Fatal Fugue (The Deadlier Sex Book 1)

By: Maelani

The Deadlier Sex Series Book One

Chapter One





“Dammit,” Hayley whispered, “just dammit!”

She stood over the body, staring down with sheer horror. He’s dead! Shit, shit, shit! was all she could think. The fucker was dead, and there was no mistaking it. The man at her feet had once been beautiful, hot even, she thought. His bare chest was packed with muscle, and his exposed abdomen was tight and rippling with a hard eight-pack. Her fingers dripped a thick scarlet substance that landed on the stone floor next to his face. His jaw was a sculpted masterpiece, and covered by a fine layer of stubble. Dark, disheveled hair danced over the tan skin of his face. His still, grey eyes stared up at nothing and told her there was no more life left in him. That, and the three-foot piece of twisted, jagged steel jutting out from under his rib cage. The half-inch thick pool of blood beneath him was another giveaway.

Hayley took in every detail carefully, desperately trying to coax her mind into processing the information. She was close to overload and didn’t know what to do next. The man’s naked torso ended in a pair of very faded blue jeans. They were unbuttoned, giving her the clue she needed that this was no ordinary encounter. They should’ve been buttoned all the way up to the fly where an ornate belt buckle connected a thick leather belt, but they weren’t. The cuffs lay limp against a pair of black leather motorcycle boots. Not that she was an expert on boots, but she saw the telltale orange bar-and-shield logo denoting Harley-Davidson emblazoned on the side of them.

One of his hands was still gripping a short length of black nylon cord, maybe thirty inches of it, she thought. The other hand lay open and limp against the dark grey stone. Stone. Where was she anyway?

“Fuck!” she cursed and kicked the man in the thigh. This was a rude awakening if anything and there was no way in hell the guy had any good intentions with the way things appeared. Nevertheless, no one deserved to die. Right?

Hayley’s feet were bare, and she registered the cold of the ground beneath them. She glanced around her. It was dark but not entirely. She was in a long chamber of some sort, made out of carved stone. Am I in a cave? She slowly took inventory of her own person.

On her bare legs she could see deep red marks on her calves and thighs, fresh bruises from something, but what? Her bare thighs came together in a pair of polka-dotted boy-short panties that rode up high onto her thin hips and waist. She was near naked, and a sticky, almost stiff black camisole covered her torso, reminding her that it was cold down here. She began shivering and lifted her left hand to pinch a bit of the black fabric. Her fingers stuck to it for a moment reminding her of the way a sticky jar of jam felt. Those fingers came away covered with a tacky, dark red substance. She lifted her right hand in front of her eyes, feeling faint yet strangely calm.

This is a real problem, she thought.

A dull, fiery ache radiating up her right arm made her look down to find it also drenched in congealing blood. She spread open her palm, revealing a deep, angry gash along the length of her forearm and into her hand. She couldn’t see the bone but knew this wound would require medical attention. The laceration oozed blood but could not account for all of the dark stain covering her arm. She’d have to wrap it with something clean and sew it up herself.

Nervously, she squatted down near the slain man to examine the piece of metal protruding from his abdomen without touching it. It was a roughly t-shaped piece of steel, and to Hayley it looked like something that might be used in the walls of a big building. Only this metal was twisted and serrated and sharpened. The edges looked like they had been torn from a larger piece, leaving this lethal length behind. Hayley studied the gash on her palm with a queasiness building in her stomach. She reached her shaking, bloody hand out and placed it over the sharp metal, then jerked it back.

“Oh, shit,” she murmured, her breaths starting to quicken. The wound on her hand matched the sharp edge of the metal spear perfectly. She had stabbed this man.

I killed him.

“Oh, no,” she said and started to back away. “No, no.” She continued crawling away until her spine found the damp, stone wall behind her. Frightened tears rolled down her face, wetting her cheeks in streaks. She had killed that man. She should run for help.

No. She’d be charged, blamed for his demise. No way in hell would she let that happen. She couldn’t remember what happened and that wouldn’t help her cause any. Her eyes darted around nervously, realizing that she didn’t know where she was.

Where the fuck am I? Who is this man? Why did I kill him?

Then her mind stumbled onto something even more frightening….

“Who am I?”





Chapter Two





Sex, drugs, money and power. It was all hers, and she knew it. All hers to use and abuse.

In her bed, Hayley looked around the decadent room. It was designer everything. Nothing but the best would do for her.

“Here, baby, try this.” She turned to find a man with lightly tanned skin and corded, rippled muscles sitting naked next to her in bed. He held out a small wafer, coaxing her to take it. She’d had some of these before but wondered if she wanted to take any more.

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