Redeem Me: A Reverse Harem Vampire Romance (The Last Vocari Book 3)

  REDEEM ME

  THE LAST VOCARI: BOOK 3

  ELENA LAWSON

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Copyright © 2020 Elena Lawson

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Characters, incidents and dialogs are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events is strictly coincidental.

  Cover by Moorbooks Design

  1

  I n my state of unconsciousness, I dreamed feverishly of all the ways I wanted to punish Azrael for his stupid mistake. How could he have let Raphael get away?

  We had him.

  On the brink of consciousness, I skimmed through a few more options, painting them in vivid—if a little morbid—pictures in my mind. I could pull off his fingernails. Oh, I know! How about chop off all that pretty hair? Oh! Oh! Or I could just fucking lob his stupid handsome head off with my katana and be done with it.

  Except, I wouldn’t ever be able to do any of those things. Azrael was the oldest vampire to ever live, alongside his twin brother. I might as well have been a mouse facing down a fucking lion.

  But he would be made to feel the heat of my fury one way or another, just as soon as I could peel back my goddamned eyelids and wake up. My mind floated up once more from the pit of my unconsciousness, as it had been doing for a couple of days now, but this time, I gripped tight to the thread pulling me awake, resolved not to let it escape.

  I moaned painfully, but barely any sound escaped my lips, stopped by the raw dryness in my throat. A stab of something like a hot knife pressed into the top of my skull. Ouch.

  A pinch in my right hand when I tried to move told me there was an IV jabbed into my vein there. And the chill of fluids being pumped inside told me that Azrael seemed to be giving me fluids this time. Not taking them from me as he usually did.

  That’s new.

  A tight breath drawn in through chapped lips almost made me choke. I thought I was back inside the cave with Azrael, but now I wasn’t so sure.

  The air wasn’t stale and fetid like it was down there. It was crisp and scented lightly of lavender. And if the light I could see staining the front of my eyelids in a white glow didn’t lie, then I was in a room with normal lighting, not the flickering orange glow of torchlight.

  I could’ve kissed Azrael for not dumping me back down in that awful pit he called a home, but it didn’t excuse his idiocy. I’d thank him…after I hit him a good few times.

  My lips parted and an awful hissing croak fell from them instead of the words I’d meant to say.

  A shuffling of feet over soft carpet. The scents of worn leather and tangy aftershave filled my nose. Frost.

  “Water,” I tried again, slitting my eyes open for half a second before squeezing them shut again against the searing brightness.

  His hand brushed something from my face, and I felt the last bits of my consciousness emerging from sleep. “What?” he crooned, and I could picture the worried crease in his brow. See the tense lines of his chiseled face, even with my eyes shut.

  “Fucking water,” I repeated, and the words came out more clearly. “Please,” I added as an afterthought.

  Frost’s large arm slid under my back and I winced as his hand passed over a particularly tender spot just between my shoulder blades. He lifted me to sitting and my body sagged. My head almost lolled back before I managed to engage the muscles in my neck.

  I blinked my eyes open, gritting my teeth as they adjusted to the bright lights. Cool glass touched my lips, and I lifted my hands shakily to tip the contents down my parched throat.

  “More?” Frost asked.

  I nodded, and he propped me up, as though I weighed no more than a doll, against a mountain of pillows and slid his arm out from under me.

  He returned with a second glass, and this time I didn’t need his help to hold it to my lips. I took it from him with hands that were already steadying and greedily gulped it down. I shivered as the cool liquid snaked down my esophagus and pooled in my stomach.

  “Better?”

  “Mmm,” I replied and handed him the empty glass, tipping my head to audibly crack my neck, working out the kinks. My eyes regained their focus, and I realized I had absolutely no idea where we were.

  The room was grandiose. The bedframe was filigreed gold with a tall headboard and four poster columns on each corner, spiraling up almost to the ceiling. The sheets were satiny smooth off-white Egyptian cotton. The carpet was plush, velvety plum, and the crown-molding was something you might find in a French chateau, or maybe a castle. Except the enormous window, draped in heavy gold tasseled curtains across from me was entirely sealed off by a black metal shutter drawn down over it.

  It looked so out of place among all the antique finery that I did a double take.

  It all came back to me in a rush of memories I’d rather have stayed forgotten. In my fevered dreams, my mind had fixated on Azrael. And on Raphael…and how the bastard was somehow still breathing, that I’d forgotten all about the other horrors.

  The guys. My guys. Their home was destroyed. Ethan’s shop reduced to a burning orange inferno. Everything they worked for. Everything they owned. Gone.

  And all those people.

  A flash of severed body parts scattered over crimson-coated pavement flashed against the backdrop of my tightly sealed eyes. Firemen. An entire news crew. Innocent people.

  How many had they killed?

  Fuck.

  It’s all my fault.

  I didn’t realize I’d whispered it until I sensed Frost stiffen beside me. “Don’t you dare fucking say that.”

  Finally, I met his eyes, unable to keep my own from welling. Frost’s hard green gaze bored into me. He shook his head, jaw taut.

  “It’s true, isn’t it?” I asked, my voice watery. “They were there for me. Not you. If I’d just stayed away maybe—”

  “Shut up.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, and the wetness rimming them halted before any true tears could fall. “But—”

  “Don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself. I can’t stand it when you cry,” he trailed off, suddenly unable to look me in the eye. His face reddened and his hands balled atop the soft sheets. “If you want someone to blame, blame the fucker who painted the streets red with innocent blood and fire. Blame Rafe. He’s the one who did this.” He turned to meet my gaze again, and the hardness in his eyes softened. “Not you, Rosie.”

  I managed a sagging smirk and pulled one of his fisted hands into mine, closing it between my calloused palms. “Okay,” I replied lamely, but I think we both knew it wasn’t, and would never be again.

  “Christ, woman,” Frost all but growled at me, his husky voice strained. “We’ve been here for days waiting for you
to wake up…we weren’t even sure if you would wake up.”

  The pale skin around his eyes was stained a purplish-red, and I wondered when the last time he slept was. Judging by the look of him, it had to have been days. “I—”

  He held up a hand to stop me. “And now you want to sit there and try to blame yourself for what happened?”

  Frost leaned forward and drew me sharply into his muscled chest, crushing me to him almost painfully. His shoulders were trembling. He inhaled the scent of me and planted a rough kiss atop my head, still not letting go. “Just…” he began, but couldn’t finish, swallowing hard so his throat bobbed against my temple. “Just let me hold you for a minute, okay?”

  I nodded against his chest, nuzzling in deeper as I wrapped the arm untethered by an IV and plastic tube around his middle and allowed myself to breathe.

  After a minute, or maybe a few, I broke the silence, needing him to know that I would do whatever I could to help them rebuild what was taken from them. “I have some money saved up,” I told him, my voice muffled against his thin t-shirt. “It’s yours. Fucking all of it. We can—”

  Frost jerked back and ran a hand through his white-blond hair. He rolled his eyes at me. “No need,” he said without further explanation, and I heard the muted sound of footfalls across the room. “It’s already been taken care of.”

  Frost’s bright green eyes narrowed on the figure entering and I turned to find Azrael standing in the doorway. He was put together in a tailored ensemble that made him look even sharper than he usually did, but his perpetually smooth russet brown hair was unkept. And the rims of deep color around his eyes and sallowness in his cheeks told me he hadn’t been sleeping much either.

  He sighed the moment he saw me sitting up in bed. “I thought I heard you cursing.”

  I smirked.

  Then what Frost meant clicked in my mind and my gaze jerked between them. He couldn’t mean that Azrael…

  No way.

  Azrael was paying to replace all their things?

  I looked at my captor, incredulous. He nodded silently, answering my thoughts. I clamped my jaw shut, grinding my teeth.

  “I guess I won’t cut your head off, then,” I muttered. “But you deserve it.”

  Azrael pursed his lips and moved into the room with his hands clasped behind his back until he was standing over me on the other side of the bed. A memory of his brother struck me, of him pressing his foul lips to mine in a forceful kiss right before he hit me so hard in the head that I’ve been out for days.

  “Sit,” I told Azrael, my throat going dry. That face looming over me wasn’t helping right now. I was trying to soothe my heart rate and shaking limbs, not make them worse.

  He’s not his brother.

  Looking pained, Azrael did as I asked and sat near the edge of the wide bed. I was grateful that, for once, he didn’t take it upon himself to comment openly on my thoughts.

  “Where are the others?” I asked with a quirked brow, wondering why neither of them had heard me.

  “Ethan is downstairs,” Azrael said. “He’s blasting some horrid music in the sitting room where he’s set up something of a makeshift lab.”

  My brow furrowed.

  “He’s trying to recreate the shit he made back in his lab. The, uh, the vampire sunblock potion shit or whatever you want to call it.”

  Oh.

  “And Blake?”

  “Asleep,” Frost replied, squeezing my hand again. “He’s been up sitting with you the longest. He damn near fell out of this chair a couple times before Ethan and I made him go to bed. He’ll be out for at least a few more hours.”

  My heart gave a little twinge and I swallowed. “And where are we exactly?” I asked, this time posing the question to Azrael, who I assumed would have the explanation I was seeking.

  Azrael ran a small edge of the soft white sheets between his fingers, not looking at me. “My home.”

  My face went slack, mouth falling ajar. I’d guessed as much. It was either that or some swanky castle hotel. Without thinking, I kicked him hard beneath the covers, my foot connecting with the solid plane of his upper thigh. An aching pain ricocheted up my calf all the way to my thigh. I winced, angry that kicking him probably caused me more grief than it did him. “You asshole,” I grumbled, unapologetically. “You kept me in that stupid cave when you had this place. The fuck?”

  A look of shock crossed Azrael’s features, and I wondered if he was more surprised at my outburst or that I’d kicked him.

  “Oh, come on,” I hissed when he didn’t bother replying. “It’s not like it hurt.”

  He inclined his head, agreeing.

  I went to pull myself out of the covers when the IV tugged at my hand and I flinched. “Stupid fucking thing,” I muttered and pulled it from my skin, tossing it off the side of the bed to hang limply beneath a mostly drained IV bag on a metal pole.

  “You should rest,” Azrael said haltingly, and I didn’t miss how his mismatched eyes darted to the thin trail of blood dribbling down to my wrist from the tiny wound.

  “Rest?” I almost laughed, peeling the covers back so I could sit up properly, and feeling every stiff muscle and ache as I did. “There isn’t time for that. You saw what your psychotic brother did. He needs to be stopped.”

  “No shit,” Frost interjected, his expression hardening back into his usual resting-I’ll-kill-you-face. “But before we go running to our deaths, let me grab you something to eat. You look like a raisin.”

  I scowled at him.

  “A super-hot raisin,” he amended.

  “How can you both be so calm about this?” I asked, my temper flaring. “What’s the plan? Or do you even have one?”

  Azrael sighed heavily and rose from the bed, removing the metal pole from the side and using it as a sort of leaning post.

  “What the hell are you sighing about?” I demanded. “You’re the one who let the bastard get away.”

  “It’s not that simple, Rosie.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” Azrael grimaced, his head bowed and eyes darkening. “Raphael has an army of followers at his back. And even if he didn’t, he’s been sequestered in his tower since Baton Rouge. The thing is impenetrable.”

  “And he’s still building that army,” Frost added. “It grows every day. I’ve been tracking his movements. He’s recruiting soldiers faster than you can blink.”

  We all knew what he wanted. Raphael didn’t believe vampires should go back to being what they were before the curse changed them. In his foul mind, the Vocari race had been improved upon. Had been exalted. And should take its rightful place at the top of the food chain, effectively turning the rest of humanity into a multihued snack.

  I shivered. “He’s insane.” I shook my head, all my still-sluggish thoughts coalescing into one certain one. “Az,” I said in as gentle of a voice as I could possibly muster, and the ancient vampire raised his head until our eyes met. “You can’t save him,” I implored Azrael to see reason.

  I’d only had the misfortune to meet Raphael once, but there was no denying what I saw inside of him. He’s a monster. “He needs to be put down.”

  Azrael blinked and a flash of sizzling fury raced across his features and gleamed like fire in his eyes before he growled and looked away. His body went rigid. In an exhalation of shaky breath, he replied in barely a whisper. “I know.”

  I wished he’d known that a few days ago when we could’ve fucking done something about it, but there it is. At least he’s seen the light. His deranged sibling needs to die, and he may be the only vampire strong enough to do the job.

  “Are you guys forgetting about the fucking army he has at his back? Deciding to kill the guy is one thing, actually being able to do it is something completely different.”

  “Hmmm,” Azrael said pensively. The deep, throaty sound somehow making my insides squirm and my toes curl. Ugh. “Then I suppose we’ll be needing an army of our own.”

  I remembered h
ow Azrael appeared through the smoke and flames with an entourage of vampires at his back in the streets of Baton Rouge and my hope surged. “Do you have one?”

  Azrael’s face fell. “No. At least, not one large enough to match Raphael’s. No where near as many vampires as we would need for a fair fight.”

  My brain reeled from the conversation, reality snapping into me like a cold wet smack across the face. We were talking about war. Vampire war. How fucked up is that?

  Barely a week ago, I was plotting ways to kill Azrael and escape his hideout. Worrying about when I would get to see my guys next. Squirming impatiently as doctors and nurses took blood, hair, and marrow samples from my body.

  Now…what?

  Was I actually going to trust Azrael?

  I considered him from my seat on the soft mattress, tracing the planes of his face. He caught me watching him and his lips parted. I shut up my thoughts and locked them away, not wanting him to hear.

  The answer to my question, it seemed, was yes. I was going to trust him. Because I didn’t have any other choice. I’d already broken all my other rules. Why not this one, too? Why not break them all?

  Azrael watched me curiously and I cleared my throat, glancing away from him and back to Frost.

  “Then we build one,” Frost says before I have a change to arrange my thoughts into coherent words. “If that’s the only way, then that’s what we’ll do. I already knew a few who would join us.”