Conrad: Scorpio Sons, #7

By Nhys Glover

His mate is a Guild Party-Girl

Will she betray him and his cause?

 

Addy was never interested in her role within the upper-echelons of the Guild. Why would she be, when all they considered her good for was breeding the next generation of her illustrious line? So she'd been rebelling in her own way all her life, and enjoying every minute of it. When she contracts a deadly virus and is stolen from the hospital where she'd been quarantined, Addy starts to wonder what's really happening to her. Because a very hot guy with a sexy goatee and diamond earring has set her blood on fire. And what's heating up is not the pureblood she always thought she had. It's something different. And so is she.

 

On death row at the age of fifteen, and now one of the Sons who fights to save the planet from the Guild, Conrad Sanchez is hardly the perfect match for a Guild A-Lister like Addison Jarvis. But from the first moment he heard about her - another of the Mates gestated by an unsuspecting Guild female – he knew she was his. But when the harmless virus, which was supposed to remove any traces of the Guild Gene from her DNA, goes terribly wrong, he knows the only way he can save her is to claim her. And by doing that he'll risk creating a Super-powered Mean Girl who might betray them all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nhys Glover
• Release date: Feb 3, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224243792

Nhys Glover

After a lifetime of teaching others to appreciate the written word, Aussie author Nhys Glover finally decided to make the most of the Indie Book Revolution to get her own written word out to the world. Now, with more than a quarter million of her ebooks downloaded internationally and a winner of an SFR Galaxy Award for 'The Titan Drowns', Nhys finds her words, too, are being appreciated. At home in beautiful Durham County England, Nhys these days spends her time "living the dream" by looking out over the moors as she writes the kind of novels she loves to read.

Book preview

OTHER BOOKS BY NHYS GLOVER

ANCIENT ROMAN HISTORICAL ROMANCES:

Liquid Fire

The Barbarian's Mistress

Lionslayer's Woman (Sequel to Liquid Fire)

White Raven's Lover (Sequel to Barbarian's Mistress)

The Gladiator's Bride (Sequel to White Raven's Lover)

WEREWOLF KEEP TRILOGY:

Guardian of Werewolf Keep

Imprisoned at Werewolf Keep

Defiance at Werewolf Keep

Insane (A novella)

NEW ATLANTIS TIME TRAVEL SERIES:

Nine Lives (Cara/Jac)

The Dreamer's Prince (Jane/Julio)

Savage (Faith/Luke)

Shared Soul (Maggie/Travis)

Bitter Oath (Liv/Rene)

The Titan Drowns (Eilish/Max, Karl/Lizzie, Pia/Marco)

The Key (Kat/Bart)

Pieces (Krista/Dirk)

Second Chance (Bree/Hakon)

Watcher (Jin/Rafe)

Vision of You (Ellen/Duke)

Osiris (Takhara/Dan)

Causality (Willow/Jarvidh)

Gods of Time (Teagan/Jason, Lucien/Alba)

Book of Seeds (Shay/Cy)

Echoes of You (Josie/Chen)

Breathe (Meg/Rico)

SCORPIO SONS SF/SHIFTER ROMANCE SERIES:

1: Colton  2: Connor  3: Cooper  4: Chase

5: Cameron  6: Caleb  7: Conrad  8: Charles

GREYWORLD SWEET PARANORMAL ROMANCE

Your World or Mine?

Her World or Ours?

Their Worlds Collide

His World on Repeat

REVERSE HAREM ADVENTURES:

THE AIRLUDS TRILOGY:

The Sacrifice

The Chosen One

Goddess Unbound

THE AIRSHAN CHRONICLES

The Five

Daemon

The Devourer

GLADIATOR

1.Typhon  2.Asterius  3.Talos  4.Orion  5.Marcus

THE DANANS

Captive

Escape

Reunion

Outliers

Gift

Shattered

Stolen

PROTECTORS

Sand, Stone & Steel

Ice, Shard & Smoke

Blade, Hilt & Amphion

Galaxeans

Shadow

ALFIE WIMPLE TRILOGY (Paranormal Romantic Comedy)

Sticks and Standing Stones Can Break my Bones

But Ferrets Can Never Hurt Me

Dragons, On the Other Hand...

MINERVA’S MYSTERIES (Cozy Mysteries)

The Lost Child

The Missing Party-Girl

The Troubled Man

OTHERS:

The Way Home (Ghost Romance)

Caught in a Dream (SF Sweet Romance)

Labyrinth of Light (New Age Inspirational)

For Love of Liam (A Sweet Romantic Comedy)

Haunted (A sweetish Romantic Mystery)

Return to Me (New Age Healing Romance)

Find out more about Nhys and her books here:

www.nhys-glover.com

PROLOG

TEN YEARS AGO, MURDOCK TEXAS

"YOUR MAMMA’S A WHORE and you’re a spic bastard, the blonde boy sneered, poking Conrad in the chest. You think you’re good enough to join the football team? You fucking idiot! As if!"

Hank Masters, at seventeen, was two years older than Conrad and yet not much bigger than him. In the last year, Conrad had shot up six inches and filled out, though there still wasn’t much flesh on his bones. But he was strong and fast, and Coach had taken one look at him and given him the nod. Pity his new teammates didn’t agree with that decision.

In the small town of Murdock, wetbacks had a place: the unwelcome bottom of the class structure. That Conrad Sanchez was anything but the bottom of anything he did, whether in the classroom, the sporting field, or with girls, was enough to make many of the less able racist kids in town want to put him in his place. Mostly he avoided trouble, but this time ... Well, this time he’d gone too far. The Jocks were the cream of the crop. No spic got to be cream. Not in Murdock.

Hank’s dad owned a cattle ranch. The guys in his gang all had fathers who worked for Hank’s father. The blonde bastard was the leader, not because of his leadership qualities, but because he had money and power. That he was as dumb as a stump somehow gave him more power. Being too stupid to see the consequences of his actions gave others the impression he was an exciting, risk-taking thrill-seeker.

And right now, those thrills were going to come at Conrad’s expense. Hank and his gang had cornered him behind the bleachers after practice, and he saw a future of pain in their eyes.

I didn’t try out for the team. Coach came looking for me, Conrad argued, knowing he was only digging his grave a little deeper.

Fucking asshole, shut the fuck up and take your punishment like a man. Get him, boys, Hank snarled, struggling to express his thoughts in sentences. Resorting to lazy and meaningless cussing was his fall back when more useful words eluded him.

In the next second, two of the bigger guys stepped in from either side and made a grab for Conrad’s arms. Two years of martial arts training had him stepping back and using his opponents’ momentum against them. In a move so fast it was a blur, Conrad had both boys ramming into each other, hitting their heads together in a classic Jackie Chan move.

He loved Jackie Chan! The actor’s fighting skills were awesome, and often so graceful and slapstick it was enough to amuse and entertain even those with no actual knowledge of martial arts. Conrad wanted to be just like him one day.

The dumb bozos cried out in pain and wobbled apart, rubbing their heads as soon as he released them. Snarling like a rabid dog, Hank, beyond even cussing now, signaled two others to come at him. That was when Conrad felt the sharp pain in his back and warm wetness sticking his shirt to his skin.

He smelled blood and lost it.

When he came back to himself, it was to find all six boys, unconscious or dead, scattered around him like so many crumpled cigarette butts in the dirt. Yet he was still standing, though he wasn’t sure how. His back was agony. But as he looked at the devastation, wondering in stunned amazement what had happened, it suddenly dawned on him. Something inside him had broken free and caused this destruction. Something feral and monstrous. Something not human.

El Diablo. I’m El Diablo!

He took off across the football field as fast as his legs would carry him. The ground blurred past at an impossible speed. When he came to a standstill at last, he was at the river, washing the blood from his hands and body. It was cold, icy cold, but the numbing effect of the water was welcome.

Falling to his knees in the muddy water, he prayed to God for forgiveness. But for the first time in his life, he felt no compassionate presence listening to him. Now he’d released the Devil, God would want nothing more to do with him. It made perfect sense. God had lost the fight for his soul and had withdrawn from the field. He had left Conrad alone with the hateful victor.

He was still kneeling in the shallows, his lips blue, his body wracked with bouts of shivering from the cold and shock, when the cops came for him. And when they dragged him from the water, he didn’t even struggle.

NINE YEARS AGO, DEATH Row, Huntsville Prison TEXAS

CONRAD LOOKED UP FROM his calculus textbook as a guard approached his cell.

Sanchez, you lucky bastard. The Yankee Supreme Court just passed the amendment, Lockhart announced loudly. You can’t be put to death for your crimes in this here United States of America anymore. But don’t you go gettin’ too puffed up over it, ‘cause now you get to go into maximum security for the rest of your life. You’ll get yourself a nice protector who’ll enjoy a pretty boy like you. That’ll save your ass a little, I guess. How you feel about that, son? Still relieved you escaped your just desserts? The bastard sniggered like a five-year-old telling fart jokes.

As long as he has a small dick, I’m happy, Conrad said, keeping his voice neutral.

He’d learned fast that prison didn’t differ from school. The bullies wanted you to bite. They wanted you to react. When you didn’t give them what they wanted, they got bored with their taunts and punishments and moved on. This idiot hadn’t gotten bored yet, and it looked like he never would. They’d move him out of Death Row way before then.

Conrad wasn’t relieved about the news. He wanted it over. And in the interim, he wanted his privacy and safety, so he could keep his mind busy with his studies. He’d already finished the high school syllabus and was on to college. Pre-law. Maybe in general population he could sell his legal services to other inmates. Everyone had to have something to sell inside. And being a butt-boy for some gangster didn’t appeal.

That’s if he made it into general. A bleeding-heart lawyer was trying to get him incarcerated in a juvenile detention center until he was eighteen. From all he’d heard, it was just as dangerous in juvie as it was in adult detention. But to be honest, he didn’t care what they did to him now. Once he’d found out he had the Devil inside him, all he’d wanted was death. And now they’d taken even that away from him.

He wasn’t sure he could kill himself, but the system thought he might, and made sure he had nothing that could aid him in that goal. How stupid was that? Why not save the good people of America the cost of his upkeep and let him end his life voluntarily if he wanted to? It made no sense.

Instead of allowing his mind to go down that frustrating path, he slipped back into numbness, his emotions turned off. It had helped him get through the awful time after his momma had run off and left him with his step-daddy. It had gotten him through the endless days of interrogation and arraignment after he’d killed four of those six boys who’d attacked him. And it would get him through the worst of his time inside.

Or it wouldn’t.

It didn’t matter either way to him.

NINE YEARS AGO, MONTREAL CANADA

ADDISON SAW THE CIRCLE of girls as she entered the dorm common room. They were all gawking at the show. She could hear fat Francine taunting someone and the sound of frightened sobs.

Fed up with the bullying, Addy strode into the middle of the impromptu arena. Unlike boys, girls rarely resorted to physical violence, like the gladiators of the past. No, they preferred the more painful option of insults, lies and intimidation. And the audience ate it up as readily as they would have the blood and gore in a real arena.

Any girl who was too weak to handle the verbal abuse usually found herself the target of it. And for a while, when Addy had first gone away to boarding school—afraid, alone and confused—she’d been that girl.

But not for long.

Fuck off, Francine. Leave the poor kid alone, Addy said with quiet confidence.

If she resorted to yelling, she’d lose points in this game. If she showed any sign of weakness, she’d lose points. She’d lose her tenuous and fragile position in the hierarchy if she didn’t handle this well and win this latest contest.

She took one look at the brunt of the abuse, noted she was a small, skinny, non-Guild new-kid. Her freckled nose was running, her eyes red from crying. Even her red pigtails were cockeyed, which made her look even more pathetic.

More often than not, the targets of these attacks were non-Guild. Guild kids were tougher and meaner, and readily joined the winning side, whether they agreed with the goals of that side or not. Looking after Number One was their first and only concern. And they seemed to understand that from the cradle.

So why had she never been like that? Why did she feel more of an affinity with the weaklings than her own powerful class? After all, she was one of the elite. Her father was Inner Sanctum, and one of the richest and most powerful men in Canada. In the world, actually. So why didn’t she go where she belonged? Be what she was bred to be: the best.

Oh, if it isn’t Mother Theresa Jarvis. Or is it Saint Addison now? Francine jeered, her piggy eyes lighting with delight as she took in her new challenger.

Really, Frank, is that the best you’ve got? Addy said with a pained smile.

Like most bullies, Francine had vulnerabilities. Play to them and the game was hers.

"My name is Francine. Francine! And if I tell Sister Constance you swore, you’ll be in trouble," Francine snarled, the delight in her eyes fading.

Defensive fury had replaced her confidence. Francine had revealed her jugular.

"Me? I never fucking swear. Sister Constance knows what a good girl I am. I mean, I look like a girl, don’t I? I’m petite and pretty like a girl is supposed to be, aren’t I, Frank? The good sister would never believe that someone like me could swear. Only boys dressed up as girls swear."

"I ... I’m not a boy! You know I’m not a boy!" Francine yelled, blinking back tears.

Do I? But bullies are always boys, aren’t they? Girls don’t push people around. Or yell like foghorns.

Francine gave her an angry push before realizing what she’d done. She’d fallen right into Addy’s trap and proven herself to be a boy. Angry tears ran down her fat, freckled cheeks.

Take your newest pet then, Saint Addison, Francine sneered through her tears. But having a bunch of pathetic losers on your side doesn’t make you the winner. One day you’re gonna get in real trouble and I’m gonna be there to watch you go down. Bitch! Francine turned and tried to flounce away, but there were too many girls in her way to make her withdrawal from the field of battle graceful.

Now, you know swearing isn’t allowed, Frank. What would Sister Constance say? she couldn’t help calling after the girl.

The others tittered. It was what counted as the thumbs down from this audience. Francine had lost. The laughter, no matter how tentative, declared Addy the winner.

Though it was hard to do, Addy had learned that if she kept the sarcastic tone out of her voice, her words carried more power.

Satisfied they’d seen enough blood from this contest, the girls in the dorm drifted away. Addy turned to the victim she’d saved, not sure what to do with her. Francine was right, collecting strays was more of a liability than not. But if she left the girl to fend for herself, she’d quickly fall foul of Francine, or some other bully, again. And because she hadn’t stood up for herself in this match, it would go harder on her the next time. Her only chance of survival in this female hellhole was to have a champion.

With a heavy sigh, Addy accepted this latest lame duck. Maybe by the time she left the school, this new girl would be strong enough to look after herself. That was the only long-term benefit Addy could offer her. Protection until she was strong enough to protect herself.

Thank you, the girl said in a tiny voice, wiping her runny nose with her sleeve. She was really mean.

And she’s not the only one. What’s your name? Gruffness was all she could offer the girl now.

Ash. That’s short for Ashling, Ashling Flanagan. My daddy is Ryan Flanagan. He owns a lot of construction businesses in Canada.

The girl seemed proud of her father. Or did she mention him to give her some standing with Addy? Maybe she already understood that who your family was mattered way more than who you were in this school. In the world, if truth be told.

Okay, Ash. You have a couple of choices. Stand back shyly, and hope no one will notice you. Find a group of others like you and try to stay out of trouble together. Or attempt to break into the big league with the popular girls. Not the best of chances there, but you could bribe your way in if your daddy gives you a lot of pocket-money. Your only other option is to join my club: Misfits Incorporated. If you take that last option, you’ll have to accept you’ll never be good enough to fit in with the rest. But at least we’re a friendly bunch. She shrugged as she grimaced at that last and only positive she could offer for her group.

Daddy would want me to try for the big league. But if that horrible girl is in the big league, I’ll choose you. I need friends, real friends, the girl said with more confidence than Addy would have expected.

For a kid not much older than ten, she seemed to know her own mind pretty well, and had more confidence than she’d displayed during combat.

Okay, you’re in. Come on, I’ll show you where we hang out. We call it the Club House. It’s just an old storeroom that the nuns have forgotten about. Addy turned to leave the common room with her latest acquisition.

Addison? the girl said, as she ran to keep up with Addy’s longer legs.

The two years between them made a world of difference to their size.

Hmm?

Why’d you do that for me? You’re one of them. Why did you take my side against your own kind? The red eyes looking up at her were now curious and troubled.

My own kind? Addy felt a cold shiver run up and down her spine.

What would a non-Guild know about the Guild? They were the hidden elite, the power behind the throne, her father said. No one was supposed to know of their existence. Humanity would turn on them in a minute if they knew who they were.

Yeah. The kids at the top. I get a nervous stomach when I’m around people like you and Francine. You know. The upper classes. Daddy says he’s still a working-class Joe, even with all his money. He says I have to get over my nervous stomach if I’m ever going to fit in.

Are you saying I make you feel sick? Addy asked in surprise.

She’d thought she was the only one who felt sick around her people. She’d never heard it described as a nervous stomach before, but maybe that was what it was. The Guild was powerful. That could make a person nervous, even when they had no reason to be. Like her. One of them.

Oh, no! I mean, not like that. I’m not trying to insult you. You’ve been really nice to me. I just...

Do you have your nervous stomach now? Addy asked, trying to keep her curiosity under control.

She’d never met anyone who experienced what she experienced.

A little. Not as much as around Francine and some of those other mean girls. Or the Principal here. Or Sister Constance. My mommy says I have to learn to accept everyone for who and what they are. Saying some people make me sick is not how you get on in the world.

Addy giggled. Her mother would say the exact opposite. The lower classes were a sickening bunch, best avoided when possible. Lie down with hogs and you’re bound to get covered in mud.

"Well, they make me feel sick too. But don’t tell anybody. Maybe your nervous stomach will go away when you start seeing I’m nice."

"You weren’t nice to Francine. You made