a new venue, even some extra kink, but I
really
hated heights.

The bass beats from below shook the railing, which I clung to with a white-knuckled grip. I couldn’t see the dance floor. The strobe lights and fog machine distorted the crowd, but I could smell the mass of humanity below me, almost taste the unmistakable pungent mist of sweat and sex mingled with the sour reek of alcohol.

I gulped, fighting vertigo.

A gang of people clamored towards me, most of them wearing more tattoos and piercings than clothing. The grate at my feet shivered.

With a muttered curse, I pressed my butt to the railing, holding on for dear life and squeezing my eyes shut. I didn’t open them, even as hands skirted over my bare belly. I must have missed the “Prepare to be Groped” sign on the door.

Once centered on the platform again, I kept moving, dodging to one side or the other when people got obnoxious. I was almost to the stairs at the other end. The goal was in sight. Excited to be through the gauntlet, I sped up.

One of my heels caught the grating. I took three lunging steps and managed not to fall, but then I bumped off of a tattooed hunk of muscle like a pinball, staggered back, and lost my balance. I tilted backward over the railing. My arms flailed for something to grab onto. A scream of terror caught in my throat.

For one stretched out second of panic, a flipbook of all the stupid things I’d done in my life played out in my mind. This one was right at the top: d
eath by trampy boots.

But instead of letting me become a cautionary tale, someone encircled my arm with a firm grip and righted me.

I glanced over my shoulder at the drop that had almost been my untimely finale, and gulped, my heart thumping so hard I choked on my pulse. I took a deep breath and held it as I gazed up at my tall savior.

Yowza
.

He was bronze-skinned, with glossy black hair falling carelessly over rich brown eyes, and sculpted features more towards the severe end of the scale. I forgot not to smile. His grip on my arm eased, wide lips curving ever so slightly at the corners.

“All right?” His voice was like thick, dark honey. If I hadn’t been watching his lips so intently, I wouldn’t have known what he said over the blaring music, only that the tone of it warmed the pit of my stomach and made my mouth water. Adrenaline and humiliation warred in my body, making my tongue too thick to speak. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled.

I nodded, and he let go of me.

“Try to be more careful.” He dismissed me and leaned over to rest his elbows on the railing, a watered-down drink in his other hand. He’d rescued me without spilling a drop. My hero.

“Th-thank you.” I temporarily forgot the part about being suspended in midair.

Mr. Tall, Dark, and Beautiful nodded once and then scanned the room at large as if it presented something far more interesting than me. I noticed a curved scar over his right cheekbone, and he instantly down-shifted from sexy to sexy-and-dangerous. Bad combination for me.

My heart went pitter-pat as I tried to think of something more to say, but he proceeded to ignore me. As the rush of adrenaline wore off, my body remembered I was still three stories up. I grabbed my pride by the boot zippers and slinked away. The twisting grated staircase down had me sweating, but I kept it together through sheer willpower.

When I finally got my feet on solid ground, I collapsed against a wall plastered with concert posters and panted out the rest of my nerves. What the hell was I doing there?

Oh right — Cody.
Bastard
.

If he hadn’t been the only guy I’d ever almost-loved, I could have hated him just then. Why hadn’t he just answered my calls? I peered through the fog of bodies and black leather. How was I going to find him? I suddenly felt like a rabbit caught in a clearing, surrounded by hungry wolves. I had too much of my virgin flesh out on display. My jacket helped some, but my skin kept trying to crawl away from me and hide.

I glanced up at the catwalk — I couldn’t help myself. My savior still leaned in his ankle-length black coat. A world away, yet part of the scenery. How did people not notice him? I couldn’t decide if it was his looks or just how he projected himself, but to me he was the sort of eye-candy that could rot my brain out. As if he’d heard me, he turned his head. The intensity in his dark eyes, even from fifty feet away, made my neck prickle again. It could have been the danger part, or the sexy part. They both tingled the same to me. The feeling dissipated when his gaze slid away.

I shook off the feeling and shouldered my way up to the bar, searching for Cody’s blue eyes in a sea of studs and rings and mohawks. Maybe a drink would help. Maybe several. Coming alone hadn’t been one of my more brilliant plans. I should have pulled the female solidarity card and made Theresa come with me, but I knew she would turn it into an opportunity to point out what a waste of time Cody was. I got enough of the what-are-you-doing-with-your-life lectures from my mother. It was my
birthday
. I was supposed to be cutting loose. As the lightning-fast bartender zipped past me for the third time, I hollered for a tequila shot. It was the only alcohol I’d ever tried before.

“She’ll have a Pit Viper.” A guy behind me slapped down a ten. His other hand slid under my jacket and across my bare lower back.

I gasped and jerked away, breaking out in goose bumps as I turned toward the newest target for my pent-up frustration. “No thanks!”

He smirked.

“Cody!” I threw myself against him. He caught me in a halfway hug, his fingers dancing over my sides. I gazed up at him, my brush with death forgotten. He looked gorgeous, as usual, in a tight black t-shirt and dark jeans. That mischievous smile. Cornflower blue eyes, with the familiar crinkle at the corners.

“Nice digs, sweetness.” He looked me up and down and twisted a lock of my new red in his fingers. “Do something with your hair?”

“You’re such an ass.” I hid my smile by burying my face in his chest. He deserved my ire for leaving me to dangle myself out on this limb, but now that he was here to catch me, I was so relieved I couldn’t be mad at him anymore.

Cody laughed. “Did you come all the way down here just to tell me I’m an ass?”

“Yeah.” My hands slid into his back pockets, feeling the ass I was really interested in. “You wouldn’t pick up your damn phone.”

The humor dropped from his face. He pulled away from me to pat himself down, then shrugged. “Must have lost it.”

“You lost your phone? Seriously? When did that happen?” Maybe he hadn’t been avoiding me like I’d thought. I grabbed the Big-Gulp sized cup from the bar and took a sip of the vibrant red concoction. An explosion of sour fizzyness with a bitter cherry chaser rioted down my throat.

Cody took my hand and dragged me through the outskirts of the main dance floor.

“You do realize it’s my birthday, right?”

“Of course.” He squeezed my hand. “I have a surprise for you.”

I was still coughing as Cody guided us into one of the side tunnels of the club, leading to a set of attached rooms and several smaller dance floors. He pulled me down a narrow cement stairway.

“Where are we going?” The Pit Viper had less venom once your tonsils adjusted to the assault. Cody ignored me, moving through a maze of dark, sticky-floored hallways like he had a destination in mind.

Thumping bass shook the walls around us, but the crowd thinned. The music grew distant. We passed by two rooms guarded on the outside by club bouncers. I peered into one of them through a crack in the doorway and glimpsed a half-naked man chained to a wall, his bare back covered in welts and small cuts. The snap of something sharp hitting skin made me grip Cody’s hand tighter. Where was he taking me? What sort of place was this, really?

My stomach fluttered with a punch bowl of nerves, excitement, and alcohol. I finished the drink and set the cup down.