UnMarked: Extinction, #2

By Ashlyn Mathews

They say in death, your life flashes before your eyes like pictures in an old movie reel. That had never happened for her.

Keeping her resurrection a secret is a matter of life and death for demon hunter Sophie Sinclair. When a hunt goes sideways and a chance encounter on the side of the road ends in a passionate lip-lock with a sexy stranger, Sophie sets off a sequence of events that further puts her secrets, her ex-lover's life, and her heart in danger.

Ex-homicide detective turned private investigator, Ryan Campbell, is far from being a stranger to Sophie. Sophie might not remember the night she died in his arms, but Ryan sure as hell can't forget.

Her long hair, the color of night, had been short when he held her as she choked on her own blood. And her eyes, the deepest blue. Life slowly faded from their depths as he asked for her name in that drab alley two years ago.

Damn it, why did he return her kiss? He didn't go kissing stranded women on the side of the road, and definitely not a woman who should be dead. But to discover the answers to how Sophie defied the laws of life and death, Ryan offers her a steamy proposition, unknowingly jeopardizing his life and his heart.

How far will Ryan and Sophie go for duty and freedom, family and love? Will the truth set them free? Or will Ryan's betrayal rip Sophie's heart to pieces?

• Language: English
• Publisher: First Bite Publishing
• Release date: May 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9780996094627

Ashlyn Mathews

Ashlyn Mathews is a registered nurse with an overactive imagination. Her interests and activities include taking a lot of pictures of her golden retrievers and flowers and posting them on social media (occasionally she’ll post pictures of her kids and hubby), binge-watching funny and romantic Netflix shows, reading books and magazines of various genres, eating a lot of carbs, and drinking A LOT of coffee. Hot, iced, blended… it doesn’t matter as long as it has coffee. For more on her romance series, visit ashlynmathews.com.

Book preview

1

Though the hour was eleven at night, it could’ve been a sunny afternoon. Sophie could see in the dark and so could the demon she hunted. She followed the creature through a grouping of trees. Deep mud from earlier rain saturated the ground.

In the middle of a clearing, she skidded to a stop. A six-foot-three demon, with a human girl’s body slung over his massive shoulder, waited for her. Hoping she could bargain for the girl’s life, Sophie raised her hands to the air and took cautious steps toward them.

Smirking, the demon hurled the girl into the air. Sophie broke the girl’s fall with her body and scrambled to her knees. You’ll be okay. I’ll keep—

The girl stared up at her with vacant eyes. Fire coursed through Sophie’s veins, and she reined in the urge to cut off the demon’s head. She needed answers, and he would be the one who gave them to her.

She straightened and reached back for her sword. Anson Black, I sentence you to death for crimes committed against humans and hunters.

His aura flashed red and his face contorted into ugly, sinister lines. Her heart pounded.

Circling her, he yanked out his sword. She followed his movement, keeping her body between his and the girl’s. No way would she let a creature from Hell desecrate the dead’s body.

An image of silver flashed in her mind seconds before the demon attacked. She deflected the blow from his sword with her own. Again and again, he advanced, each strike an echo of metal against metal. He sank in the mud, and moving swiftly, she thrust her blade deep into his stomach.

He grunted. Your foresight gave you an unfair edge.

He was right. Without foresight, her ass would’ve been dust years ago. Gathering her strength, she shoved Black into a tree. Stuck to the tree, he didn’t curse or scream. But damn, he had to hurt. Experience had taught her that. She’d been stabbed, shot, slashed, and punched so hard her bones broke. Eventually she healed. Yet her gods couldn’t erase the physical wounds of a deep betrayal.

Catching her breath, she glanced up at the night sky. High above, past the sparse branches of the trees, the stars flickered, and the moon moved from the shadow of the dark clouds. For the past two years, she’d been consumed with an obsession to save one important life. However, the murders of innocent kids by demons on her hit list changed things. The hunt wasn’t just about her contract with the Elders anymore.

She redirected her attention on Black. Three months ago, in Arizona, a boy’s throat was slit. A month later, in California, a kid was disemboweled. Now another is dead. Vicious sends his trained killers after hunters, not weak humans. Why these kids? The answers, now.

I’m telling you nothing. He glared with his jaws clenched.

Stubborn demon. Soon Black would be dead, and she wanted her face to be his final memory. Sophie shoved off her hood. The demon’s eyes widened. His mouth opened and closed. He snorted. Her senses tingled at the underlying disbelief she detected in his throaty laughter.

Sophie Sinclair, the hunter whose father was a traitorous half-breed. The low, mocking sound of his laughter grated on her nerves. Ironic, isn’t it? You share the same darkness as the beings you hunt and kill.

He coughed, and blood smeared his lips. How could you be alive? We had visual proof of your death.

I was never dead. It was a blatant lie. She normally told the truth. But Black was her enemy. Hell would have to be a paradise before she revealed to him how she got into her current mess.

Sure. His lips curled. There’s talk of a hunter who was murdered then resurrected. This hunter is like a ghost in the night, an efficient killer without a face. Yet she leaves behind the scent of jasmine.

He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. You’re the perfect fit, sweet Sophie. He sneered. You should’ve kept your hood on. I see the resemblance to your father. Same black hair, same blue eyes, and same fucking look of superiority.

He spat at her, the bloody wad landing on her cheek. She wiped it away with disgust.

Don’t fool yourself, hunter. We’re more alike than you think. At our core, we’re warm-blooded, cold-hearted killers.

You’re wrong. Her nails dug into her palm. Embers kill to protect. Demons murder for gain.

A knowing satisfaction crossed his face, the expression so brief, she almost missed it. He would meet death at her hands, and the inevitable should worry him to the point of desperation—except he wasn’t. He didn’t bargain for his life, or coerce her with threats to end hers.

Her instincts in overdrive, she rushed over and stuck her fingers inside Black’s jacket pocket and pulled out a—air rushed from her lungs, and the trees closed in, the silence too quiet. She staggered back and dropped the small object like a piece of hot ember, smashing it under her boot and burying it deep in the mud. Damn it!

The demon laughed. Yes, it’s a transmitter. Everything we said was heard by the others. He peered down his nose at her. You made a shitty mistake by taking off the hood. There’s a price on your head worth a half-million dollars and a shot at immortality. Vicious will come after you and not stop until you’re captured, dead or alive.

She reminded herself to breathe. Black’s disclosure and the transmitter changed things, but not everything. She wasn’t the one impaled to a tree.

Tonight’s not about me. Why does Vicious want the kids dead?

Defiance lined his face.

She paced. When trapped between a tree and an Ember, I believe you still have choices. How would you like to die? To emphasize her point, she reached back for her other sword. I can cut your head off or bleed you to death. What will it be? Her fingers itched to do a fast draw. Personally, I’d want a quick death.

Was it?

She blinked. Was it what?

The demon gloated. Your death? Was it quick and painless? Or slow and agonizing?

In a blur, before he could utter another useless word, she hacked off his arms. The limbs dropped to the ground and became shriveled heaps of flesh. His question, asked with such malice, had caught her off guard, and the shock of it sent waves of pain through her body. Closing her eyes, she raged against the memory of her death.

A minute went by, maybe two. It was too long to let Black witness her show of weakness. She opened her eyes. Though it went against her upbringing to revel in another’s sufferings, the sight of him dying slowly filled her with a dark and wicked satisfaction. He laughed then sputtered. The sounds he made were soft and low with a hint of smugness. He knew he’d gotten her, and he’d gotten her good.

One last chance, she offered. Why kill the kids?

Sorry, pet, but you won’t get your answer from me. His coloring paled, and he whispered his last words. Fuck. You.

She sliced off his head with her sword. His body disintegrated into pieces of red ash, sparing him the slow and agonizing death she’d suffered. After she tossed his weapon into a bush, she hauled her sword out of the tree then called 9-1-1 with her burner cell.

What’s your emergency?

Edgewood Avenue, twelve feet from the curb, hidden in the woods, is a girl’s dead body.

Before the dispatcher could speak, Sophie smashed the burner cell beneath her boot. Soon the cops would be canvassing the area. She needed to move her ass. With both swords retracted, she slammed them into their sheaths and raced through the greenbelt.

Her lungs burned with every breath she took, and her legs ached. Soon, she emerged on the other side of the clearing, and there, parked alongside a road flanked by an abandoned house and the greenbelt, was her partner in crime—her Chevy truck.

Tugging off her gloves, she scanned her surroundings. Empty and silent. Good. No witnesses. But three years ago, a man had seen her track a demon, and that moment had changed her life and his. Shoving those memories aside, she unlocked and yanked open the truck’s stubborn door.

A piece of paper, slipped through a tiny crack in her window, caught her eye and left her mouth dry. She ignored the note, threw her gloves onto the floor next to her backpack and slid into the truck. After it took two tries to start the engine, she pulled onto the road and drove, staring straight ahead. Don’t think about or look at the note.

A few minutes passed. Okay, curiosity killed the cat, but it had nine lives. She had lost her life once, almost twice, and she wasn’t willing to lose it again. And neither would she risk the lives of others—human or hunter—because she was too chicken-shit to look at the note. She grabbed the paper, read its content, and then shredded the note in frustration.

Someone had been watching her, and that spy would soon inform the Ember Elders of her slip-up. A few years ago, she’d let a human hunt with her, an act that went against hunter laws, the punishment death to the human. It was the one exception to the hunters’ oath: protect the humans.

In a negotiation between her and the Elders, she had managed to spare Dominic Mendez’s life. The contract? Kill twenty-five of Vicious’ demon assassins, one for each year Dom had already lived, and his death sentence would be dismissed. But if Sophie revealed her existence or true identity to demons or humans, the contract was null and void.

To the humans, Sophie Sinclair had died in an alley two years ago. But she had cheated death, walking again in the same body. The Elders wanted that truth hidden, hence the clause in the contract.

Though Dom was a murderer, she wouldn’t let her mistake tonight cost him his life. She’d sworn to shield the weak from the strong. It was time to return home, face her past head on, and bargain again for Dom’s life. Anson Black was kill number twenty-two.

2

The headlight beams sliced into the darkness. Ahead and behind her, there were no red auras of demons. Instead, images of the dead girl racked her with guilt. Failures and mistakes, a lifetime of them, piled on her.

Taking a heavy breath, Sophie stared at the moon as it followed alongside her truck on the empty road. The moon’s luminescence reminded her of her mother. Elisabeth Sinclair had said life was a reflection of the moon. Both had their dark and bright moments, but what an Ember did during the dark times was what counted the most.

Strength, kindness, empathy and self-sacrifice fanned an Ember’s will to fight through and survive seemingly hopeless and rough times. And an Ember, lit to his or her full capacity, became a flame to be reckoned with. Days like this, Sophie wished her mother were alive to guide her.

Suddenly the truck slowed.

Uttering a curse, she pulled over and rode the shoulder until her truck coasted to a stop. The road ahead disappeared into nothingness. She would have to go on foot to the nearest gas station. Anything to get her truck back in running order. The old girl might be a gas-guzzler, but Sophie considered the Chevy her friend.

The truck had been a gift to herself on her twenty-second birthday. She had survived another year, and it felt right to celebrate it with an old soul who shared her birth year and a past similar to hers. The Chevy had sat in the lot for months, her previous owner trading her in for a faster new ride. It was hell learning to drive a stick shift, but she’d managed.

In the rearview mirror, a light snagged her attention. Twin beams shifted, and she heard the unmistakable sound of tires on gravel. The car had stopped and parked behind her. She tried to get out on the driver side but the door wouldn’t budge. Just her luck. The damn door was giving her trouble again. She slid across the bench seat and hopped out.

The dirt was soft and wet under her feet, and she stumbled, nearly falling into the ditch. A car door opened and closed behind her. Footsteps edged closer. She flipped her parka’s hood over her head and shoved strands of her hair inside before she turned around.

No red aura. A human. A man.

He’d left the dimmer lights on, giving her a view of his silhouette. It wasn’t his height or the leanness of his body that set him apart from other men she’d observed. This particular human moved—no swaggered—with confidence and strength.

When he came closer, she backed up, surprised at the intensity in his strides. She teetered on the edge of the road, and feeling herself fall, she reached out. He closed his hand over hers and tugged. She collided into him. Rock hard and solid. Those were the only words to describe his chest.

Before she could move away, he hugged her waist with his warm hands and spun her until she was tucked between his body and her truck. In the night, she saw him too clearly. His face, narrow with a strong jaw line, was tempered with straight brows over eyes the color of melted chocolates. Light or dark, it didn’t matter. Her sweet tooth was her weakness.

She lowered her gaze. His mouth spoke of sin, promising the best kind of lip locking. She licked hers in response even though she wanted to kick herself in the ass for it. Copper highlights danced in the brown strands of his hair, and she itched to grasp a piece and run it between her thumb and forefinger.

He opened his mouth, ready to say something, thought better of it, and smiled instead. The upward tilt of his lips hinted of concern, and her lust faded. Concern led to caring and caring led to other emotions. She twisted out of his arms and pushed him aside. He lost his balance and landed on one knee in front of her, but not before he yanked off her hood. Her hair spilled from its confines.

The headlights from his car snared her in their glow, and she felt exposed, the sheer scrutiny in his eyes leaving her breathless. Sophie raised her chin. She was the wrong kind of creature to mess with.

You’re far from home, aren’t you?

This human was observant. Oregon and Nevada aren’t that far apart. She took a step back while he got up and wiped the wet dirt off his hands and onto his pants.

He walked past, and she hurried over to stand in front of the truck’s hood. You won’t find anything wrong. The truck’s out of gas.

He pointed straight into the darkness ahead. There’s a gas station up the road.

Fine. I’ll give you a can and some money. What little she had.

He shook his head. I’m paying. And you’re coming with me.

The command in his voice should have worried her, but he was a human. Her species would always be stronger, faster. Superior. He scrutinized her. She glared back, her cheeks too warm in the November air.

I’m not leaving, she said, trying to convince the stranger she didn’t need his help.

The temperature’s dropping, and it’s not safe for a woman to be out here alone in a broken-down beater truck.

She’s been through a lot. So respect the truck.

I’m sure you know her best.

Why did it seem as though they weren’t talking about the truck anymore? She gave him her dirtiest look. I’m staying.

Over my cold, dead body.

She placed her hands on her hips. Then, Houston, we have a problem.

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, Campbell.

She blinked. What? She let her arms fall to her sides.

The name’s Ryan Campbell. His mouth brushed over the curve of her ear. And I think we can compromise.

She ignored the softness of his lips and the stillness of her breath. You’re too patient.

And you’re stubborn beyond belief.

She flushed and stammered, I know guys who would drag me kicking and screaming to the nearest gas station or just plain ditch me on the side of the road.

Is that so? Then you’ve been hanging around the wrong kinds of men.

Danger flashed across his face then disappeared just as quickly, and she realized how vulnerable she was out in the open. It was time to move her and the old girl. Move the sexy human away from the threats attached to who and what she was.

Fine, I’ll go with you, but make it quick.

He swept his hand out, a ladies first gesture, but she stood firm and waited for him to make the first move. She’d been tricked into taking the lead once, only to be stabbed from behind. It had hurt like hell.

Shaking his head, though his eyes crinkled at the corners, he led the way to his shiny new black Camaro. The temporary plates still advertised the dealership’s logo. On the short walk over she heard him muttering, stubborn to the core.

Sophie ignored his muttering. Nice ride.

He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. Thanks. Women dig guys in cars with power and muscle.

They stopped in front of the passenger door. She shrugged. I like men in pickup trucks, the bigger the better.

I had one of those, but she sucked me dry. He unlocked the doors with the key fob. I couldn’t afford to keep paying for the gas to fill her up.

He directed those melted chocolates at her. She swallowed and ignored the stranger’s obvious perusal. Though he’d given her his name, it was simpler to refer to him as the stranger. Using his name would mean he meant something to her, and no way would she attach any significance to this weak human male.

He stepped aside and waited for her to get in before he closed the door. The smell of leather was strong, and when his tall form filled the interior, he was the epitome of a cowboy, even without the hat. His scent, a mix of sweat, pine, and the sweet air, teased her senses.

The stranger leaned across and grabbed the seatbelt. I drive fast.

His nearness was intoxicating, and she resisted the urge to draw in a deeper breath, to breathe in his scent. Instead, she held her breath and melded her body into the seat, away from his touch. He buckled her in, and she swore his eyes twinkled with mischief before he pulled onto the road.

The man wasn’t lying. The asphalt under their tires flew by while the scenery passed in a blur.

At the 7 Eleven, she hurried out of the car, and with a speedy, I’ll be right back, she made her way to the pay phone. There were only so many minutes left on her remaining burner cell. She’d have to save them for a true emergency.

Hello. Her friend, Alexandra, answered