To My End Read online

  To My End

  With bonus scene material

  From TOP 100 AMAZON BESTSELLING AUTHOR ANITA GRAY WRITING AS

  BELLE FROST

  Contents

  About To My End

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Epilogue

  The End

  Excerpt from The Dark Romance Series

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  More from the author

  Acknowledgments

  About Belle Frost

  About To My End

  A tragic short story about one girl’s desire to live

  and a ravenous vampire who will do anything

  within his power to prevent that from happening.

  DISCLAIMER

  COPYRIGHT 2019 (C)

  Originally published 2019 in the Bite Me Anthology.

  This novel is a work of fiction by Belle Frost aka Anita Gray. Any character resemblance to people (fiction and non-fiction), places, incidences, or things is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  This story may not be reproduced in any form without the author’s consent. Doing so will result in prosecution.

  Editor:

  www.epeditingservices.com

  Formatting:

  www.instagram.com/formatsbyvicki/

  Prologue

  FOR HUNDREDS OF YEARS, I have been driven by a singular burning desire: slay those with the potential to make my enemies the most powerful entity that could ever exist.

  Thus far, I have not strayed from my destiny.

  I have not forsaken the world’s master, not even for my own insatiable bloodlust.

  I have been an obedient Hunter—and that isn’t about to change anytime soon.

  Tonight, my life’s mission will be complete.

  Tonight, I will bring the last living Potential to her end.

  Only then can I be released from my solitude.

  Only then can I seek out a mate and find eternal peace.

  Chapter 1

  Imagine the perfect life.

  A beautiful, dutiful mother and a devoted, loving father. Two older brothers and an annoying, younger sister. Add them all with a group of incredible friends, and you’ve got me: Vi Levant.

  Cheerleader.

  Music fanatic.

  Dreamer and lover of all things romantic.

  “What are you waiting for?” My number one girl, Kirsty, elbows me in the arm to grasp my attention. “Get a marshmallow and roast it already.”

  “Yeah, come on, Vi. You wanted s’mores.” Amy puffs white clouds of breath where it’s bone-cold outside. “They won’t cook themselves.”

  “I’m very aware.” I smile cheekily at my friends before glancing over my shoulder at the crowds. “I was just waiting for Lucy. She should be back by now, right?”

  “She’ll be back when she’s back.” Kirsty grabs a marshmallow, sticks it on a skewer, and shoves it at me. “Get cooking.”

  Amused by her bossiness, I do as I’m told, leaning away just enough to avoid the heat from our firepit. It’s one of several dotted around the bonfire that’s blazing in the heart of the town square.

  As the colorful banners swathed across all the buildings suggest, everyone from the mayor to the pastor are celebrating Trials Night—two hundred years post a witchy massacre—and it’s a blast so far. Tunes thump in the background, below the sound of our homeroom teacher acting as a spokesperson on the stage. Groups of acolytes chant with candles while others prance around in horrid white dresses. Mom and Dad are in their element, way over there by the concession stand, handing out food and drinks. But of course they are. With Mom being the local doctor, and Dad sporting a slick police uniform as the town sheriff, it’s in their blood to help others. They’ve even roped in my siblings.

  Thank God I ducked out.

  I’ve better things to do, like rest my chin on a fisted hand and lust after the new guy in town. He’s also by the concession stand, chatting to a faction of elders—or should I say, charming their pants off. The men are all macho with their cigars, booming with laughter at whatever the hot guy says. The women can’t stop giggling, all touchy-touchy and flushed in the cheeks. And I get it. Who wouldn’t fall under his spell? He’s absolutely gorgeous, dressed in fitted jeans, a waist-length leather jacket, and a blue tank-top that hangs low, boasting a smattering of dark hair on his muscular chest. That’s not even the best of him. Brooding, piercing green eyes against flawless skin, under straight black eyebrows. Floppy black hair that curls slightly, framing a strong-jawed face and the most amazing smile. His lips are delectable; the lower fuller than the top. I imagine them on mine, consuming my everything with the most intense kiss. His strong hands massaging my body, turning me into a ball of mush.

  I quiver just thinking about it—until he turns his head and our eyes clash together.

  My stomach flips and I flinch in reaction, certain he’s looking past me, checking out one of my friends. I peek around at them to be sure, but when I look back, I find his eyes are on mine. And only mine. Thin. Hooded. Assessing. They make my heart patter like a jackhammer, and everything south tightens.

  “Ugh.” Kirsty throws her s’more into the firepit. “Now I get it.”

  “Get what?” I drag my attention from the muse of my distraction and scowl at her.

  “Why you’re away with the fairies,” she says, circling a finger at her temple to insinuate I’m utterly mad. I probably am. Someone like that guy wouldn’t be interested in me. I’m milk white with snow-kissed hair and the strangest, alien-like blue eyes. My family and friends tell me I’m pretty—and I do agree, in a way, I am—but not on his level.

  He’d prefer someone ordinary, like a leggy brunette, I’m sure.

  “If you stare any longer,” Kirsty says, “your eyes will fall out.”

  I steal another glance at the hot guy to see if it’s true. He’s looking at me with intensity...still looking...and I’m looking back even though my heart is pounding with nerves, but my eyes absolutely don’t fall out.

  “You can’t blame me,” I say, smooshing my roasted marshmallow on a chocolate-covered Graham cracker. “He’s beyond handsome.”

  “Yep, he is.” Kirsty pops her lips, observing the eye-candy with a shrewd blue regard. “He’s all dark and mysterious. How old do you think—”

  “Too old for us,” I speak over her, tugging at my scarf to keep from the cold. “He’s got to be in his twenties.”

  “Who cares? Go talk to him.” Ms. Bossy beams on the thought. “Go find out what he’s doing here, and if he’s staying in town. See if he’s got a girlfriend, too.”

  “Eh, no.” I scowl. “Now isn’t the time. He’s by my parents.”

  “So...?”

  “So, he looks like he rode into town on a motorcycle with nothing but a chip on his shoulder.” I gesture with a delicate hand, motioning at him. “I don’t think my mom and dad would approve.”

  “She does have a point,” Amy pipes up. “I doubt your parents would approve, either.”

  “Well, they all seem pretty into him.” Kirsty nods as her mom and dad walk up to the concession stand and fall blind under the new guy’s spell, along with everyone else.

  Counting my dad.

  He can’t stop laughing, especially when the new guy leans in and pats his shoulder, flattering him. It’s weird. Dad is usually too observant to enjoy another’s company.

  I roll my eyes anyway, saying we’ll check him out later. “Once the event dies down and there are less adults around, that is.”

  “Or, you could ju
st get drunk enough not to give a shit?” someone squeaks at my ear, making me jump a mile.

  Kirsty, Amy, and I, each turn up our heads and gape at our curly blonde friend, Lucy, who’s bundled in a big blue parka, carrying a bag of flasks.

  “No way...!” I gasp, standing up in an oversized raincoat to toss my s’more in the firepit. “You got the—”

  “Tequila!” everyone chimes over me, making me belly-laugh.

  Lucy shushes us between giggles, warning that there are adults everywhere. She’s not wrong—they’re at every damn corner of the town, watching even when they’re not—but none give us a second glance. And why would they? We’re all straight A students.

  “Now,” Lucy continues when we all calm down, “let’s keep our cool heads on, get drunk in plain sight, and go back to my house for a slumber party. What do you all say?”

  “Not before Vi chats-up Mr. Hottie,” Kirsty cuts in, putting the spotlight on me.

  Great.

  “Yeah, you do have a point.” Lucy’s eyes thin at me like blue slits in her face. “Vi does need to realize life is too short to care about bullshit like age, or that her mom and dad might disapprove.”

  “You heard that?” I ask.

  “Sure did.”

  I cringe. “Judging by your enthusiasm, I’m going to take a wild guess and say you’ve seen him?”

  “Duh.” She hands out the flasks, filled to the brim with liquor. “Who wouldn’t notice those exotic green eyes?”

  She’s right. He’s got the kind of eyes that’d haunt a girl’s dreams. They’re all I can think about as my friends and I fight the heat of the tequila and guzzle it down like we’ve one day left to live, turning into a mess of giggles and slurry words. It isn’t long before my vision grows hazy, and a warm buzz lingers in my veins.

  By the time I’m a quarter of the way through my flask, I’m nearly flat on my butt.

  “Now you can go and”—burp—“talk to him.”

  We burst out laughing at Kirsty’s excess gas. Louder when she’s overcome with jumpy hiccups.

  “Or maybe you should go talk to him?” I struggle to say through my laughter, eyes streaming with happy tears. “I reckon he’d find your belching amusing.”

  “Who would find her belching amusing?”

  Our heads snap up to find Mr. Hottie’s athletic silhouette looming over us, reflecting the amber flames from our firepit. His stare is strong, locked on mine. Expression introverted.

  No one speaks.

  No one moves.

  All we’re capable of doing is staring. But no wonder. If it’s even possible, his eyes are greener up close, like big dazzling emeralds, feathered in the darkest lashes. And his voice...he’s got a southern accent. I clench my thighs together as I let it do a lap around my head, savoring how deep and throaty it is.

  “Amy, Lucy, Kirsty”—he points between us with a steady hand, finishing on me—“and you must be Vi?”

  I nod as I put down my flask on the grass, enchanted that he knows my name.

  “Good.” He grins, yanking up the zipper on his jacket. “I’m Sonny Agon. Your parents said you’d help grab more firewood for the firepits.”

  “Me?”

  I don’t believe it. My parents would never agree to let me go off at night with a total stranger—and to get firewood. That’s the adults’ job.

  Sonny assumes differently.

  He nods to answer my question, reiterating my parents offer word for word. Even says my mom called me Elsa, like the albino character from the Disney movie, Frozen.

  I turn sheet white.

  Now is not the time to be helping someone; not while I’m buzzed.

  I blink at my friends, desperate for one of them to jump in and save me—but I’d have a better chance of turning into a witch for the Trials event. They can’t take their eyes off the God in front of us. Not even when I glare at them.

  Useless.

  “Hmmm.” Sonny muses aloud with pursed lips, rubbing his big hands together in a rapt state. “I get it now...I’ve happened upon the town lushes, haven’t I?”

  Shit.

  As if by magic, my friends find their voices, blubbering over each other in a fight to convince Sonny we’re as sober as judges. But it’s a big fat fail. No one can string together a coherent sentence, and I’m all wobbly when I stand on Jell-O legs. I step over the tree stump we’re sitting on and catch my foot in the handle on Lucy’s bag, squealing with panic. The ground comes at me in a rush, promising a head-on collision. Luckily, Sonny grabs my arms just in time. With his fingers clasped around my twiggy biceps, he effortlessly lifts me up and helps me rest against a tree, hunching at the neck to check my face. I’m beyond grateful, sighing with relief. I try to tell him so, but he swiftly renders me mute. Using a single finger, he tilts up my chin, putting us eye to eye. I don’t understand what’s happening at first, swarming with anxious butterflies. Stronger when his gaze flickers up and down between my eyes and my mouth.

  Is he going to kiss me?

  I clench inside with hope, parting my lips enough to accommodate faster breaths—and his mouth. I don’t care that my friends are here, gawking. I let them feast on what’s happening, as I lean a little closer to Sonny, catching a strong hit of his scent. It’s an intoxicating brew. Clean and spicy with a dash of musk. Wow. No one should smell this good.

  It’s like he senses the effect he’s having on me, as he cocks one side of his mouth in a cunning smirk.

  “Are you all right?” he whispers, letting go of my chin to stroke down the pulsing vein in my neck.

  I nod, shivering under his touch.

  “Did you hurt yourself?”

  “No. I...I think I’m okay.” I can’t help blinking at him in a stupid, lusty state, star-struck with being so close. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if...” You let me tumble ass over boob.

  “You’re very welcome.” He winks, practically turning me into a puddle at his feet. But then he completely shatters the moment by asking, “Now, tell me, what have you been drinking?”

  “Nothing!” I come to my senses and lie, stepping away to gather my composure. “I’m just clumsy, is all. You know what girls can be like.”

  That’s another lie. I’m not clumsy in the slightest—I’m high on the tequila—and it seems he’s aware of it. Testing a theory, he reaches for my flask on the grass, flips the lid with his thumb, and takes a sip.

  Crap.

  “Hmmm,” he moans around a mouthful, flipping the flask lid shut and tossing it to Kirsty.

  She just manages to catch it in her lap, all fingers and no thumbs.

  “I’m guessing you didn’t buy this from a local store?”

  Sonny has guessed right. In our state, it’s illegal to sell liquor to anyone under the age of twenty-one. But why do you care, party pooper? That’s what I want to say with a dash of sass, but I’m too chicken-shit. Instead, I ask while cuddling my middle to exude innocence, “You’re not going to tell our parents, are you?”

  It’s the worst thing that could happen. We’ll each be stripped of human contact—grounded, courtesy of our mothers—while our dads give us the cold shoulder for a week.

  “All depends.” Sonny gazes down on me, cocking his head to the left. “Gonna help me collect firewood?”

  My eyebrows arch, surprised. “Then you’ll keep our secret?”

  “Absolutely.” He nods for me to get going. “We should probably find some water, too. Help you sober up.”

  “Oh, you don’t need to worry about that.” I brush him off nonchalantly. “I’m sure the long-ass walk to the parking lot will sober me up to new depths.”

  That’s no joke. It’s at the other end of the town square, far away from the celebrations and any chance of prying eyes.

  Chapter 2

  Sonny links arms to walk me through the crowds in the town square, keeping me tightly pressed to his side. Simultaneously, he eyes everything around us with extra awareness, moving in and out of
people as if trying to avoid any means of attention.

  I don’t know why, nor do I care.

  I’m too happy right now, buzzed from the tequila and his company. He looks incredible at my side with one hand in his jeans pocket, collar up to catch the night breeze. He’s so dreamy—and every girl we pass thinks it, too. Spiteful scowls launch at me, and bitchy comments whisper beneath the sounds of the celebrations, saying, this is all wrong. Why is he with her? I don’t get it. They’re utterly envious—of me. Me! I can’t believe it. For once, someone actually wishes they were yours truly.

  “Tell me, Vi,” Sonny rasps in my ear, just above head-height, “since when were underage girls brave enough to get drunk in front of the town’s people?”

  “Since we knew everyone would be too busy to worry about us,” I say, craning my head back to grin up at Sonny.

  He laughs fondly, causing gorgeous lines to form around his eyes. “You are courageous, I will say that.”

  I snort; I’m really not. Out of my small group of friends, I’m the one they call a pussy cat. I don’t tell Sonny so, too narcissistic to let him think any less of me. But it seems it’s too late; he already picked up on my snorty reaction.

  “You don’t think you’re brave?”

  I shrug, sighing as I rest my head on his arm. “I don’t know. Guess I’ve never had to be. Whenever my friends and I get caught doing something, I’m the last one who’d take the rap.”

  That’s a fact. For example: thanks to my little stunt last week—where I accidentally spilled ice cream on my English teacher’s jacket and refused to own up—Lucy and Kirsty are spending a week in detention.