Endless midnight moonlit.., p.1
Endless Midnight (Moonlit Book 5), page 1
ENDLESS MIDNIGHT
Copyright © January 2024 by Gabrielle Evans
Cover Art by Black Butterfly Designs
Published by Peccavi Press INC
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal, except for the case of brief quotations in reviews and articles. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
Contents
A Note From Gabrielle...
Synopsis
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
Epilogue
About the Author
Other Titles by Gabrielle Evans
A Note From Gabrielle...
Endless Midnight was originally released in 2011 by a different publisher as the fifth book of The Moonlight Breed series. This new version has been edited to add details, smooth out any rough spots, and include updates from this decade.
It does not, however, contain any meaningful changes to the characters or the storyline.
Synopsis
It’s been eight years since Boston and Flynn loved and parted, but the pain of Flynn’s betrayal is still as raw as the day it happened.
Flynn doesn’t know why Boston pushed him away and disappeared, but he aims to find out. When he realizes they have a second mate, he couldn’t be happier. Too bad Boston is running scared from Malakai as well.
Malakai was left alone and brokenhearted because Boston refused to accept their mating. When fate offers a second chance, he seizes it with both hands. He’s not willing to come between Flynn and Boston, but he hopes the two shifters have room in their hearts for him as well.
When a coven leader petitions for a mating contract with Malakai, the only thing that can save him is a claiming bite from his mates. But first, they’ll have to accept him—fangs and all.
one
“We’re not going to get out of here alive, are we?” Boston Mackey huddled in the corner of the dark basement on a scrap of blanket that doubled as his bed. He curled against his mate’s side for warmth as his naked body shivered from the cold.
For three years, he’d endured the desolation of his prison. In that time, the only thing that had kept him going was Flynn. While he would have preferred to meet his mate under more welcoming circumstances, he was just happy to have Flynn Murphy at his side.
“We’re going to be fine,” Flynn said, his Irish accent creeping through.
Boston adored that accent, and it made his cock hard every time Flynn spoke. Granted, it had been hell for the first two years. Boston had been only sixteen when his family had sold him to the vampire coven. Three years his senior, Flynn had refused to touch him.
He was older now, though, having just reached his nineteenth birthday, and things were different.
Of course, he hated it when the vampires manipulated their minds and forced them together for their sick enjoyment. It still made something in his stomach cramp to know that their first time had been with several of the bloodsuckers watching their every movement. They had taken the most special moment in Boston’s young life and turned it into something cheap and sleazy.
Normally, however, he craved Flynn’s touch. It was like a soothing balm to his frayed and delicate psyche after the horrors he was forced to live with day in and day out.
Crawling onto Flynn’s lap to straddle his hips, Boston licked at his mate’s mouth and grinned. “I love you, Flynn Murphy.”
“Aye, and I love you, Boston Mackey. Let me show you. Be mine forever.”
Boston shook his head sadly. He had no illusions that he’d survive the hell they were in. As bonded mates, they literally couldn’t live without each other. He wouldn’t tie them together just so Flynn could die with him. The big shifter was stronger than him, so maybe he’d have a chance to escape. Boston wouldn’t risk his mate by claiming him if there was any way Flynn could be free of the awful place.
Flynn sighed, and his strong fingers wrapped around Boston’s hard cock where it throbbed between them. And just like that, all those unpleasant thoughts faded.
It took only minutes for the stroke of Flynn’s tongue against his and the steady rhythm of his hand to bring Boston to completion. Groaning quietly, he stared into Flynn’s brilliant green eyes, and tumbled over the edge, spilling his seed into his mate’s fist.
Gods, he was so tired. The vampires who held them as blood slaves—and sometimes more—kept them so drained that Boston couldn’t even shift. On the full moons, when he had no control over his transformations, the vampires locked him inside a steel box barely big enough for his stag to fit.
Flynn held him tightly to his chest, stroking his spine and whispering kisses over his temple. “Sleep now, love.”
Boston didn’t actually remember falling asleep, but when he awoke, he was cold and alone, curled up on the raggedy blanket. A shuffling sound drew his attention, and he scrambled back into the corner, praying it wasn’t one of the bloodsuckers up for an early morning snack. He loathed when they drank from him.
Curious when the sound didn’t come closer, he eased out of his corner and prowled toward the huge support beam. Pressing against the wood, he peeked around the corner, and what he saw shattered his heart into a million pieces.
He supposed that did answer his question of where Flynn had gone.
Hurrying back to his corner, he moved as far away from his makeshift bed as possible, kneeling and gagging on the cement floor before finally expelling the meager contents of his stomach. Fuck, he’d been so stupid!
Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he crawled to his blanket and curled into a fetal position, squeezing his eyes closed against the pain. A long time later, he felt Flynn’s warm body mold to his back, and Boston couldn’t stop himself from stiffening. Apparently, Flynn noticed because he eased back to put space between them, never speaking a word.
The next time Boston awoke, it was to a hand fisted in his hair and two sets of fangs embedded in his neck. He screamed and kicked, thrashing wildly as he tried to get away. This was it. They were going to kill him.
Part of him hoped they would. He was already dead on the inside after Flynn’s betrayal. No one would notice. No one would care if he never came back.
Please just let me die.
He didn’t die, but he did pass out and regain consciousness several times. It would have been nice if he’d been asleep while the vampires tied a rope around his ankles and dragged him into the night. No such luck, though. He remained cognizant throughout the entire painful ordeal.
It was the first time he’d been outside in more than three years, and he could barely open his eyes to enjoy it.
The bloodsuckers dragged him behind them by the rope through several inches of bitterly cold snow, and the next thing Boston knew, he was being hoisted upside down. He dangled several feet above the ground, his legs protesting his weight as the rope cut into his ankles.
He swung there until morning, then throughout the day. Thankfully, he slept—or something close to sleep—during most of it. When night came again, he woke to something jarring the ropes holding him up in the tree.
Maybe it was the vampires back to finish him off. He didn’t care. He welcomed death. No one could live through the pain he was in, both emotionally and physically, and he prayed for it to end.
Strong arms wrapped around his midsection, lowering him to the ground and holding him close to a warm, muscled chest. Flynn. No matter what the man had done to him, he loved him. He wanted Flynn—needed him.
“Hey, kid, can you hear me?”
Boston frowned. That wasn’t Flynn. With a great deal of effort, he blinked open his eyes and stared up at the biggest man he’d ever seen. He was a little fuzzy around the edges, but Boston knew he’d never met the guy before.
Another man stood beside him, and still another was kneeling in the snow, holding Boston in his lap.
“Who are you?”
Was that his voice? He sounded like he’d been gargling glass. And why did it matter who they were? They were probably going to kill him anyway. He didn’t need to know their names to understand that.
Who just stomped around in the woods at night with honorable intentions? All the childhood stories he had heard were true. There really were monsters that lurked in the night. He’d lived with them for years. These were just a different kind.
“I’m Xander Brighton,” the biggest man answered with a nod. “You’re safe now. Everything is going to be okay.”
Boston’s head lolled against the shoulder supporting him without his permission. He just couldn’t seem to keep it up. “You’re wrong.”
Nothing would ever be okay again.
two
Eight Years Later…
Boston was tired, pissed off, and freezing his fucking nuts of
A commotion outside his small room in the cabin drew his attention.
“What now?” he grumbled under his breath as he went to investigate.
Stepping out of the room, he froze in his tracks when five men shuffled into the cabin behind Xander and Talon. He immediately recognized them as the bloodsuckers who had attacked their pack at that diner in Amarillo.
He had hoped they’d seen the last of them, but apparently, they were welcoming them with open arms. Had his alpha completely lost his mind?
“What the fuck are they doing here?”
Xander held up his hands, palms out. He looked wary and just a little pissed off at Boston’s attitude. Yeah, well, he could join the fucking party.
“They’re here to help. Calm down, and let’s hear what they have to say.”
He really couldn’t give two shits, but what choice did he have? His alpha had spoken, and the rest of the pack seemed to agree. Nodding curtly, he crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the vampires while mentally preparing to defend his family by any means necessary.
While anger boiled just under the surface, deeper inside, Boston trembled with fear. The sooner they could get the bloodsuckers out of there, the better.
His eyes strayed to the smallest member of the group while the head vamp went through his introductions. The guy was kind of sexy for a vampire, but there was something else about him that wouldn’t allow Boston to look away.
“This is Malakai, the tech man, and kind of liaison of sorts,” the leader, Stavion, finished.
Malakai lifted his eyes, looking straight at Boston.
The world spun. Time stopped. Boston’s pulse raced, and his stomach fluttered. A low buzz hummed in his ears while the gums around his canines began to tingle and ache.
What the hell was happening to him?
The next few seconds played out in slow motion as the little vampire—Malakai—crossed the room to stand directly in front of him.
His sweet scent hit Boston like a runaway freight train, slamming into him hard enough to steal the air from his lungs. His nostrils flared, his cock hardened, and his blood sang through his veins.
Mine!
That one thought brought Boston out of his daze, and he stumbled back, shaking his head frantically. “I will not have a vampire as a mate!”
Without another word, he spun around and raced for the sanctuary of the bedroom. Slamming the door closed behind him, he fell to his knees and began pulling at his hair. Not again. This couldn’t be happening to him again.
Fate was the cruelest bitch he’d ever met.
He could hear the others talking in the next room, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Struggling up from the floor, he staggered over to the bed and perched on the edge of the mattress. His amada could not be a vampire. He refused to accept it.
Just like your first mate refused to accept you, an evil voice whispered inside his head. You’re so broken not even your mate wants you.
“Damn it,” Boston growled out loud.
The bedroom door creaked open, and Keeton strolled in with a wide smile on his face. The little vampire shuffled in behind him, his head lowered and his eyes downcast.
“Get him out!” Boston roared. He couldn’t be in the same room with the man without wanting to pounce on him and lick every inch of his skin. He wouldn’t do it, though. He couldn’t.
“Oh, shut up already,” Braxton said sourly as he followed in behind the other two. “We’re right here, and we’re not fucking deaf.” He slammed the door hard enough to shake the walls. “You’re being a complete dick,” he added in a quieter voice.
“I’m sorry,” Malakai whispered. “I’ll go.”
Keeton wound his arm around the vampire’s shoulders to hold him in place, and Boston had to choke back a growl before he made an ass out of himself. He didn’t like Keeton touching his mate. No one should be touching Malakai except him.
Only, he couldn’t, and he knew it.
“Why are you so against being his mate?” Braxton asked.
“That’s really none of your business.” Boston jumped up from the bed and moved across the room, as far away from Malakai as he could get.
“Well, I think it’s his business,” Keeton said with a dip of his head toward the vamp beside him.
“It’s okay. I understand.” Malakai still spoke in that same dejected whisper that ripped at Boston’s heart.
“I can’t.” Boston pleaded for the man to hear him, to understand what he hadn’t said with words. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
Malakai held his hands up and shook his head. “Please, just stop. I get it.”
Oh, he really didn’t, but Boston wasn’t going to argue with him. They all stood in silence for a long time, not even Braxton or Keeton speaking. Boston felt like he was suffocating. They were too close. Malakai was too close. He needed to get away.
Maybe it made him a coward, but that’s exactly what he intended to do. Run away and never look back.
With Jackson’s brother rescued, his father in custody, and evidence collected, Boston was damn glad to be going home. He’d worked his ass off all week to do everything in his power to get them the hell out of Colorado.
He hadn’t seen Malakai again, but the male consumed his thoughts. Maybe more distance would help him forget that he ever existed.
“So, when is this Enforcer guy supposed to be here?” Braxton asked as they bumped along the winding driveway that would lead them home.
Boston sat up straighter in his seat, waiting to hear Xander’s reply. He’d been hiding out from everyone, and this was the first he’d heard that anyone was coming to stay with them.
“Flynn’s supposed to be here next Saturday. I guess he can stay in Jackson’s old room now that Talon has finally pulled his head out of his ass.”
The name made Boston’s gut clench, and he felt the blood drain from his face. He was being ridiculous, though. It couldn’t be that Flynn.
“I’ll make sure it’s clean and put new sheets on the bed. How long is he staying?”
Xander shrugged as he pulled to a stop behind Logan’s Jeep. “I guess as long as Blaise feels it’s necessary. Flynn is supposed to be one of the best, and if keeping you safe means having him here, then I won’t complain.”
Braxton smiled sweetly and leaned over the console to kiss his mate. Boston looked away. Not because he was embarrassed but because he felt ashamed. He could have that, but he’d thrown it away.
“Flynn Murphy,” Braxton mused when he pulled away from Xander’s lips. “Is he Irish?”
Boston was out of the truck and running toward the back of the house before Xander could answer. Yes, Flynn Murphy was definitely Irish, and the most gorgeous man Boston had ever laid eyes on. Too bad the asshole didn’t want him.
Stripping out of his clothes as he ran, he stopped just inside the tree line and struggled to calm down enough to shift. Once his buck had taken over, Boston forced his brain to shut down, and he ran. He didn’t have a destination in mind, but he ran until he couldn’t feel his legs anymore.
Folding his tired limbs beneath him, Boston curled up on the ground and closed his eyes. Maybe he’d wake up and find it had all been some horrible nightmare.
Unfortunately, he’d never been that lucky.
The following Saturday, Boston woke to the sounds of laughter. Blinking against the light spilling in through his bedroom window, he dragged himself out of bed and dressed in a daze.
If Flynn was going to be living with them, he couldn’t avoid the man forever. It would be better to face the situation head-on as though nothing was wrong. The last thing he needed was for his pack mates to start asking questions.
Pulling his shirt over his head, he padded out of the room in his bare feet and down the hall to the stairs.
“Aye, I’m from Ireland. Does that make you hot and bothered?”
Flynn’s voice floated up to Boston, and he gripped the railing to keep from tumbling down the stairs.
