The Acceptance
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
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
Teaser chapter
Praise for SERVANT: THE AWAKENING
“The first book in a new series, The Awakening features a unique heroine, a wonderful hero, and a likable sidekick . . . The gritty, atmospheric inner-city setting, graphic violence, and raw language are perfect for a story that unfolds, scene by scene, like a graphic novel and cries out to be graphic-novelized en route to the movies. May this be just the first in a long series.” —Booklist (starred review)
“A new name and an enticing new series propel Lori Foster into an exciting new direction . . . Servant: The Awakening practically blew me away . . . [It’s] brash, darkly edgy, and insightful. And all grown up. Kudos to Ms. Foster for this fascinating, utterly unique fantasy.” —Romance Reader at Heart
“Fascinating . . . a new twist on demon slaying.”
—Fresh Fiction
“With Servant: The Awakening, L. L. Foster shows she has a true gift for writing dark urban fantasy . . . The Servant series will be addictive.” —The Romance Readers Connection
“Brilliant . . . The tone, intensity, and sheer grittiness of this book is awesome. I think Ms. Foster was channeling early Anita Blake, Eve Dallas, and a dash of J. R. Ward . . . A great intro to a series that I will be following religiously!”
—Night Owl Romance
“Dark, gritty, raw . . . urban fantasy at its finest . . . As can be expected from the darker alter ego of Lori Foster, L. L. Foster delivers characters that are engaging yet in your face . . . This looks to be the beginning of a really great series. Get your copy today and get in on the ground floor.”
—Love Romances & More
“Entertaining paranormal romantic suspense that grips readers . . . Romantic fantasy readers and fans of Buffy and the movie They Live will want to read the first tale in the human war against demons.” —Midwest Book Review
Titles by Lori Foster
THE WINSTON BROTHERS
WILD
CAUSING HAVOC
SIMON SAYS
HARD TO HANDLE
Anthology
WILDLY WINSTON
Writing as L. L. Foster
SERVANT: THE AWAKENING
SERVANT: THE ACCEPTANCE
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
SERVANT: THE ACCEPTANCE
A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Jove mass-market edition / September 2008
Copyright © 2008 by Lori Foster.
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Prologue
Boredom was her newest enemy, and since running off from Luther—make that Detective Luther Cross—she’d been bored more than not.
Until now, she hadn’t realized how much . . . excitement he’d brought to her life. You’d think a paladin would have her hands full enough that a nosy cop bent on seduction would have been mostly an annoyance, perhaps even a threat.
Instead, he’d been fucking wonderful. The most wonderful thing to ever happen in her miserable, cursed life.
Shit. Gaby walked along the broken concrete walkway in front of the aged, blackened building until that bored her too, then she leaned back against the rough brick, trying to ease her mind, her body.
Her soul.
Hanging out with hookers was a distraction, but it just didn’t fill the space the way he had.
She needed something to happen, anything, to keep her from . . . Whoa. Just then, her instinct kicked and she felt the presence of evil, in her bones, in her guts. Her throat burned, she looked up—and she saw him.
A kid.
Clean-cut and unafraid.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
The defenses screaming silently throughout her body said that he was the wrong person, in the wrong place—and there could be nothing right about his presence here tonight. Pickled with immorality, riddled with holes of depravity, his black aura clung to him like a wet cloak.
He sickened Gaby.
He challenged her.
And it didn’t matter to her if he was ten or fifty.
Evil was evil.
Tonight, her boredom would end.
Chapter 1
Standing deep in the shadows of a tall brick building to avoid the glow of a streetlamp, Detective Luther Cross clenched his teeth together. Off duty, but determined, he stared down the sidewalk a good ten yards ahead. His eyes burned and his fury built. Even from that distance, with the moon high in the sky casting eerie shadows over the bleak surroundings, he recognized her.
Gabrielle Cody.
The bane of his existence.
The source of ni
ghtmares—and scorching-hot erotic dreams.
Her long thin legs, sleek and toned with muscles, showed beneath a denim miniskirt. Black leather ankle boots replaced her familiar flip-flop sandals, and a loose tank top revealed the outline of the sheath at her back.
Her short dark hair now had vivid purple streaks throughout.
She’d disguised herself in her idea of a whore’s garb, but Luther would know that stance, feel that cocky attitude, no matter her outward appearance.
For weeks he’d hunted her, lost sleep over her, worried and ruminated and raged . . . and there she stood, appearing as aloof and untouchable as ever.
Alone.
Deliberately distant.
Taunting him without even trying.
Unsure exactly what he’d say or do, Luther started forward. With her keen perception of her surroundings, Gaby might have picked up on his approach. Very little ever got by her.
But at that moment, a young, lanky boy, maybe twelve or thirteen years of age, came out of an alley. Blond hair showed from beneath a pristine ball cap. Dressed in clean jeans and a button-up shirt, a school-type backpack hooked over his thin shoulders, he bore no resemblance to the homeless or desperate runaways that often choked the crowded streets.
He didn’t appear the least shy or reserved about being out of place in the area.
Gaze unflinching, he perused the crumbling building that Gaby protected, sizing it up for some purpose that Luther couldn’t fathom.
Gaby focused on the boy.
And when Gaby focused, it was something awesome to witness.
She went rigid, her long bones gathering in defense as she straightened away from the building, then immediately relaxed in the deceptive way appropriate to natural-born combatants.
Not a good sign.
Gaby could attack without warning or mercy, fight with a frighteningly lethal skill, and her motives remained more elusive than a whispery phantom.
Luther knew this, and accepted it.
But why did the boy interest her?
Forgoing his own disgruntlement for the moment, Luther picked up his pace to reach her, to protect the kid from whatever Gaby had planned for him—but not in enough time.
The boy saw Luther and, for reasons of his own, bolted.
Like an animal of prey, Gaby saw his retreat as just cause to launch a pursuit.
Shit.
They darted around a dark corner, disappeared into the blackness of the night, and Luther, not being a complete idiot, slowed and pulled his gun.
He wouldn’t shoot Gaby.
But then again, he wouldn’t walk into a trap either.
He wanted her, but he didn’t trust her. Not anymore.
Maybe he never had.
Using necessary caution, he slunk into the narrow, muculent alley, closing his mind to the festering odors and willing his eyes to adjust to the extreme lack of light.
At the far end, he saw movement and slipped farther inside. Finally, with careful scrutiny, he spied Gaby. That long, lethal blade of hers was held tightly in her hand as she slowly pushed open a broken door.
Heart pounding, adrenaline rushing, Luther steadied his hands and his thoughts. “Not another step, Gaby.”
Other than a slight stiffening of her tender neck, she made no acknowledgment of him.
All her fervid scrutiny remained intent on whatever she saw beyond that door. Even from the back, in the murky gloom of the odorous alley, Luther noted the changes in her face, the tightening and subtle reshaping of her features that signaled her sense of threat.
He also noted the choker around her slender throat. The choker he’d given her.
No. He would not go down this road with her again—not without some explanations, not without him being in control.
He tightened his mouth, his heart, and deliberately attempted to breech her concentration. “Gaby.”
He wasn’t surprised that she didn’t look toward him; knowing her as he did, he wasn’t even certain if she’d heard him. In the past, during a rainstorm and times of danger, he’d witnessed Gaby going into a zone, oblivious to everyone and everything around her until an almost trancelike state enclosed her.
Unwilling to lose her again, even emotionally, he caught his breath, inched closer, and said in a harder, deeper voice, “Gaby, you will listen to me.”
By minute degrees, she exposed her awareness of him. It showed in the faint relaxing of her strong, proud shoulders, the ebbing of her immense tension.
Without altering her attention, she warned, “It’s not a good time, Luther.”
Not a good time. Ha! But just hearing her voice reassured and pleased him. Despite the current situation, his pulse slowed, calmed. “That’s too bad.” He flexed his fingers around the gun, pleased to feel somewhat in control. “Put the knife down—and your arms up.”
As she mulled over his order, her jaw worked. She must have decided to give in to him, because she eased back the tiniest bit—
Something shattered inside the abandoned structure, and Gaby, realizing her prey had found an alternate way out, slammed the door with absurd force.
“Son of a bitch.” In a rage ripened by frustration, she rounded on Luther. “You let him get away!”
Somewhat used to her and her odd manners and coarse language, Luther feigned a negligent attitude and asked, “Him who?”
Now that she faced him, Luther saw that some anomalous emotion had manifested itself in her physical appearance. She looked like Gaby, but then again, she didn’t.
He’d seen the odd transformation with her before. Like a quick slithering chameleon, she changed and shifted, her appearance altered subtly, almost imperceptibly. Luther had always been so strangely attuned to her that he picked up on it when, perhaps, others didn’t.
Was it a phenomenon left over from her childhood? Some strange illness that plagued her? Or was it just Gaby, as extraordinarily different as she was appealing?
Storming toward him, the knife squeezed in her grip and her pale eyes glittering, Gaby curled her lip. “Now that you blundered in, there’s no way for us to know who he is, is there?”
“That’s close enough,” Luther warned her. With Gaby, he was never entirely certain of her intent, of just how far she’d carry her anger in a physical response.
Disregarding his command, she crowded right up to him, nose to nose, hot breath mingling. “Is it?”
Jesus, he’d missed her ballsy bravado and brash disregard for common civility. He wanted to crush her closer, wanted to tell her . . . what?
What was it about her that drew him? Yes, she was different, but it was more than that. He wanted her—in a lot of ways inappropriate to his position as a police detective—to satisfy his suspicions about her involvement in a past case involving the sick slaughter of human beings.
He prayed that Gaby had no part in that. He had no real evidence against her. But he had those gut feelings, almost as staggering as his freakishly strong desire for her.
If he believed in such things, he’d think she’d put a spell on him, one meant to keep him awake at nights, and weary during the day, plagued by the memory of her and the confusion she wrought.
But while he couldn’t label Gaby, he knew she wasn’t a witch. She was too soft to the touch, too vulnerable despite her harsh attitudes, and much, much too alone.
In their current position, the barrel of his gun pressed into her bony sternum. That bothered him, whether she paid any notice or not. Grinding his molars together, Luther rasped, “Put. The knife. Away.”
Blue eyes sparking, Gaby scrutinized him. “Ah, what’s the matter, cop? You afraid of me now?”
Her sneer deliberately provoked—but she did reach around behind herself and sheath the lethal blade with an alarmingly practiced ease. As she did so, her small breasts pushed against the skimpy tank top.
The hidden dangers of the moment had tightened her nipples.
Despite what he knew to be right, to be sane, the sight of her femaleness,
so incongruous with her balls-to-the-wall attitude, drew his attention and sent a fire to sear through his veins.
Anger and lust—it could prove a deadly combination, especially with a woman like Gaby.
A woman like no other.
Scraps of moonlight danced among the purple highlights in her hair. A light sheen of sweat touched her pale, smooth skin.
Her impossibly stubborn chin lifted.
And she smiled. “I won’t gut you, Luther.”
“Good to know.”
Slim brows burrowed down, giving her otherwise plain features a hint of threat. “Not,” she murmured low, “without reason.”
Since seeing her, Luther rode the edge of fury, and now that the knife didn’t pose a threat, he grabbed both her wrists and slammed her up against the brick wall. The gun he still held pressed into her tender flesh, but he couldn’t temper himself, couldn’t rein in his rage or take the time to holster the weapon, couldn’t reason with her or . . . anything.
Chest to chest, thick anger undulating between them, he sought words that would somehow convey all he felt—the resentment and relief, the concern and . . .
Fuck.
So much more.
Ignorant of his mental struggle, Gaby looked at his mouth. “How’d you find me, anyway?” She licked her lips, slow and sweet. “I’ve been quiet. I’ve been good.”
Luther couldn’t dredge up a single word.
At his lack of response, her gaze crawled up to his, challenging him and scorching him at the same time. “You know, Luther, I figured on never seeing you again.”
That notion didn’t seem to distress her at all. Luther wondered if his teeth would turn to dust, given how he ground them together.