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THE DARK SAVAGE
A Savage Novel
*Book Seven
New York Times Bestselling Author
TAMARA ROSE BLODGETT
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2015-16 Tamara Rose Blodgett
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
www.tamararoseblodgett.com
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Proofed by: Corinna
Cover art: Bookish Brunette Designs
*A compilation of episodes 6.1-6.6
CONTENTS
Synopsis
Works by Tamara Rose Blodgett
TRB News
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Synopsis
Ulric pursues Adahy, Elise and Jim through the pathway. Can Calia reunite with her family while the ominous threat of the Tree Men hovers like a cloud over her future happiness with Philip? Or will Vaughn press his advantage.
Ulric gathers forces together in a calculated assault to thwart the Rite of the Select and assert his authority as first species.
Ulric's role as Alpha of the Tree is more complex than anyone ever guessed. When Jim embraces a selfless act, it compromises whatever future he thought he could have.
The trees offer a hiatus from the turmoil that Adahy, Philip and the females desperately need to avoid, but Jim finds that the violence of his world follows them all into this one.
Works by Tamara Rose Blodgett:
The BLOOD Series
The DEATH Series
Shifter ALPHA CLAIM 1-6
The REFLECTION Series
The SAVAGE Series
Vampire ALPHA CLAIM 1-6
&
Marata Eros:
A Terrible Love (New York Times bestseller)
A Brutal Tenderness
The Darkest Joy
Club Alpha
The DARA NICHOLS Series, 1-8
The DEMON Series
The DRUID Series
Shifter ALPHA CLAIM 1-6
The SIREN Series
The TOKEN Serial
Vampire ALPHA CLAIM 1-6
The ZOE SCOTT Series 1-8
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Chapter 1
Jim
Jim tumbles and rolls, his insides fighting the abusive flight through the Pathway bridge.
Ulric pursues him. Glowing eyes flip to spear Jim with broiling hate as their bodies hurtle through the pulse-driven Pathway.
Shards of ice and heat simultaneously buffet Jim as he struggles against his natural panic.
I'm up shit creek without the proverbial paddle.
What the real question is: where will they land? In the woods, offering Ulric temporary sanctuary—or the daylight so his ass cooks?
Jim can't grab onto anything, but what he does see are the yokes in the Pathway, delineated by a slight change in the shimmering internal coral color. A tunnel scoops away in a “branch” from the main “trunk” of the artery that will feed to inner-world travel.
One of the branches of the yoke that approaches will take Jim to his world. His earth. He can escape this mess, and leave Ulric to do his worst.
But he can't.
Jim can't allow Ulric to be birthed on top of the clansmen, and the two women who clawed their way across country—through Fragment and tree dudes, only to have the top scary honcho land on them.
Nope. But he can deflect Ulric.
Jim forces his flailing arm to his side.
Ulric narrows his body like an arrow, and making the aerodynamic challenge of his descent faster.
Basically, the fanged prick is folding his body into a slimmer vessel of travel.
A faster one.
Ulric catches up while Jim stupidly fumbles with fingers resistance to cooperation, the wind battering his body from all angles.
Those glowing eyes flip closer as Ulric quickly gains finesse through the tunnel.
Shit.
Jim pries his fingers apart, digging out the slim, modern-to-this-world pulse device.
Jim grits his teeth against the sensation of being skinned alive, and feels for the thumb square on the surface of the credit card-sized communication device.
His tactile senses narrow to a pinpoint, he sweats despite the miscommunication of hot and cold sensory battering inside the Pathway.
Jim ignores what feels like Ulric's hot breath against his nape, refusing to look.
He ignores flying past the yoke to his home world and safety.
Everything he is, all his intellect, fortitude—strength—slims to this moment as he depresses his thumb and thinks his command into the Brain Impulse device.
His one thought is desperate and purely singular.
Disrupt charge.
A burst of light pounds between Jim and Ulric. Jim leans away from Ulric even as Jim careens past another yoke, barely missing the vortex.
Fingers of steel reach for purchase.
Miss.
Jim whistles in a sucking inhale of fear.
Ulric bellows at losing him, a shriek of impotent rage and uncertainty that echoes in Jim's marrow, before Ulric's ripped into one of the many arteries.
Jim doesn't have time to steer that particular ship. He gave the order to his pulse for a spontaneous reboot. The reset pauses the magnetic drive for a millisecond.
Jim had only enough time to implement the directive and pray.
Pulse devices are disallowed for Pathway travel. But Jim's is a black market altered version. Ceramic alloyed with resin properties. He'd given his telepathic command and Ulric had gone—somewhere else.
Jim flies backward, gripping his pulse as Ulric's fingers continue to cling at the yoke's mouth.
His stare hates on Jim.
Jim gulps back his anxiety.
He'll be dead meat if Ulric ever lays hands on him again.
Jim sticks out his tongue instead. Douche.
So mature, so satisfying.
Ulric's brows dump before his fingertips are torn from the edge
of wherever the Pathway sucks him.
Jim's last thought before he's tossed out of the mouth of the bridge is good riddance.
*
Jim lands against a big body, and the two fly backward, a grunt of annoyance ringing in his ears.
Great. Piss off the big guy, Jim. Nice going.
Strong arms grip him, tossing Jim upright. Jim's grace is robbed, along with the contents of his stomach as he blows chunks into frozen beach grass.
He blinks at the ground. The pheasant that'd gone down so sweetly earlier steams in regurgitated chunks at his feet.
Jim backs up. Disgusting.
His gut clenches, giving a second alarm of hurl heaven, and another round sprays onto the grass.
Jim falls to his knees, holding his quivering stomach, somewhere between grateful and pissed. It's great that he managed to ditch Ulric—that tick on a warthog's ass—but he's sicker than a dog, and still in the sphere world.
Damn.
“Is he finished yet?” a strong baritone asks from behind Jim.
Where's the effing compassion?
“When his bowels fall out his backside, we shall clean him up and be on our way.”
Jim spins on his haunches, his belly groaning at the movement, and he gives an angry swipe at his mouth.
Jim takes in Vaughn. “Listen, wise ass, if you hadn’t picked up on the fact that Pathway travel blows, I advise you to pay attention: if a dude isn't clan, they get to heave up their intestines. Got it?” Even with my nifty pill pop.
Jim straightens as Vaughn strides toward him. He tenses, arms dropping loose by his sides in readiness.
“Vaughn—” Calia calls out.
Jim casts a glance her way.
Vaughn, of the bad humor, stalls out, reluctantly turning in her direction.
Calia's golden eyebrow slowly rises, eyes steady on his. “This has been a difficult time. Let us not make it more so by antagonizing a man who has helped us.”
Vaughn glowers. His viking good looks are soured by his shitty disposition. Nobody looks good when they're behaving like ass. Jim doesn't trust the new clansmen from the eastern seaboard. Both he and Zaid seem a little too eager for Jim's taste.
He squares off with Vaughn. Probably not smart, since Vaughn looks like he could kick Jim's ass. Twice.
It's whatever. Jim's had a Bad Day. Bring it.
Vaughn stares at him a moment longer. “I can just barely make out your words, so worthlessly are they fashioned.”
Oh—riiight. Jim rolls his eyes. “Well not everyone speaks nineteenth century, pal.”
Vaughn cocks an eyebrow, and a thin laugh escapes at Jim's left. Elise cups her hand over her mouth as Vaughn regards her.
“He is not of our world, Vaughn. And therefore, not subject to the affectations of our speech.” She gives the barest shoulder lift.
Vaughn appears to think on this, but Jim wonders if he does much of that. Yeah.
“However, he does need to push on, if we want to make the clans perimeter by nightfall,” Vaughn explains.
Jim is so regretting not going home about now. Vaughn's turned into a chode, and Jim's pretty hungry since he puked up his supper.
Images of his lab float to the surface of his brain. Homesickness riots. The lab is so safe. Normal.
Jim looks around. Still here.
Damn.
“Mayhap you give Jim a moment to right himself. As Elise mentioned, he is of the other world—a Traveler—his constitution is weak,” Philip states.
Jim glares. “I'm not some pussy, I just—unless you're of Band blood, the Pathway does the rotor rooter at the basest level.”
The two women and four men stare at him blankly.
Jim scrubs his fingers through his hair. They're all so vacant. God. “See—ya know how genes work,” he begins to explain.
Still blank.
“Okay. What makes us people?” He whips his palms apart, scanning the faces, hoping for a spark.
There are slow nods from the girls. Vaughn looks bored—Zaid, Adahy and Philip are more engaged.
“We aren't the same,” Jim says, wagging his finger between him and the group. “We're all human,” he glances at the girls, “mostly.” He points at them again, “But there's complex differences that make Pathway travel toxic to me but only mildly challenging to you guys.”
Elise turns to the group. “Jim says that his species of humans can't tolerate the Pathway without sickness.”
Not entirely accurate yet—but not bad as explanations go. “Yes.” For the most part.
“I'm not sure if I can accept Jim,” Vaughn says.
Jim throws his arms up in the air. “Don't then, man. But I need more food, a change of clothes and a damn shower—” they stare, “Bath—whatever.”
Jim suddenly has a thought, causing a wide grin to overtake his features. “Besides, you need someone with my brain anyway.”
Vaughn gives a dubious eyebrow hike.
This guy.
“And why would we take a foreigner into our ranks—one such as you, who has proven that he might be more liability than asset?”
Philip and Adahy look as though they're ready to defend him, which Jim digs. “It's okay, guys—I got this.”
Jim stares down Vaughn, whose neck flushes with the beginnings of anger.
“ ʼCause you need me. I'm the guy that shook fang-love in the bridge. If it hadn't been for me, we'd have a bunch of fang-bangers to contend with.”
Elise gasps.
Jim nods, as confused looks sprout like weeds. Frustrated, Jim scrubs his head, trying for speech that escapes him but they understand.
“Ulric of the Blood Bearers followed our party. I diverted him into another bridge.”
Adahy and Philip come to stand in front of Jim. “Where might he be, Jim?”
Jim shakes his head, allowing a small smile of pride. “I don't know. But he's not here because I slayed his ass.”
“You killed the interloper?” Philip brows knot.
Jim gives a mildly irritated sigh. “No. I caused him to go in a direction other than ours.”
“Good,” Adahy says, getting the gist of Jim's words.
“But where? And for how long?” Calia asks, as Philip wraps an arm around her shoulders.
Vaughn tenses.
Zaid shrugs. “It matters not. What is most important is making haste to the clan. When we arrive, we can prepare the rest of the Band for what might appear.”
That's what Jim's afraid of. He's just survived the battle—only to become embroiled in another war.
Chapter 2
Ulric
The icy fire of the bridge is nothing compared to his deep and abiding anger.
Jim of the Travelers will pay for disrupting his plan.
But first, Ulric must orient himself as he has been thrown into a field somewhere.
He stands, dusting off his pants, and quelling the unease of his stomach. He first locates the sun, its zenith long past. It hovers like a sinking ball of flame into the distant horizon.
Ulric flinches, taking cover into the deeper shadow border of the forest.
Luckily he had been spewed out into an area untouched by sunlight. Ulric is the strongest of his kind but still he must take care in the sun. Shadows he can manage. True sunlight would be a broil upon his flesh.
A clicking and chuff comes from behind, and Ulric whirls to face the unknown invader.
Many eyes glow redly from their deep pockets of gloom within the wood.
Ulric grins, showing his fangs, as he looks into the eyes of his own kind. The Tree Men greet him, and Ulric, though he does not recognize them, understands he is among friends.
His eyes scan the gloom, and do not find Brom. Though it is a slim possibility he would have conveniently been here. Brom is the nearest thing to a lieutenant or second in command Ulric has.
Ulric finds the most bold of the group and their eyes hold. “Do you know of Brom?”
Slowly, the male steps away fro
m his tight-knit party. “He is caught in a corridor of forest until the sun has sunk.” He points to the disappearing sphere of scarlet, hovering over the distant mountains.
Ulric nods gravely. He had given instructions for Brom to meet him by using the bridge to get to the clan by the sea.
Ulric has never bothered to move beyond their small region, traveling in the corridors of forest for necessary travel. He cares little for the skirmishes between Fragment and clan—and the occasional Red Man. He lets them be. As all do underneath his charge.
Now all that has changed. He gave blood to Elise, and Calia. By all rights—blood rules. And his gift is not without recompense.
Ulric's clan needs females. This is not a unique plight of this world. However, the Travelers dumping their thieves and marauders here does not give the Fragment rights of ownership over whatever dwindling female numbers they pilfer from the local population.
“How is it that you can shadow walk—Ulric?”
An exhale of pure frustration explodes from Ulric. “I am alpha of my clan.”
The male smiles, dipping his chin. “I am as well, but have never mastered shadows.”
Ulric's face whips from where he'd been gazing at the deepening night. He smiles crookedly. “Yes... we all have our gifts.”
Disquieting murmurs break out.
Ulric doesn't have time for their superstitions. He must reconnoiter with Brom, and reclaim the women.
Ulric lifts his palm to silence the mutterings.
The large male says, “It is more than a rare talent—it is sacrilegious, Ulric.”