Revo's Property
Authors: Angelique Voisen
Evernight Publishing ®
Copyright©
2015 Angelique
Voisen
ISBN: 978-1-77233-488-3
Cover Artist: Jay
Aheer
Editor: Katelyn
Uplinger
ALL
RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this
copyrighted work is illegal.
No part of
this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written
permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are
fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To my readers, I hope you enjoy the first
book in my new MC series.
REVO’S PROPERTY
Hellhounds
MC, 1
Author Name
Copyright
© 2015
Chapter One
Ezra Haines drove through the
night. He didn’t know when his faithful black Buick could give out on him. It
sputtered and shrieked through his long road trip, but tonight, it sliced
through the cracked pavement like knife on butter.
Even his radio worked, but the only
thing on were raspy sounding preachers belting out the same old tune of hell
and damnation in some still-functioning radio tower. More importantly, nothing
came at him. No mutated biological nasty popped from the sand, or came swooping
down at him from the skies.
Ezra didn’t know how long his
fortune would last, but he needed Lady Luck on his side for what he needed to
do.
During the day, the desert rose on
either side of him. A colorless and cheerless sprawl of red soil and sand, and
Ezra could hardly see any trace of life. Night wove a different story because
with the dark on either side of him, it was easy to forget the world had moved
on. That he had a job to do and time was running out.
He rolled his windows down, let the
air whip his hair and face, but his mood died down the moment his car passed
from one country territory to the next. Ezra
expected
some sort of tollgate, barbed fences with armed men patrolling and asking
uncomfortable questions maybe, but all he saw was the sign.
Ezra read it out loud. “Welcome to
Wolf County. Beware of werewolves. Warning noted.” He scoffed, but an uneasy
feeling crept down his bones.
Everyone in the West Territories
knew the rules. Wolf County might welcome outsiders, but if any visitor broke
the law, they didn’t face some self-elected official. They got run down by the
Hellhounds MC, the werewolf bikers who ran Wolf County with an iron fist, and
their notion of justice involved claws and teeth. Some folks Ezra passed by
even said they ate human flesh.
He shivered. With his lax mood
lifted, Ezra sat up higher in his seat.
“Damn you, Echo. Why the fuck would
you screw up our perfect system? I’m so sick of cleaning your messes.” Ezra
screamed out his frustration to the empty wind, and like always, no one
answered him.
He had a gut feeling Echo still
lingered in Wolf County, but the important question remained. How much damage
had his twin left in his wake? Wolf County was different from the other towns
Ezra passed by. Those in charge actually gave a damn about those under their
protection. They wouldn’t turn one blind eye, let alone Echo slip past their
fingers. They would demand payment for the damages incurred
—
retribution.
A pound of flesh.
Up ahead, the roads remained broken
and riddled with holes, but another surprise awaited him. Spaced out from one
another, actual working lamps lit up the path into town. Ezra couldn’t even
remember the last time he visited a town where electricity still worked.
He gripped the steering wheel hard
and followed the lights. Blinking flashes of color from the corner of his eye
made him slow the Buick. A few meters from him, a dirt path split from the main
road and into an open lot lined with a few vehicles. This close, Ezra heard
familiar noises
—a
woman’s rowdy laughter spilling through
the night followed by drunken voices and loud country music. A roadhouse.
“Perfect.” He needed to feed, but
unlike Echo, Ezra would be careful.
The last time he fed his inner
demon and spiritual hunger had been three days ago. Slim pickings. Ezra parked
in one of the free spots. Before he got out, he checked his reflection from the
side mirror. Smoothed his hair and clothes, before sauntering out.
The moment he stepped through the
doors, a couple of heads turned to his direction. Underneath the smell of
cigarettes, beer, and vomit, he found his next happy meal. Musk. Sex. In the
hidden corners, he found his targets. Two men mounting a whore on a table and a
threesome going at it like mating snakes against the wall—mortals drowning too
much in lust to notice anything around them.
Ezra stretched out his senses
further. He found one weak fledging vampire gently feeding on the throat of a
waitress, a couple of young shifters, but no one dangerous who could puzzle out
what he was, or what he would take tonight.
“You looking for some company
tonight, boy?” One grizzled man in his forties asked as Ezra walked past.
Others didn’t speak, but propositioned him through the line of their bodies,
the suggestive look in their eyes.
Ezra might look like walking
jailbait, but wasn’t prey, at least with this bunch. He settled himself on a
free stool by the bar.
“What would it be?” asked the burly
bartender.
“Local beer.” Since the world
ended, prosperous and functioning towns brewed their own liquid poison, and
Ezra liked to taste each one and keep the bottle caps after. “Leave the cap
please, I collect them.”
Ezra glimpsed a flash of nicotine
stained teeth, what passed for a smile.
“Let me,” a man said, sitting
beside him.
Ezra didn’t bother asking his name,
and the stranger didn’t bother asking his either. All the stranger saw was an
attractive, slender and young man, who looked like he needed to be used, and
Ezra saw his meal ticket. Big, hairy, and blunt, the stranger no different from
those who took him behind back alleys, motels, trucks, and hell, even refugee
camps.
“Here you go.” The bartender handed
him a bottle and left him the cap as per his request. Ezra fingered the wolf on
the label, before plastering a cheeky grin at the stranger.
“Thanks for the beer.”
“No problem. You came here alone,
boy?”
“I drove up here from Kat
Kounty
to meet my brother.” Ezra watched his bushy brows
furrowed, then he added, “But we aren’t scheduled to meet until tomorrow.”
He took the bait. “Is that so?”
Predictable
dialogue.
Ezra tipped his bottle, eyes widening as smooth, liquid ambrosia
slid down his throat. The stranger grinned at his reaction, and unable to help
himself, Ezra grinned back.
“First time tasting Wolf County’s
home brew?”
“First time in Wolf County.”
“Maybe I can show you around. I’m
Ray Matthews, the owner of the local brewery. Not much to see in town, but
we’re also known for our kick-ass apple pie. Some decent antiques, Pre-Fall—”
“Apples still grow here?” Ezra blurted
out stupidly. Shit. This wouldn’t do. Now he had a name. Ray. Ezra needed to
think of his prey as food, not a reminder they were human beings too.
“Sure they do. The
orchard’s
next to the brewery, we offer combined day tours
too.”
Ezra miserably looked at his glass,
feeling deflated. He prodded at Ray’s aura, wanting to find malice, but came
out with nothing. Worse, the lust he felt from Ray moments ago turned into
something else. Genuine sympathy.
Holy
shit, just when I thought all decency has been stripped from this world, this
guy appears.
“Look, I don’t know you, but a boy
like you doesn’t belong to a place like this.” Ray gestured to the roadhouse.
“You should find your brother, not look for some stranger to hook up with.”
“Hey, it’s either you or some other
man. If you’re no longer interested, I’m moving onto someone else.” Ezra hopped
off his stool, beer in hand, but Ray grabbed his wrist.
Ray’s gaze looked angry and
conflicted. Ezra wondered what sort of inner demons he fought inside. Maybe he
had a wife back home, a decent woman, who didn’t spread her legs for a living,
and who had no clue she couldn’t satisfy all of Ray’s needs.
“Look, I’ve had a hard drive. I
know what I want, and I know what you want deep down. Me, or at least, young
men like me.”
Ray’s mouth twisted to a frown and
his eyes grew hard. “You’re a pro at this aren’t you?”
“I’m a jaded whore. I do what I can
to survive. So are you going to fuck me, or do I move on?”
“How much?”
“I’m not asking for payment this
time. I only want to scratch an itch.”
God.
I’m pathetic.
Wise men questioned freebies, but
not this one. Ray only said one word. “Upstairs.”
Ray didn’t let go of his arm. Ezra
let him lead him up the stairs by the elbow, feeling like shit. That was saying
something, since he’d never felt like this in a long time.
****
Morning light slithered through the
dusty blinds of the room. Ezra woke up with a splitting headache. He rubbed at
his eyes, not surprised to find himself in a familiar setting. Strange bed,
weighed down by one hairy arm flung over his chest, a grizzly of a man snoring
away beside him. Ray, Ezra remembered. He gently moved aside Ray’s hand, and
swung his legs off the rickety bed.
Ezra fished out his jeans from the
puddle of clothes on the floor, wincing at the small aches acting up, a
testament to Ray’s enthusiasm the night before, and his well-fed spiritual
hunger. At this rate, Ezra could go on for a couple of days without feeding his
inner demon. Free to explore Wolf County as he liked, pretending to be a mortal.
He started searching for his
sneakers when the hasty sounds of footsteps made him jump. Ezra’s breath caught
in his throat as whispering voices followed. Was he caught? Did the Hellhounds
MC somehow catch word of a lone incubus, an outsider illegally feeding on its
denizens?
Wanting to avoid an unnecessary
confrontation, Ezra desperately searched the room for another escape routes.
“Did you hear about what happened
at the Dancing Bitch?”
“Massive orgy caused by some kind
of supernatural spell or what shit, and I heard Mace’s more pissed than usual.”
“Whoever this poor fucker is, he
better be smart enough to put some distance between himself and Wolf County.”
Ezra relaxed after he heard the
fading footsteps. Not a threat then. Damn he was jumpy, but no reason he
shouldn’t keep his guard up. Their words nagged at him though. An orgy
suspiciously sounded like Echo’s work. His twin never really did learn how to
be subtle.
Fuck Echo. Didn’t he know how he
signed both their death warrants each time he went on a feeding spree? Hell,
Ezra doubted Echo gave a shit, but he couldn’t just leave his brother be. Echo
was blood, and the same brother who protected Ezra from bullies when they were
kids trying to survive in the rough slums after the apocalypse happened.
“Leaving so soon? I’m not
surprised,” Ray grumbled from the bed.
“I arranged to meet my brother at
the Dancing Bitch. Where is that? Is that the name of a bar?” Ezra asked.
Lying came to him easy. He did it
without thinking now. He wondered if he needed to undress, climb back into bed,
and do more information gathering with his mouth. Ray had been forthcoming too,
both in bed and with information.
Ray looked like he’d been asleep
when the gossiping men passed by the corridor, because he didn’t bat an eye or
attempt to dissuade Ezra. “It’s another bar across town. It’s not far, but you
be careful now. It’s a lot rougher than this place and it’s run by a former
member of the Hellhounds.”
Ezra swallowed. Seemingly noticing
his discomfort, Ray continued. “It’s not so bad and you don’t look like the
sort that courts trouble.”
“Yeah? Good then.”
Ray yawned, and curled back into
the blankets. “If you and your brother plan on staying long, come visit the
brewery. I’ll give you a tour.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”
Although Ezra doubted they had the time.
Once he found Echo, he’d rope him,
then get the hell out of Wolf County, before the wolves came sniffing at their
door. Ezra felt all drained up and exhausted from traveling. All he wanted to
do was drag back his brother and go back to their old way of life as nomads,
carefully taking little sips and nothing more. He had enough excitement to last
him a lifetime.