House of Wolves: (A Paranormal Urban Fantasy) (The Vampire Project Book 1) Read online

  Titles also by Jonathan Yanez

  The Elite Series

  The Beast Within

  The Trials

  The Judge

  Bad Land

  The Archangel Wars

  Of Angels and Men

  Of Angels and Demons

  Of Angels and Gods

  Of Angels and Legends

  The Dread Novels

  All the Beautiful People

  All the Broken People

  Thrive

  The DeCadia Series

  The DeCadia Code

  The Crucible

  “Defeat is a state of mind; no one is ever defeated until defeat has been accepted as reality.”

  -Bruce Lee

  House of Wolves

  Copyright © 2017 by Jonathan Yanez. All rights

  reserved.

  Archimedes Books

  Orange, CA 92868

  www.archimedesbooks.com

  Formatting: Archimedes Books

  ASIN:B0711KHMGH

  No part of this book may be reproduced,

  scanned, or distributed in any printed or

  electronic form without permission. Please do

  not participate in or encourage piracy of

  copyrighted materials in violation of the

  author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the

  hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,

  places and incidents either are the product of

  the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously

  and any resemblance to locals, events, business

  establishments or actual persons—living or

  dead—is entirely coincidental.

  To Cole Kaveh, it will be a few years until you’re able to read this.

  House of Wolves

  (The Vampire Project Book 1)

  By

  Jonathan Yanez

  Sloan

  “I’d run behind that tight specimen of female biology any day.”

  He was mouthing off again. He didn’t think she could hear him but her hearing was better than most. He would have to be broken today in a very open and public way.

  That was the problem with being a female officer in the Queen’s royal army. This problem was only magnified by the fact that she was the captain of the Queen’s personal guard. There were so many male soldiers with egos bigger than the palace itself. What’s more, nearly all of them were gunning for her position.

  Sloan was in command of a dozen of the most skilled and deadly warriors New Hope had to offer. She had earned all of their respect by defeating them in one on one combat. She would trust any one of them with her life and she knew they wouldn’t hesitate to do the same. The problem wasn’t with her own men. The problem lay with the rest of the palace guards, especially those new to the grounds.

  All the officers and soldiers trained in the same outside facility. Whenever there were new faces at the palace, the same thing was bound to happen. It almost seemed like clockwork and it had become something of a tradition. It was inevitable that a soldier would step out of line. Sloan was always more than capable of putting them right back where they belonged, even adding a broken bone or two, or three or four for good measure.

  Today Sloan was leading her men in combat and conditioning drills. The outside training ground was ideal with a track around the perimeter and every piece of exercise equipment anyone could want. It was while on a run around the track, with the sun at its peak, that things finally came to a head.

  Sloan was in the lead, sweat pouring from her forehead and down her toned, athletic back. It was the eighth lap around the track, she was proud her men were keeping pace. Her group was passing another large regiment of palace guards on the same track when it happened.

  Sloan was focused, looking only ahead when she heard yet another comment from the same soldier. He had used varying degrees of inappropriate and vulgar sayings before, but it was this one that stopped Sloan in her tracks.

  Sloan stopped and looked at the soldier. He was running in formation with the group parallel to her and her men.

  “What did you say?”

  “Oh, you heard me?” The large man and his friends chuckled as they came to a stop. “I was just admiring the view as you passed.”

  More than one of her warriors took a step forward. Sloan raised a hand, stopping them in their tracks. She looked the man up and down. He was tall and large. Clearly this individual was victim to growth hormones and too many hours lifting weights. It was obvious this gave him a false sense of security, that he was somehow better than everyone else and could say whatever he wanted without repercussions. Sloan knew his type too well.

  “Why don’t you say it a little louder?”

  The soldier looked confused with a raised eyebrow and stupid grin.

  “Come on. You didn’t seem shy just a second ago.” Sloan raised her hands and yelled across the training grounds. “I’m sorry to disturb your routines, but I need everyone here now.”

  Within seconds, every soldier recognized who was talking. They immediately ran to obey.

  Sloan turned to the large confused man. “You and your little friends must be new here. I’ll break this down for you and try to use small words so you can keep up. I don’t want to ever hear you talking to me or any other soldier like that again. If I get wind of you harassing anyone else, I’ll make sure you spend the next few months drinking out of a straw. Do you understand?”

  The man’s face transitioned to a picture of anger and humiliation. It was clear he wasn’t used to being spoken to so harshly, especially by a woman.

  “Soldier, I asked you a question. If you have something to say, say it now—not later to your friends or as I run by.”

  There were stifled laughs by other soldiers, that only infuriated the giant of a man more. “You’re obviously an officer here. I’d be a fool to say anything else but that I understand.”

  Sloan nodded. “Well, you’re not as much of an idiot as I thought you were. But with that said, I think we can use this opportunity to instruct the men in a little hand-to-hand combat. Would you mind volunteering for a sparring session?”

  The crowd cheered as the bulky man accepted and stepped forward. Sloan caught sight of his PT fatigues, his ranking and name. “Thank you, Sergeant Harrison. You must be new to the palace. Straight from the city guard, correct?”

  Sergeant Harrison walked toward her with his wide chest puffed out. He looked down at her and grinned. “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Well, I’m sure that everyone is eager to see what combat techniques are currently being used in the city guard. Shall we?” Sloan asked all of this with a grin. To all those unfamiliar with her, her smile seemed nothing but genuine.

  Sergeant Harrison chuckled and rolled up the sleeves on his black PT shirt, revealing even more of his enormous arms. There was a cheer from his friends and shouts egging him on from the gathered crowd.

  “One minute. I give him one minute.”

  “No, look at the size of him.”

  “You remember what she did to the last one?”

  Sloan ignored the clamor. She readjusted the ponytail holding the honey blonde hair out of her face.

  “Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, I’d hate to bruise such a pretty face,” Sergeant Harrison rolled his neck from side to side.

  “Enough talking,” Sloan stepped in, arms up. “Let’s see how all those genetically engineered muscles do in an actual fight.”

  The two combatant
s stepped forward. The Sergeant, both in height and size, dwarfed Sloan. He stood half a foot taller and easily out weighed her by a hundred pounds, but none of this seemed to phase the captain of the Queen’s guard.

  The crowd cheered as the gladiators circled one another. Sergeant Harrison still smiled. “Listen, I think it’s cute you want to assert authority, and I get it, but—”

  She was so fast no one saw it coming, least of all her opponent. Sloan launched herself in the air, right arm cocked back. With all of her weight channeled into her fist, she punched forward as she collided with the Sergeant’s nose. Blood flew through the air splattering Sloan. Crimson droplets sprinkled the ground around her.

  Sergeant Harrison staggered back, eyes stinging. The crowd roared. Sloan was on Harrison before he could recover with shots to his jaw and temple. Harrison did his best to shield the blows, his vision limited through the blood squirting from his nose. Then as soon as the fight started, it was ended.

  Harrison managed to gather himself enough to launch an offensive attack. Huge arms swung wildly toward her. Sloan sidestepped the clumsy barrage and turned her hips, sending her left foot into the side of Harrison’s right knee. There was an audible crunch. The big man went down as his kneecap shattered in a half dozen different pieces.

  The roar from the men gathered was deafening. Harrison was on the ground moaning, clutching his knee.

  “Get him to the infirmary,” Sloan motioned to Harrison’s friends, who stood, opened mouthed. “Unless any of you have some cute comment to make about how I run.”

  Fear touched their eyes. “Oh, no, Ma’am, you run fine. Like any one of us—I mean, like a normal soldier.”

  Sloan ignored them as she walked back to her men, standing ready to congratulate their leader.

  A young palace messenger pushed through the crowd and saluted, trying to fight back curiosity and ask what happened.

  “Yes, what is it?” Sloan asked.

  “The Queen requests your attendance, Ma’am.”

  “What for?”

  “I’m not sure, but she asked you come as soon as you can.”

  Sloan nodded as she walked through the gathered crowd, not one of the soldiers in New Hope’s military daring to lower their eyes past her shoulders.

  Aareth

  “Bartend, I’ll take another. Make this one a double.”

  The man behind the bar looked his customer up and down, practically forcing himself to speak. “No—no disrespect, sir, but are you going to be able to pay for your tab? I—I mean it’s not even noon. At this rate, you’ll drink my entire bar dry by dinner.”

  Aareth pulled a lock of long dark hair away from his face. He reached inside his black trench coat. The bartender took a nervous step back.

  Aareth ignored making eye contact with the man as he brought out a large purse of coins and dropped it on the counter. “Forget the double shot. I’ll just take the bottle.”

  “Why, yes sir, right away, sir.” The bartender’s eyes were as large as full moons as he wrung his hands. “Excuse me for asking about the money, it’s just that, well, times aren’t what they used to be. Please stay as long as you like.”

  Still ignoring eye contact, Aareth stared into his empty glass, “The bottle.”

  “Oh yes.” The bar owner moved quickly for a man of his girth. He had a jug of whiskey by Aareth’s side in seconds.

  He poured himself another shot from the dirty decanter and threw it back like a true professional. All he wanted was to be left alone but the bartender wasn’t the only one who had seen him throw down his purse of coins.

  “Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

  Aareth ignored the woman to his right and instead poured himself another drink.

  “Mmmm… The strong silent type. What’s wrong, handsome? You’re much too young to have had anything that tragic happen to you.”

  He turned his head ever so slightly in the woman’s direction. She was attractive, a slim physique, showing far too much skin, a pile of curly black locks that fell down the side of her face like a waterfall. Most men would jump at the opportunity to make conversation with such an attractive woman, Aareth wasn’t most men.

  “You don’t know anything about me. Whatever it is that you’re selling, I don’t want any.”

  She reached out a slender hand and gently touched his strong jaw, turning his unshaven face towards hers. “Oh, darling, you have no idea what I’m selling.”

  Aareth squinted through blue eyes and removed her hand with his own. “Darling, go bother someone else. I’m not interested.”

  The woman drew back and opened her mouth. Clearly, she was used to getting what she wanted. Before she could gather herself and mouth a comeback, there was a loud commotion at the entrance to the bar. Booted feet slapped against the wood floor in unison.

  Aareth turned back to his whiskey. This time he ignored the glass and instead took the bottle straight to his mouth. The noise grew louder as the sound of marching entered the bar and stopped behind him.

  “Aareth Emerson, we are here on Queen Eckert’s behalf to ask you to the palace for an audience with Her Majesty,” a gruff voice addressed the alcoholic’s back.

  He didn’t flinch. Aareth raised the whiskey bottle to his lips again, enjoying the way the fiery liquid caressed his throat and dulled his inhibitions. The whiskey was only half finished and he intended to see the bottom of the bottle before he left.

  At the mention of Aareth’s name, the bartender took another step back. The woman who had regained her composure and was about to give him a tongue lashing was stopped again with another surprise. “You’re—you’re Aareth Emerson? THE Aareth Emerson?”

  He nodded, still looking at his bottle. “Yep, pleasure to meet you.”

  The woman looked at Aareth and then at the group of soldiers behind him and slowly got out of her seat and backed away. That seemed to be the general feeling throughout the bar as patrons made for the exits or stood from their seats and retreated to what they deemed a safe distance.

  “Did you hear me? Our orders are to bring you in,” the voice behind him demanded.

  Aareth continued to ignore the soldier. Instead of reacting, he took another swig from his bottle.

  This act of disrespect was too much for the soldier to bear. A rough hand grabbed Aareth’s left shoulder and swung him around. The action made Aareth stand up from his stool and face the soldier.

  The entire room gasped as Aareth and the soldier stood face to face. Aareth pursed his lips as he reached behind him and set the whiskey bottle down on the bar. Aareth looked the soldier up and down. His eyes rested on the badge identifying the soldier in front of him as a sergeant in the Queen’s army. “You’re not going to leave me alone no matter how politely I ask, are you, Sergeant?”

  The Sergeant was a large man with a barrel chest and a thick mustache. “Oh, did that just become clear to you, boy? Listen, what the Queen wants with you is her business, but I’ve heard the rumors about you. I know what you are. I know how you turned your back on duty, on Queen and crown. Believe me, there’s nothing in this world I would like more than to end you here and now, but it seems you’re worth more to her alive than dead. So what’s it going to be? The easy way, or the fun way?”

  “That’s kind of insulting.” Aareth looked past the grinning Sergeant and the four men behind him. “And completely unfair.”

  “What is?”

  “That you thought you could bring me in with only yourself and four men.”

  Before the Sergeant could react, Aareth’s right fist shot up from his side and cracked the underside of his jaw. The blow snapped the soldier’s head back at an awkward angle. The force of the punch sent him crashing to the ground into unconsciousness.

  The four soldiers that remained charged forward, using their long rifles as clubs. In such a tight space, the rifles were more of a hindrance than help. When the soldiers hesitated with wide swings, trying to avoid hitting one another, Aareth met them with nose sh
attering blows and jaw breaking punches.

  The first soldier swung high. Aareth easily ducked under the blow and landed a kidney punch, bringing his attacker to his knees. The next soldier brought his rifle over his head in a downward motion that Aareth easily caught in his right hand. The crown of Aareth’s head met the soldier’s nose at sickening speed, there was an audible crunch as the soldier’s nose broke and blood gushed.

  Aareths’ last two opponents practically took out one another. One of the soldiers swung hard across his body, missed Aareth, and the butt of his own gun landed square across the jaw of his comrade. The soldier, wide-eyed, was too slow to avoid the fist aimed at his temple and he hit the floor like a sack of flour.

  Just like that, it was all over. Soldiers lay unconscious and moaning on the ground. Aareth turned back to his whiskey. Bottle halfway to his lips, he was stopped in the act by a familiar male voice behind him. “I tried to warn them they should let me talk to you first, but you know soldiers—stubborn.”

  “And you think you could do any better?” Aareth turned and smiled at the man he hadn’t seen in years.

  The elderly man walked over the soldiers strewn across the ground. He stood next to Aareth with a winning smile. “I know I can.”

  “Really? And how’s that?”

  “Because I know no matter how much you hide behind your pain and your alcohol,” the old man’s wrinkled face broadened into an even bigger smile, “there’s still that same man I once knew underneath.”

  “And what if that man no longer exists?”

  “That man will always exist, Aareth. Whether you choose to be that person or not is entirely your choice. But I’m not here to conduct a lecture. I’m here to ask you come back with me to the palace and just hear what Queen Eckert has to say. As a personal favor to me, just hear her out. What’s the worst that could happen?”