Broken (The Voodoo Revival Series Book 3) Read online

  Table of 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

  Broken

  (A Voodoo Revival Series Novel)

  By Victoria Flynn

  Broken

  ©2017 by Victoria Flynn

  All rights reserved.

  This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical,

  photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of the copyright owner and/or the publisher of this book, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Beta Readers: Dawn Yacovetta, Alecia Harrington, Karolyn Henick

  Editor: Airicka’s Mystical Creations

  Illustrator: Airicka’s Mystical Creations

  Formatter: Becca Vincenza

  Published by Victoria Flynn

  Also available paperback publication.

  Books by Victoria

  Voodoo Revival Series

  A Soul’s Sacrifice

  A Soul’s Surrender

  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

  About the Author

  For my best friends, Karolyn, Alecia, and Becca. You guys are my rocks as I weather this storm called life. There have been laughs and tears and no matter what, you’ve been there for me. You can’t always choose your blood, but you can choose your family and you gals are mine. Thanks for loving me, despite my flaws.

  There’s been so many people who have helped me along the way to make this book a reality. First off, I’d like to thank my husband and children for putting up with me throughout the writing process. I’d also like to thank my beta readers: Dawn Yacovetta, Alecia Harrington, and Karolyn Henick. Your insight and dedication to not only my story, but to making me better professionally. To Becca Vincenza, your friendship has meant more to me than I could ever hope to explain. You’ve been my mentor and best friend as well as my anchor. This book put me in a pickle, but you swooped in and saved the day like a real superhero. Next, I’d like to thank Airicka Phoenix, over at Airicka’s Mystical Creations, for being my champion and editor. You picked me up when I was down and against a wall. Your dedication and hard work have changed me as a writer and as a person. And lastly, I’d like to thank my readers. You guys are the reason I do this. Seeing the joy my words bring people as they enjoy my characters has brought me a fulfilled feeling I thought I’d only ever feel as a parent. These books are my babies and I know they aren’t perfect, but you guys have taken care of them and loved them as much as I do.

  Chapter 1

  Arlen

  Arlen lay the beauty out on his sofa, taking mental notes of each bruise and every cut. There were a lot, but she would heal.

  Angela, a beautiful name for an even more beautiful woman.

  Even under the mottled purples and blues and the swelling, he could tell she was stunning. Warmth filled his chest as he stared at her sleeping form. Arlen felt the threads of their fledgling bond knitting their souls together. She’d passed out before he could get to her in the St. Louis Cathedral, yet she had responded to his touch.

  He remembered the way she’d come around just enough to fist his shirt and tuck herself in closer to him as he lifted her. The realization of what she was to him had hit him like a freight train and his mind he chanted Mate repeatedly. He’d managed to escape with her to safety before returning in time to witness the new Voodoo Queen leaving with the Baron Samedi. With Maya gone to Guinee, the golden goddess before him was on her own.

  Not anymore. Never again, he thought.

  The sofa was no place for her, not long term, and he wouldn’t push himself on her by forcing her to share a bed with him. Arlen covered her with a blanket and turned, leaving her for the first time since he’d returned home.

  He strode into his modest bedroom and began readying the room for her. He set right to work clearing his items out of the small chest of drawers and moving them out into the living room. At some point along the way, Arlen had decided he’d be living on the couch until something a little more permanent could be arranged, but she needed space and a place to recover.

  He liked the idea of her being a permanent fixture in his life. However, he couldn’t ignore the reality of it. Arlen was a dangerous man, in a deadly line of work. It was a career she never needed to know a thing about, even if it wouldn’t stop her from becoming a target one day. He was good at his job because he didn’t have ties or weaknesses. People couldn’t get the upper hand on him, but the beauty in the other room had the potential to turn his world on its head.

  Letting anyone have that sort of power over him scared Arlen. It had been decades since he’d known love. Back then, he was a different man. It was a dangerous emotion for a killer like him to have and he decided right then, he needed to control it.

  Arlen returned to Angela’s side and picked her up. He carried her into the bedroom and lay her out on his bed. Her scent lingered in his nose, reminding him of a summer’s day. His fingers slipped through the fine strands of her hair with ease. It looked like threads of spun gold.

  Arlen gathered the woman into his arms and shifted his body so she was cradled on his lap. It felt right to hold her like that. He stayed there for a while, enjoying it far more than he should. At some point, he began to absently hum.

  It was an old tune, one he was intimately familiar with. His mother had sung it to him and his sister when they were young children and would have trouble sleeping. Her voice had been much more pleasant to the ear than his own was, but he made do.

  The words slowly came back to him with each new verse until he was singing the words without hesitation. Angie still hadn’t regained consciousness, but Arlen decided he’d give it until nightfall before he really began to worry. She’d been through a hellish ordeal and it was fully possible her mind had shut down to protect itself.

  Arlen eyed her dirt crusted clothes and decided to risk her waking up while in an awkward situation than to leave her in filthy rags. He shifted beneath her and laid her out on the bed. Arlen got up and slipped into the bathroom and returned with a basin of warm water, wash towels, and antibacterial ointment.

  He didn’t have clothes that would fit her smaller frame, but he didn’t think she’d mind a t-shirt and a pair of his boxers. Arlen went to work, peeling the stiff fabric from her skin and gently wiping away the grime she was covered in. Little
by little, he washed away the dirt and dried blood to unveil the sleeping beauty underneath. She was still bruised and a bit swollen, but those weren’t permanent. He even had something that would help heal that up in a day or two.

  Carefully, he slipped her into fresh clothes and covered her back up. She didn’t even stir in all his jostling.

  Arlen settled back onto the bed with Angela’s sleeping form, not touching her, but near enough to comfort her if she needed it. Then, it was just a waiting game. Waiting for her to wake up, waiting for her to recover, and waiting for her to realize she didn’t want to live without him. He didn’t know if it was the same for her since she was human.

  “Come back, Angela. I’m waiting for you,” he mumbled.

  When she didn’t, he hummed his childhood lullaby to his destined mate again and he would until she regained consciousness.

  Chapter 2

  Angie

  Angela Broussard could feel the talons of the shadow monsters biting into her flesh. Their shrieks made her head want to explode, but even above the screams of the beasts, one voice called out to her.

  It was hard to make out at first, but she slowly realized it was a song. It was something unlike any she’d heard before. The notes were haunting almost and the tune lilted like flowing water. The language wasn’t English and it didn’t sound like one she’d heard before, but it called to her. It begged her to surrender herself and quit fighting against the demons which hunted her relentlessly. Something about the melody made her feel that everything would be okay and for the first time in what seemed like forever, she thought so too. Angela let the song guide her as she floated through the abyss.

  She didn’t know where she was or how she’d gotten there, but she knew in her gut that if she’d follow that deep voice, she’d find it. Angela felt a tug in her chest and warmth radiated outwards from its source. Something about it brought her peace and comfort, even though she knew it should scare her.

  She followed the voice and allowed her heart to choose for her.

  Two Days Later

  Angie wished she’d never woken up. The monsters who’d taken her had changed something inside her and made her different. Sleeping or awake; it didn’t even matter anymore, Angie still saw things. Horrible things. She’d have thought it was just nightmares or trauma if it hadn’t been for one specific vision. She’d seen that fucker Drake and his even scummier brother, Brad, tearing New Orleans apart bit by bit. She’d seen the demons slither across the city as they left trails of death behind them. She saw things she shouldn’t and perhaps, she was going crazy, but she thought not. The sights were too real.

  Angie laid in an unfamiliar bed, in a place she’d never seen before. She could hear movement in another part of the house and wondered if the mystery rescuer would come in and introduce themselves.

  Everything ached, but it wasn’t the stabbing agony she vaguely remembered. Visions of Brad’s malicious grin invaded her head and she retreated to safer grounds. Is Maya here, too? She wondered silently, hoping she wasn’t alone in a strange place. She tossed the covers aside and pushed herself up into a seated position. Angie grimaced as the mattress let out a loud groan as she sat up.

  Floorboards creaked with each step towards the room. Someone was coming. The doorknob turned and the door pushed open about a foot. It was enough for a man to pop his head through.

  His eyes went round and his lips parted when he saw her awake.

  “Hello,” he purred, his gaze never leaving hers.

  She tried to reply, but it’d been a few days since she’d used her voice and her throat was too dry to work for her. Instead, she lifted her hand in a tiny wave.

  The man stepped inside and pushed it shut with his foot behind him. His dark hair hung long and straight past his shoulders. The room was too dim to make out the exact shade of it, but she could swear she’d caught a glimpse of violet in it. His nose was straight and regal and his lips full and pouty. His face had an angular quality to it with sharp lines along his jaw and cheekbones. The man was tall, at least a full foot taller than her five foot four inches.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked, moving next to the bed.

  She flinched with each step that brought him closer. He must have noticed, because he stopped. The man knelt down so he was eye level with her. Though he was careful not to touch her when he reached up and flipped the switch to the bedside lamp on.

  “My name is Arlen Darragh and this is my home. Your name is Angela, right?” he asked, but she was frozen and unable to answer.

  It was his eyes. They were a bright violet and seemed to glow when the light hit them just right.

  Inhuman.

  Just like the demons who had tried, and almost succeeded in killing her.

  Her body shook in terror and before either of them could say a word, Angie let out a shrill scream and skittered back away from him. Is he one of them? She hugged her knees to her chest and gripped her head still screaming. Tears slid down her cheeks freely and before her mind broke altogether, she surrendered back into the safety of the abyss and felt her consciousness slip away. She waited there until she knew whether or not the man was a friend or foe.

  The following days passed slowly for Angie in the darkness. She knew had a limited understanding of what went on around her, but found she was unable to force herself to respond even when she wanted to. She was trapped inside the prison her own mind had built.

  The man named Arlen wasn’t what he’d seemed. The demons didn’t care for anything, but he did. Each day, he brought her fresh meals in case she’d come to. However, she didn’t and he’d take away the tray still filled with cold food. Arlen sponged her skin tenderly and changed her clothes, never giving an inkling that his thoughts were sexual. He even went so far as to lather up her hair and rinse it, patting it dry afterwards and brushing it out. Never once did he show aggression or frustration with her.

  With each new day, he sang to her. She wasn’t sure if it was her dreams or wishful thinking, but the familiar tune echoed in her mind. Angela felt like he was calling out to her, begging for her to return.

  Whether he was safe or not, Angie knew she would eventually need to be brave enough to find out.

  Chapter 3

  Angie

  There was blood everywhere. Screams echoed, forever etching the sounds into Angie’s memories and ensuring that she’d never forget. The dress she wore was heavy with the crimson liquid that flowed down St. Peter street like a river. Bodies were stacked at the curbs like sandbags along a flooding river. Shadows with razor-like talons climbed over the walls encircling her so there was no escape. Their shrieks drove her to her knees.

  She knew how it ended; it was the same as it always did.

  A deep masculine voice chuckled, a sound of pure evil. The shadows moved closer, not stopping until they were only a few feet away. Angela looked up into the face of the devil.

  He was the source of the voice. His red eyes full of the insidious plans he had for her, but he was patient and would wait his turn.

  He tipped his top hat to her and winked before he turned away whistling. It was a signal to the shadow monsters. They descended on her like a tsunami. Their claws ripped into flesh and Angie’s agonizing cries were drowned out by their thrilled shrieks.

  ***

  It was happening again. She was helpless to stop the nightmares. At least they weren’t as bad as the ones that haunted her waking hours. Those had actually happened. Drake and Brad had reveled in her pain and suffering for days on end.

  “Angela, calm down. It’s okay. It’s just a dream, maelamin. It’s not real.”

  There was that enchanting voice again. A deep lilting tone that enraptured as much as it comforted. He always pulled her back from the edge of the abyss, even if it was only a temporary reprieve.

  Angela cracked her eyes open and winced at the intense light that bordered on frying her retinas. Bright violet eyes slowly came into focus. They were gorgeous. She knew if she let he
rself, she could get lost in them for hours.

  She felt a hand rest on her thigh. The little pressure set off a chain reaction that ended with her curled up in a fetal position, trying to get away from the restraining hands.

  He withdrew his touch, signaling that he was no threat. “Alright, it’s okay. I can give you some space.”

  He sat and watched her as she eyed him through a narrow crack in between her arms. His stare was so raw and deep that she didn’t think she’d ever be able to tear herself away from it.

  The problem was that his eyes reminded her of them. Those evil shadows that had reveled in their torture of her. They had the same purple eyes. Arlen’s didn’t glow like theirs had, but the similarities were enough to cause her fragile mind to retreat, along with her sanity.

  Back before she’d been taken things had been so different. Angie hadn’t been a shadow of a person. She’d been okay once. Happy even, but it seemed like it was so long ago. The memories she’d had of being rescued were hazy at best, but she remembered strong arms lifting her and cradling her gently. It had been the first time she’d felt safe since Maya had started her ramblings. God, she didn’t know what she would do if her friend wasn’t okay. The girl was practically the only family Angie had. Had those things gotten Maya, too? She didn’t know.

  That was one of the biggest lessons she’d learned. Blood doesn’t always make someone family. Angie’s parents had never paid much attention to her when she was younger and the older she got, the more she realized she had been an accident, or an inconvenience. Her existence put a cramp in the lifestyle they were so fond of. Maya had been the only one who’d ever looked past that exterior to see the real Angie. She owed Maya more than she’d ever be able to repay.