Shadow Soldier: The Revenant, Book 1
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When the Purge nearly wipes out humanity and gives rise to the Allied Races Coalition, Roux Jennings refuses to become a paranormal’s new pet. Forced into hiding, she remains constantly on the move, never staying in one place for too long. It’s a harsh existence filled with too many dangers and not enough food, but at least she’s free.
Coalition Captain Deke Collins is tasked with protecting the citizens of Trinity Grove—both human and paranormal alike. Presenting the mask of a loyal and dutiful soldier isn’t always easy, but it’s a necessary evil. If anyone discovers he’s the leader of a group of rebels secretly known as the Revenant, he won’t live to see the next sunrise. When circumstances force him into the path of a beautiful and tenacious female, he’s immediately drawn to the human. Dragging Roux into his world may put her in more danger than even he realizes, but it’s a risk he must take to protect her. In a reality where paranormals rule and humans are nearly extinct, lines are drawn, sides chosen, and a war for freedom rages in secret. |
Excerpt
“I’m going to let you go,” her captor said, his voice quiet but steady. “You’re not going to run again, and you’re not going to scream. Got it?”
Panic choked her, but Roux fisted her hands at her sides and nodded. He could have killed her a dozen times by now, and the fact that he hadn’t frightened her more than even the promise of a slow, torturous death. More likely, he’d drag her into the city where she’d be imprisoned, allowed out of her cage only to serve as a vampire’s blood bag or a werewolf’s whore. They’d use her until nothing remained, until not only her body, but her mind and spirit had been ruined, shattered beyond recognition or repair.
“Good.” His grip relaxed, but he didn’t fully release her. “Now, here’s how this is going to work. I’m going to ask you questions, and you’re going to answer them. Nod if you understand.”
Roux nodded again, slower this time. She’d answer his questions, but she hadn’t agreed to answer them honestly. When he applied pressure to her shoulder, she didn’t resist, but turned to face him readily.
Her original assessment of his size hadn’t been far off the mark. He towered over her, his broad shoulders blotting out most of the light from the streetlamps. Sweet Jesus, he had to be at least a foot taller than her, and the wet cotton of his plain, black T-shirt clung to every hard ridge of muscle.
With his face shadowed, she couldn’t make out many features—not the color of his eyes, the shape of his jaw. His short hair looked dark, maybe black, but between the rain and the lack of adequate light, Roux couldn’t be sure. Not that it mattered. Knowing what he looked like wouldn’t save her.
“Good,” he praised her again. “Let me give you a little piece of advice before we begin.” He stepped closer, crowding her, then bent to press his lips against her ear. “Do. Not. Lie.” Though spoken barely louder than a breath, each word rang in her ears as if he’d shouted them. “I don’t like being lied to, female, and I promise, you won’t enjoy the consequences. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes,” Roux bit out, clenching her teeth so tightly her jaw ached.
With a rumble—like a growl, but gentler somehow—the beast jerked away from her so quickly, she barely saw him move. He circled, prowling around her, his footsteps light and soundless. Then he stopped in front of her again, his head tilted at a curious angle as if assessing her.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Tell me your name, and I’ll tell you mine.” She wouldn’t lie, but she wouldn’t make it easy for him, either.
“Careful,” he warned. “There’s a narrow line between bravery and stupidity.”
“I’ll remember that.”
Neither of them spoke for several, tense seconds, but Roux refused to break first. Her pride would get her killed, but then again, her defiance was the only weapon she had left. If she had to die, she’d do it on her feet, still fighting, not whimpering in the mud like a coward.
“Collins,” he finally answered. “Captain Deke Collins.”
“Roux,” she returned grudgingly. “Roux Jennings.”
“Okay, Roux, besides you and the five we have in custody, are there any more of you?”
“Humans?” she scratched her fingernails over the wet denim covering her thighs, a nervous habit she’d picked up sometime in the past year. “I’m sure there are plenty of us.”
“I’m going to take that to mean there are no more in your party.”
“Where are they?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes at the sinister figure. “What have you done with them?”
“Your friends are safe. They’ve been taken into the city.” He shifted, turning sideways, and the light from the grocer parking lot reflected in his eyes so that they glowed a strange, icy blue. “You’ll see them soon,” he added, his tone mocking.
Shifter. Or werewolf, maybe, but Roux guessed shifter. While Deke was certainly big enough to be a werewolf, he moved too gracefully, too quietly. From what she’d seen, the werewolves lacked all subtly and finesse, killing first and asking questions later.
“I’d rather you just kill me and get it over with.” Maybe not the smartest thing to ever leave her mouth, but she meant every word of it.
“So eager for death,” Deke mused. “Why?”
“Not eager. Just not interested in being a walking buffet for a bunch of bloodsuckers.”
“Funny you should say that.” His right eyebrow arched, and his lips curled at the corners. “Did your friends decide you’d make the best vampire bait?”
Roux placed her hand over the bandage on her injured arm and lifted her chin. “What does it matter to you?”
He didn’t answer, but asked a question of his own. “Where was your party coming from?”
“East.”
“I’m going to need more than that.”
“Why?” Roux challenged. “You have us now. What does it matter where we came from?”
“And why are you so desperate to protect the place?” he countered, turning back and taking an aggressive step forward. “What are you hiding, female?”
“I told you my name, asshole. The least you can do is use it.”
“Don’t be a hypocrite. It doesn’t suit you.”
Roux scoffed. “Don’t pretend to know me.”
With another of those strange rumbles, Deke stepped forward, sweeping her off the ground and over his shoulder. Panic flooded Roux’s veins, breaking down her composure, and she flailed, kicking her feet and slamming her fists against his muscled back.
“No! Put me down. Please, don’t do this. You don’t have to do this. Don’t take me into the city.” Tears welled along her lower lids, threatening to spill over, but she fought them back ruthlessly. “Let me go!”
Her struggles barely fazed him, gaining only a single grunt, but even that sounded more frustrated than pained. Deke carried her through the peach trees to the rear of the grocer where he dumped her unceremoniously into the backseat of an SUV with a mesh cage separating her from the front of the cab.
Twisting around in the seat, Roux rolled over on her back and kicked at the window, driving the heel of her boot into the glass. She kicked again and again, even when her knee began to throb and her shin screamed in protest.
“That’s bulletproof glass,” Deke informed her as he slid behind the wheel, his tone calm, almost bored. “You’re going to hurt yourself before you break it.”
Soaking wet, starving, and exhausted, Roux slumped back on the bench seat, closed her eyes, and counted backwards from ten.
Ten. Nine. Eight.
It couldn’t end like this. She’d fought too hard, lost too much.
Seven. Six. Five.
Even if she could escape, she’d lost her bag, all of her supplies, and she no longer had a weapon. It didn’t matter. She’d rather be unprepared in the woods than face the horrors of the city.
Four. Three. Two.
Roux opened her eyes, staring up at the ceiling of the cab with her hands fisted at her sides. Weakness, hopelessness, and defeat had no place in her mind or heart, and if she had to die, she’d take as many of them with her as she could.
One.
Panic choked her, but Roux fisted her hands at her sides and nodded. He could have killed her a dozen times by now, and the fact that he hadn’t frightened her more than even the promise of a slow, torturous death. More likely, he’d drag her into the city where she’d be imprisoned, allowed out of her cage only to serve as a vampire’s blood bag or a werewolf’s whore. They’d use her until nothing remained, until not only her body, but her mind and spirit had been ruined, shattered beyond recognition or repair.
“Good.” His grip relaxed, but he didn’t fully release her. “Now, here’s how this is going to work. I’m going to ask you questions, and you’re going to answer them. Nod if you understand.”
Roux nodded again, slower this time. She’d answer his questions, but she hadn’t agreed to answer them honestly. When he applied pressure to her shoulder, she didn’t resist, but turned to face him readily.
Her original assessment of his size hadn’t been far off the mark. He towered over her, his broad shoulders blotting out most of the light from the streetlamps. Sweet Jesus, he had to be at least a foot taller than her, and the wet cotton of his plain, black T-shirt clung to every hard ridge of muscle.
With his face shadowed, she couldn’t make out many features—not the color of his eyes, the shape of his jaw. His short hair looked dark, maybe black, but between the rain and the lack of adequate light, Roux couldn’t be sure. Not that it mattered. Knowing what he looked like wouldn’t save her.
“Good,” he praised her again. “Let me give you a little piece of advice before we begin.” He stepped closer, crowding her, then bent to press his lips against her ear. “Do. Not. Lie.” Though spoken barely louder than a breath, each word rang in her ears as if he’d shouted them. “I don’t like being lied to, female, and I promise, you won’t enjoy the consequences. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes,” Roux bit out, clenching her teeth so tightly her jaw ached.
With a rumble—like a growl, but gentler somehow—the beast jerked away from her so quickly, she barely saw him move. He circled, prowling around her, his footsteps light and soundless. Then he stopped in front of her again, his head tilted at a curious angle as if assessing her.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Tell me your name, and I’ll tell you mine.” She wouldn’t lie, but she wouldn’t make it easy for him, either.
“Careful,” he warned. “There’s a narrow line between bravery and stupidity.”
“I’ll remember that.”
Neither of them spoke for several, tense seconds, but Roux refused to break first. Her pride would get her killed, but then again, her defiance was the only weapon she had left. If she had to die, she’d do it on her feet, still fighting, not whimpering in the mud like a coward.
“Collins,” he finally answered. “Captain Deke Collins.”
“Roux,” she returned grudgingly. “Roux Jennings.”
“Okay, Roux, besides you and the five we have in custody, are there any more of you?”
“Humans?” she scratched her fingernails over the wet denim covering her thighs, a nervous habit she’d picked up sometime in the past year. “I’m sure there are plenty of us.”
“I’m going to take that to mean there are no more in your party.”
“Where are they?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes at the sinister figure. “What have you done with them?”
“Your friends are safe. They’ve been taken into the city.” He shifted, turning sideways, and the light from the grocer parking lot reflected in his eyes so that they glowed a strange, icy blue. “You’ll see them soon,” he added, his tone mocking.
Shifter. Or werewolf, maybe, but Roux guessed shifter. While Deke was certainly big enough to be a werewolf, he moved too gracefully, too quietly. From what she’d seen, the werewolves lacked all subtly and finesse, killing first and asking questions later.
“I’d rather you just kill me and get it over with.” Maybe not the smartest thing to ever leave her mouth, but she meant every word of it.
“So eager for death,” Deke mused. “Why?”
“Not eager. Just not interested in being a walking buffet for a bunch of bloodsuckers.”
“Funny you should say that.” His right eyebrow arched, and his lips curled at the corners. “Did your friends decide you’d make the best vampire bait?”
Roux placed her hand over the bandage on her injured arm and lifted her chin. “What does it matter to you?”
He didn’t answer, but asked a question of his own. “Where was your party coming from?”
“East.”
“I’m going to need more than that.”
“Why?” Roux challenged. “You have us now. What does it matter where we came from?”
“And why are you so desperate to protect the place?” he countered, turning back and taking an aggressive step forward. “What are you hiding, female?”
“I told you my name, asshole. The least you can do is use it.”
“Don’t be a hypocrite. It doesn’t suit you.”
Roux scoffed. “Don’t pretend to know me.”
With another of those strange rumbles, Deke stepped forward, sweeping her off the ground and over his shoulder. Panic flooded Roux’s veins, breaking down her composure, and she flailed, kicking her feet and slamming her fists against his muscled back.
“No! Put me down. Please, don’t do this. You don’t have to do this. Don’t take me into the city.” Tears welled along her lower lids, threatening to spill over, but she fought them back ruthlessly. “Let me go!”
Her struggles barely fazed him, gaining only a single grunt, but even that sounded more frustrated than pained. Deke carried her through the peach trees to the rear of the grocer where he dumped her unceremoniously into the backseat of an SUV with a mesh cage separating her from the front of the cab.
Twisting around in the seat, Roux rolled over on her back and kicked at the window, driving the heel of her boot into the glass. She kicked again and again, even when her knee began to throb and her shin screamed in protest.
“That’s bulletproof glass,” Deke informed her as he slid behind the wheel, his tone calm, almost bored. “You’re going to hurt yourself before you break it.”
Soaking wet, starving, and exhausted, Roux slumped back on the bench seat, closed her eyes, and counted backwards from ten.
Ten. Nine. Eight.
It couldn’t end like this. She’d fought too hard, lost too much.
Seven. Six. Five.
Even if she could escape, she’d lost her bag, all of her supplies, and she no longer had a weapon. It didn’t matter. She’d rather be unprepared in the woods than face the horrors of the city.
Four. Three. Two.
Roux opened her eyes, staring up at the ceiling of the cab with her hands fisted at her sides. Weakness, hopelessness, and defeat had no place in her mind or heart, and if she had to die, she’d take as many of them with her as she could.
One.