Amora Medina-Jackyl and her son, Ripper, know one thing well–vengeance. They inflicted pain without mercy to those who deserved the punishment. Although, they lived by one motto, family is to be protected above all else. When a child, an ancient cult murdered Amora’s parents and siblings. They never knew the Hell they brought down on themselves that one brutal night.
Amora was many things in her four centuries. A daughter and a sister, a mother, yet she was best known as a killer. When she meets her end, Amora will have hundreds, maybe thousands of lives to answer for. Her only wish is to find one moment of peace. She denies her need as much as she fights to protect it. When the one woman who can bring her serenity comes into her life, can Amora destroy century old walls to let her in?
Ripper has watched his mother fight savagely for others. He learned lessons in revenge from the moment of his birth; Ripper was his mother’s son. Yet he has a curse hanging over his head. A prophesy that wouldn’t be denied. He wants some semblance of normal. When he can’t deny his need for the one woman he’s kept his distance from would his love cause pain or pleasure?
When some truths come to light, the very reality of the family changes. Can they know something other than the taste of revenge and loss?
Note: Part 1 is FF, Part 2 is MF
Some scars were smooth fragile flesh beneath the pads of her fingers. Others thick and textured, yet the ones most damaging existed deeper than the pale cool skin nestled to hers.
When the sun set Amora would leave, and as many times in the night as she’d asked her mate to stay, she was distracted by kisses and touches. Her mate, the words thought in silence quickened her heart rate, Amora only hers. The monster they’d been taught to fear, Amora Jackyl, the boogeyman to The Order’s children belonged to her.
For one day Amora slept peacefully, no screams or cries for mercy intermingled witdefiance broke the tranquility of the room.
“You actually care.” Her head popped up and met green eyes that shone with an emotion akin to compassion. Whether that was for her or Amora she didn’t know.
“Yes, she’s beautiful and possesses a tenderness she hates people to see.” Lark kept her voice low despite knowing Amora wouldn’t awaken until the sun began to fade behind the horizon.
“Don’t believe in fairy tales, Lark. You’re in bed and most likely in love with a monster, a scourge to your precious Order.” Silence stretched out for a few moments as Ripper stepped farther into the room and stopped beside the bed. “Do you truly know what they did to her?”
“I read.” A menacing rumble of sound made her cringe.
“I don’t give a fuck what you read, do you know? Have you ever known a hunger, thirst, so great you’d sell your soul to slake it?” Her eyes burned as she shook her head, but he continued to speak. “The horror of watching your own flesh turn to ash and fall to bloody soil, can you even imagine what that does to you? What about seeing your parents murdered for the agenda of a vengeful demon or to watch your home burn with your siblings inside?” Lark dropped her gaze to Amora’s face and held her a little tighter as Ripper continued. “She relives that every fucking day, remembers the thirst and pain, existing alone in a mental hell that she can never escape. I love my mother, we don’t say it aloud often, but we say it in our own way. She made me what I am through a fucked up mistake of genetics and nurturing. Strong, so I’d never understand her loss.”
“But you do understand.”
“Yes, I do, but also I understand if she carries out this plan of hers, to rescue a child important to her mate she may not come back. I fear what they’ll do to her this time will break the little sanity that she has left. Can you live with knowing that your request will do that to her?”
“I’ve tried to talk her out of it, I would go back home in a second to save her from that possibility, yet she refuses to allow me.”
“Of course she does, everything in Amora is screaming for her to protect what is hers.
She will lay her life on the line for you as quickly as she would me. We are all the family she has left. If she doesn’t come back it will be up to me to take care of you.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because you are my mother’s mate and we take care of our own.”
“Why are—what are—” She didn’t know how to ask the question.
“One day Angelus will fall, it could be centuries from now, but I will take his place. The
Medina-Jackyl line ends with me because I refuse to expose a woman to what I truly am. I am a hybrid of demon and Vampire, an anomaly, something that shouldn’t exist, yet was prophesized.
She doesn’t think I know. In the future my demon won’t be easily hidden, the piece of me that’s
Jackyl will get pushed aside. It will push agonizingly to the surface and essentially take over.
Feeding him will be the only way for me to exist.”
“More than he did earlier?” Smiling sadly she darted a look at Ripper to catch him shaking his head.
“That was playing around. I needed an advantage in order to tangle with my mother.”
“You two did seem to be enjoying inflicting pain on each other.”
“That was nothing, the last real fight we had was a century ago. She and I still have the scars from that one.”
“I’m sure.” Lifting her hand she stroked Amora’s cheek and watched her slightly stir.
“Tell me how to make her stay.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t help you with that, Ma’s made up her mind and nothing is going to change that, but…” A mischievous tilt of his mouth appeared and he grinned as he started backing out of the room. “I normally wouldn’t suggest this and it is particularly gag-worthy for me to even speak of it. Give my mother a reason to come home, if you know what I mean. I’m going for a run, probably be gone a few hours. You would have my undying appreciation if you would be done by then.”
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By day, she’s an introverted cook hiding out in her kitchen in the middle of nowhere Ohio, by night and any free time she may have, she is a writer of mainly LGBTQ Fiction and Erotica. Although, she’s equal opportunity when it comes to telling a story, she’ll even write a bit of straight erotic romance when the mood strikes.
She has been writing for years in old notebooks. At the age of eight, she wrote the worst poem in the history of poetry, but it sparked her love for writing. She reads too much and loves to get lost in other worlds and her favorite stories have to include laughter and at least one reader doing a double take.
Thirty-something, forever restless, she uses her stories to ground herself, and find her place of peace.
Facebook Author Page: www.facebook.com/J.M.DabneyAuthor