Half Truths (A Helheim Wolf Pack Tale) Read online

  Books by Lauren Dawes

  The Half Blood Trilogy

  Half Blood

  Half Truths

  Half Life

  LAUREN DAWES

  Half

  Truths

  A Helheim wolf pack tale

  Copyright © 2012 by Lauren Dawes

  First Edition, 2012

  Printed by CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform

  The right of Lauren Dawes to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000

  ISBN: 978-1-48108-749-0

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cover image © 2012 Dreamstime stock images

  Cover design by Gareth Dawes.

  For Phil;

  for all the usual reasons.

  Acknowledgements

  I’d like to thank the following people:

  First and foremost, a huge thank-you to my wonderfully supportive husband. Without you and your encouraging words, the books just wouldn’t get written.

  To my critical readers, Sarah B, Sarah F and Kylie. Never before have there been better sounding boards.

  And lastly, to my parents for their unwavering support and pride that they finally have a writer in the family.

  Prologue

  The club was dark except for bright pulses of light coming from the strobe every few milliseconds. It illuminated the heavily made-up faces and the glittering piercings through every imaginable piece of flesh of the people packed into its heaving walls. The heavy industrial music was pounding through the club, vibrating through his chest, shaking the marrow in his bones. All around him, PVC-clad bodies pushed and jostled against him, dragging him further into the club. He pulled up abruptly when the group he’d followed in stopped near the bar.

  ‘Drink?’ asked the girl he’d come to the club with. Cherry’s honey-brown eyes were smudged black, her lips the same colour. She was wearing a black PVC dress and fishnets. She looked fucking hot, and with any luck he’d be the one to get her out of her clothes later on that night.

  He leaned in close to answer, shamelessly rubbing against her. ‘Yeah. Beer.’ He leaned back to see Cherry shaking her head teasingly at him. He mouthed ‘What?’ to her and smiled his million-dollar-smile that guaranteed he’d be getting laid later on that night.

  Standing on her toes, she pressed her breasts against his chest, the plastic crackling between them. ‘I’ll get you something better suited to the scene.’ He watched Cherry disappear into the waiting crowd around the bar before walking over to the railing that looked over the cavernous space where bodies writhed together with the deep beat of the music. Around the edges of the dance floor, there were couples fucking each other against the walls while others were just beginning the slow dance of foreplay. Not one for voyeurism, he looked away.

  On the other side of the room, there was a black velvet rope in front of heavy, black curtains. Outside the curtains, stood a bouncer who looked like he could bench press a small car. He figured it was the VIP area … either that or the bondage room. He’d heard The Imp had one.

  He turned to face the dance floor again. Everywhere he looked, there were people wearing fishnets, latex and velvet. Girls were either dressed in leather or lace lingerie; the guys were wearing black pants with high-collared, full-length jackets and bondage shirts. When he caught people’s eyes, they were giving him a once-over before moving along.

  Cherry twitched her way back over to him with two drinks in her hands. She handed him one, clinking the side of her glass with his.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked, looking down into its red depths.

  ‘Vodka cranberry,’ she replied, taking a sip.

  ‘It looks like blood,’ he commented, still looking down into the tall glass.

  Cherry smiled. ‘It’s supposed to.’

  He took a sip, watching Cherry tongue her straw over the rim of his glass. He was instantly hard. ‘So what do you think?’ he asked, hoping she would see his hard on and jump on for a ride. Cherry’s eyes travelled over his body stopping when they reached his cock. It jerked uncontrollably as she smiled at him, taking a deliberate step forward.

  ‘If you’re talking about what you’re wearing,’ she gave him a knowing smile, biting down hard onto her bottom lip; eyes lingering at the bulge in the front of his pants, ‘It almost works, except for the Chuck Tailor’s. They kind of ruin it,’ she smiled devilishly. ‘But what you really need is some eyeliner.’

  He was fantasising about all the kinky shit Cherry must be into when his mind snapped back to the conversation they were having. Eyeliner? His head shook defiantly. ‘No way. No fucking way am I putting make-up on.’

  ‘I’ll do it for you,’ she pouted, putting a hand onto his arm. ‘It’ll make you blend in a little better. Promise,’ she said, biting down on her black-painted bottom lip again like she knew just how much of a turn on that was.

  He looked at her through narrowed eyes. ‘Fine.’ He would do just about anything to nail her. She gave him her drink and pulled something that looked like a pencil out from between her cleavage.

  ‘Sit down,’ she told him. Looking around for a place to park it, he found the arm of a dirty black armchair free. Placing their drinks onto the floor beside it, he perched himself on the end while Cherry sat in his lap, facing him. Her face was so close to his that he could smell her skin. She licked her lips, wriggling closer to his cock. It jerked at the proximity, and she obliged him by grinding herself onto him. He was enjoying watching her hips roll in his lap before she snapped her fingers in front of his face to get his attention again.

  She applied the liner heavily, smudging the edges with her pinkie finger. ‘Close your eyes.’ She did the same again, applying the pencil and forcing the colour to bleed out. ‘Open.’ His eyes opened slowly. ‘Something’s missing,’ she said, chewing her bottom lip. She smiled devilishly after a second. Leaning into him, she kissed him roughly, biting down on his lip. His blood was suddenly on fire, his erection straining to the point of pain as it pressed against his fly.

  ‘You needed some colour on your lips,’ she said, sliding off his lap and straightening the hem of her dress which had ridden up so far he could see her garters and matching black lace underwear. Anticipation tripped his heart.

  After adjusting his erection, he stood up again, picking up their drinks as he did and handing her hers.

  ‘I’m just going to go find the others,’ she smiled that same naughty smile again. Shaking his head, he turned back around to face the crowd, taking another sip from his drink. As he looked around, he noticed there were a lot of people there who had really pale skin. When he looked a little harder, he also saw that they had fake fangs peeking out from the bottom of their top lips. He laughed derisively to himself.

  ‘Fucking vampires. Well, that’s new.’ He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. He turned back around, putting the railing at his back, surveying the other side of the club. His eyes scanned the wall that had booths set up against them, stopping when they reached a dark figure leaning against the wall near the door. He looked away quickly, but found himself being drawn back to the woman again.

  From this distance, her eyes looked black, matching her dark skin. She was taller than most of th
e women in the club, dressed in black leather pants and a black leather bustier that tied up in the front. He noticed that a lot of men were staring at her too. Figuring she was a pro, he was about to look away when she smiled at him.

  She pushed off the wall and approached him; her body a graceful collection of muscles moving seamlessly together. Up close, her skin was as smooth as polished obsidian, her eyes bottomless black. ‘Hi,’ she purred.

  ‘Hey,’ he replied, shivering when her eyes were on

  him, staring at him so intently.

  ‘You want to get out of here?’ she asked.

  ‘I … err … how much?’ he asked; the words falling from his mouth without thinking. He didn’t fuck hookers. He’d only come to the club to get into Cherry’s pants. He glanced around nervously. He looked back at the woman again when she touched his face. Her fingers were blazing hot.

  ‘For you?’ she asked with a smile. ‘Nothing at all.’ He noticed her canines were a little longer than usual, but maybe they were fakes like everyone else was wearing.

  Her eyes drilled into him until he finally found his voice. ‘Al-alright,’ he said. ‘Is there somewhere we can go?’ he asked, looking around for a dark corner. Was he actually just going to fuck her against the wall? Then the idea dawned on him at the same time she said ‘Bathroom.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said. Taking him by the hand, she led him down the dark hallway to the bathrooms. Her palm was so hot against his as she tugged him further down the narrow hallway. There was a line outside the women’s toilets, but the men’s was empty except for one guy at the urinal.

  ‘Get out,’ she growled. The guy looked her over before glancing at him. He shrugged and left. Locking the door after the guy left, she stalked over to where he was waiting at the sink. She took off his shirt wordlessly, dumping it onto the floor at his feet. He reached for the tie on her bustier, but a growl broke free from her lips and he stopped. So, it was going to work like that, was it? He dropped his hand, letting her do whatever she wanted to do to him.

  ‘Close your eyes,’ she said close to his ear. He could feel the heat coming off her body. He did as he was told, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath to settle his sudden nerves. Had Cherry seen him walk away with her?

  He gasped when something sharp sank into his neck. When he put his hand to his throat, it came back red. Blood ran down from the wound, inching down his chest like a long, hot finger. He looked back at the woman. She had a double-edged blade in her hand. He hadn’t signed up for this BDSM shit. He should have realised this was how it was going to be.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he demanded, trying to take a step away. She grabbed his arm roughly, stopping him. He was surprised by how strong she was.

  ‘Let me go!’ he demanded, trying to pull free of her vicelike fingers.

  Pressing the knife to his throat, her hypnotically dark eyes fixed on his, holding him—trapping him there.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she replied in a voice as dark and deadly as her eyes.

  He tried to break free from her again, but the next thing he knew he was on the floor of the bathroom; the tiles warm against his bare skin. Agony rippled over the front of his throat. Metal sliced flesh and he smelled rust. He licked his lips, feeling his throat working over the lump that had formed there.

  His wide eyes went to the woman straddling his waist. He tried to speak, to call for help, but the sound didn’t come out. He tried again and again until he was sure he could only hear the words he was screaming in his head.

  The pounding of his pulse was beating in time with the heavy bass of the music from the club now. He felt it through his entire body like a second—stronger—heartbeat. His panic was cut when pain suddenly tailed down his chest like fire. Trying to lift his head, he found it felt like he was trying to lift a hundred-pound weight attached to his neck. The coppery tang of his blood stung his nostrils.

  Another round of pain erupted across his chest. Every one of his nerve endings were firing; his head telling him to get out of there, but his body reluctant to play along. The pain stopped as abruptly as it had started, and a shadow hovered over his face. With his last ounce of strength, he opened his eyes to find the woman looking down at him. Her eyes flashed a different colour, and he let out his final breath.

  Chapter 1

  Vaile stared down at the carved up chest of a kid who couldn’t have been any older than nineteen or twenty. Black eyeliner was smeared down his cheeks, bleeding out of tightly-drawn lines which—in Vaile’s opinion—no man should ever have such talent in. The guy’s black jeans were slung low; a silver chain clipped to a belt loop and running under his body—more than likely to a wallet with a fake ID in his back pocket. The guy’s shoes were the only thing that didn’t make sense with the ensemble: red high tops. So he was either a free-thinking Goth (not fucking likely) or he was only pretending to be.

  The CSI team were working around Vaile, collecting samples and documenting the scene. And even though they were the best at what they did, Vaile would still be doing his own CSI work after they left because his wolf could pick up more than humans could when it came down to it.

  ‘What’s in his back pocket?’ Vaile asked one of the investigators looking over the body.

  Carefully, the guy lifted the body and pulled on the silver chain. A wallet fell from his pocket into the hand of the investigator. The guy handed it to Vaile. Opening it, Vaile found a couple of small bills and a condom along with a fake ID. According to the information, the kid’s name was Sam Sanchez, born in 1986. Vaile looked down at the kid again. There was no fucking way he was twenty-five. He handed it back to the investigator who bagged it.

  Vaile glanced up when raised voices drifted through the door to the open men’s bathroom; his partner’s voice firm yet still feminine. And even though his head didn’t want to acknowledge her presence, his cock certainly did. Standing from his crouch, he held his latex-clad hands out carefully in front of him and marched out of the bathroom.

  The Uniformed standing by the door flinched when he saw Vaile, looking away nervously a second later. Vaile’s lip pulled into a sneer before storming down the short hallway of the club.

  Grey spoke again, her hands held in front of her trying to force the blood-thirsty rubberneckers away. ‘Please. This is a police investigation.’ One of the club’s bouncers was just standing there, not doing a damn thing to help her.

  ‘I thought I told you to close the fucking club!’ Vaile barked at the guy from halfway down the hallway, pulling off his bloody gloves angrily.

  ‘We’re trying to get people out now,’ the bouncer replied, crossing his arms over his chest and puffing it out a little.

  ‘Do a fucking better job of it then!’ snarled Vaile.

  A young woman surged forward in the crowd, clutching at the police line slung lazily between two propped-up mops at the start of the dark hallway. Her eyes were filled with the terror of someone who had never tasted death before, and Vaile suddenly felt jaded.

  ‘Please,’ the girl whimpered. ‘He’s my … he’s my …’

  ‘He’s your what?’ Vaile demanded, stalking towards the petite female. She was only a few inches shorter than Grey which had her flirting with the five-foot-two mark. Her black hair was as dull and lifeless as the stiff laying on the men’s room floor. Her eyes were painted in the same way—dark and smoky—but the look of horror on her face really added to the look she was trying to pull off. Her honey-brown eyes widened as he approached her; her throat trying to work down a lump.

  ‘He’s your what?’ Vaile demanded again, stopped only inches away from her body. Intentionally, he crowded her, getting up into her personal space until he could smell the fear coming from her. His wolf pushed its head against his ribs, a growl vibrating through its chest.

  ‘He’s my … classmate. From university.’

  Vaile’s eyes narrowed and she took a step back. ‘You brought him here tonight?’ he demanded.

  She swallowed the lump
and nodded.

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Aaron. He’s in my philosophy class. He said he wanted to come when he heard me talking about it with a friend earlier this week.’

  ‘Aaron what?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’d only spoken to him a few times. Honestly, I didn’t even think this was his kind of place,’ she desperately tried to explain. Vaile put a hand up to stop the verbal diarrhoea. He fucking hated whining humans.

  Vaile glanced at Grey and she nodded. He could see in her eyes that she understood what he wanted from her. She glanced back at the girl and pulled the yellow police tape up, ushering her through quickly before lowering it again. While Grey was pulling info from the girl, Vaile walked back into the bathroom again, kicking a “Wet Floor” sign out of the way; hating how strong the sting of urine and stale sex hit his nostrils. His wolf shifted beneath his skin once more before settling down to wait it out. It knew the drill.

  While waiting for the ME to turn up, Vaile began looking for an obvious cause of death. His eyes travelled down until the kid’s chest was front and centre. There was too much blood to see the pattern that had obviously been carved into his skin. Vaile’s gaze inched higher, looking for bite marks. The fucking club was full of fucktards who thought they were vamps, and the scary thing was there were actually some vamps that slunk in the corners and fed on them. He couldn’t see fang marks, but it didn’t mean they weren’t there. It looked as if the kid’s throat had been slashed as well as the majority of his upper body. The slashed throat could have been nothing, but there was a niggling feeling of familiarity to it.

  Before he could analyse the detail anymore, the smell of roses wafted into the room and Vaile looked up.