Anchored sterling chains.., p.1
Anchored: Sterling Chains, Book Three, page 1
Copyright ©2023 by Vee R. Paxton
All rights reserved.
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The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
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First edition 2023
For my mother who has always encouraged me to be creative.
Acknowledgements
Thanks to my phenomenal editor Jaime Watson of Baker Street Revisions for keeping me on track and adding shine to all my work. You are magic.
Thanks to my sharp-eyed proofreader, Lori Dietrich for catching those pesky details and giving it the final polish.
Thanks to Chrystal and Bob, my alpha readers and all the incredible beta readers who aided in development of the story.
As always thanks to the readers who uplift all authors as well as my fellow authors who continue to create and inspire.
Contents
1. Jack Mathers
2. Malcolm Howard
3. Tatum Sterling
4. Jack
5. Malcolm
6. Tatum
7. Jack
8. Malcolm
9. Tatum
10. Jack
11. Tatum
12. Malcolm
13. Tatum
14. Jack
15. Tatum
16. Malcolm
17. Tatum
18. Jack
19. Tatum
20. Jack
21. Tatum
22. Jack
23. Malcolm
24. Tatum
25. Jack
26. Malcolm
27. Tatum
28. Jack
29. Malcolm
30. Tatum
31. Malcolm
Treasured—Sterling Chains - Book Four
Treasured
About Author
Also By Vee R Paxton
Chapter one
Jack Mathers
The flickering stars in the night sky seem to mock me, their everlasting light reminding me of the immortality I never asked for. Running my fingers through my hair, I wish my burden away. The thought that I’ll outlive every person I love depresses me. I can’t fathom living without my beloved Tatum. Her demon blood gives her hundreds of years, but that’s nothing in the face of forever. Losing her will completely destroy me, and I'll be forced to live as a ruined man. She’s my mate, my match. My everything.
“No!” A voice from below invades my enhanced hearing. Closing my eyes, I concentrate. A scream follows. I take a few steps toward the door that will lead me to the stairwell before remembering I don’t need it, and I command my wings to appear. A swift breeze accompanies their extension.
Diving off the building and masking my face with a handy spell, I swoop into the alley and witness three men cornering a fourth. He cowers against the brick wall, enduring a punch to the face and another to the abdomen. I land behind the attackers with a thud, my eyes blazing as I charge them, easily tossing each one down the alley and sparking them with magic to render them unconscious before they can react.
Is it forbidden to intervene and risk exposure of Magical Beings to the world? Hell yes, it is. Do I give a shit? Nope, I’ll cover my tracks. They’ll never know it was me or that anything out of the ordinary happened. Just another thwarted mugging and more insane babbles about an angel.
“Are you okay?” I ask the middle-aged man who wears a suit and tie that highlights the beginnings of a paunch. His outstretched hand trembles, a wad of bills crumpled in his fist.
Fighting the urge to laugh, I shake my head. “I’m good, thanks. Call the police and make a report.” I turn and make my way to the end of the alley.
“Who are you?” he calls after me.
“No one of consequence,” I answer with a chuckle, unable to resist the urge to quote The Princess Bride, one of Tatum’s favorite films. He’ll be fine. The threat has passed. The assailants are unconscious. I’ve achieved my adrenaline rush. All in a night’s work.
Now to get home and remind Tatum how much I love her.
Chapter two
Malcolm Howard
My heart races faster with every step toward our destination. A bead of sweat drips down my brow, the humid air causing a curl to fall on my forehead and tickle my eyebrow. My breaths grow shallow. What awaits us? Will I finally find a way to reconnect with my magic?
Sage stumbles beside me, his tall, lanky form casting long shadows in front of us. He’s clearly out of his comfort zone. His seafoam-green eyes are filled with anticipation. He’s likely hoping to gain additional praise from my brother by helping me in this quest.
“I think this is it,” Sage says.
An austere building looms before us, its walls made of gray stone and embellished with intricate carvings that glimmer from rays of light reflecting off them.
“What could this be saying?” I ask, mumbling to myself while running my fingertips over the carvings. What’s their origin? Is this the Fae my brother Cai spoke of? A chill runs down my spine. A connection builds in my body, pulling me toward the doorway. It’s not my magic but the closest I’ve been to magic in months. This may be my lucky day.
My eyes lock with Sage’s. He feels it too—the artifact we’ve been searching for lies hidden somewhere within this building. Excitement bubbles up, and I take a deep breath to steel myself for what the coming moments may bring.
We duck slightly to slip through the unlocked doors, both of us taller than the opening allows, and step into the building. The air is stale; the walls are lined with shelves made of beautiful cherry wood that hold dozens of jars and vials of unidentified substances. My eyes widen at the beauty and mystery of it all.
At the far end of the room is a dais, and upon it rests an ornate chest not unlike one might see in a pirate movie. The lid is covered in arcane symbols that glow as we approach. My heart races, thundering in my ears.
Sage steps forward and opens the chest, and I hold my breath. He lifts out a curious object—a silver bracelet with a faint blue glow. The surface is etched with symbols. The ancient language of magic.
Hands shaking, I take the bracelet from Sage. Power surges through me as soon as I touch it. I have no doubt this is the artifact Cai told me about—the key necessary to unlock my suppressed magic.
My heart swells with hope and excitement, and I’m filled with a renewed sense of purpose. With this artifact, I can reclaim my magic. Rediscover my sense of self.
Without warning, a bright light emanates from the chest, filling the room and blinding us. A shrill vibration assaults our ears, and a winged figure charges me, knocking the bracelet from my hand. The light and noise subside, and when my vision recovers, the bracelet and the creature are gone. Sage and I are alone. Everything we saw when we arrived has vanished. I look around at the empty warehouse, so different from where we were a moment before. Fuck. We probably aren’t even in the same part of town.
My brother warned me Fae magic would be involved, warned me they might not allow me near it. Some Fae welcome us half-breeds; others shun us. A lingering trail of blue smoke spells, get out mongrel. Well, I guess I know which way this particular group of Fae leans.
“I’m so sorry, Malcolm,” Sage finally says, his head hanging low.
I pat his shoulder. “It wasn’t completely unexpected. We did what we could.”
I reach for the door, and a throaty voice comes from the shadows, halting me. “You’ll need this,” they say, handing me a small velvet box. Before I can respond, the mysterious shadow disappears. Nestled inside the box is an intricately carved rose-gold ring. Curious, I slide it on my finger.
“Mal, wait!” Sage shouts, but I ignore him. I smile as the ring adjusts perfectly to my finger and promptly vanishes.
Protection. The word echoes in my mind. I can’t access my magic, but I’ve been gifted some form of protection. For the first time since I lost my magic, I don’t feel like I’m in constant danger.
Sage’s forehead is creased as he examines me from head to toe. He had his own experience with a magical artifact disappearing from sight immediately after he donned it, so I can understand his concern. But this is different. No demonic entity resides in this ring. Whatever resides in the ring is benign, not evil.
“It’s fine, Sage. It’s only a protection ring.” Still, Sage’s expression remains wary as he follows me out of the building.
Chapter three
Tatum Sterling
“What the hell is wrong with me, Jayne?” I ask, gripping the arms of the stiff leather chair. My entire is body tense with frustration and pain, and no matter how tightly I squeeze, my hands still shake from the chill residing deep in my bones. The demonic part of me grows stronger every day, demanding more and more energy. No matter how much I gather, it never seems enough. Feeding off the life force of the terminally ill and Jack’s sexual energy offer
s some relief, but I crave more. What am I, a damn drug addict?
Jayne sits across from me in her small office, her hands clasped in her lap. The bright cheer of her strawberry-red dress is a stark contrast to the dreary slate-gray walls of the clinic. Her green eyes focus on me, full of compassion, and a few tendrils of thick brown curls have worked their way out of her ponytail.
“I told you Jack’s energy is different now and it might not feed you as well,” she says.
“Honestly, Jack’s done a great job of maximizing my feeds. Something else is going on: I can feel it. It’s different. Do you have files about Vaishei demons, or even succubus lore? Maybe there’s an answer in there somewhere.”
Jayne’s gaze shifts toward a jar on her desk, filled with oddly shaped crystals, copper wires, and various pieces of metal. She taps a finger on the glass.
“I’ll see what I can find out. In the meantime, I have a project I’m almost done with that might help you. I’m creating something to contain magical energy. It’s not the same as the life force that you crave, but it might sustain you better. I’m hoping to configure it into something small you can carry in your pocket. That way you have more flexibility if you and Jack are apart.”
At the mention of Jack and me being apart, I remember my last trip out of town to aid my dear friend Mal. I haven’t spoken to him as much as I usually do over the last few weeks. He’s been dealing with his own inner demons lately, and I’m concerned that my distraction with wedding plans has kept me from being the friend he needs me to be. Losing his magic hit him hard, and I should really try harder to help him. He’s been my closest friend since my powers awakened.
“What about Malcolm? Any luck finding anything to help him?”
Jayne’s expression softens as her eyes search mine. Despite her animosity toward him because of his past, she knows how deeply I care for him. “He won’t listen to me,” she says, “but his problem is internal. No external device is going to help him. That man needs to open up, do some inner exploration, and release some stuff he’s got bottled up inside.”
I sigh and nod. “You’re right. He’s so hard on himself. I can’t even imagine how much guilt he must have inside.”
Contempt flashes in her eyes, and she scowls. “I hope he’s filled with it. Not to be harsh, but many people suffered because of his actions. As a physician at the DTA, I saw plenty of those refugees and mutants who came from Vernaria seeking aid, all because of his screw up.”
“But no one you know?” I haven’t braved asking Jayne about her origins. Most employees at the Department of Transverse Affairs were some type of Magical Being, but it was rude to ask if they didn’t volunteer the information. My father, the former head asshole in charge of the department, knew everything about everyone when he was director, but the shitbag made sure the personnel files were scrubbed of any such information, much to Jack’s dismay when he took over the position.
“No. My outrage at him is as a healer to those he wronged. He did all that damage in his homeland, then came here and got to be a damn celebrity, rich and living it up. Don’t get me started on how irritating that is.”
The tremors return to my hands, and I forget all about her beef with Mal. “About that device—is anything ready to test yet?”
Her gaze falls to my trembling fingers, her brow furrowed with concern. “No, but I do have a potion that should help take the edge off.”
Jayne stoops down and reaches into the cabinet beside her desk, pulling out a small brown glass bottle with a dropper top. She places it in my hand and wraps her fingers around mine. The warmth of her touch soothes my chilled fingers. “About half a dropper underneath the tongue, hold it for a few seconds, then swallow. It won’t replenish you, but it should help you combat the withdrawal you experience when your energy gets too low.”
“Thanks.”
“Does Jack know it’s this bad?”
I shrug. “Mostly?” I say, sheepishly. “He knows I struggle, and he works so hard to give me everything I need.”
Jayne shakes her head with a sigh. “So that’s a no. Look, you didn’t hear this from me, but there are people other than the terminally ill who would welcome your kiss.” I’m barely listening, focused on getting the bottle open, desperate for the relief it contains.
“Just what are you suggesting? I can’t just kill people.” I place a drop of liquid under my tongue, and a wave of calm instantly rushes through my system. Thank god. I refocus on Jayne.
“I’m not suggesting that. New York isn’t a death penalty state, but you travel on the dream plane. Maybe seek a condemned man? Not that different from terminally ill, but the energy boost should be greater.”
Before I can reply, my cell phone rings in my purse. A different anxiety arises when I see Gia’s name on the screen. Shit, did the caterer I want for the wedding say no even to her? “Sorry, I need to get this just in case she needs a quick answer.” Jayne smiles and motions for me to go ahead. “Hey Gia,” I answer. “I’m in the middle of an appointment. What do you need? Is it urgent?”
“Can you meet me at the bar? I really need to talk to you in person.” All traces of Gia’s usual jovial tone are missing. Something’s up.
“Of course. I can be there in thirty minutes, is that okay?” Gia has always been there for me, so whatever is up with her, I’m going to return the favor.
“Yeah. See you then.”
Jayne lifts her eyebrows at me when I end the call. I absently clutch the vial of the potion tighter, knowing she wants an answer regarding her earlier suggestion. The thought of seeking out anyone other than those hungering for an early death disturbs me.
“I’ll think about it, okay? I’ll listen and see if anyone calls to me, like I do for the dying. The potion seems like it’s helping for now though. It’s taken the edge off.”
She studies me for a long minute but finally nods. “I’ll check for Vaishei and general succubus lore and see if there’s a more finite solution other than adjusting your feed.”
“I know you will.” I give her a weak smile. “I’m sorry if I’m irritable. I don’t mean to be. Between this weirdness with my power and both my mom and Jack’s mom with millions of wedding questions … my head is spinning.”
“Tatum, you’re one of the least irritable people I know,” Jayne assures me. “Just let me know how it goes with the potion, and I’ll update you when I have anything new, okay?”
Gia’s seated in a booth at Secret Elixir, her head bent over her phone, black curls tumbling over her shoulders. She looks up, and the tension on her face is palpable. Sliding into the booth, I reach across the table and grasp her hands.
“You okay?”
Gia squeezes my hands and chews her lower lip, her dark brown eyes full of worry. “I don’t know. Just worried, scared.”
“Are you pregnant?” I whisper across the table.
I’m not sure why my brain immediately jumps to that question. Probably has something to do with the recent news that Jack and I may not be able to have kids of our own. I guess it’s good news the chances aren’t zero—they’re just really low.
She shakes her head. “I wish it were that simple. Jenson got a call from the police.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rise. While I'm not privy to any confidential details, I know Jenson was in an Alpha battle over Gia months ago, which logically meant he killed the other guy to win.
“A call? They didn’t come to the house or anything?” I ask, worry creasing my forehead.
“No, it’s about his father’s unsolved murder.” Gia nibbles her bottom lip. “The lead detective assured Jenson they’d get the guy who killed his father. Well, he called earlier today to tell him additional evidence was found and they’re closer to catching the killer.”
“Isn’t that good news?”
She shakes her head slowly. “No, Tatum, I don’t think it is. He’s never told me, but it’s likely either Jenson, Nate, or another pack member killed him and the pack covered it up.”
I let out a sigh. “From what I know, Ronnie Kincaid was a major prick, so it’s understandable why there’d be no shortage of suspects. How’s Jenson coping with that news?”
