Ever On: Part One

By RJ Dale

Kyra Night, has been a wolf kin for twenty years. She has one task to do in her immortal life. One simple, easy and possibly over in moments task. Kill the vampire. That’s all she has to do. It’s what she is made for. To destroy the vampires. She can slip form, turn into a powerful wolf, and tear the vampire apart in moments. Only problem with that—Ronan Highlander isn’t like other vampires. He don’t act like other vampires she’d ever seen. He is far too perfect, dangerously sexy, distracting, and far too handsome. And worse, he wants her to come to dinner to discuss the mystery surrounding her survival as the only member of the Seven. Who does he think he is? And what are the Seven? Why does he know about them? And why hasn’t she killed him already? More importantly, why was Kyra thinking about going to dinner with him? as in, her being his date.

• Language: English
• Publisher: RJ Dale
• Release date: May 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310096860

RJ Dale

RJ Dale lives in Queensland Australia. With a deep interest in supernatural, magical and all things unexplained.

Book preview

1

The swirl of black ink looped and crossed into itself, as I stroked rhythmic lines along the page. Thickening darker lines swiftly with a fine tip pen, I idly drew the image for the tenth time on the notepaper. It was now larger and darker to the point; the page had become a twisted image of several drawings. If anyone were paying attention, none would know it was the same image repeated a dozen times. Only I did. I paused to take in my work of art; placing the odd shaped dot on the lower right swirl. It wasn’t a circle, nor a diamond; it was considered, off-centre and lop-sided. I breathed in the scent of ink, but that wasn’t all I could smell. The strong aroma of perfumes and body odour lingered from the front of the room; I glanced to the group of glamour girls, the teen boys to the far side. The teens of pimpled clearing agents and tough tee’s hidden under their school uniform, were smugly boasting about their fun weekend. Several other seats were yet to fill, and already I wanted to escape.

What was I doing here? I grumbled; I tilted my head taking in a poster on the far wall with a half smile.

Learning.

That’s what I was doing here.

High school was the one place things made some sense, where there was some idea of what was to happen. The hope of a future, the possibility of becoming something worthwhile, and—the best way to die of boredom. The other students were lost in some wayward idea of a hopeful future. The girls with their lip-gloss, the over used mascara and the shy ones huddled in the corner, not wanting to participate in any of the conversations. Many live for the dream as a lawyer, a doctor or even a dental assistant. If they’re lucky, they might make it beyond the checkout chick or trolley boy life style. The shallow scent of nature drifted to me from the open window, but didn’t change the mood of the dim yellow classroom.

The scent of leaf, soil and all things of nature held a sense of reality; but here it was blended with the teen stench of body odour, sterile paint, and cheesy posters. Old and mouldy books stacked on bowed shelves and the odd award some student won. It didn’t help my desire to stay, along with the August breeze filtering through the window, the cough or sneeze a student made and the constant twirl of the ceiling fan. I desperately wanted to leave.

This is the way life is now, I hummed to myself, biting my lip and focused on the page I’d covered with swirls of black lines: the unknown image.

Are you a tattooist? Asked a thrilled teen plopping herself in front of me, straddling the chair backwards to peer at my desk.

I lifted my eyes, taking in this punk looking kid with a degree of wonder. Her smile was cunning as to were her black eye-lined eyes, though not a lip gloss girl. She held tousled ribbons of every colour of the rainbow in her half braids. How easy she had it.

No, I said bluntly.

You draw like one. Can you draw me a tattoo? I want one right here. She pressed her fingers to her right shoulder, lifting the sleeve of her school blouse.

The school won’t let you have it on display, I said noting the sleeve length. Pale green wasn’t something to be thrilled about, nor did the deep green shorts slash skirts, which were known, as skorts, look appealing. They weren’t the most attractive school uniform around, but when did school have time to be attractive. It was a standard age from pimples, the endless hair problems, the unknown sex issues; and learning.

"It don’t worry me. That tattoo would look good, all the way around here. She drew a line around her biceps with a hint of completion. I want one so badly, but my mum has sworn me to wait till I’m eighteen. I don’t know why; she spends all her money on skin care products, not that there is anything wrong with it, but still. To have a tattoo would be awesome."

I breathed deep. In truth, I did what I always did when I breathed in their scents. People have a distinct smell, one that I could sift through with ease. This girl may look confident on the outside, but that scent told me she had issues; skin issues, along with other scents of her body. She may wear the rose and lavender perfumes, but she used a generic soap, which told me she wasn’t of the rich family kind. Her clothes were washed in cheap laundry supply; it wasn’t a problem to me. I used low grade products most of my life. Her hair was the only thing she did spend any decent money on. The silky strands of gold were long at the front and cropped at the nape of her neck, appealing. The colourful braids added a spice to her look, with a smile of delight watching me touch up another section of my drawing. The scent told me she was a virgin, that she wasn’t a smoker, and that she’d eaten salt an vinegar chips with a bottle of soda; and had discarded her strawberry bubble gum before entering. I crinkled my nose, knowing that I’d taken in so much of her hygiene that I forgot to linger on her own scent. Strawberry, lavender, and maybe spices of cinnamon. That was the best I could label her scent. To sum her up; she had a simple smell of innocence. And she wasn’t afraid of me, which was saying a lot.

Most the students here didn’t talk to me, nor would they try, but this girl was new. She’d been here for a week, something I knew because of her constant chatter to everyone she’d passed. This was the first time she’d approached me, though still confident to fit in. I could see she was struggling. The lip-gloss girls ignored her, the cute boys and their pimple free days were too busy teasing the others, and one slogged a thick ball of paper towards us. I snatched it from the air before it could collide with my head. The boy who tossed it, showed disappointment, but one of gratitude, since I’d caught it in mid flight. And in truth, I hadn’t moved. Sitting in a half bent position, staring at my paper. To him, I shouldn’t have even seen it coming, but I could; I always see things coming.

Wow— She was shocked when I crushed the ball to the desk. Peeking behind to find out who had thrown it. Red faced as she was; she made it clear she wasn’t going to lie down like this. She snared it from my fingers and tossed it towards the boys group, getting a head shot in. He turned around stunned, ready to stand. The tense pull of his muscle was all too real as to the smell of adrenalin, fear and the annoying scent of loathing. Why a boy would pick on a girl was ridiculous, but this was high school.

That teach ya, said the girl sweetly. Sides, I’m talking if you don’t mind. She turned to me with a raised brow. I hadn’t moved, sitting in the same half bent position she’d found me in. Boys, she said tiredly. They say they don’t like me, but they continually throw things at me. Her laugh was light, though with a hint of worry in it. She was worried because they didn’t like her, and in another breath of her inhale; it was the fear they did.

So will you? Her question through me off.

It was one thing to scent the air and know what was going to happen, but to understand the flow of human conversation. That was something that required talking. I frowned, lowering my pen to the page. I started another image. The same, just smaller.

Will I what?

Do my tattoo. She was pleading.

Er, no.

Oh, but it’s such a good drawing. And is that? She paused, and then she reached towards me. I pulled away and shuffled my dark curls, which was pointless. I didn’t have long locks like others here. My hair was short, touching my neck, barely covering the one thing she had spotted. It is, isn’t it?

No, I said bluntly, hiding the knowing look; she knew what I covered up.

Fine, your secret then. She turned to her pack and pulled forth a large book.

The cover was decorated with boy bands, chick flicks, famous actors and endless cut outs of tattoos. She traced her dainty finger along the images and tapped on the bottom last. It was of an angel, cute looks aside, the wings draped out and wide.

This is the one I want on my neck and this— She pointed to another image, a swirling butterfly. Is the one I want on my ankle, but that— She waved her hand to the unknown image as I came to call it. The one on my neck, the one I draw, and dreamed about endlessly; and yet, had no answer for it. That is the one I want right here. She slapped her shoulder. It would look really cute next to this one. She pointed to a humming bird. And I will get it.

But you have to wait till you’re eighteen, I said, taking a deeper breath and relaxing my anger. It wasn’t real anger, just the idea that someone would reach out to me at all was threatening. I hated contact with them, and here I sat, in a classroom full of young and forwarding adolescents that wanted to do nothing but reach out and hug one another.

Oh, by the way, I’m Izzy, she said with a flashy smile.

Hi, I said coldly.

She bobbed her head waiting for me to tell her my name, and in the edge of my mind, I didn’t want to. I parted my lips, but the room filled with several more students, and the teacher bustling into the classroom saved me from introducing myself.

Now all take your seats and eyes front. His words held order. And for a man of fifty, he was stocky with thick grey hair, thinning at the tops of his brow. A hard smile that held for his amusement as he cleverly stroked on the board, his name:

Mr. Tolrun.

Places and texts. That’s text books, not text messages. No cells, no calls and bathroom breaks are to be taken before you seat yourself. His tone was dry as he bristly eyed several students gathered in the open doorway, and those who headed for their seats.

Hello yummy-goodness, said Izzy smoothly to herself as she straightened in her seat. Get a load of him. She tossed her thumb in the direction of the door, and sure enough, there he was. Yummy goodness was putting it mildly.

Tall, possibly six foot, lanky in a teen way, and I’d seen teens through all stages. But this boy wasn’t a boy, a young man of maturity and definitely bad boy posterior. He held a strange presence about him, older than what he appeared. He wasn’t one of the pimple free boys who used endless face cleaners, or the grunge kids that used eye liner and body piercing to draw unwanted attention. He was flawless.

This one was new because I hadn’t seen him.

I scanned the room in a tenth of a second, taking in the five posh girls, the four band-boys, and three pimpled-faced boys, one fearful girl with glasses, Izzy, who sat to my front. The new kid was a far off grace; man held perfectly in my head.

I sniffed the air, and froze.

I gripped my book tight, and glared at this stranger who stood in front of the teacher, handing him a note, one I remember doing the first day I came here, but it wasn’t that note that had me freeze.

It was him.

I narrowed my eyes with complete loathing, as my body tensed with a degree of fear. If I wasn’t boxed in with teenagers all around me, I would’ve leaped across the room, and managed a hard bite to his neck—shifting form first in that second of leaping. But I was frozen. Unable to move, to think.

It wasn’t possible.

It can’t be possible.

His blue eyes stared with a cold and unblinking gaze. He’d scented me too.

So what you think? said Izzy, leaning towards me, but not taking her eyes off him. To be classed as dangerous, or too juicy to date. Her words fell away when she glanced at me. Er … do you know him?

I couldn’t answer her, even as he walked with stiff legs to the far side and slid into a chair four spaces over from me, which was far too close.

Eyes front. That includes you Miss Night.

I snapped my eyes to the front and glared at the teacher.

He dare say my name with him in this room.

The snicker had me glance at him; a raised brow in mocking was clear, but it was a strain for him to even make acknowledgement of my appearance. I breathed deep and leaned towards the open window, the cool air hadn’t felt so tainted before; now it was filled with that stench. If I wasn’t so close to the window, I’d think I was standing in the aisle of disinfectants and detergents, filled with open cleaning products that make anyone run from a room because it was too potent to have anything clean about it.

Mr. Tolrun, droned on for an annoying twenty minutes about some assignment we were to do; and in that time, I was consumed with the one task I could complete.

Kill the vampire.

2

It consisted of several options and I had to be careful. I had to think clearly. My first reaction would land the evening news, and then the internet, what with all the kids and their camera phones. It wouldn’t be just them coming after me; it’d be my own kind. The real problem with that, was it held a possible good thing for me. To see them, to have them here. No, they wouldn’t come; just more like him; worse, I’d be killed for exposing the Rift. I’d stayed frozen in my position the whole time thinking of an exit, to lure him a way from the class full of gossip. I even thought of leaping out the window and running to the woods that lined my view perfectly, but that wasn’t an answer either.

It was the sudden sound of chairs moving and students shuffling that brought me to attention. I thought class was over when Izzy turned her chair around, placing her book next to mine; another kid dragged his chair and desk closer, and then, to my horror.

He did the same—beside me!

If time had stopped, it was clear neither of us moved, or breathed. I stared at the spot above Izzy’s head. I focused on not reaching out and hitting him hard to the table, to toss him out the window. My fingers had dropped my pen, and that was when I wished I had a pencil. Damn it. Stupid. I hissed. Stab him through the heart with a wooden object. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would at least get him wounded, and then snap his neck for the sake of it.

Name? Izzy was asking the same question from earlier and I couldn’t muster a word.

I shifted my eyes to the vampire. You first, I said bitterly.

He didn’t move, nor did he attempt to answer. His dark ringlets napped his neck length, his body was built stronger than any seventeen year old I knew, and I hated that I’d taken in any of his looks with a degree of liking. Sizing him up was what I was doing. Yeah, that’s right. He was older. I was nineteen. I was blessed with a baby face. A teen girl at times and my emotions wanted to do just that; be a teen. To simmer in the good looks of a stranger, and by rights, if I distracted myself from the situation, I knew what I was seeing. The perfect high school honey, hot looks, swaggering taste in clothes, nothing would look out of place on him. He’d make the most simplest of items look elegant, rich, and possibly the must have item on sale. But here in this dull room of limited air and the constant thunk sound from the low fan. It was far from anything I should be thinking.

Vampires were not good looking.

It is nothing but a ruse, and nothing but trouble for their victim who fall for it. That’s why it was a teen crush. An unknown teen would fall straight into his charm and be consumed in minutes.

O-Kay. Fine, I’m Izzy. It’s short for Isabella Cranston. Izzy held a pen to a sheet of paper and filled it out. She paused on the next line and glanced to me, and then to the vampire.

What was he doing here? What was he thinking of being here? Or anywhere near me? Perhaps he didn’t know I was here, which was true. I just discovered him, seen him, and it was already last class. The sad thing about this class was it didn’t go for a simple forty-minute lesson, which was the old school. This school made you suffer through four classes a day, this morning was Maths, History and Science, and this afternoon was English; a double class.

Izzy bit her lip in worry, her fear seeping through, because, me and Mr. Vampire were sending off waves of heat towards one another. Fear, anger and bile all lingered in the air and it was growing thicker, to the point the others were noticing.

Er … do you two know each other? She asked, her eyes darting between the both of us.

No. We both spoke, worse; I heard his voice. That artistically kind voice a movie star has. That sick voice of seduction, and, it was Izzy who stared at him. She was caught up in him instantly. The pale skin didn’t throw her off, nor the cold eyes of danger.

Er, um … you sure, you two seem … ?

What? We both said it, and glared. It wasn’t fair that he’d speak when I did, and how dare he sit this close to me. Be gone with you, you vampire.

O-Kay— She turned her eyes to the boy opposite us. Your name?

Todd Branny.

Izzy jotted the name on the paper and turned to us.

So, name? She asked, raising an eye brow. She was waiting, and I was hesitating. I didn’t want him knowing my name. I bit my lip and breathed deep, I reached out instinctively towards it, but he was faster. He plucked the sheet from her fingers; pulled it towards him in a flash of the pen moving across it, he pushed it towards me to where I witnessed his name.

Ronan Highlander. Izzy read the words upside down and laughed. Are you trying to be funny?

I frowned at his name, and her words.

Was he being funny? My first instinct was yes, because he wouldn’t want to give his real name.

No, it’s my real name, he said smoothly locking his eyes with mine to show emphasis.

I summed up the courage to right my name. As I held the pen he touched, I wanted to burn it along with my fingers for coming into contact with his kind. I bit back the need, and focused. This was a class full of students and their simple lives of first dates, first zits and so on. Not their first fire-fight between two supernatural creatures. I scribbled my name down with haste and handed it to Izzy hoping she didn’t read it out loud, but that wasn’t the case.

Kyra Night, Huh. That’s nice. She smiled and quickly turned her attention to the sheet. Okay, this assignment is for the sake of group research. Not only do we read the books, we have to make a theory on the possibility that there are facts and so on and… blah, blah—okay. She scanned the sheet and even from here I could tell what this assignment was, or close enough too. She paused and glanced to all three of us, making sure we were still with her. So we have to read all these books in a group, do an assignment on all of them. Ugh, I don’t want to read Romeo and Juliet, nor Macbeth … Why do we have such lame books for English? She paused and turned her eyes to the teacher, possibly in two minds to have a different list remade. This is going to ruin the rest of my term … What about you two, which book do you want to read first?

Macbeth. We blurted out. I glared at him for thinking and saying what I had, and wondered if it was his skill, his power? I’d never met one with the skill of mind reading, nor had I met one with power to say what I was saying.

I’d never met one full stop. Hello! I screamed inwardly.

But to sit this close and still have my heart beating, and the other students, thirty minutes into class time—was a miracle. Not what I was expecting from a blood sucker.

Er, okay … Todd and I will read Romeo and Juliet, and then we can switch, that way we’ll all read the books and have a rough outline for the assignments. Izzy was focusing extra hard on the assignment and after five minutes further on discussion, along with me and Ronan saying yes simultaneously, chose the next book; Hamlet.

This was ridiculous.

I closed my eyes in a need to keep out the bad thoughts running through my head; I could easily snap his neck. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would be worth it, sort of. Yeah, it would so be worth it. What annoyed me, was the dull headache I usually get at this time of day was nowhere in sight, and I couldn’t find an excuse to get out of this room fast enough.

So we’ll go to the library to get the books, and start reading then. She turned to the teacher to call him over; he wasn’t thrilled we’d decided to read in two separate groups since it was a group of four, but with Izzy she made it sound so much easier.

"This way, we can all have