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“Go to the safe house with Adela, we will regroup there.” Renata did her best to comfort the girl, despite her own raging emotions.

  Adelaide did as she was told, clinging to Alice Brooker as she left for the safe house with Adela and the other members of the Newport House. Renata saw Edwin Dubois and Heather Thompson look back at the ruins as they passed what was left of their home, both sadness and fear etched into their faces.

  Once they’d left her field of vision, Renata took off her mask, finally allowing the tears to fall.

  She’d lost almost every piece of Alexander, her late father, she had left. His treasured grand piano. His diary. The four walls she’d lived in for nearly her entire life.

  The only thing she’d managed to save was his copy of Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations. Renata pressed the book to her chest as if its closeness could mimic Alexander’s embrace.

  Strong arms wrapped around her narrow frame, their owner holding her close from behind.

  “We will find the person who did this, Renata.”

  She turned from the hot flames to face Jackson Crowe, her retired vampire hunter boyfriend. They met in the mansion’s basement after she’d unknowingly captured him while he was in the form of a magna feles—a large, cat-like creature the Order of the Seven Blades designed to kill vampires. They’d grown close in the past few months since their encounter with Jackson’s uncle and the Order’s leader, Scott Emsworth. After the local branch of the Order disbanded, Jackson left without a single look back. Looking for a fresh start, he moved into the mansion, filling one of the spare rooms. During the short time Jackson lived there, the mansion had become his home as well as hers.

  And now it was gone.

  Renata made no effort to wipe away the tears from her cheek, allowing the pain to fuel her words. “I know we will.”

  ~

  Renata’s head pounded like someone was hitting her with a sledgehammer. Since the night of the fire a couple of days ago, she had a constant, unyielding headache, like her body was screaming. In all her years of life, she’d never had headaches like this. Aside from the pain, she knew something wasn't right, but she couldn’t place her finger on what it could be.

  Something was off. The mansion’s rubble was proof of that.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Jackson asked as he took her into his strong arms, a concerned look on his face. “Maybe you should feed and build up your strength. Last night was rough for all of us.”

  “I’m fine, really,” Renata protested, pulling away and pacing about the safe house common room. “I just have an awful headache from last night.”

  “It’s still hurting?”

  “Yes,” she rubbed her forehead. “It hasn’t gone away yet.”

  Pesky thing.

  Renata saw Jackson opening his mouth to speak, but she didn’t hear the words come out of his mouth. She rubbed her forehead again. Suddenly dizziness overcame her, her mind fuzzy and confused, like a blur.

  “Renata? Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Renata shook her head in a daze, bringing herself back to reality.

  “Yes,” she said slowly. “I—I think I just need to sit down.” Even the soft rays of sunlight peeking in from the windows jabbed at the constant throbbing in her skull.

  Jackson helped her sit down on the couch in the safe house common room, where the members of the Newport House would be staying until Renata could find somewhere to relocate. Yet another thing on her mind. Maybe she was just stressed. The human body did react physically to stress. Perhaps her immortal one still remembered that.

  “I’m going to go get you a blood bag,” he said decisively, before pressing a soft kiss on her forehead.

  Since the mansion was gone, the House wouldn’t be able to host any parties for a long time. She would have to get used to living off of stolen blood bags. They all would, at least until whatever this was, was over, and they were settled in their new home. She flashed a small smile. “Thank you.”

  What is going on?

  Renata’s mind felt crowded, as if there was some type of internal pressure inside of her head, like a brick wall, squeezing the insides of her brain. She brushed off the odd sensation. There were more important things she needed to devote her attention to, like finding the culprit behind the fire that destroyed the mansion. She knew it was no accident.

  Jackson returned with an open, stolen hospital blood bag in his outstretched hand. “Here, you need it.”

  Based on his demeanor, Renata knew he wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. She graciously accepted and began to drink, hoping she would start to feel better.

  “The Order of the Seven Blades must have been behind the fire,” she sighed as she wiped her mouth clean. “I just don’t know how we were unable to detect them.” It all seemed to have happened so quickly.

  “We were all asleep, Renata. Look,” he sighed, “the most important thing was that no one was hurt.”

  She shook her head in agreement. “You’re right.”

  “Of course I am,” Jackson said lightheartedly, as he sat down on the couch next to her and wrapped his arms around her narrow frame. His tone grew solemn. “We’ll get through this.”

  “I know we will,” she leaned into him, the heat of his human body warming her cold one.

  Renata reached for the small key she wore around her neck and rolled it around between her thumb and forefinger. This key once belonged to her adoptive father, Alexander Courtenay, who left it to her to unlock his past. With it, she’d found his journal and learned the secrets needed to protect her House.

  I wonder if he hid anything else for me to find.

  Not that she would find it now, with the mansion gone and nothing but a blackened pile of rubble in its place.

  A loud knock sounded, wrenching Renata from her thoughts. Jackson stood from where he sat on the couch next to her, making his way towards the front door. Renata followed suit, as the knock sounded again, even louder this time.

  Jackson opened the door, revealing a tall woman standing outside, clad in dark denim skinny jeans paired with a zipped, black leather moto jacket and heeled black leather booties. She looked a bit older than Renata, maybe in her early twenties, with a strong jaw and a mature face—the face of someone who’d endured and survived many hardships. She had long, waist-length auburn curls and a sun-kissed complexion. Renata could see her crimson-colored eyes and knew that the woman was a vampire and an ancient one at that.

  “I wish to speak with Alexander,” the woman spoke English well and had a rich voice with a subtle European accent.

  Renata was taken aback by the woman’s request, but she maintained her composure. “Who are you?”

  “Mariel Ricci, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. And you are?” the woman’s smug, pretentious demeanor irritated Renata to no end. How could this woman be a friend of Alexander’s?

  She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Renata Courtenay, Mistress of this House.”

  A look of recognition flashed in Mariel’s eyes—she recognized the Courtenay name, which came as no surprise to Renata. The woman was here for an audience with Alexander, after all.

  “Well?” she huffed, her impatience evident. “Can I speak to Alexander or not?”

  The words fell out of Renata’s mouth. “Alexander is dead.” She regained her even-tempered disposition, refusing to let this woman get underneath her skin. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but he’s been gone for a while now.”

  Mariel’s smug demeanor fell, and the woman looked as if she’d been punched hard in the stomach. “What?”

  “She told you, Alexander Courtenay is dead,” Jackson spoke for Renata, placing his palm on the small of her back. The gesture steadied her.

  Mariel’s wide eyes darted between Renata and Jackson. The redhead’s gaze fell onto Jackson’s arm, onto the Order of the Seven Blades’ mark on his wrist.

  “How dare you say his name!” the immortal lunged at him, fangs bared, her strong hands reaching for his
fragile human neck.

  Adrenaline pumped through Renata’s veins. She launched herself in front of him at her full speed and sent Mariel flying backward.

  “Why would you protect one of them?” Mariel spat out, her wide eyes traveling behind Renata to where her House members, Edwin, Veronica, Alice, and Adelaide, now stood tense.

  It’s a long story, Renata wanted to say.

  “He is a member of my House, and I have to protect him,” she said coolly, settling for that explanation. She didn’t owe this woman anything. “I think we are done here.” She yanked the door shut.

  “Wait!” Mariel held the door open with her vampire strength, fangs retracted. “I refuse to leave until I know what brought about his demise.”

  Renata felt a pang in her heart. She knew the immortal inquired specifics about Alexander’s death.

  “Fine,” Renata said, slamming the door.

  Adela rushed into the common room, concerned, and Heather’s slim frame appeared behind her. “Is everything alright in here?”

  “Just peachy,” Edwin said, reeling, while Jackson rubbed his neck where the immortal’s tight grip had been just seconds ago.

  “Who is she?” Alice crossed her arms, narrowing her ruby red eyes.

  “I don’t know,” Renata rubbed her temples. If she aged the way humans did, she’d have several new gray hairs.

  “Whoever she is, she seems to have a bit of an attitude problem,” Edwin noted with a roll of his rust-colored eyes.

  Veronica Evans crossed her arms, her straight black bob swaying with the movement. “I’d say more than a bit.”

  Adelaide kept quiet, arms crossed tightly against her chest, and her pensive, dandelion yellow eyes fixed on the floor in front of her.

  “She seems to know Alexander pretty well,” Jackson’s hands fell to his sides. “Maybe you should talk to her, Renata.”

  “She tried to kill you, Jackson,” Renata threw up her hands in frustration. “Do you just expect me to let her waltz in here and give her exactly what she wants after a stunt like that?”

  “Come on, man. She did try to kill you,” Edwin started.

  Veronica slapped his arm, silencing him. She hissed, “Don’t get involved!”

  “She must have seen the Order’s mark and thought I was a hunter,” Jackson reasoned, ignoring Edwin’s comment as he ran his hands through his long black hair. “You know your kind doesn’t like the Order.”

  Renata crossed her arms with a scowl. “Stop justifying it.”

  “I’m not,” Jackson said, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying I can understand why she reacted that way. That shouldn’t stop you from seeing what she has to say.”

  Renata’s hard expression softened. “You’re right.”

  She made her way back to the door, taking a deep breath as she opened it. The other House member’s watchful gazes landed on the feisty redhead leaning up against the safe house, Edwin letting out a snort.

  Renata sighed. Part of her couldn't believe she was doing this. She plastered on a neutral expression. “Please, come in. We’ll talk inside.”

  Mariel sashayed into the safe house common room like a spoiled brat who’d gotten her way, before plopping herself onto the couch like she owned it. Meanwhile, Veronica did not attempt to mask her disdain, her golden eyes following the proud vampire into the room. Heather crossed her arms over her chest, shooting Renata looks of confusion and disbelief.

  Renata fought hard to keep her facial expression neutral and was finding it rather difficult to stay patient. She was beginning to rethink her decision to open the door.

  Who did this woman think she was?

  Renata sat down in a chair in front of where Mariel sat. “Alexander died sacrificing himself to save the Newport House.”

  Hurt and disbelief flashed in Mariel’s dark red eyes. “How long?”

  “It’s been a few months now,” Renata said softly. In the background, she saw that Adela, Veronica and Alice’s faces grew somber, while Edwin’s carefree manner fell.

  Mariel was the quietest Renata had seen her in the ten minutes she’d been there.

  “If you need to make arrangements, you can stay for the night. I will have a room prepared for you,” Renata offered politely.

  “That would be lovely,” Mariel said, as she got comfortable on the couch, her long legs stretched out across it, one foot casually resting on top of the other.

  Renata plastered a mock smile on her face as she left Mariel alone in the common room.

  She sighed. It was going to be a long night.

  Blood Ties

  The Newport House

  Copyright ©2020 Lauryn Evans

  All Rights Reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, and incidents are products of the authors’ imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior consent and written permission from the author.

  Cover Art: Coverinked Creative Book Cover Design

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lauryn Evans is the author of the Newport House series and a self-declared extrovert. She writes urban fantasy, packed with strong female characters, charming hunters, and twisted villains. She lives in cozy New England with her family and her pets, who keep her company while she’s writing.

  When she’s not working on her next book, Lauryn spends time adventuring in other worlds, dining with vampires, spell casting, and spending time with the people she loves.

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  BOOKS BY LAURYN EVANS

  The Newport house series:

  Blood Ties

  Blood Bound

  Blood Sworn

  Blood Siege