BOOK FOUR
Love was their salvation. Now it may be their downfall.
Kasen Knight believed he could save the world. Now he’s barely surviving.
The vampire war rages on, but the hybrids in New York City are rapidly losing ground. As the Senary’s healer, Kasen is drowning in death and bloodshed. The only thing driving him to carry on is his beloved mate and their unborn child. When the man responsible for his tortured past discovers Kasen has a baby on the way, the threat to all he holds dear has him grappling to keep his beast in check. Kasen is supposed to be a hero, not a villain, but he’ll do anything to protect his family—even if it costs him his soul.
Dr. Veronica Kerr should be ecstatic; she’s pregnant and deeply in love with her soulmate. Yet, between caring for patients by day and assisting Kasen with the battle-wounded by night, she hardly has the energy to prepare for motherhood. When terrifying cravings and disturbing nightmares of blood and darkness begin to haunt her, she quickly discovers that becoming a mom might be the greatest danger she’s ever faced.
Surrounded by monsters, both human and vampire alike, Kasen and Veronica will have to break their halos and carve them into horns.
Book 4 in The Order of The Senary, a dark, intense, and emotional paranormal romance full of angst and passion. Read the next installment of this award-winning series today!
TROPES: Protective Healer MMC, Fierce Pregnant FMC, Forbidden Romance, Touch Her And Die, My Wife, Blood Play, Feral Devotion, Gothic Vibes, Second Chances, Haunted/Tragic Past, Found Family, Band of Brothers, Dystopian NYC, No Cliffhanger
Signed paperbacks: https://forms.gle/TshS7vgKYRocxoHX8
AMAZON:
PRAISE FOR FA:
“TEN STARS! Every single twist and turn of this masterpiece is going to leave you guessing! This is romantasy on another level!” – CK, Goodreads
“With strong gothic vibes, tragic pasts and a love challenged by monstrous circumstances, this (dark) forbidden romance had me in its thrall from the start (and) will at times emotionally wreck you…this is the perfect read for dark gothic romance readers.” – Lara Loves Lit, Goodreads
“This is a masterfully written, fast-paced romantasy that transcends conventional paranormal romance, delivering a gritty and intricately plotted narrative full of unexpected twists. For readers of dark gothic romance, this book offers a polished blend of forbidden love, high emotional stakes, and themes of found family, making it an impossible-to-put-down and gripping read.” – Mandy Britt, Goodreads
“From start to finish, this book is an absolute roller-coaster of emotions and impossible to put down. One minute I’m kicking my feet and giggling over how cute Veronica and Kasen are, the next minute I’m reaching for my emotional support ice cream and holding back tears.” – Kari Miller, Goodreads
“Fast moving and intense, this book is a fabulous example of great storytelling. In fact, the whole book is magnetic.” – Alicia, Goodreads
“It is the perfect blend of horror and humour and the imagery is absolutely stunning. Fast paced and captivating I couldn’t put it down until it was done with me.” – Laura Fitzgerald, Goodreads
“From the moment I began reading this I was hooked and didn’t want to put it down. The relationship between the MC’s was a beautiful representation of mates and when the spice hit, it hits hard!” – Hannah, Goodreads
EXCERPT:
Veronica awkwardly climbed out of bed, always ungainly at this point, and slipped on Kasen’s charcoal robe. His aroma invaded her senses, earthy sage spiced with the musk of man, and she nestled into it, taking long draws on the collar. Just the smell of him heightened that odd sense of serenity within her and she’d do anything to bottle that scent.
Throwing her messy hair up in a bun, she made her way downstairs, soft music amplifying in her ears. Bush’s Glycerine crooned in the background as she entered the open dining room and kitchen, glimpsing her fiancé slaving over the stove. She couldn’t repress a smile as he gathered the snapping and crackling food onto plates, his corded biceps flexing with every motion.
Nothing sexier than a man who cooks. Especially this man.
Loose-fitting gym shorts hung low on his hips, hugging him in all the right places, navy blue on honeyed skin. In the summer, he always took on this gorgeous, golden glow, even if he didn’t spend much time outdoors. It was hard to resist touching him—those cuts, lines, and curves defining all that tantalizing muscle—but she simply watched him for a moment, listening to him sing, his velvety words and that rumbling timbre resonating deep in her very core. His dark blond hair was tousled, spiked in all directions, his movements still languorous and his eyes hooded, the epitome of every female fantasy. But what ultimately hooked and reeled her in was the sight of the massive hickey on his neck, the mark a little puffy, bruised, and all hers.
The fact he hadn’t completely healed it yet set her blood on fire with lust.
As if sensing the heat emanating from her, Kasen’s luminous eyes connected with hers, his lips curving slowly, seductively, never failing to make her thighs clench. “Look who decided to join the living.”
“I definitely slept like the dead,” she croaked, wrapping her arms around him, her belly pressing into his side. “And it was amazing.”
He waggled his brows. “Tell me about it.”
Her head rested on his shoulder, her palms stroking up his hard chest and down those chiseled abs. She lifted onto her tiptoes, her breath grazing the wound at his throat before she lapped at the mark, a single swipe of tongue along hot flesh. He shivered with pleasure, goosebumps spreading over every inch of him while she cupped his heavy package.
His laugh was low, husky, incredibly sexy. “You’re relentless.”
He was right—she couldn’t get enough, her body already primed for him again. “A little obsessed, maybe,” she murmured as he turned to face her, grinning with pure male satisfaction, those V lines at his hips dropping her IQ another twenty points. She traced them with her fingertips, ready to plunge her hand into his shorts, but he cuffed her wrists before she could dive in.
Seizing her lips with his own, he kissed her until her mouth steamed, until she felt lightheaded and woozy, then he drew away when her knees started to wobble. “Food first.” He planted soft kisses on her chin, her nose, cheeks, forehead. His silver eyes glittered with delight while he opened her robe’s lapels, exposing her to him. A thrill of anticipation ignited her nerve endings as he bent to kiss her navel, the shelf of her tummy, and finally her cleavage before tying the sash back up. “Then sex.”
The obvious tent in his boxers suggested otherwise and she deliberately looked at it, raising a brow.
Another gravelly chuckle. “Ignore that.”
“How?”
He spun her around and led her to the table. “Trust me, the struggle is real.”
She grinned as he set her breakfast down in front of her—scrambled eggs, toast, bacon!—followed by a bowl of sliced fruit, a tub of butter, and a cup of hot rooibos tea. The mug read, ‘Hold on, let me overthink this,’ while his own cup of black coffee shouted, ‘FOR SAKE’ with an adorable cartoon fox between the angry words. The silverware arrived next, but she continued to wait, staring at him expectantly. He paused for a beat, brow crinkling with confusion, then he rolled his eyes.
The bottle of ketchup promptly hit the table. “What a waste,” he grumbled.
“But it’s so good.” She dowsed her eggs while he shook his head, taking a seat beside her with his own plate.
“If our child likes their eggs bleeding, I’m blaming you.”
Her forkful of food froze halfway to her mouth.
Absorbing his own words, he winced, cursing under his breath. “Sorry. You know what I mean.”
She shrugged, eating the eggs anyway, but her appetite vanished. “That might be more your fault than mine.”
A palpable tension expanded in the air between them and she glanced away, focusing on the white roses he’d given her days ago. They drooped in the crystal vase at the center of the table, their water level low and their petals wilting with neglect. She hated this part, the silent treatment while they figured out what to say next without hurting one another.
“Hey.” He reached across the table, clasping her hand, his thumb circling at the center of her palm. “What’s wrong?”
Their gazes locked, hers too bright, his too dark. When she didn’t answer, he added, “Tell me, Ron. Is this about yesterday?” His tone pitched deeper at the mere mention of it. “What happened?”
A wave of shame crashed over her, her tears brimming, but she carried on, tearing off a strip of bacon with her teeth. Salty and smoky, her mouth salivated at the taste, but her stomach churned with anxiety. She looked down at her eggs—her bleeding eggs—and swallowed the ball of grease.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, spearing a strawberry with her fork, remembering how the pink juice blended so well with Valerie’s blood. “Something came over me.”
“Like what happened with Nathan?” His expression was set in stone, carefully guarded. “Val?”
She nodded.
“Where did you get the blood?”
The unexpected question jerked her eyes back to him, surprise loosening her jaw. “Jon. Jon gave it to me.”
“When?” His grip tightened on her ever-so slightly. “Why?”
“Because he wanted to help. After what happened with Val—” Her voice broke off, failing her. She drew in a ragged breath and tried again. “He…he thought I could use it.”
“Ronnie.” Disappointment sharpened the word like a blade. “You should’ve told me—”
“What, Kasen? I should’ve told you what?” Hot tears sprung from her eyes now, searing down her cheeks as she pushed the plate away. “That all I can think about, dream about, is blood? That I don’t trust myself around people anymore, especially the people I love, because I’m afraid of hurting them? Killing them?”
She stood abruptly, knocking her chair over with a loud crash, shoving her hands into her hair and tugging at her scalp. “Because I want to, Kasen,” she shouted, unleashing the terrible burden she’d carried since that day in the hospital parking lot. The confession spilled from her like poison, spewed forth like sewage from a busted drain pipe. “I want to hurt them, to make them bleed, to sink my teeth into their throats and—”
“Shh.” He met her and framed her face in his warm hands, attempting to pacify her, but her hysteria was in full swing now. “Easy.”
She shook her head, trying to pull away from him unsuccessfully. “What do you want me to say? That I’m turning into a monster? Because I am! And I can’t control it, I can’t stop it—”
“Ron.” His timbre boomed over hers, edged with warning, his grip tensing on her skull. “Look at me.”
She ceased struggling, arms falling limp at her sides, tears streaming from her bleary eyes in burning rivers. Her chin quivered and she gritted her teeth to stop it, reluctantly obeying him. His incandescent eyes bore into hers, his inky black pupils dilated, his mouth set in a cruel slash. A muscle in his jaw ticked and his Adam’s apple bobbed.
Parts of Layla peered out from that hard expression and her pulse thundered in her ears.
“Am I a monster?”
The awful question didn’t hold an ounce of emotion, his tone hollow and empty, but it stabbed her right in her aching heart.
“No.” The word fractured on her lips as her vision blurred, her chin trembling so hard her teeth chattered. “Please, don’t.”
“Because I dream about it, too. I think about it all the time. Killing, maiming, fucking bathing in blood, and I’ve hurt people, murdered people, too many people. Not just vampires, love. Humans.” Anger and regret shredded his voice into a low growl, but it didn’t trigger fear in her—only sadness. “So, if you’re a monster, then I’m the fucking Devil, do you understand me?”
She shook her head in denial but couldn’t utter a word, her lungs stripped of breath. Not him. Never him. Not with the way he’d healed countless others at his own expense, the way he deeply cared for his brothers, always putting their lives and well-being before his own.
No. Not with the way he loved with his entire heart and soul. The way he touched her like a cherished gift he didn’t deserve, even after three long years together.
“You’re suffering because of me.” His tone wavered, his eyes desperately searching hers. “I did this to you, remember that. Because she’s half mine, the real monster. Me not you. But we’re going to teach her, train you both on how to curb it. If I could learn, so can you. Both of you can, I swear. I promise, Ron, I’ll fix this. You only need to hang on a little longer.”
His grip on her gentled, the pads of his thumbs wiping away her tears, brushing her cheekbones, but she was too paralyzed to speak, her legs rooted and her mind stupefied. “You have to talk to me, Ron. You’ve got to tell me what’s going on. Otherwise, I can’t help you. I’m yours, love, use me. Like you did this morning. And we’ll make it through this. Together.”
Her jaw went slack as her hands encircled his wrists, her brain stumbling on one, no two words, the single syllables repeating over and over like a damaged record.
“What?” His brow pinched, a tremor coursing from his palms into her head. “What is it?”
“She?” The first word lodged between her vocal cords, the second wedging them open. “Her?”
His face didn’t just fall—it plummeted with shock, his lips parted and his eyes wide, as if she’d slapped him.
Squeezing his wrists, she dug her fingers into those sinews, a staggering concoction of joy and terror surging through her veins. “We’re having a girl?”
Now he was drowning, unable to find his voice, the revelation clearly unintended on his part. But he didn’t have to say a word, because the resounding thump in her womb answered for him.
We’re the life bringers, the death knells, the rulers of this wretched little planet.
The perimeter alarm jolted them apart, wrenching gasps from their throats.
“Shit.” Kasen hissed. “Not yet, not now. It’s too fucking early.”
Veronica was almost grateful for the interruption, panic spiking her bloodstream, their issues briefly forgotten now that someone might be hurt. Unfortunately, this was a common occurrence, where any one of the Knights showed up without warning, delivering the critically injured to their doorstep—including themselves.
Who knew what fresh hell awaited them on that stoop?
Veronica gathered her wits about her, haphazardly wiping at her cheeks and taking deep, fortifying breaths. She slipped on her doctor mask, reinforcing the veneer of a healer, instilling herself with purpose. As the bell rang, she followed Kasen to the door, bracing herself for the worst. She looked over his shoulder while he checked the video monitor, selfishly hoping the wounded was a stranger.
Two men in suits stood on the front steps, one at the top, the other at the bottom, neither of them recognizable.
Relief washed over her, followed swiftly by a growing anxiety. No one was hurt, but who were these men? Their grim expressions were highlighted by the outdoor lights, their demeanors screaming government, and they both glanced furtively around the premises.
“Who are they?” she asked as Kasen turned to her.
A war of emotions broke out on his face; first, a brief glimpse of the same relief she’d felt, followed by a battle of disbelief, dread, and then sheer rage. His hands cranked into fists, every muscle in his bare torso flexing, his spine rigid as steel.
“Dr. Kerr?” The shorter one approached the camera’s aperture, flashing a federal badge, his tone gruff and oddly familiar. “Director David Cabot of the FBI and Dr. Robert Cronin of the NIH. Sorry to drop in on you like this, but we’re hoping you’d be willing to speak with us. It’s a matter of national security.”
“Do you want me to answer it?” she mouthed to Kasen, confused as she grabbed his arm with a trembling hand.
“We realize it’s late, but we won’t be long.” The tall man’s voice resonated, this one smooth and sophisticated, even kind. “It’s about your brother, Jon. And, well…you.”
She stared her fiancé down, willing him to respond. What could they possibly have to tell her at this hour in person? A phone call would’ve sufficed.
Kasen nodded after a beat, his jaw clenched as he raised a finger to his lips in a silencing gesture. He wasn’t here—never had been, never would be, and they didn’t know each other. She pulled off her engagement ring and dropped it in his open palm, nervous energy zinging through her. He slid it on his pinky, the platinum lodging at his knuckle before he crept away, taking his cold breakfast with him.
Good call. He was always thinking when she couldn’t.
Inhaling and exhaling slowly, she rubbed her eyes with clammy fingers and squared her shoulders, composing herself. She counted to five, giving Kasen enough time to hide, before she unlocked the bolts, turned the handle, and opened the door to a humid summer night.
“Director. Doctor.” She inclined her head in acknowledgement, her smile forced, her shaky hand clutching the robe’s collar with calculated vulnerability. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I don’t typically have guests after dark.”
Veronica spotted the Jaguar parked under the weeping willow, flanked by two Humvees, two pairs of soldiers guarding the vehicles with obvious vigilance. One began to pace around Kasen’s Cadillac, examining it as if he had reason to. David Cabot stepped forward, smiling easily, extending his hand. She remembered him now, the expression of sympathy on his lined face when he offered his condolences at Jon’s funeral.
A great loss for us all.
Accepting the gesture, she shook that strong grip briefly while her gaze darted to who she presumed was Robert Cronin. His smile appeared genuine, but it didn’t reach his eyes, his countenance wrought with tension.
“Completely understandable, Dr. Kerr.” Cabot patted her elbow before releasing her, a reassuring politician. “It’s good to see you. May we come in?”
Do I have a choice?
“Yes.” She drew back, opening the door wide, and motioned them in. “And you can call me Veronica. Please.”
Cabot’s grin broadened, almost predatory, icy blue eyes sparking with triumph. “As you wish.”
L.D. Rose 