Halfling: Black Petals, #1

By Tarisa Marie

From the author of "The Tainted Series", comes a new thrilling paranormal romance series. 

Megan Caplan never knew her father, but he left something behind--a ring. Her mother told her that it was a fraternity ring, but when Megan is kidnapped by a strange man and questioned about the piece of jewelry, she knows there's something more to both it and her father. 

Megan is unwillingly thrust into a world where demons exist. Her new best friend turns out to be a demon hunter, and she discovers that she herself is a half demon. Her heritage catches up with her and soon she's set up with a pure blood mentor. Megan learns that in only a few months she'll have to make the biggest decision of her life. She has three choices: become a pure-blood demon, become a demon hunter, or death.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tarisa Marie
• Release date: Feb 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386001553

Tarisa Marie

Tarisa Marie loves interacting with fans on her Instagram account @TarisaMarie_Author and encourages them to send her selfies with her books. You will be her favorite person if you review one of her books, she reads every single one and appreciates them all. 

Book preview

Chapter 1

Y ou must be my partner . I’m Blayk. Nice to meet you, a deep, Australian-accented, male voice says from behind me, frightening me. I turn to meet the brown eyes of a dark-haired, tan-skinned man wearing dark wash jeans and a black V-neck t-shirt.

Oh! Yeah, I am. I’m Megan, I sputter quickly and extend my hand.

He shakes it and smiles kindly.

I just got our map. We’re assigned to Madison Street West, I inform him in a forced friendly tone. I honestly just want to get this over and done with, so I can go home and binge watch TV.

He raises his eyebrows. "Nice, it’s one of the shortest streets in the city. I guess we lucked out," he approves gratefully. I toss him a couple of empty garbage bags and a pair of blue rubber gloves.

I’m not too sure about picking garbage all day with a random stranger, but my workplace has volunteered us all for the semi-annual city cleanup. Don’t get me wrong, I love helping out and volunteering, but I just wish I would’ve been paired with another girl or put in a group of more than two. Not that I have anything against guys. I just grew up in a family where they were nothing but unreliable pig heads. My dad was never around, and my mom brought more men home than eggs. None of them stuck around of course.

Yeah, I guess we did. Do you want me to drive or..? I trail off, getting distracted by the many people buzzing around us in the community centre. I rip down the paper sign from the wall with our group number on it and crumple it up. We’re all here. All two of us.

I can drive, he suggests hastily, as if he’s scared of my driving or something. I am a terrible driver, or so I’ve been told, but obviously he would have no way of knowing this. I toss the crumpled sign that’s in my hand into a nearby garbage can.

He nods towards the double doors on our left-hand side and begins walking towards them.

I follow him. He’s tall. Probably nearly six feet, whereas I’m a mere five feet in height.

As we exit the community centre, I can’t help but gawk at some of the people around me. I’m new to the city. I was born and raised in a small town. It would be an understatement to say that moving to the city was a big change. There are people everywhere. All kinds of people too. Some with purple hair, others with piercings in their lips and eyebrows. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, because it’s definitely not. It’s the reason that I moved here. Diversity. Freedom.

In Manson, my hometown, there were no more than a thousand people. All of which, were Caucasian, and most of which, were prejudiced in some way, shape, or form. Here, no one cares what you look like or who you are. It’s liberating, and I absolutely love it.

The loud hum of voices, created by the many people around me, fills my ears, as I struggle to keep up with Blayk. Why is he walking so darn fast? Hasn’t he noticed that I have short, little legs? I finally break into a sprint to catch up to him. In doing so, I nearly knock a woman and her toddler off of their feet, as I rush by them. I mutter a breathless apology, as I continue to zip through the crowd, careful not to lose sight of Blayk. When I finally reach the outside of the building, I’m huffing and puffing. He’s in a hurry apparently, and I’m obviously dangerously out of shape.

Sorry, was I walking a little fast? he apologizes as he takes in my condition. I have to struggle not to glare at him. He looks amused and clearly not sincerely apologetic. Men.

Just a little, I say exasperatedly and fix my ruffled hair.

Sorry, I’ll slow down, he promises, a grin lighting up his face. He finds this funny. I certainly don’t. Okay, maybe if I saw how I looked right now, it might be a little amusing, but he better not walk that fast while we’re picking garbage or he’ll leave me in the dust.

So, uh, what company are you with? I ask him, changing the subject.

His grin disappears and he nods towards the left parking lot. I follow him, glad that he’s now slowed his pace to something manageable.

I’m just volunteering myself, he announces. Just moved here a couple months ago from out of country with my younger brother, and I thought this would be an excellent way to meet people. What about you? He fishes in his pocket for his keys.

I nod. Cool. Uh, I work with seniors at a lodge on the west side, I answer with a yawn. I had a long night last night. I spent it babysitting my elderly neighbour’s new puppy while she was out of town, and it cried and whined all night.

Blayk runs a hand through his thick, black hair and pulls out his car keys. Oh, sounds like a blast. He grins and stops in front of what looks to be a brand new, black Mercedes.

When he unlocks the doors and jumps in, I nearly have a heart attack. This is his? I robotically open the passenger door and jump in, careful not to track mud in.

Wow, nice car, I admire. I’m not much of a car person, but if I was, I know I’d be gushing about this ride for the rest of my life.

Yeah, thanks. I just got it a few weeks ago, he states blankly and starts the engine. Unlike my car, which sounds like an angry bear when starting, his car hardly makes a sound. Looking at him now, I can’t imagine that he is anything over twenty. How can someone so young own a Mercedes? Rich parents maybe?

How old are you? I ask, hoping that I don’t sound rude. I buckle my seatbelt and straighten my thin, black jacket.

Twenty-five, he tells me with a weak smile. Yourself? Twenty-five? He must be joking. I’d guess he was fifteen before twenty-five.

Twenty-two.

He raises his eyebrows. You look younger.

So do you, I agree.

He smirks but doesn’t say anything. We pull out onto the street and head west.

We’re both silent as we pass through the city. He reaches into the center console at a red light and pulls out a pair of sunglasses. He puts them on carefully. I should have brought mine. I didn’t think it was going to be so sunny today, as the weatherman called for rain. I guess sun is far better than rain for picking trash.

He turns up the radio just as his cell phone rings. He presses a button on the dash.

Hello? he answers sternly. "What do you want, Landon? I told you I’m busy volunteering today." He sounds downright annoyed with the caller.

An Australian-accented voice erupts through the speakers of the car. Yeah, I know. I’m just letting you know that our father is on his way here from Iraq. He just called. He’ll be here tomorrow morning.

I glance over at Blayk and see him swallow hard. You must be joking. Now is not a good time, he replies, sounding even more irritated.

You know him, Blayk. He doesn’t care if it’s a good time.

"Okay, thanks for the news, but I have to go. I’ll talk to you soon, Blayk mutters through clenched teeth and ends the call. Apparently I’m not the only one in this car with daddy issues. Sorry about that. Family drama."

I smile reassuringly and look out the windshield, careful not to make awkward eye contact with anyone on the street. I hate making eye contact with people, especially strangers.

Is your family here in Toronto? he asks me while making a right and then pulling to the side of the road to park. This is not Madison Street. I swallow hard. Why are we stopping here? Should I be concerned? We’re parked in front of a large brick house in a neighborhood which I don’t recognize.

No, my only family is my mom, and she lives in Alberta, I admit. She’s in jail. I haven’t talked to her in years. She killed a bunch of kids while drinking and driving a couple years ago. Maybe that was a little too much information to give a stranger. I cringe at my own words. I talk a lot when I’m nervous.

He gets out of the car. One second. I just have to grab something from my house. His house? This is his house?! I live in a boot compared to this mansion.

I exhale sharply, not realizing that I’ve been holding in a breath. He probably just wants to change his shoes or something. He is dressed a tad fancy for garbage picking, isn’t he? I’m dressed in a band t-shirt and sweatpants, topped off with a ripped jacket. I look like a total slob.

In all honesty, I tend to majorly over react around strangers, becoming fidgety and paranoid, because growing up in a small town, I was constantly warned how untrustworthy people are. I was basically told that people are crazy, especially city people. You could say that this, getting into a car with a total stranger, is a fair ways out of my comfort zone.

When Blayk returns a few seconds later, he has someone with him. I can see in the man’s features that the two of them share the same thick, bushy, black eyebrows and nearly the same sharp jawline. This must be the brother that he was speaking to over the phone. What was his name? Was it Landon? The two could be identical twins except for the difference in their hair styles. Where Blayk’s is short and tousled, Landon’s is short and spiky.

My car door swings open and Blayk grabs my wrist harshly. The other brother reaches in and unbuckles my seatbelt. My heart hammers in my chest, as I push and scratch at both of them. My instincts were right. I should never have gotten into a car with this man. I manage to bite one of the men. I’m not sure which. They don’t seem fazed. I attempt to scream, but a hand quickly covers my mouth, before I can let out any noise. A feeling of sickness washes over me, as I succumb to immense fright.

Calm down, woman, Landon says in a serene voice. Calm down? He must be joking. Calm down? I’m being yanked out of a car against my will!

Suddenly, I’m over one of their shoulders, the car behind us. I kick and punch rapidly. Surely one of the neighbours will see me and call the police, right? Megan, you’ve really done it this time with your lack of thinking and common sense you idiot. This is so me, getting abducted by two men I’ve never met all because I didn’t think any of this through. Did the people running the cleanup not conduct background checks?

Against my will, I am carried into the large brick house and tossed onto the floor harshly.

Who sent you?! Blayk shouts at me angrily, his casual expression becoming hard and cold. He adjusts his sunglasses.

I look up at both men, confused. No one sent me. I mean my company sent me to do city cleanup, but I know that’s not what he’s talking about. I feel tears well up in my eyes and drip down my cheeks. I am completely and utterly terrified. I’ve never felt this kind of fear before. Is this seriously going to be how I die? If not, this is the last time I’m ever volunteering for city cleanup. I can tell you that much.

Answer me! Blayk shouts again. This time he sounds impossibly angrier. I glance to Landon. He looks just as pissed off as his brother, but there seems to be a touch more warmth in his facial expression.

I wince and attempt to stand up, only to be kicked in the ribs and sent back down to the hard tile floor again.

"No one sent me! I swear. I don’t know what you’re talking about. My boss just volunteered us all to help!" I rattle off in a rush. I feel myself sweating. Do I dare scream now that I’m in the house? What if they just decide to kill me to shut me up? Do I risk it? Maybe I’ve watched too many horror movies.

Landon sighs and his angry expression falters. Suddenly he’s looking at me with what looks to me like pity, and I’m not sure why. My heart skips a beat when I get a look at his eyes. The irises are totally black, like pitch black which makes them blend into the pupils entirely. I gasp. Why do people these days insist on wearing those dumb colored contacts? He looks like a freak which really doesn’t help my situation. For some reason, it actually makes me impossibly more freaked out and scared.

She’s telling the truth. She’s not one of them, Landon says calmly to Blayk.

She wears their ring, Blayk argues, pointing to my hand.

Who in the hell do they think I am? A drug dealer? Part of some gang? What do they want?

Where did you get that ring on your finger? Landon huffs and glances down at my right hand. I don’t have to look to know that he’s talking about the fraternity ring that my father left behind. Why I even wear it, I don’t know. I was so young when he left that I don’t even remember the guy at all.

I-I got it from my father. Well, I mean, he left it when he left my mom when I was a baby, I answer in a quick, confused rush. What if what my mom thought was a fraternity ring from college is actually some kind of gang related token?

What was your father’s name? Blayk thunders, having no patience whatsoever.

I wipe my tears from my cheeks and glance at the door. There is no way that I’m going to be able to make a run for it. Either one or both of these men will catch me in an instant. Why don’t I carry around pepper spray like they tell you to on those ads on TV?

I don’t know. My mom would never tell me, I answer through a shaky voice. 

Blayk approaches me swiftly and lifts my hand up to his face. He pulls off my ring and looks it over while squatting in front of me. "It says Darius Ranchiller inside the ring."

Are you sure that this was his? Landon asks after a moment, nodding to the ring in Blayk’s hand. Confusion fills both of their gazes.

I nod hastily. That’s what my mom told me.

Impossible, Landon breathes while looking to Blayk. He then moves his gaze back to me. "I wouldn’t be wearing that ring around in public, darling. It could get you in an awful lot of trouble."

Do you know the guy who goes by the name written in this ring? Blayk asks grimly. He smiles at me darkly, causing me to cringe.

No, I assumed that the name on the inside was the maker of the ring. The company who made it, I spit quickly. I don’t know anything about jewelry.

We need to let her go, Landon mutters to his brother. She’s innocent. Just a little, human girl.

A little, human girl? What? What a weirdo. I am a full grown woman. I’m an adult. Something about him using the word ‘human’ to describe me, makes me look at Landon, to his funky contacts. Are these two some of those vampire fanatic weirdos? The people who pretend to be vampires and drink actual blood? I did a study on them in high school during the big vampire surge in pop culture a few years ago. Not cool. Creepy. Very creepy. If that is what they are trying to pull off, why me?

Blayk grabs my hand and presses the ring into my palm gently.

What if I don’t want to let her go? Blayk argues, a sickening grin playing at his lips. What if I want something from her.

You owe me for bailing you out last weekend. This is what I want in return, Landon persuades, glancing between Blayk and me. "You don't need her for anything, Blayk. You're only supposed to take what you need. Do you want to get yourself on Lucian’s hitlist?"

I take a deep breath before instinctually rambling, I promise I won’t tell a soul. I won’t go to the cops or anything, I swear. They must be drug dealers of some sort it's the only explanation. That, or serial killers, that might make sense too.

See? Landon purrs and runs his hand across his hairy chin as if it’s itchy. 

Not good enough. Father will know we’re hiding something, and he’ll get it out of us like he always does. Then she’ll be dead anyways. I honestly don’t care if she lives or dies she’s just a-

Landon cuts his brother off. "Blayk! She knows nothing. I’m getting her out of here now. You owe me."

Blayk runs the palm of his hand across the back of his neck and sighs deeply. "Fine, go, but I’m not keeping anything from him when he asks me what I’m not telling him. That’s not part of this deal. She may be just a human, but she must be working for them or something. Dad won't like us taking the chance."

Landon and Blayk make eye contact for a long moment, before Landon grabs his wallet and car keys from the half table next to the door. I don't care what dad will and won't like, Blayk, he mutters in a low grumble. You’re just like our father as much as you hate to admit it. You're both going to end up on a hitlist and murdered when the authorities find out how much you take from places you're not supposed to. We're supposed to stay under the radar, not stick flashing red lights on our heads. Then Landon looks to me and motions with his free hand for me to stand. I’m trembling so intensely that I don’t know if I can.

Finally, after seeing that I’m not able to get up on my own, he grabs my hand and pulls me up in one swift movement. Wow, he’s strong. I test my legs before letting go of him.

What’s your name? Landon asks me, a hint of worry in his gaze.

Megan, I say in a quiet squeak. I’m not even sure if he’s heard me. Seriously, what are the chances that I get kidnapped by crazies?

Alright, Megan, you’re coming with me. Landon looks to me apologetically and nods to the door.

Hell if I am! I shout without even meaning to. Call it adrenalin kicking into gear, instincts, or both. Remind me again, why I didn’t take that self-defense class that was offered at my workplace last week.

Blayk rolls his eyes at me as if I’m some child throwing a tantrum, and he walks into another room.

It’ll make it a lot easier for you if you listen to everything that I say. Now follow me unless you want to get yourself killed, Landon suggests grimly and opens the front door. And here I thought that Blayk seemed like such a normal guy in the car on the way here. Now though, I’m aware that he was merely acting because he saw my father’s ring and thought I was someone else or something. I really don't even know.

I follow Landon outside, not because I want to, but because I have no choice. First of all, I’m not staying in this house with Blayk. He’s psychotic. Not that Landon isn’t, but he does seem to be the least psychotic of the two. Secondly, if I’m outside, maybe I can make a run for it or get a neighbor’s attention.

As if he can hear my thoughts, Landon warns, "Don’t try to run or scream. If you do, I’ll make you come with me, and you won’t like that."

I cringe. His tone is menacing. I have to do something. I’m not going to get into a car with another complete stranger. I’ve been there, and look how that turned out.

I follow Landon across the front lawn to another beautiful car parked in front of Blayk’s. He opens the passenger door for me. I hesitate understandably. I get into the passenger side and he shuts the door for me. Once Landon is about to take his seat on the driver’s side, I throw my door back open and spring out of the vehicle.

I sprint down the sidewalk towards the nearest house. It’s another huge mansion made of brick. I use the elaborate knocker on the door and begin screaming. I’m half surprised that Landon doesn’t catch up to me right away, I’m not the fastest runner in all truthfulness. Maybe he doesn’t want to make a scene and get caught. When no one answers immediately, I go at the knocker again and push the doorbell repeatedly.

A hand wraps around my wrist tightly and yanks me back. I gasp. Shit. I turn to face Landon, who still looks at me apologetically, or maybe it’s pity that I see in his expression, I’m not sure.

"Come with me," he says in a pleading tone.

The front door of the mansion finally swings open, and I nearly burst into tears when Blayk stares back at me through the doorway. Did I somehow manage to run to the wrong house? I look to my left and see that no, this is the neighbor’s house. What the hell?!

"Keep a handle on your pet," Blayk sneers, before slamming the door in our faces.

Landon grabs my wrist a little harsher and leads me back to his bright yellow car. He shoves me inside and locks the door while he walks around the car to his side. How did that just happen? I know I ran to the right house. So many questions invade my mind, giving me a headache and making me want to scream.

That was a nice try. Running, I mean. It would’ve worked if all six of the homes in this neighborhood weren’t adjoined by tunnels. We own all six, Landon tells me, as if trying to keep my sanity intact.

I look around the gated neighborhood. This isn’t a rich subdivision of sorts, but a gated home fixed to look like a subdivision. I clench my teeth. What in the hell are the chances? How do two twenty something year olds own so much property? How do they have so much money? Drugs. It has to be drugs. It must be a gang.

Are you chilly? He asks, eyeing me carefully. I realize that I’m hugging myself, but it’s not because I’m cold, but rather, because I’m scared, and it comforts me.

I shake my head.

I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to save your life. You have no idea what you just walked into, he mutters under his breath and begins driving.

It’s drugs, isn’t it? I wonder out loud.

He shakes his head. I’m afraid it’s far worse than that.

What could be worse than drugs? He sees my look of confusion and answers, You don’t want to know, trust me. Do you have anywhere that you can stay? Outside of Toronto, I mean. Preferably, outside of Ontario.

I shake my head.

He nods and appears to be thinking.

Just take me home, I promise I won’t say a word to anyone, I beg. This really can’t be happening. I must have the worst luck in the world. Leave it to me to get wrapped up in a mess like this. It’s just my luck. My mother always told me growing up that I was unlucky and all the terrible stuff that happened to her after my birth, was all because of me, maybe she was right and I am bad luck.

Landon grips the steering wheel tighter. I can’t. You can’t stay in Toronto. There are people here who will track you down and kill you.

How? They don’t even know me. They don’t have any connection to me at all! I argue sternly.

He grimaces. "I can’t tell you all that you need to know to understand this situation. I can only warn you about what will happen. You will be hunted down and killed, Megan. That is a promise."

The way he says these words is harsh. I don’t understand how what he says is possible. He’s sure that I will be killed that much is clear, but I don’t think he’s thought this through entirely. How will they find me? They don’t even have my last name.

Take me back to the community centre, where I left my car parked. I won’t tell anyone about you or Blayk, and you don’t tell anyone about me. If people somehow magically come after me, then that’s my fault for not listening to you, I suggest.

He sighs and turns the music completely off. I know he’s done arguing with me. He doesn’t seem to have the energy or will to continue arguing about this. It’s as if he doesn’t care enough to continue with me. Okay. If that’s what you want, but I think you’re making a mistake. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I give him the address of the community centre gratefully. Maybe I will survive this day after all.

You really should get rid of that ring, Megan. It’s dangerous to have in your possession, Landon says after a moment of silence. I glance down at it in my palm. He’s not lying. This ring has already gotten me into more trouble than it’s worth. I roll down the window, and I am about to throw it out, when he grabs my wrist to stop me. Don’t. If you throw it out, someone else could pick it up. Give it to me, and I’ll take care of it.

I give the ring one last look before dropping it into his cup holder and rolling the window back up. What’s so special about it anyway?

He hesitates, as if trying to come up with an appropriate way to word his answer. "Rings like this one belong to a group of people who kill a certain group of others I guess you could say." So I was right, it’s a gang related ring. Lovely. Good to know I’ve been wearing that since it fit my finger. How could my mom not have known my dad was part of a gang? Then again, my mom doesn’t know much. I can’t believe I’ve been wearing a murderer ring my whole life.

We pull into the community centre parking lot, and Landon unlocks the doors. Good luck. He says this like he knows the words will be useless.

I nod before exiting the car and sprinting to my own car, jumping in and locking the doors as quickly as I can. So much for city clean up. What a morning. I wait until his car is out of sight, before I exit the parking lot and head home. I guess Madison Street West will have to stay uncleaned. I hold back tears the whole way home and drive in all sorts of directions in case he’s following me.

Once I get home, I break down into tears. I close all of the blinds and lock all of the windows and doors. Call me paranoid, but I am worried about Landon’s warning. Remembering that I told Blayk I work with seniors, I rashly call and quit my job, not wanting to risk him finding me at work.

What if I do go to the cops? Can’t they protect me somehow? Can they put me in witness protection? I promised I wouldn’t, but I only promised because I thought it would save my life.

Witness protection? Really, Megan? No, they wouldn’t do that. You aren’t even scratched. You have no proof of even being taken.

Calm down, no one is coming after you, you’re over reacting. At least that’s what I tell myself. I’m probably just shaken up, right? I walk into the bathroom and open up the medicine cupboard. I grab some cold medicine that has drowsy listed as a side effect and pop three into my mouth. I lean down and take a sip of water from the tap to wash them down. I need to sleep ever so badly right now.

While I’m waiting for them to kick in, I decide to jump into the shower. I don’t realize how terrible of an idea this is, until I’m already inside. How am I supposed to hear someone break into my house with the water running? I throw shampoo into my hair and lather it intensely, then I wash it out. When I close my eyes to keep soap from getting into them, my mind goes into panic mode, suddenly I’m opening my eyes expecting to see someone standing in my bathroom ready to kill me. Luckily, I manage to evade the soap. I’m left gasping for breath in the shower. I’m absolutely paranoid like a psycho, I know that.

I don’t have anyone to call. I don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m stuck here in this house, with my own thoughts. Every noise, no matter how little, makes me flinch for the rest of the evening. The pills do nothing to help me sleep, but eventually I do manage to get some shut eye. I sleep the rest of the day and all night.

When morning rolls around, I am startled awake by the sound of my neighbor’s dog barking.