The Coven

By Stephanie Burke

What if the most beautiful woman in the world isn't a woman… or even human?

Cyprus Reid is an enigma who courts the spotlight while carefully maintaining her mystique, intriguing legions of fans with her stylistic lyrics and a voice that brings many to tears. Even more intriguing than her all-male entourage is the fact that people are dying to get to her… literally.

To ex-Navy SEAL-turned-government intelligence operative Jason Giles, Cyprus is either a victim of an elaborate conspiracy, or the most fiendish killer since Jack the Ripper. Sure, the victims had shady pasts and shared a connection to a strange incident at Mount McKinley some fifty years ago, but that doesn't mean they deserved to die, seemingly drained of life while engaged in acts of wanton carnality.

Jason is sent to discover the truth, but what he finds is more seductive, more intriguing, more enticing than a mere boy in a dress. What Jason finds is the existence of The Coven. And once they discover you, there is no going back.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Changeling Press
• Release date: May 8, 2021

Book preview

The Coven (Gargoyles’ Song 1)

Stephanie Burke

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2021 Stephanie Burke

BIN: 009805-03180

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Publisher:

Changeling Press LLC

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www.ChangelingPress.com

Editors: Karen Williams & Treva Harte

Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

Adult Sexual Content

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Table of Contents

The Coven (Gargoyles’ Song 1)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Stephanie Burke

The Coven (Gargoyles’ Song 1)

Stephanie Burke

Cyprus Reid is an enigma who courts the spotlight while carefully maintaining her mystique, intriguing legions of fans with her stylistic lyrics and a voice that brings many to tears. Even more intriguing than her all-male entourage is the fact that people are dying to get to her… literally.

To ex-Navy SEAL-turned-government intelligence operative Jason Giles, Cyprus is either a victim of an elaborate conspiracy, or the most fiendish killer since Jack the Ripper. Sure, the victims had shady pasts and shared a connection to a strange incident at Mount McKinley some fifty years ago, but that doesn't mean they deserved to die, seemingly drained of life while engaged in acts of wanton carnality.

Jason is sent to discover the truth, but what he finds is more seductive, more intriguing, more enticing than a mere boy in a dress. What Jason finds is the existence of The Coven. And once they discover you, there is no going back.

Chapter One

Ms. Reid? Over here!

Ms. Reid, you are looking perfect tonight. Look this way, please!

Ms. Reid! You are an inspiration! I love you!

Ms. Reid! Ms. Reid! You are a goddess!

You are a dirty tramp, and you seduce men into worshiping you, you nasty slut!

You stole my husband, you bitch!

I hope you rot in hell!

And Cyprus, as usual, ignored it all.

The flashing bulbs temporarily blinded her, but she ignored the minor inconvenience as well, as she moved with her customary style and grace down the wrinkled red carpet that had been rolled out for her visit.

She turned and flashed one last mysterious smile at the gathered crowd, both the hateful and the adoring fans, and silently made her way into the safety of the hotel.

Ms. Reid? She looked up at the oh-so-proper, British-accented voice, realizing absently that it was the hotel manager.

She paused, giving the short, balding man her full attention, noting how he flushed a little at her scrutiny.

The doors behind them closed with a whoosh, muting the noise and shouts of the crowd, though bulbs continued to flash as paparazzi desperately tried to get that winning shot of one of the world’s most beautiful and renowned vocalists.

Um. He cleared his throat, tugging at his collar as he shifted from foot to foot, more like an adolescent than a grown man. Security has been tightened on your floor as you requested. Also, you are the only occupant of the twenty-seventh floor, though we can easily accommodate you and your entourage in the penthouse suite.

Thank you and that will be all, a tall, long-haired man spoke, towering over both the manager and Cyprus. Though we appreciate the hospitality you and your staff have provided thus far, Ms. Reid does not prefer the penthouse or any of the presidential suites. The twenty-seventh floor is perfect for our needs.

The manager froze, staring at the man as if suddenly noticing his presence and that the sheer aura surrounding Cyprus had rendered the world blind to anyone else around her.

But then, that was part of her mystery.

Cyprus Reid never traveled with fewer than five men, five painfully handsome, dominating men.

How anyone could ever not notice them was a complete mystery, but usually they managed the neat theatrical trick of fading into the background. Once they decided to be seen, however, a blind man couldn’t miss them.

Each stood over six feet tall -- five perfectly formed men, each unique and differently beautiful in his own way, who made it a point to surround and protect Ms. Reid from any and all activities that could be considered dangerous, especially keeping any unsavory fanatics at bay.

The one who spoke to him -- Unus, he had discovered -- the one with long, dark hair, appeared to be the spokesman for the rest of the group. If there was anything to be settled, this one was the one to do it.

He stood before the manager, his perfectly cut Savile Row suit doing nothing to hide the raw masculinity and barely leashed savagery that seemed to glow from his eyes.

The other four, all mystery men of different ethnic backgrounds and styles, moved in closer, alert to any trouble that might develop.

V-v-very g-good, s-sir, the manager stuttered, growing nervous now that all that male power was directed toward him. He reached into his pocket, then took a quick step back as all the men moved forward, hiding Cyprus behind a wall of muscle.

It’s just the electronic key card, he quickly explained, sweating under his collar as if suddenly fearing for his very life. Just the key. No one else besides our head of security has a copy.

Your head of security? the man asked, leaning forward, getting closer so that the manager could make out small, very fine tribal tattooing along his hairline, down in front of his ears, and down into the collar of his shirt.

Jason Giles, the manager explained. Very good, comes highly recommended. He is securing the twenty-seventh floor as we speak. Ms. Reid’s safety is our chief concern.

A slim, dusky hand reached between the two of them, halting any movement the tall man might have made and pulling him back into line.

Very good. He conceded to the smaller female whose hand now rested on his arm, nodding once. Ms. Reid is exhausted…

Oh, excuse me! The manager snapped back into host mode and hastily directed the small party to the private elevators. These only stop at executive floors, like the twenty-seventh, he explained, while placing the card against a small scanner.

The doors immediately opened, and he quickly ushered them inside. The men immediately surrounded Cyprus protectively. Within seconds, they were whisked to the proper floor, and all exited into the plushly carpeted, brightly lit hall.

As requested, Ms. Reid’s room is in the center. The rooms on either side of her are prepared for occupancy and can be accessed only though the interior doors that are in Ms. Reid’s main suite. All others are closed off and locked, both electronically and by physical means. This floor is as safe as Fort Knox.

That said, he led them to a door where another man, one with nearly white-blond hair, stood at attention.

Instantly, the men were once again on high alert, their bodies tensing as they formed a barrier between Cyprus and the unknown man.

This is Jason Giles, the manager introduced. He is head of security, hired exclusively for your safety during this visit.

An honor. Jason spoke softly, his eyes going to the odd collection of men who surrounded the artist.

We thank you. The long-haired spokesman for the group eyed the strange male carefully. But your services, though appreciated, are not needed.

There was steel in that voice only a dead man could miss. The undercurrents flowed strongly and were rife with testosterone.

Be that as it may, Jason replied, I remain your first line of defense. If something gets out of hand, I will do my best to quell it before it even makes it this far. And if you have any issues, no matter how minor, be sure to let me know. Any extra security is a must. We all have to protect the beauteous Ms. Reid, he added, with barely veiled sarcasm.

If you think -- the now disgruntled leader of apparent party-toy men began, but a slim hand pressing against his arm stopped him again.

Huffing and visibly fighting to control himself, the man nodded and stepped aside.

And Jason got his first glimpse of the real-life Cyprus Reid.

She was a tall thing, even without the heels. Jason estimated that she stood at least five feet eleven inches in her bare feet, just two inches shy of his own six feet one inch height.

Her skin was an indefinable mix of colors that could not be attributed to just one race. Golden was the best way to describe it. Cyprus Reid had a golden glow -- an aura, if you will -- about her.

Her eyes were almond-shaped and long-lashed, and the color of molten gold.

Her lips were full and generous, making her mouth more seductive than beautiful. Her nose was not too narrow and not too wide, just perfect for her heart-shaped face. Her cheekbones were high and well-established, showing that this woman would age gracefully. Her skin was clear, not a blemish to be seen, and Jason didn’t think the effect was from makeup. Her hair was a blending of gold and brown with a few platinum streaks highlighting it for fun. It was currently swirled and coiled into an intricate knot on top of her head, but he recalled from previous pictures that it hung somewhere around what People Magazine had described as a butt so perfect that the angels wept when she walked by.

She was dressed in a form-fitting sheath that skimmed along her million-dollar curves and emphasized the fact that she either had a damn good personal trainer or was gifted genetically.

Her breasts were high and firm, but not too large or overly done.

Her high-heeled shoes revealed a set of trim ankles and just a hint of enticing toes.

She stood there in the hallway, a butterfly surrounded by towering hulks of testosterone. It made her look all the more delicate, more feminine, and more ethereal, if that were possible.

Jason was not impressed.

If things went the way he thought they would, and he was seldom wrong, he would prove that this vixen was a vicious, mad-dog killer.

The tall man, the one he decided to refer to as Ape-boy, glared at him, then abruptly nodded.

We thank you.

All part of the service, Jason said, with a smile that rubbed the forced acquiescence deeper into Ape-boy’s face.

Now, if you will excuse us, Ms. Reid needs her rest.

Not from where I’m standing. Jason flirted gently, testing the waters while at the same time bugging the hell out of Ape-boy. He decided he wasn’t egging the man on; he was killing two birds with one stone by seeing how the group of boy toys reacted when some other male paid attention to Cyprus. Plus, he was checking out her reaction. Irking the big guy was an added bonus. He smiled, just knowing that he was great at this multi-tasking thing. Look at how much he was accomplishing in such a short amount of time.

Ape-boy tensed even more, if that were indeed possible, but Cyprus just grinned slightly, a small movement of her lips that lit up her whole face.

Jason paused at that small grin, realizing that he was grateful she hadn’t smiled. If a small gesture of amusement could raise the temperature a thousand degrees, he could only imagine what a full-fledged smile could do.

Down, boy, he mentally told his cock as his blood began to relocate itself to lower quarters, and his smaller head began to sit up and take notice. She’s a bad guy. A really bad, male-hating, murderous black widow spider.

Too bad his cock paid no attention in the least.

Taking a deep breath, and thankful for the long cut of his suit jacket that hid his rising problem, Jason stepped aside and watched as Ape-boy gestured to another of the boy toys to check out the room. A red-haired man, slightly shorter than Ape-Boy, stepped through the door, and after a discreet amount of time, returned and gestured them inside.

Thank you. Ape-boy briefly nodded to Jason and the manager before escorting Cyprus to the door. Your attention is -- he glared at Jason -- overwhelming.

I live to serve, Jason quipped, ignoring the glares sent to him by both the manager and Ape-boy.

Snorting, Ape-boy slammed the door shut, ending the confrontation before it could develop further.

Nice people. Jason smiled at the manager, who looked fit to be tied. It’s so hard to find attentive help these days.

Maybe you should remember that, Mr. Giles, the manager snapped. You were rude to that man.

He was rude to me!

Be that as it may, the manager continued as they moved toward the elevator that remained open and waiting for them. The guests are always correct.

Even annoying prima donnas? he had to ask, waiting to see if the red-faced man would explode.

Especially the prima donnas, though there have never been any reports of Ms. Reid behaving in an unseemly manner.

Yeah, and those five men are just for show.

Be that as it may, Mr. Giles. The manager sighed as the elevator rapidly dropped them to the lobby. It is not your place to judge. You were hired for the specific purpose of keeping her safe. That is all you are to think about while on this job.

Keep her safe. Jason nodded, before excusing himself and making an exit toward the staff rooms that had been set up for his use.

Safe behind bars, he muttered to himself and stopped in front of the door to his room. The nanocyte strand guarding the door remained unbroken, so he cautiously unlocked the door and entered the room. He secured the door behind him and moved to scan his surveillance equipment.

Now, Ms. Reid, let’s just see how good your boys are at keeping you safe.

Even if they found a few of the bugs he’d planted in the room, they would not find them all. And there was still his audio feed and the mechanical sniffers he’d installed, just in case there was some illegal drug use. At this point, he would do anything to take her down.

Now it was time to sit back and watch the Cyprus Reid show, where the climax would hopefully end with a standing ovation as she was carted off for a lengthy jail term.

I love my job sometimes. Jason chuckled as he settled in front of the monitor while the images appeared on-screen.

Lights, camera, action.

Chapter Two

Unus, was that display absolutely necessary? white-haired Quattour asked, looking at their Alpha and noting the excessive amount of hormones he was exuding. It is, after all, only a human.

It was testing me, Unus growled, removing his jacket and tossing it aside carelessly. There is something different about this one.

Maybe, but there is no need to draw attention, Quattour responded, then tilted his head to the side and listened very carefully. His deep brown skin made his purple eyes look alien and intense, which narrowed in anger as he moved about the room.

The others froze at his actions and instantly went on red alert.

Tria, the black-haired one of the group, snarled, his full upper lip pulling back to show gleaming white fangs that rivaled the paleness of his skin. He was not amused.

Quattour’s white hair seemed to shiver, the need to release his platinum tresses almost overwhelming, but he held on, not knowing what or who could be watching. There are listening devices in this room.

No sooner had he spoken than all five males surrounded Cyprus, ushering her out of the suite and into the hallway, leaving behind all possessions.

This is unacceptable, Unus snarled as he urged them all to the elevator and slid his key into the slot. The manager will hear of this outrage.

And maybe one of us should remain, Quinque, the blond-haired one commented. Just in case someone comes to… clean house… while we are away.

Suggestions? Unus snapped, much to the amusement of Cyprus as well as Quin. You have spent the most time among these… creatures.

Hmm, if what I suspect is true, then I believe that I shall stay behind, Unus. Any of you would more than likely rip apart the one responsible before we could get the answers to the questions his death would undoubtedly leave behind… like… how he found us in the first place.

Unus turned to look at Cyprus, awaiting her decision.

She nodded once, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Just then there was a high-pitched ding, and the elevator doors slid smoothly open, waiting for them to enter.

Make it so, Unus said softly to Quin. And if the perpetrator returns, see to it that he remains. I will want answers and the knowledge he holds. If he is working for Crenshaw --

Understood. Quin cut him off, nodding at the elevator doors. Now you had better get moving. I am sure the manager will want to accompany you back to the suite.

Unus nodded in return and hustled his people into the elevator, as always, surrounding Cyprus within a wall of muscled flesh.

As the elevator doors closed, Quin took his position outside of the door, silent and still as a statue.

He knew he would not have too long a wait. The one who had planted the bugs undoubtedly knew his cover was blown and that he had to remove the evidence of his misdeeds before they led back to him.

He flicked his fingers, watching absently as long black talons extended from his fingertips. Oh, yes, they would have a long, involved, and interesting conversation, to say the least.

* * *

Jason cursed lightly under his breath as he saw the group rally around the singer and make their way toward the door.

What had tipped them off?

They would not have had surveillance detectors with them; it would take a lot to identify his state-of-the-art equipment. Most of it was fresh from the lab, and only the scientist who had invented the things could have detected them.

But no, that was the least of his worries. Cyprus and her gaggle of men would report him to the manager, and the hotel would discover the hidden devices if they looked hard enough. That would cost him his job and any reason he had to stick close to Cyprus Reid.

He had to act fast.

He ran toward the door, thanking God that none of the pretty boys were smart enough to leave someone inside the room. That would have made things a little difficult to explain. As it was, he didn’t have the convenience or the luxury to stop and think up a plausible story.

He made his way to the bank of elevators, quickly but politely sidestepping milling guests and other hotel employees -- just in time to see the doors open and Cyprus Reid and her entourage exit.

He quickly turned his back, praying that his nondescript suit would blend in with other guests, and breathed a sigh of relief as the small group walked right past him without noticing him at all.

He quickly made his way to the elevator, slipped his key card into the security slot, and was soon moving swiftly to the twenty-seventh floor.

He stepped out of the elevator, a spring in his step as he envisioned the conversation taking place between the manager and the boy toys as they tried to explain their reason for believing the room was bugged without solid proof. They would come off as paranoid prima donnas, giving him time to dismantle and remove the dozen pocket-sized devices.

Piece of cake, he said with a chuckle, striding toward the suite door, then freezing when he saw Mr. All-American Tanned and Blond Wonder Boy casually leaning against the wall.

So, Mr. Bond, we meet again. The blond cackled, rubbing his hands together like a villain in a 007 movie.

I… Jason stammered. I… oh, shit.

Never heard of shit cake, the blond one said. But I hear they do strange things in Southern California.

What are you doing here? Jason decided to take a direct approach.

I could ask the same of you, Mr. Security Professional. He smirked, then pushed off the wall to stand at his full height.

I was doing a sweep, Jason said, thinking quickly. I got word that there may have been people in the room, so I’m checking it out.

People, when there are only supposed to be three cards able to access this floor? Or is the manager in the employ of a tabloid now?

This is just routine, Jason insisted, putting on his best glare as he stared at the amused-looking boy toy. Now if you will let me pass…

No problem, Mr. Security Officer. You’re the professional and all that. The blond stepped aside and gestured toward the door. Right after you.

I can do this alone, Jason tried to dissuade the man, but he persisted and followed him into the room.

No, Mr. Trained Professional and all that. Quinque smiled innocently. I want to learn from you.

Jason had to grit his teeth and ignore the impulse that screamed for him to lay the asshole flat. But he had to belay any action that would cause further suspicion on his part. It wasn’t easy, but he kept smiling as the blond-haired, tanned pretty boy followed him inside.

Well, he said, and made his way toward the first bug he’d concealed behind a rather ugly framed painting of a ship lost at sea. I guess I’d better start looking.

Aren’t you going to ask? the tall blond suddenly inquired, his eyes gleaming with hidden amusement.

Ask what?

Where the rest of my party has gone.

Oh. That. Jason cursed himself silently for his oversight. So where are they? God, he hated working civilian cases. Give him a case where it was just him and a target. No interaction with people at all suited him just fine.

Oh, they went downstairs to complain to management.

Complain about what? Jason asked, playing along. The tub not deep enough? Not enough gilt on the light fixtures? Water not from the best frozen glaciers that the North Pole has to offer?

Bug infestation. Quinque smiled.

What? A fly follow you in? he asked sarcastically, wondering how they had discovered the bugs in the first place.

No. The man chuckled. I was referring to a more discreet type of bug, but one that is that much more vicious and damaging. He moved closer to Jason, a smirk firmly in place. These bugs are more infectious than anything, spreading their germs to everyone they come into contact with. Devastating things, really.

Devastating, Jason sneered. Right.

So, the blond man continued, ignoring the sarcastic look. Show me, Mr. Professional, how exactly does one remove that type of pestilence? Or are we all doomed for a long and dangerous infestation?

Before he could answer, the door opened, and the rest of the too-pretty-to-be-real party made their way inside, followed by the hotel manager.

Mr. Giles, the manager began, sounding concerned. Thank God, you are here. Is what they are telling me true? Have these rooms been bugged?

I was about to find out, Jason snarled in response, wanting nothing more than to pull his weapon and shoot the lot of them. I think it would be safer if Ms. Reid and her cohorts leave the area.

We are staying. The big dark-haired one, the one his intel identified as Unus, spoke softly.

It would be safer --

We are all capable of taking care of Ms. Reid, he interrupted Jason, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. More than capable.

Snorting, Jason turned his back to the men and slipped his hand into his coat pocket to pull out a wand-style detector.

No sooner had his hand slid out of sight than he was shoved, his back slamming against the wall, his hand ripped from his jacket.

Instinctively, knowing that he was under attack, he fought back.

His free arm went up to connect with an elbow of the man struggling with him, his fingers sinking into a pressure point while he brought his knee up to connect with the rock-hard stomach of his assailant.

That slowed the assault, but didn’t drop the man as expected.

Instead, the grip on his wrist tightened, and a pressure point on his own arm was prodded viciously.

Cursing, he looked up as he tried to hook his heel around the man’s knee and throw him off balance. But the man was prepared, his legs spread wide for balance, knees bent, making it hard for him to affect the knee joint from his position.

He growled, fighting to free one hand, going for the other’s throat.

But that move was checked as well, the other’s free hand sliding down to attempt a wrist lock on his partially free hand.

They were at a stalemate.

As he realized this, he began to calm, to think rationally rather than attack. But as he let his mind begin to override instinct, he heard the disturbed cries of the manager and the soft growls his opponent was emitting.

He focused in on whom he was fighting and then silently cursed.

He was looking into the eyes of the pale, fragile-looking redhead. His black eyes gave him even more of a porcelain doll quality that left him vaguely disturbed and greatly intrigued.

How had the smallest, most helpless-looking one of the lot learned enough dirty fighting to hold him at a standoff?

That is enough, a beautiful, creamy-caramel voice commanded. It was a dark, husky voice that spoke of tangled, sweaty sheets and nights of hot, energy-draining passion that always left you wanting more.

As soon as the voice penetrated his thoughts, he found himself released, the redhead stepping back while still glaring at him with those insanely deep black eyes.

Jason quickly pulled himself together, straightening his jacket as he turned to see who had spoken.

His angry gaze was caught by a calculating set of molten golden eyes.