Chapter One
Blake Ashen dried a shot glass as he glanced around the ski resort lounge which was strategically situated in the valley between two towering Canadian mountains. He placed the glass on the rack and reached for another while he catalogued the room and took in the perfect little patrons with their perfect little smiles and their perfect outfits and matching accessories. Even though outwardly the resort looked like a dream vacation destination specifically designed for the rich and bored, Blake instinctively knew there was a hell of a lot more going on in the resort than met the eye. Damn if he didn’t plan to get to the bottom of matters.
He swallowed as he turned his focus to his own clothes and the crisp tailored work shirt and pleated dress pants that made him feel about as comfortable as a Saint Bernard on a Maui beach. Despite playing the part, and fitting the image associated with the resort’s refined, upper-crust bartender, Blake would be the first to admit that he was far from perfect, but still, he had his pride.
And since swallowing that pride wasn’t normally his thing, he’d found himself in trouble a time or two. Captured in the crosshairs, despite his rather…let’s just call them…unusual abilities. Then again, perhaps it was because of them.
Yeah, trouble and Blake were old friends. He had the scars to prove it. Some lacerations inflicted by the cops themselves, and others given by the convicts he’d been locked up with.
And they called Blake the monster.
But today was different. Today he was swallowing and he was swallowing hard. He had no choice in the matter. Especially if he wanted to find his twin sister alive. If that meant dressing the part and doing exactly what his boss told him to do—when he told him to do it—in order to prove his unequivocal loyalties, he’d shut up and do it without question. He hadn’t spent months getting close to Trevor Black, owner of the exclusive ski resort, in an attempt to discover what went on in his underground caverns only to let his explosive temper ruin everything. Cass and he only had each other and he wasn’t about to let anything stand in the way of finding her.
Not even his pride.
Bile rose in his throat and turned his stomach, a familiar reminder that this was all his fault. He hadn’t kept as close to Cass as he should have. After all, in this crazy fucked- up world they needed each other’s support for survival. She’d taken off a few years ago after their mother had died. Needed to find her place, she’d said. Heck, who was he to stop her? They all had their own demons to fight, so to speak. At first she’d called and checked in with him every few months, but he’d begun to worry when her calls suddenly stopped. Being her twin—not to mention their “abilities”—gave him a strong psychic connection to her. He could feel her emotions and catch fleeting images of her life in fast forward. It was those images that had warned of danger. That was when his hunt for her began.
The cops had never done a damn thing to help him in the past, so seeking their assistance was out. His own research and mental glimpses into her life had enabled him to track Cass to this ski resort hidden amidst the Canadian mountains, far away from civilization. With the retreat smack-dab in the middle of nowhere, it was the perfect spot for human monsters to hang out and go undetected as they engaged in every degenerate activity known to mankind.
Blake finished drying a glass and nodded to the twenty-something man who’d just stumbled up to the bar, his eyes a tad too glossy from the last double shot of whiskey that he’d downed in record time. Blake didn’t bother to sniff him. He already knew the guy was just a regular old red-blooded Canadian. No demon blood there. Not a drop.
Lucky bastard.
Not that any demons sidled up to his bar for a drink, however, especially in the light of day. They didn’t. Full-blooded demons could only come
Blake Ashen dried a shot glass as he glanced around the ski resort lounge which was strategically situated in the valley between two towering Canadian mountains. He placed the glass on the rack and reached for another while he catalogued the room and took in the perfect little patrons with their perfect little smiles and their perfect outfits and matching accessories. Even though outwardly the resort looked like a dream vacation destination specifically designed for the rich and bored, Blake instinctively knew there was a hell of a lot more going on in the resort than met the eye. Damn if he didn’t plan to get to the bottom of matters.
He swallowed as he turned his focus to his own clothes and the crisp tailored work shirt and pleated dress pants that made him feel about as comfortable as a Saint Bernard on a Maui beach. Despite playing the part, and fitting the image associated with the resort’s refined, upper-crust bartender, Blake would be the first to admit that he was far from perfect, but still, he had his pride.
And since swallowing that pride wasn’t normally his thing, he’d found himself in trouble a time or two. Captured in the crosshairs, despite his rather…let’s just call them…unusual abilities. Then again, perhaps it was because of them.
Yeah, trouble and Blake were old friends. He had the scars to prove it. Some lacerations inflicted by the cops themselves, and others given by the convicts he’d been locked up with.
And they called Blake the monster.
But today was different. Today he was swallowing and he was swallowing hard. He had no choice in the matter. Especially if he wanted to find his twin sister alive. If that meant dressing the part and doing exactly what his boss told him to do—when he told him to do it—in order to prove his unequivocal loyalties, he’d shut up and do it without question. He hadn’t spent months getting close to Trevor Black, owner of the exclusive ski resort, in an attempt to discover what went on in his underground caverns only to let his explosive temper ruin everything. Cass and he only had each other and he wasn’t about to let anything stand in the way of finding her.
Not even his pride.
Bile rose in his throat and turned his stomach, a familiar reminder that this was all his fault. He hadn’t kept as close to Cass as he should have. After all, in this crazy fucked- up world they needed each other’s support for survival. She’d taken off a few years ago after their mother had died. Needed to find her place, she’d said. Heck, who was he to stop her? They all had their own demons to fight, so to speak. At first she’d called and checked in with him every few months, but he’d begun to worry when her calls suddenly stopped. Being her twin—not to mention their “abilities”—gave him a strong psychic connection to her. He could feel her emotions and catch fleeting images of her life in fast forward. It was those images that had warned of danger. That was when his hunt for her began.
The cops had never done a damn thing to help him in the past, so seeking their assistance was out. His own research and mental glimpses into her life had enabled him to track Cass to this ski resort hidden amidst the Canadian mountains, far away from civilization. With the retreat smack-dab in the middle of nowhere, it was the perfect spot for human monsters to hang out and go undetected as they engaged in every degenerate activity known to mankind.
Blake finished drying a glass and nodded to the twenty-something man who’d just stumbled up to the bar, his eyes a tad too glossy from the last double shot of whiskey that he’d downed in record time. Blake didn’t bother to sniff him. He already knew the guy was just a regular old red-blooded Canadian. No demon blood there. Not a drop.
Lucky bastard.
Not that any demons sidled up to his bar for a drink, however, especially in the light of day. They didn’t. Full-blooded demons could only come
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