Blood and Honey: Race Games, #1

By Kendra Moreno

Danica Dyers used to live life at full throttle until, one day, she hung up her helmet for good. She switched from spending her days on the race track to running her own mechanic shop and volunteering at the local orphanage. Her life became steady and comfortable, but she'd never admit out loud how much she missed the thrill of the race.

When two men show up claiming to be vampires, Danica isn't sure what to think. She only knows they feel like predators, but they claim they aren't there to hurt her. Instead, the vampires need a driver and they offer Danica a deal she can't refuse.

Soon, Danica finds herself knee deep in the supernatural world she never knew existed. The stakes of the Race Games are high, the threats are great, and Danica must trust her instincts if she wants to win. It could cost her everything-her car, her life, her heart-but the woman who starts the race is never the same one who finishes it.

Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kendra Moreno
• Release date: Jun 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201090432

Book preview

Prologue

Yophiel Borghese, heir to the Northern Vampire Sect, stood in a throne room made opulent by greed and blood. Gold was inlaid in every surface, jewels encrusted in furniture that had no business sporting such rubies and emeralds as if they were as rich as the Sect. It was all an illusion, a very clever one his father had been using for centuries now. The richer someone appeared to be, the more power they had. Phi hated to agree that it worked, though it instilled fear more than respect. He didn’t agree with the tactic, would much prefer the members of the Sect to respect him, but his father, the King, didn’t care for such things.

Blood. That was the only proper way to handle things. And if blood was not drawn, then a point was not made. The King was cruel, ruthless, and was due to step down from the throne any given day. Phi had been raised to take that position, but he was not a fool. He knew his father would not step down from the throne so easily, not when he was choked by such greed.

Before Phi, Arden Ryker kneeled on the ground, bound by chains. Arden had been Phi’s best friend since they were children, even if Arden was considered beneath him. Phi had seen what many others had not. Arden may have been made from the streets, but he was a force to be reckoned with. The King had never liked the mongrel Phi sullied himself with, but when that mongrel began gaining power quickly, making connections with other Sects, bringing in more money than he knew what to do with, the King started to pay attention. Phi had tried to tell Arden to stop, to slow down, but the vamp was stubborn. Now, they were before the King, facing a problem they had expected, though they had hoped it would have happened further along, once Phi finally took the throne.

Arden was still bleeding despite his healing abilities. It made Phi’s stomach turn, though he hid it well. If Arden was still sporting wounds and healing so slowly, the torture he must have endured was great. They’d chained him like a dog, all for being Phi’s friend and being clever when it came to networking and investments. They’d wanted him to hurt, and hurt he’d been. Though fury filled Phi’s chest, he hid it away. He could not show just how much he cared about his best friend. That would reveal a weakness, and that was something the future king could not have.

There’s no reason to kill an asset, Phi said, his voice calm and smooth, devoid of emotion. There could be no clues to his care, or his father would strike like the viper he was.

The King tilted his head, the heavy golden crown upon it glinting in the light. The jewels along the rim were earned by blood and betrayal, each one signifying a fallen King. The Northern Sect was the largest, but that wasn’t by design. It was by brutality.

Are you sure it’s not because you care for the mongrel? the King asked, raising his brow in threat. He had to know Phi would not reveal such a weakness, but he still tried, hoping for a crack.

I assure you, Father, I only look at the vamp as an asset I can use to my advantage. I would not have him destroyed, for one day, when I rule, he will be a good slave. The words tasted like ash in Phi’s throat, but they had to be said. Arden would never be anyone’s slave—Phi knew that—but to the King, that’s all he was good for. Phi had to play the part to get them both out of the chamber alive.

Arden’s eyes flashed at the words, but Phi didn’t look at him, knowing if he did, he’d reveal his hand. Care was far harder to hide when looking at the one cared for. Phi was good, had been trained by the best, but his father would call his penchant for care a weakness. Phi considered it a strength, but it was a strength that needed to be hidden away until he was calling the shots.

The King was silent for a moment, studying Phi intently, searching for a crack to weasel his way in through. Phi knew he had been trained well when the King leaned back and steepled his finger before him, content with what he saw, but there was still a glint in his eyes that Phi knew was bad. Whatever the King would say next would determine their future.

It’s nearly time for you to take your place, Yophiel, but I haven’t decided if I’m going to step down or not. Until that decision has been made, I will remain King.

The fury increased and Phi just barely held himself restrained, his hands folded behind his back like the picture of ease. He’d expected this, was prepared for it, but it still did not soften the blow of his father saying the words. His father would never give the crown over willingly, despite tradition. No matter that Phi had been groomed his entire life for the position. At the age of three hundred and seven, he was more than ready to take his rightful place as King, but his father would sooner kill him than allow the crown to be taken from his aging head.

A wager then? Phi said, his tone still just as emotionless.

The King perked up at the words, but Arden tensed, his head whipping toward Phi despite the chains around his neck.

No— Arden’s protests were cut off by a sudden grunt of pain. It took everything in Phi not to react when he realized the guard had stabbed his friend to silence him. Phi didn’t flinch, couldn’t, but he marked the guard out well for later.

The Race Games are coming up next month, to begin again. How appropriate that it’s the Blood Rite for this round.

Are you suggesting you race? the King asked with a raised brow. His wrinkled face belied his age despite being a vampire. At some point, even the oldest vampires showed their centuries.

I will race in the games, Phi agreed. With Arden as my chosen teammate and one other of my choosing. And if we win, not only will I have earned the Blood Rite, but you’ll pass the crown to me as things were meant to progress. Arden will live as the asset I wish.

The King hummed, glee in his eyes. And if you lose?

Phi shrugged. Then you can do what you wish. I will remain a Prince until you choose otherwise.

Oh no, the King said, shaking his head. We need higher stakes than that, Yophiel. The King’s eyes trailed to Arden where he kneeled chained on the floor and those dark orbs glinted. Phi tensed, sensing the direction of his father’s thoughts, but still, he was not prepared for the words. If you lose, Arden will be put to a public and permanent death. And you will renounce your title to the throne completely, leaving me as the one and true King forever. And if you die in the games, then even better.

No! Arden growled despite the guard thrusting the knife into his side again.

But Phi never flinched, seeing the only true path before them. There would be no other option. Either they raced and Arden lived, or they didn’t, and he died. There would be no in-between. Phi glanced at Arden, saw the worry in his eyes even while hiding his own, before looking back at his father and raising his chin.

His answer echoed through the throne room like a seal.

It is struck.

Chapter One

Danica Dyers leaned beneath the hood of the 1969 Plymouth Roadrunner, tightening down the terminal cables of the battery. It was the last step for the custom build. They’d been chasing electrical problems for hours, the engine being stubborn and not turning over, but Danica was confident they’d found the problem. Sometimes, the cars just needed to feel like they had a say in what happened next, but a skilled mechanic always soothed the rumble.

Try that, Danica said, leaning back and wiping her hands on the red towel hanging from her pocket. Grease stained her fingers just as it stained her jeans and tank top, but it was part of the job. The life of a mechanic was spent smelling like oil and scrubbing grease and grime from beneath fingernails, but it was also one of the most rewarding jobs, especially since Danica had made such a name for herself.

Leo, her lead mechanic, turned the key of the machine, and they both grinned when the engine rolled over and began to purr with the smoothness that was expected. The shop filled with the rumble and the other mechanics in the shop cheered, as was customary when a new engine came to life for the first time.

Danica grinned and patted the car’s quarter panel. Good girl.

Damn, Danica, Leo said, stepping from the car and closing the door. They’d let the Roadrunner idle for a few minutes and then go through testing the smaller things. It would go fast now that the engine was running smoothly, no hiccups in the purr. I don’t know how you do it. You built this engine in less than two days.

You helped, she pointed out, winking at him.

Leo snorted and shook his head. I handed you the tools and parts you asked for. Sometimes, I think my certifications are useless here when you’re so capable.

I hired you for those certifications and your skill, Leo. Never doubt yourself.

Danica chucked him under the chin like a kid, even though he was only a few years younger than her twenty-nine years. She couldn’t help it. She’d known Leo since they were kids, had looked at him like a brother more than anything else. As kids, they’d both spent days in the garage with her father, watching as he worked on his race cars. At some point, they’d both began to learn from him, until they’d both known their way around an engine with their eyes closed. It had been a no brainer when Danica had gone off to trade school, and a few years later, Leo followed. Danica had been proud when Leo walked across that stage and had offered him a job right away in the shop she’d built from the ground up. As it turned out, business was good for the daughter of Daniel Dyers, and it got better when they realized she had the same skills as her father. Once, she’d been in the driver’s seat, but since then, she’d hung up her race helmet and taken on the mantle of mechanic, instead. As one of the premier racing and custom mechanic shops in Indiana and with a steady stream of customers coming in the door, she was able to pay Leo and her other mechanics the salaries they’d earned. She pushed to make more every day, to reach higher, to make her father’s memory proud, even if he would have been disappointed to know she’d given up racing.

Danica picked up her tools and tucked them away into the large rolling tool box at the side, making sure each piece was in the correct place. She was meticulous about her tools, and the shop knew it. If anyone borrowed her tools and it wasn’t put back, she raised hell. If the tools weren’t where they were supposed to be when she needed them, then what good was it to have tools at all?

Going over to the sink, she began to wash her hands with the orange soap that got most of the grease off. She’d have to use a nail brush later to remove the grime from beneath her nails, but she just needed to be somewhat presentable. It was already six in the evening, and it was Wednesday. She had somewhere to be.

I’m going to head on over to the orphanage, Leo. Would you let Dolly know she can call Mr. Link and inform him his Roadrunner is ready for pick up?

One of these days, that man will stop making bets with you, Leo teased, shaking his head.

Mr. Link was a long-time customer of the shop, had been coming around since it opened. He’d known her father and was close friends with him when he was alive, so it made sense that he would jump at the chance to come to the shop. Mr. Link had been her first custom build, a 1967 Chevy Impala. They’d modified it, adding nearly three hundred more horses under the hood, until the beautiful purple car had practically growled. Since then, Mr. Link had brought car after car to be built, until one day, the bet had come about. Danica would have a week to get the car done, to put in a new engine, and for every day she finished early, he would add five hundred dollars to his invoice as a sort of tip. She’d finished five days early on this one.

Danica grinned. It’s a game at this point. We’ve had the same bet on the last three cars he’s dropped in. He ends up paying extra every time and says one day, he’ll figure out how my superpowers work. Still, he keeps making the bet.

Laughing, Leo wiped his hands on a rag and nodded his head. I’ll let Dolly know and take care to close up shop. I still have work to do, or I’d go with you. You go on now and tell the kids I said hello. I’ll be up there tomorrow to take the boys fishing.

Don’t forget you promised you’d bring candy, Danica warned, knowing Leo would never forget.

Oh, how could I? They’d murder me if I forgot the candy. I can’t show up empty-handed. Leo grinned, but as Danica pulled the hair tie from her hair and shook it out before she began to scrap it back into some semblance of order, his smile softened. You know he’d be proud, right?

Danica paused and met Leo’s eyes, but she wasn’t really seeing.

The squeal of breaks. The sounds metal made as it’s ripped to pieces. Flames and screaming, screaming, screaming. . .

She blinked her eyes and the image disappeared, letting her focus on Leo again.

Yeah.

You should fix up his car—

I gotta go, Danica interrupted him, turning from the knowing eyes of her friend and heading toward the exit. Don’t forget to tell Dolly. See you later!

But Leo knew she was running from the past and the heaviness that came with memories of her father. She wasn’t going to be driving the car, couldn’t, not yet.

Probably not ever if she couldn’t even look at it without seeing the flames that had once engulfed it.

Chapter Two

The Jewels Vernes Orphanage has been a figment of Rockville, Indiana since long before Danica had been born. It had always stood as a testament of safety to the kids who were brought through the doors, and though the building was a little bit less sightly than it had once been in its prime, it was still that safe haven for the twenty-one children currently living within its walls. As she walked up the gravel path that had seen better days, her eyes took in all the maintenance that needed to be done. One of the eave spouts was clogged with pine needles. The paint on the front door was peeling away to reveal the old wood underneath. One of the windows was boarded up where Clark had thrown a ball and broken it. There hadn’t been enough money come in to repair the window, but it was on Danica’s list to fix next when Mr. Link paid the extra fees from the bet.

A pair of shoes danged from Danica’s hand, used but in good condition. Phillip had been wearing shoes too small because no new donations had come in. It seemed people were in a less giving mood these days. They donated to organizations that helped other people in need, but people could only give so much. Sad as it was to say, people tended to forget there were children in need right in their backyards. There was a serious lack of donations and good foster families, so Danica tried to help out as much as she could. During the summer, she organized fundraisers to help fund clothing and repairs. BBQs, car washes, bake sales; you name it, Danica had tried it, but each time, less and less money was made. It was a sad cycle.

In their small town, no one ever visited the orphanage, except for the guys at work. It was a requirement of working for her, to put in a few hours at the orphanage in the beginning, but they were able to stop after that. The thing was, once they started, no one had ever stopped going up to the orphanage for visits. Leo came the most, befriending each and every child the same way he’d once befriended Danica. The others came throughout the week, offering help as needed and spending time with the kids.

Polly, the head of the orphanage, was a sweet older lady who cared for the kids. She’d been desperately trying to keep the place open for years, fighting the bank and for donations, but there was only so much she could do. Danica dreaded what would happen if Polly was no longer there to fight for the kids.

It was as she was walking up the steps that Polly met her, her eyes creased with worry. Normally, the woman wouldn’t meet Danica at the front of the building—she’d wait until Danica came inside—but because she came out, Danica knew she wanted to speak privately, which never boded well. Whatever Polly would say, Danica knew it couldn’t be good. The older woman was usually a picture of ease. Today, she was a mess of nerves.

What is it? Danica asked, her heart kicking in her chest. Is it one of the kids?

No, no. I’m sorry to worry you, dear. The children are fine, but we’ve received a bit of bad news, I’m afraid.

Are they dropping your funding again? Danica scowled. The last time the state had decreased the funding, it had nearly crippled the orphanage. If they did it again, there would be no recovering from it.

I’m afraid it’s worse than that, Polly sighed. The bank has decided to move forward on the debts.

But they can’t do that! You’re a nonprofit.

They can when the debt climbs too high, and I’m afraid there’s no way we can pay the debt off in the next two months, Danica. She touched Danica’s shoulder. I’ve already started the process of finding suitable homes for the children.

But the money I send you—

Is very generous, dear, but we’ve gone too low for too long. The bank is demanding the debt be paid in full by the end of next month or they’re going to foreclose on the building. There’s nothing to be done.

There has to be a law against something like this.

Not one that will help us. Danica, I’m sorry. I can’t ask for more money. You already do more than enough for us, fixing our vehicles for free, donating money, organizing the fundraisers. We’ve only been able to stay open as long as we have because of you. But there’s nothing else we can do. I want to make sure the children have safe places to be and not wait until the last minute. Danica’s eyes wrinkled in thought, but Polly shook her head. Don’t even think about it. The state won’t let you adopt all of them.

Can’t I still apply?

You can, Polly nodded. "But that’s not how it works, and you know it. The red tape makes it difficult to circumnavigate, and you’re a single woman living in a camper, though you’re fully capable of taking care of every single child if you wanted to. There are flaws in the process that no one