Read Online Roaring Shadows: Macey Book 2 (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 8) by Colleen Gleason - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Colleen Gleason
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Gardella’s prophecies refers to me…and him.”
Chas’s eyes narrowed. “One of Rosamunde’s prophecies…about you and him ? Why the bloody hell would he think that? And how would he even know about the prophecies?”
Macey stilled. “I guess you don’t know. He’s a Venator.”
Her companion froze then his eyes widened and he began to laugh. Loudly, derisively, uproariously. His body shook and he leaned his shoulder against the wall as if needing to be held upright.
Good grief. When the dark pain and anguish that always lingered in his countenance evaporated and turned into reckless humor instead, Chas became unbelievably handsome. Impossibly good-looking—so much so that Macey’s knees felt a little weak with the rest of her being in close quarters with such a gorgeous specimen of manhood.
A powerful, mysterious, gorgeous specimen of manhood.
“Keep it down,” she said again, putting a little space between herself and this suddenly godlike being. He was being an ass again—which helped.
Why would a man who looked like Chas Woodmore be so lonely? So empty? Surely it wouldn’t be difficult for him to find companionship, and perhaps even love. Of course, there was that underlying derision and anger he always seemed to possess.
Chas brought himself under control, but the hard light of humor still glinted in his eyes. “So Al Capone told you he’s a Venator, and you believed him?” He started chuckling again, derision lighting his expression. “What a fool—”
That did it. This time, she didn’t hold back. It wasn’t her hand that came up to slap him in the face, it was her elbow and forearm that swung up and around sharply, catching him in the diaphragm hard enough to cut off his air—and to fully get the bastard’s attention.
He grunted and jolted backward, his hand going to his bent torso as he tried to catch his breath.
“I saw his vis bulla ,” she snapped.
“I’ll…bet…you…did,” he wheezed. This earned him another blow, but Chas managed to catch her fist with his open palm. His fingers curled around hers and tightened in warning as he straightened. “I’m happy to scrap with you, Macey darling, but we might do a little too much damage in this small space. Then how would we explain it to your new boss?” His voice quivered with humor, then steadied. “Besides that—it’s the undead we need to be showing our strength to.”
She yanked her hand away. “His name is in the Gardella Bible. Go look it up. Alphonsus.”
“Fuck.” Chas stepped back, shock and disbelief replacing levity in his expression. “Is it true?”
“Unfortunately, I have no reason not to believe him—except for the fact that he’s a greedy, brutal bastard who is using his abilities for the wrong reasons. In other words, I wish I could disbelieve him.”
“Fuck,” he said again. Then his lips twisted, turning them from sensual to flat and ugly. “Vioget must know. The bastard ,” he muttered. “I knew he was keeping something from me. Hell, that’s probably not the only damn thing.” His gaze flashed, and Macey realized if Sebastian was there, she would be treated to one hell of a brawl—destruction of the coatroom notwithstanding.
“You can fantasize about stabbing him with a stake later, Chas. We need to figure out a way to communicate once I leave here. I’m not certain how much freedom I’m going to have, and I…”
She stilled, and both of them turned at the same time. An ugly, insidious, eerie chill settled over the back of her neck—the prickling that announced the presence of the undead.
“Time to get to work.” Chas shifted and a stake slipped into his hand from up a sleeve.
“Capone will feel it too. I’d better get back to him first.”
“You do what you have to do,” he said, much too politely. “By all means. Take care of your boss. I’m going to dust some undead before they do any damage of their own.”
“If I don’t see you again tonight—”
But he
Chas’s eyes narrowed. “One of Rosamunde’s prophecies…about you and him ? Why the bloody hell would he think that? And how would he even know about the prophecies?”
Macey stilled. “I guess you don’t know. He’s a Venator.”
Her companion froze then his eyes widened and he began to laugh. Loudly, derisively, uproariously. His body shook and he leaned his shoulder against the wall as if needing to be held upright.
Good grief. When the dark pain and anguish that always lingered in his countenance evaporated and turned into reckless humor instead, Chas became unbelievably handsome. Impossibly good-looking—so much so that Macey’s knees felt a little weak with the rest of her being in close quarters with such a gorgeous specimen of manhood.
A powerful, mysterious, gorgeous specimen of manhood.
“Keep it down,” she said again, putting a little space between herself and this suddenly godlike being. He was being an ass again—which helped.
Why would a man who looked like Chas Woodmore be so lonely? So empty? Surely it wouldn’t be difficult for him to find companionship, and perhaps even love. Of course, there was that underlying derision and anger he always seemed to possess.
Chas brought himself under control, but the hard light of humor still glinted in his eyes. “So Al Capone told you he’s a Venator, and you believed him?” He started chuckling again, derision lighting his expression. “What a fool—”
That did it. This time, she didn’t hold back. It wasn’t her hand that came up to slap him in the face, it was her elbow and forearm that swung up and around sharply, catching him in the diaphragm hard enough to cut off his air—and to fully get the bastard’s attention.
He grunted and jolted backward, his hand going to his bent torso as he tried to catch his breath.
“I saw his vis bulla ,” she snapped.
“I’ll…bet…you…did,” he wheezed. This earned him another blow, but Chas managed to catch her fist with his open palm. His fingers curled around hers and tightened in warning as he straightened. “I’m happy to scrap with you, Macey darling, but we might do a little too much damage in this small space. Then how would we explain it to your new boss?” His voice quivered with humor, then steadied. “Besides that—it’s the undead we need to be showing our strength to.”
She yanked her hand away. “His name is in the Gardella Bible. Go look it up. Alphonsus.”
“Fuck.” Chas stepped back, shock and disbelief replacing levity in his expression. “Is it true?”
“Unfortunately, I have no reason not to believe him—except for the fact that he’s a greedy, brutal bastard who is using his abilities for the wrong reasons. In other words, I wish I could disbelieve him.”
“Fuck,” he said again. Then his lips twisted, turning them from sensual to flat and ugly. “Vioget must know. The bastard ,” he muttered. “I knew he was keeping something from me. Hell, that’s probably not the only damn thing.” His gaze flashed, and Macey realized if Sebastian was there, she would be treated to one hell of a brawl—destruction of the coatroom notwithstanding.
“You can fantasize about stabbing him with a stake later, Chas. We need to figure out a way to communicate once I leave here. I’m not certain how much freedom I’m going to have, and I…”
She stilled, and both of them turned at the same time. An ugly, insidious, eerie chill settled over the back of her neck—the prickling that announced the presence of the undead.
“Time to get to work.” Chas shifted and a stake slipped into his hand from up a sleeve.
“Capone will feel it too. I’d better get back to him first.”
“You do what you have to do,” he said, much too politely. “By all means. Take care of your boss. I’m going to dust some undead before they do any damage of their own.”
“If I don’t see you again tonight—”
But he
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