His Mortal Soul Read online

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  Lyrical Press, Inc.

  www.lyricalpress.com

  Copyright ©2012 by a.c.Mason

  First published in 2012, 2012

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Teaser

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  About a.c. Mason

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  Cover Copy

  Can she save his immortal soul ... and help him find heaven on earth?

  Touching Sephora may cost Kieran his mortal soul...

  Kieran has always been a good Catholic, even studying for the priesthood. But there are complications. A few weeks before his ordination into the priesthood, he was made a vampire. And then there's Sephora, the beautiful, independent American student who draws him to her. His “blackbird", she seems to hold all the secrets to life and happiness, like the mythological creature of the ancient Celts. Despite his best intentions and though he knows he can only hurt her, her hold on him increases by the minute.

  Although Ireland promised Sephora an escape from the horrors of a brutal attack she suffered two years ago, she has discovered that the true scars lie within. But being with Kieran melts away the pain and his touch provides her the refuge to reclaim her body.

  WARNING: A gorgeous Irish hero and gutsy heroine. Biblical and religious themes that might offend. Graphic sex. The theme of survival and healing after sexual assault.

  Teaser

  This curse of being bitten and becoming a vampire was a test of his faith. And so was she. Kieran couldn't let her lure him from saving his soul—from lifting the hex. Admittedly, stalking her wasn't helping him achieve that. Nor did he have any intention of stopping. Father O'Brian would be disappointed, but tonight was Kieran's last on earth. Better he spend his time where he wanted to be—with her.

  A well-dressed male student wrapped an arm around her and guided her away from the hall through the exit. Inside, students wasted money and brain cells in the name of a good time. The door shut behind the clift—fool—and her, muting the blaring music. The asphalt pathway where they walked was deserted. The freckle-faced man laughed as he stumbled. The scent of his illicit intent reached Kieran. He hadn't thought she was that type of woman, but lately he'd learned he was wrong about a great many things.

  The devil and demons weren't just the stuff of myth and legends. Evil dwelled within the heart of every human. All that was needed was something to unlock it.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  His Mortal Soul

  By a.c. Mason

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  His Mortal Soul

  9781616503574

  Copyright © 2012, a.c. Mason

  Edited by Mary A. Murray

  Book design by Lyrical Press, Inc.

  Cover Art by Renee Rocco

  First Lyrical Press, Inc. electronic publication: March, 2012

  Lyrical Press, Incorporated www.lyricalpress.com eBooks are not transferable. All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  PUBLISHER'S NOTE:

  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, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  Published in the United States of America by Lyrical Press, Incorporated

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Dedication

  To survivors.

  Acknowledgments

  Mary Murray has pushed my writing and me as an author in ways that have expanded my belief in my own abilities. She opened the first door and provided me the ability tell stories. Thank you for all your hard work.

  Thank you to Casea Major and AS for helping refine the story.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 1

  Lorcan Kieran stood behind the pillar a few feet away from her. Dampness lingered in the cool autumn night outside the university's gymnasium. The annual autumn student gathering took place inside.

  Since that morning two weeks ago when he'd laid eyes on her, he'd sensed her. Always. As if her spirit had linked to his. He'd been standing over the side of the bridge, about to jump, when the fog had lifted and she'd appeared in all her splendor. Now the thread between them told him when she rose in the morning and the moment exhaustion claimed her each night.

  She was mo lon dubh. His blackbird. Would he teach her or would she enlighten him? For some reason, he was suddenly reminded of the story his grandmother told of St. Kevin and the Blackbird, how St. Kevin and the Blackbird cared for each other. But he was no saint.

  Her dark wavy hair blew in the wind and her cocoa skin shimmered in the moonlight. More than any other, her scent enticed the monster he had become and the thirst growing inside.

  His mortal soul was damned. If he was able to make it to his ordination, he might have a chance at redemption. This curse of being bitten and becoming a vampire was a test of his faith. And so was she. He couldn't let her lure him from saving his soul—from lifting the hex. Admittedly, stalking her wasn't helping him achieve that. Nor did he have any intention of stopping. Father O'Brian would be disappointed, but tonight was Kieran's last on earth. Better he spend his time where he wanted to be—with her.

  A well-dressed male student wrapped an arm around her and guided her away from the hall through the exit. Inside, students wasted money and brain cells in the name of a good time. The door shut behind the clift—fool—and her, muting the blaring music. The asphalt pathway where they walked was deserted. The freckle-faced man laughed as he stumbled. The scent of his illicit intent reached Kieran. He hadn't thought she was that type of woman, but lately he'd learned he was wrong about a great many things.

  The devil and demons weren't just the stuff of myths and legends. Evil dwelled within the heart of every human. All that was needed was something to unlock it.

  "I feel strange.” She raised her hand to her face. A pink flush warmed the coloration of her cheeks.

  The lanky clift led her to the western student residence building. “How much did you drink, love?” A Dublin native by his speech.

  She pushed his arm off of her and wobbled to the wall. “I didn't. I don't ever...” She shook her head and tried to focus. “Shit ... Did you put something in my drink?” Her movements were sluggish and uncontrolled.

  "Just put a little something in your drink to help you relax. Come on.” He tugged her. “It's early, let's have some fun. My room is just over here."

  She pulled away from him. “What did you give me ... Patrick?” With her forearm, she wiped her forehead. “I've got to go."

  "Relax, Sephora. A little whiskey won't hurt you.” He backed her against the wall. “You and I are going to have a little fun. I've never bee n with a black chick before."

  "And this ‘black chick’ won't be your test run, either.” She shoved him. “I knew that drink didn't taste right."

  "What is it with you ... Are you a dyke?” He staggered, and pinned her with his much larger frame. “I can eat pussy real good. My last girlfriend said I was as good as any lesbian she had."

  "Good night, Patrick.” She turned her face from him.

  Kieran waited to see if the boy would leave. Maybe he hadn't been wrong about her. She didn't seem to want to go with him.

  Now red-faced, the man grabbed her by her shoulders and pushed her into the wall. “Calm down. Don't be such a frigid bitch."

  "Don't do this, please!” She yanked free. Tears pooled in her eyes.

  Images from her thoughts flooded Kieran's mind. She had run in the sand. Droplets had wet her cheeks as fear surged through her. She had been chased down.

  The pounding of her heart thundered in Kieran's head. The physical scars had healed, but what happened still had its hooks in her deeply.

  A man had grabbed her by her hair and his arm had wrapped around her neck, squeezing the air from her windpipe. The distress had paralyzed her and her limbs had grown heavy. Kieran struggled to breathe and placed a hand on the pillar. The flashes were of a horror she'd experienced.

  "Help!” she screamed. Sheer terror was plain in her shaking voice. “Please, someone help me."

  The unmistakable plea pulled him from the intensity of her memory.

  The freckle-faced man caught her arm, threw her to the building.

  She grunted in pain.

  The man covered her mouth with his hand. “Shut up."

  Before Kieran's thoughts registered his intent, he stood behind the man. These abilities took getting used to. Even the demon within him didn't like this man touching her.

  Her eyes widened with fear as she met Kieran's stare.

  He placed his hand on the man's shoulder. “Let the lady go."

  "Fuck off, buddy.” He shrugged, attempting to remove Kieran's hand, but the effort was wasted.

  Kieran pulled the grubby clift away, spun and thrust him into the wall. With ease, he could kill him. The demon craved it. Begged for it. Just one. Feed ... us. Kieran gripped the man by the neck and lifted him off the ground. The man's feet dangled. The pulse beneath his fingers thundered, luring him—and the thirst.

  "I don't think you understood me.” His strength was one of the changes that he didn't mind. The being trapped on earth alone for eternity, that came off as a big letdown. It was the possibility of burning in hell that held less appeal to him. He didn't much like warm climates.

  She covered her eyes and curled into a ball on the ground against the wall. The scent of fresh blood rose from her. She cradled the back of her head.

  His fangs descended and his vision clouded in shades of red. “You'll never hurt a woman again,” he ordered into the man's mind with a hiss. “You're going to go to your room. And you won't remember this."

  The freckle-faced man nodded.

  Kieran released him. None too soon either, as the pit in his stomach protested. The man turned from them and ran to the western residence building.

  Kieran's vision returned to normal and his fangs retracted. With any luck, she hadn't seen the changes.

  "He's gone.” Kieran turned to her.

  "Deacon Lorcan Kieran?” she asked, peeking at him through her fingers.

  Had he scared her just now? Not him, but the demon within him.

  A smile formed on his lips. She too remembered their brief meeting on the bridge. He'd been so newly turned. Once he'd made sure she hadn't intended to jump off the bridge to save him, he'd fled. Her scent was enslaving.

  "Yes, Ms. Silverman.” He held out his hand to assist her, afraid of what would happen once he touched her.

  Blood coated her hand.

  His stomach grumbled. The infinite pit of hunger grew, but it was south of his waist.

  She rose with her arms wrapped around her torso, leaning into the wall. “How do you know my name?” She too appeared to recall having refused to give him her name during the fateful encounter on the bridge.

  If he admitted the truth, would she think him a creepy stalker? “I've inquired about you."

  "Why?” She cocked an eyebrow and wavered against the wall. The breeze tousled her curls, mixing her scent with those of the soil of his ancestors, water from the canal and the cool autumn evening.

  He could think of nothing more appetizing than her. “I wanted to make sure you hadn't found other ways to end your life."

  She stared at the bandages on his fingers.

  Kieran placed his hands behind his back. Touching the Bible caused his flesh to burst into flames. The Band-Aids provided a layer of protection.

  "As I told you that morning, I wasn't trying to end my life. I thought I saw someone go over the side of the bridge.” She let out a heavy exhalation.

  He wasn't about to tell her it had been him. But when he'd heard her scream and run to his aid, he'd held onto the underside of the bridge. Then he'd climbed up the other side. He'd worried she'd hurt herself trying to save him. He couldn't even die like that. At least, not the way humans could. He was one of the damned.

  "I believe you, mo lon dubh.” His Blackbird. St. Kevin and the Blackbird had shared secrets of life, love and patience. Before the night was through he believed the same would be true between them. “May I walk you back to your residence building to ensure your safety?"

  "Honestly, Kieran, I don't know if I should be scared of what's out there, or you.” The slight quaver in her voice would go unnoticed by human hearing, but it raised the hairs at the back of his neck.

  Had she seen the changes in him when the demon took control? “Me?"

  "I'm sure you play the whole good Irish Catholic angle to get your way with women.” She rubbed her forehead. The glossiness of her eyes told him how hard she worked to keep herself together.

  Once, he'd been a good Irish Catholic, but now it was debatable. “At least you're to the point."

  "I call it how I see it.” She shrugged. “Like you don't play up your accent, blue eyes and those dimples."

  "You're the one with an accent. I speak like my fellow Irishmen from Kildare town. You're from across the pond.” He smiled. “But if I did play it up, would you let me walk you back to your room?” It mattered to him that she was attracted to him. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why, since tomorrow he'd no longer exist. When he went through with his ordination, he'd burn into ash and be taken to heaven. At least that was his theory. But tonight he was still the living dead and, more importantly, a man.

  "Given the condition I'm in,” she said, clutching her body, “it's probably best if you see me to my dorm room."

  He removed his jacket and held it out for her. “Here."

  "Thank you.” She slid her arms into the oversized sleeves. The fabric swallowed her, making her appear even tinier than she was. “What are you doing on our campus? Isn't the seminary on the other side of the river across the bridge?"

  "I came to see a friend.” Technically, she wasn't his friend yet, but he hoped that though their time would be short lived, she'd consider him one. “Where are you from?"

  "Near LA, by the coast."

  "Why study in Ireland? It's not exactly sunny.” Which he was thankful for, or he probably would have burned to a crisp by now. On more than one occasion, he'd gotten pinned by dawn creeping up on him.

  "A chance to get away.” She forced a smile. The corners of her lips trembled.

  A succession of images invaded his mind. Her arms had been trapped behind her back by a man, who had knelt and held her up against his body. Her face had ached from having been hit repeatedly. Gripped by the intensity, Kieran stopped. Another man had held a knife, and parting her legs, he'd cut her panties. She'd screamed. The man had struck her cheek with the back of his hand, making her whimper. The tip of the blade had dug into her flesh. Kieran stumb led to his knees. The sensation was like searing heat had scorched her flesh. She'd thought of her parents. Of how her death would hurt them. She'd closed her eyes. Don't let me die like this. It was a plea as much as a prayer.

  The memories stopped. Kieran squeezed his eyes shut.

  "Are you okay?” she asked him.

  He placed a hand on the ground in front of him, unable to focus.

  "Kieran?” Her voice trembled.

  He breathed in relief. Asking her about where she came from had brought up the reason she'd left. “I'm sorry.” He exhaled the pain, stood and met her gaze.

  Her eyes widened with horror. “What for?” As though she sensed he knew, she sped her footsteps.

  He pointed back to the pathway. “For men like him and...” He stopped himself from a slip up. “We aren't all like that."

  She walked into the residence foyer and to the stairs. “I guess you'd know, given you go to a school of all men and most of them have never been with a woman."

  He followed her up to the second floor into the hall. “I wouldn't say most have never been with a woman."

  She inserted the key into her room's door, opened it and held it for him. “Are you saying most have?"

  "It is hard to say, of the ones I know well enough to make an assumption regarding their past.” He stepped past the threshold, unsure of what would happen. “I'd say most have.” Thankfully he didn't burst into flames.

  The scent of cherry blossoms filled the air. The room was neat. A bed was pressed to the wall, a desk as well. There was a wooden bench and a computer chair. Light streamed in from the window, bathing the space in an orange tinge.

  "And you, Kieran?” She closed the door.

  They were in the room alone. She'd let him in. But why did she trust him?

  "What about me?” he asked.

  She removed his jacket and tossed it on the bed. A fitted teal shirt hugged the mounds of her breasts and hips. Black leggings contoured her thick thighs. What would she taste like?