Amy's Story

By Holly S. Roberts

Journalist Amy Styles is on the trail of a killer. The last thing she expects is to find him.

Drugged, barely conscious, and thinking her life is over, a man saves her and opens the door to a new paranormal world that changes Amy’s life forever.

Marcus Lincoln is an enigma within the online gossip world. He’s rich, evasive, and hot. Hiding a dark secret, Marcus knows Amy is special and opening his world to her could be the best thing that’s ever happened. It could also mean her death.

When an old enemy goes on the hunt for Amy, Marcus must finally right a horrible wrong to save the people he loves.

Enter the world of vampires and werewolves. Enter the Fang Chronicles...

7-Book Series Complete!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Holly S. Roberts
• Release date: Feb 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005238872

Holly S. Roberts

Holly S Roberts is a retired homicide detective and the USA TODAY Bestselling Author of Play and Ruck (Completion Sports series). She is excited to announce a new crime thriller series published by Bookouture Hachette releasing 1/13/2023. For Holly's spicier side, you'll love her anti-hero bad boys who will curl your toes (Hotter Than Hell series) and a lighter (not so spicy) humorous paranormal series with shifters and Hellhounds (Marinah and King). She also writes cozy mysteries under the pen name Suzie Ivy. She lives with her two spoiled dogs high in the mountains. Holly is a self-defense instructor and owned a martial arts gym where she taught women to kick butt. Visit wickedstorytelling.com for more info.

Book preview

Amy's Story

Fang Chronicles

Holly S Roberts, /, D'Elen McClain

Wicked Story Telling

Copyright © Second Printing 2022 by Holly S Roberts

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Contents

1. Chapter One

2. Chapter Two

3. Chapter Three

4. Chapter Four

5. Chapter Five

6. Chapter Six

7. Chapter Seven

8. Chapter Eight

9. Chapter Nine

10. Chapter Ten

11. Chapter Eleven

12. Chapter Twelve

13. Chapter Thirteen

14. Chapter Fourteen

15. Chapter Fifteen

16. Chapter Sixteen

17. Chapter Seventeen

18. Chapter Eighteen

19. Chapter Nineteen

20. Chapter Twenty

21. Chapter Twenty-One

22. Chapter Twenty-Two

23. Chapter Twenty-Three

24. Chapter Twenty-Four

25. Chapter Twenty-Five

26. Chapter Twenty-Six

27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

30. Chapter Thirty

31. Chapter Thirty-One

32. Chapter Thirty-Two

33. Chapter Thirty-Three

34. Chapter Thirty-Four

35. Epilogue

Also By

About Holly

Chapter one

Chapter One

The time has come.

I turn to Ivan who’s barely holding it together. Take the pack away and don’t return until tomorrow night. It’s an order but that’s never stopped Ivan from voicing his opinion.

He stares at me for a long time before sharing his thoughts, "I don’t think that’s a good idea, Marcus. You need me here; you need us here." So many emotions play across my friend’s face. His pain is almost as great as mine.

I need him to understand how important this time is. This will be my last night with Victoria and I want to be alone with her my friend. My voice is soft and I do everything I can to keep it from cracking.

A fierce fire burned in Ivan’s eyes. Can you keep the promise you made?

It will be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Yes, my friend, I will keep my promise.

He nods. I will return tomorrow, as you ask. Send the call if you need me. I love you, my brother. Ivan leaves the room with one last glance at the woman on the bed, the woman he loves too.

I sit on the bed, where Victoria rests and take her hand. Frail—covered in age spots and wrinkles—the most beautiful hand I’ve ever held. I touch her white hair and run my fingers through the brittle strands. She’s the love of my life and sixty years is too short a time. The clench of my heart is physically painful. Even eternity wouldn’t be long enough.

Her cloudy eyes flutter open. They hold a white sheen…the look of death. I smell the waiting nothingness on her too, but her coming death doesn’t yet overwhelm the unique scent that’s all hers. The perfume of the life she lived so gallantly still fills my senses.

I love you, I tell her gently. My heart breaks, because I know tonight is the last time she’ll hear me say the words.

And I love you, my heart, she whispers, her voice filled with so much sadness.

I see through the wrinkles lining her skin put there by the years she’s remained at my side. Past the wrinkles I see the beauty of her youth, and for just a moment a sudden small spark in her eyes shows the vitality and sense of humor I’ve loved for so long. Are you in pain? I ask.

No, She answers in a weak, raspy voice and lifts one finger. She breathes in and out slowly and I wait patiently for her to continue speaking. My time is at an end. I feel at peace, my heart.

My hand tightens slightly on hers fully aware that too much pressure will hurt her. I don’t think I’ll make it through the next hour, much less the lifetimes I’ll live without her by my side. She’s everything in my world. Everything.

Someone is out there for you. She sighs with conviction. Someone special who wants to spend eternity with you. I am sorry it can’t be me. You have given me a love I thought I would never have. My heart will follow you even after my body is dust. I want you to love again. Give yourself time and then find your soulmate. I will not rest peacefully until you’re happy. Her eyes flutter and I stop breathing for a moment.

We’ve had this conversation so many times and she’ll never understand that what she asks is impossible. Before I can reply, Victoria inhales sharply, takes my hand in both of hers and asks, One last gift I want you to give me. It’s unfair of me to ask, but I’m a selfish woman. The corners of her lips lift in more of a grimace than a smile but she tries and I will deny her nothing.

Anything, I whisper.

Her eyes focus on mine before she speaks, Take my blood as my heart stops.

My breath catches. I’ve not tasted her blood in almost fifteen years. She became too frail to sustain me, and I wanted her with me for the beautiful love she gave. It’s far more powerful than all the blood in the world.

I cannot, Victoria. I want to scream into the universe that this is so unfair. I cannot, I answer again desperately wanting her to understand.

She holds my gaze and refuses to release me. Marcus, I have not shared with you in so long. I’m not asking this second. You will know when, you will feel my last heartbeats. I’m afraid and I want you with me completely at the end. She closes her eyes as if the request is more than she has energy for. Her chest rises and falls in quiet sleep—her face at rest without the pain that’s followed her for weeks. I didn’t think I could survive losing her.

When Victoria next opened her eyes, they were panicked. There was no air for her to draw into her oxygen deprived lungs. She looked to me and calmed instantly. I didn’t think about her request or why I didn’t want to give in. I struck, my teeth sinking into her throat and tasting her incredible life’s energy.

As I drew the last of her blood, Victoria’s breathing slowed then stopped. I withdrew my fangs and memorized her pain free, beautiful face. She had a smile on her lips and I laid my head on her chest and cried.

I cried because of my promise.

Chapter two

Chapter Two

My name is Amy Stiles and I’m a journalist with a master’s degree in journalism. All I want is to be taken seriously. It’s hard because no matter how I try, my appearance is that of a teenager.

The mantra serious journalist played through my head constantly. This might be my only chance to prove that I’m capable of performing this job as well as any man. In my career, I always tried to portray myself as older. This time, for the first time, I’m trying to appear younger. I glanced in the mirror and see an oval face with pure blue eyes and lush brown hair in ponytails with a slightly crooked part reflected back. I’m wearing no makeup and feel naked. It doesn’t help that my shorts are skimpy. Okay, indecent. My tight shirt revealed the flatness of my small breasts. I never thought this quality would help my career given that boobs got jobs. It was sad, but I understand the field I work in.

I snort at that last thought. No kidding I know this profession. My mother lived this life until her death from cancer when I was seventeen. No doubt about it, I’m my mother’s daughter when it comes to a story.

I smooth my hands over my almost flat chest and breathe slow and steady. I’m ready to tackle the story largely ignored by the media…a series of young teen killings in the lower south side of the city. The young women appeared to be prostitutes. Their ages varied from fourteen to twenty. Some had yet to be identified and their ages were only forensic guesses at best. From the records I’ve gathered, forensic testing showed a variety of drugs in each girl’s system.

With a huff that lifts my brown bangs off my forehead, I saunter to the front door of my apartment, hips swaying getting fully into my roll. Before I grasped the door handle, my ankle twisted slightly and I almost ate the carpet.

Damn, these fucking heels are going to break my neck. She muttered as she used the door knob for balance while rubbing her sore ankle and staring daggers at the four inch torture devices on her feet.

She stepped out the door, looking to the right and seeing the elevator sign. With a sigh of longing she turned her back on it and went to the left, practicing her acrobatic walk, down three flights of stairs. She made it to the ground floor with only a few ankle wobbles and then caught a bus into the inner city.

Amy could see the stares of men and boys as she exited the bus. Yep, her disguise was working. They were thinking just what she wanted them to. She needed another fix and she was willing to work for it. She lucked out. Her friend, Brian, a police detective, allowed her to view a few interrogation videos from his vice squad days. She needed to appear as desperate as the girls interviewed. It wasn’t a far stretch. Her desperation for a story was just a different kind of drug.

Amy wasn’t foolish enough to want to actually find the killer. She planned to stay close to people and not go off with anyone. This, with any luck, offered a degree of protection. No, her story would be about life on the street, the shortage of shelter, food, and yes, drugs. It was about why, with a killer on the hunt, these women continued to live their lives and serve the streets.

Her first evening proved how little she knew. The corner she chose was next to a dilapidated liquor store with a blinking OPEN sign above the front door. Bars covered the windows and a rolled back metal grate was attached to the front door. The trash on the pavement was being gently pushed along by a slight breeze. The waft did little to extinguish the smell of rotting garbage and she wondered if the odors had seeped into the walls of the old buildings. She scanned the area. Two working girls were on the next corner. She didn’t want to be too close. Amy checked her feet and made a conscious effort to keep the spikes from the large crack in the pavement. She ran her hands down the sides of her body beginning at the top of her breasts and ending at the hem of her shorts. She mentally slapped herself as she stopped her fingers from tugging the shorts lower.

Think slutty, she whispered under her breath. She placed her feet apart and cocked a hip. It wasn’t long before a potential customer approached.

He was dirty, smelled of body odor and alcohol. She was prepared for the offer of drugs, but he only wanted her. With a shudder, Amy reassured herself he was too drunk to perform and started acting strung out and wanting a quick high. The man stumbled away.

The second man smelled only slightly better. He wanted Amy to follow him to a cheap hotel where he could make her a very happy girl. When Amy didn’t immediately follow, he grabbed her arm. His grasp was firm but she was able to twist away and stumble quickly towards the liquor store.

As she entered, the clerk watched her every move, She was sure he expected her to steal something. That was okay; at this point she just wanted her admirer to go away. Yes, he was promising drugs, but Amy was sure he had more in mind. Other than what happened with her second admirer, no one seemed bent on violence. A few more men approached her; one even gave her a pill he said was Oxy. Amy took the pill and pretended to swallow, but kept it between two fingers and made it seem as if it was in her mouth. The man said he would find some more and maybe they could make a trade.

After he left, Amy quickly found another spot on a corner two blocks away. The man never appeared again to make good on his promise. Not paying attention, she went flying onto the cement sidewalk. What the hell? was her weak comeback as she lay on the cold ground glaring up at a tall woman dressed in black spandex. Amy’s face was even with the woman’s shoes and the stilettoes had an inch on hers. She knew this wasn’t the time to ask for walking pointers.

This is my turf. If you get near me again, I’ll slit your cunt throat. Now, get the fuck out of here.

Amy saw the kick coming and rolled to her side. The sharp edge on the woman’s shoe caught Amy in the thigh leaving a deep scratch and what would probably be a bruise. It hurt like hell and a small amount of blood trickled down her leg. Looking on the bright side, she decided the wound would add to her character. As she limped thirty feet from her attacker, she acknowledged she’d just been initiated in one of the don’ts of walking the streets…never tread on another girl’s territory.

By early morning, all Amy wanted was a bed, even one in a dingy hotel that probably rented their rooms by the hour. She craved silence and sleep before starting her second night on the streets.

Five hours later, she covered her face with her pillow and screamed. Doors opened and closed continually. She suffered through a continuous barrage of moans from the rooms on each side of hers. She’d given herself two weeks to get her story. At this rate, she wouldn’t last forty-eight hours. Then again, she’d really look like she belonged on the streets.

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Amy found a well-lit spot and glanced around. It seemed safe from rough handling and aggressive prostitutes. Looking desperate for a fix was easy. She looked like hell. It hadn’t taken forty-eight hours—twenty was sufficient. When a handsome guy smiled at her, Amy tossed her longing for sleep aside and coyly smiled back. He approached her and all she could think was how surprised she was that he needed to pay for a woman. She swayed up to him.

His eyes traveled over her lean frame. Boldly, he placed his hand on her breast, rubbing his thumb over her nipple. Amy internally cringed, not allowing her disgust to show. She exhaled; relieved her recorder was safely sewn into the hem of her shorts and would provide a record of her experiences.

Amy scanned the area and saw plenty of people. Though they weren’t watching her, she surprisingly felt safe. Maybe because she knew she wouldn’t go anywhere with this guy. His eyes and the way he stared at her gave her the creeps. He gently pushed her back toward the brick wall of a downtown store. The rough surface bit into her arms. She kept her eyes on his face.

At the sting of the needle, she opened her mouth to scream. His strong hand covered her lips as his other hand caught her arms.

Terror washed through her—overwhelming and immobilizing as the effects of the drug hit her system. Amy was frantic, her eyes seeking anyone who might notice what was happening. Her last thought as her mind went blank was that she was nothing. Just like the other girls, no one would notice her disappearance even on a street filled with people.

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Amy awoke, groggy and barely able to keep her eyes open, her limbs heavy and unresponsive. She gasped at the slap across her face. Gradually, her vision began to clear. Her earlier panic and horror swept through her, followed by a tightly leashed fury.

While displaying a menacing smile, the man slowly lowered his zipper. He straightened and kicked her legs apart before stepping between them.

Amy’s breathing accelerated as the zipper stopped its rasping descent. As he tugged at her shorts, her brain finally kicked into gear with the realization that rape was the least that could happen. This might be a fight for her life. Sudden, crippling pain in her eye stopped her cold. Shit, she hadn’t even seen his fist coming. Throbbing traveled from her eye and radiated through her head. Everything began to go dark. Barely conscious, her shorts and underwear were now dangling around one leg. All she could focus on were her shoes being hiked into the air on either side of the man’s hips. She almost laughed at the picture they presented though a lone tear trailed down her face. Just before her world completely faded, another man appeared out of thin air. Her attacker was jerked away and suspended in the air by his neck. A few minutes later he was thrown across the alley. The