Marked for grace, p.1
Marked for Grace, page 1
Marked for Grace
K.C. HARPER
MARKED FOR GRACE
By
K.C. Harper
Copyright © 2023 K.C. Harper
Edited by Lisa Green
Cover Design by MiblArt.
All stock photos licensed appropriately.
Published in the United States by City Owl Press.
www.cityowlpress.com
For information on subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher at info@cityowlpress.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior consent and permission of the publisher.
Praise for K.C. Harper
“Marked for Grace was such a fast-paced, sexy read…the romance is a slow-burn steam-fest that I'm excited to follow through the series. Such a great debut!” — Regina Black, author of The Art of Scandal
“Gritty, intense, and clever, Marked for Grace is an immediately addictive, fresh spin in the paranormal romance genre. Just when you think you know where the story is going, it twists in unexpected directions and begs you to turn the page.” — Kristy Gardner, author of The Stars in Their Eyes
“The characters Harper builds and (emotionally) tortures continually stun me; reading feels more like living amongst them than simply observing from the distance of the page. I can't wait to start gifting this book to every book lover I know for birthdays and holidays.” — Eve, Ink Stains on My Sheets
“Harper delivers a unique, spell-binding story that blurs the lines of good and evil, right from wrong. There were twists and turns along the way seamlessly interwoven with romance and battles that kept me reading page after page, chapter after chapter.” — Jennifer Thé, gothic horror author
Contents
Author’s Note
Find Your Next Read
Want More City Owl Press Books?
1. Grace
2. Grace
3. Ben
4. Gideon
5. Grace
6. Grace
7. Thirty-Seven
8. Grace
9. Grace
10. Ben
11. Grace
12. Grace
13. Grace
14. Grace
15. Grace
16. Grace
17. Grace
18. Grace
19. Grace
20. Thirty-Seven
21. Gideon
22. Grace
23. Grace
24. Grace
25. Ben
26. Grace
27. Grace
28. Thirty-Seven
29. Grace
30. Grace
31. Ben
32. Grace
33. Thirty-Seven
34. Grace
35. Gideon
36. Gideon
37. Grace
38. Rodan
39. Grace
Sneak Peek of Foul is Fair
Find Your Next Read
Want More City Owl Press Books?
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Publisher
Additional Titles
For Nana.
Author’s Note
I cannot thank you enough for picking this book up. It’s my intention for people to feel safe when reading, and for that reason, I’ve included a list of content warnings which are available on my website: https://kcharper.com/content-info
If you have any concerns about the content in this book, please be sure to check this page out first. Thank you again and happy reading!
Don’t miss the next book in The Marked series coming soon, and find more from K.C. Harper at www.kcharper.com
Until then, discover FOUL IS FAIR, by City Owl Author, Elisse Hay!
I like my monsters like my coffee—strong, hot, and not trying to kill me.
I’m done with hunting down supernatural criminals. Fighting for my life everyday gets old. So, career change. Social worker for supernaturals is a way to use my skills in a no risk environment. Right?
Wrong.
It turns out the last witch in my role was slaughtered by a lycanthrope—and the prime suspect is my client who happens to be pure, forbidden deliciousness. Totally irrelevant. I get paid to support the vulnerable, not lust after them. Or assume they’re guilty unless proven innocent.
But the cops are outgunned. The wizards are morally bankrupt. And the lycans are concealing information.
There’s someone powerful, clever, and armed with inside knowledge who’s getting rich running drugs. Someone lurking behind a network of faeries and lycanthropes. Someone corrupt enough to kill to keep their secrets.
I’m a witch. I’m not going down without a fight.
GET IT NOW!
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Chapter 1
Grace
It was one thing to stare at the dead, another entirely when they stared back.
Grace was seated in the cold, red pleather booth of a small cafe adjacent to the hospital where she worked. She twisted her long umber-colored hair around her finger as the thump of her heart rivaled the wailing sirens from an ambulance parked nearby.
Canting her head, she peered through her reflection in the window to her right. Blood coated the sun-lit sidewalk across the street, dripping from a man’s hand where it hung from the gurney. His translucent soul hovered near the emergency entrance, its unblinking stare fixed on her. It didn’t speak, didn’t move. Nothing. Just existed.
Someone dropped into the seat across from her and she jumped. “You scared me to death, Noah,” she said to her best friend and roommate.
He frowned. “Not sure why since you invited me here.”
She waved a flippant hand. The vanilla and burnt coffee aroma dominated her senses while steam from an espresso machine behind the counter shot into the air.
Removing his gray parka, Noah hung it from a hook beside the table. “When did you get here?”
“A few minutes ago, so I can’t stay long. My break is almost over.” Her gaze drifted to the familiar, rippling glow of the two gold cuffs embedded along the soul’s right arm, but whether they were a gift or a sanction, she didn’t know.
She wanted to look away, but the dead commanded her attention like lightning striking down beside her. Even four years after her Sight appeared, their presence still affected her. No, they affected her more. It wasn’t that she feared them, but she feared what they meant.
Lights from the ambulance painted the snow, the building, and everything else in the vicinity with a chaotic, staccato spray of red and white. The paramedics performed CPR on the too pale man while they wheeled him inside, but their efforts were for naught. He was well beyond saving.
Noah was midway through placing the lunch Grace had forgotten—and would desperately need before her shift was done—on the table when her hand shot out, snapping it from his grasp. She clutched it to her chest like a desperate lover. “You’re a lifesaver.”
The lines of his olive-toned skin creased when he laughed. “Easy, Gracie. I’d like to keep my arm.”
“You assumed the risks when you agreed to bring my food, delivery boy. You know my hunger’s an emotion.”
“A dangerous one.”
She offered a sharp nod before her attention returned to the soul. Its expression flat, unsmiling. It didn’t look happy. Didn’t look sad or scared. Didn’t look anything. Like all the others she’d seen, it bore no signs of emotion, and she wondered if it had any awareness at all.
Noah followed her line of sight. “What is it?”
Her mouth ran dry. “One of them.”
He looked away and shuddered.
“Pfft,” she scoffed. “I don’t know why they bother you. It’s not like you can see them.”
His honey-brown eyes settled on her. “That almost makes it worse. I hate knowing they’re there.”
She ran her palm over her baby blue scrub pants, smoothing the material again and again, thankful she had at least one person who knew her truth and believed her. “And yet you always ask about them.”
“Because that,” he flourished his hand toward her face, “is impossible to ignore.”
She snickered.
He peered in the soul’s general direction again. “Does it have any of the markings?”
“Just two.”
His lips pursed. “I wish we knew what they meant.”
“You’re telling me.” She curled the sleeve of her wool coat in her grasp, exposing the fair skin of her wrist. On some messed-up level, she figured becoming a nurse would make it easier. Like being around the dead would either give her answers or force her skin to thicken. Neither had happened. If anything, the oppressive questions had only grown deeper, more unnerving—worse. Her leg bounced under the table. “They have to mean somet
He flicked the side of his menu with a finger. “If that’s true, logic dictates someone was meant to see them.”
Her stomach torqued into a knot she wasn’t sure could ever be undone because if he was right, then she had a purpose. But if he was wrong… “What if I’m losing my mind, Noah? What if this has all been in my head?”
“Don’t go there.”
She threw her hands up. “How can I not? If anyone at work finds out, I’ll be deemed unfit to practice. I’ll lose everything, my nursing license, my career,” her voice hitched, “the house.”
“You’re not losing your mind, you’re just upset because you’re hungry, now take a breath, Gracie.”
She did, sucking in deep and slow, then followed that one by another and another. “I can’t tell anyone without risking everything, but then if I don’t, I’ll never find answers.” And the idea of going through life without those explanations, knowing she was alone in this was more painful than she cared to admit.
Noah’s gaze pinched at the corners as he reached across the table and gently squeezed her forearm. “It’s too bad they don’t share it with you.”
“That might be difficult when they don’t speak.”
His brow furrowed. “You know what I mean, smartass.”
She released an explosive exhale as a small smile tugged her lip. He always knew what to say to smother her wildfires. Withdrawing her arm, she gave him a spirited pat on the head. “You’d think I’d be used to them by now.”
“I think there are some things we can never get used to,” he replied, fixing the hair she’d mussed. “We could scour the internet again. There might be something new.”
Sweet lord, anything but that! Her eyes rolled so aggressively it hurt. “And maybe while we’re at it, we could join one of those ghost hunter’s clubs.”
“I’m fairly confident you’re mocking me.”
She offered him a tooth-baring grin while a raucous group of teenagers guffawed at one another across the café.
“Why are we friends again?”
Grace smacked his elbow. “Because I’m so lovable.”
“Clearly,” he grumbled as he rubbed his wound, then straightened. “Oh! Did you get my email?”
She fidgeted while the sharp scent of burnt toast filled her senses. “I haven’t had a chance to check it yet. Why?”
“Some real estate lawyer named Gerald Martin came by. He’s representing this company, G.R. Incorporated. They’re considering building a business development in the area and are inquiring with homeowners about selling their properties. He left me his card and a bunch of documents. I sent pictures of both for you.”
She pulled her phone from her coat pocket then brought up the file and scrolled down, eyes flying wide when they landed on the offer amount. “Holy crap!” Her brows climbed so high on her forehead it was a wonder they didn’t slip free because the proposal was well above market value.
“That’s what I thought. It’d more than cover the remaining mortgage debt.”
Grace chewed the inside of her cheek as a waitress shimmied by, a tray of steaming drinks in hand. She shook her head and closed the message. “It doesn’t matter how good the offer is, some things are more important than money. That house was Mom’s.” Her vision blurred when she fought back the tears stinging her eyes, the conversation an excruciating reminder of the night her mother died—a blood and agony-filled night she refused to think about.
Noah cleared his throat and looked away. “You’re still good for your graduation lunch tomorrow?”
Heat flooded her body as she blinked her sight clean. “Everyone knows I graduated two months ago, right?”
“They sure do, but that’s what you get when you have friends who do shift-work.”
“Disorganized planning?”
He snickered. “Exactly!”
A series of piercing sirens drew closer, reverberating off the buildings and amplifying the sound. Her head snapped toward them. Several ambulances whipped into the hospital’s lot accompanied by a slew of Arillia City Police vehicles. The hospital’s P.A. system crackled, the announcement muffled from inside the restaurant.
She scrambled out of the booth, snapping to her feet. “I’ve gotta go.”
Noah’s voice was lost in the cacophony as she bolted from the café, aiming for the entrance of the E.R. A car whipped across her path, and she jolted to a stop. It passed so close its wind snapped her clothes. Her heart lurched when the distinct cry of metal-on-metal filled the world as the vehicle side-swiped one of the ambulances. Its tires screeched before it crashed to a halt and smashed into a concrete garbage can. Glass exploded from the windshield, tinkling across the ice-covered ground like freshly fallen snow.
A bloodied man exited and took three steps before dropping to his knees. His hands were clasped over his stomach like they could hold back the torrent of blood that leaked between his fingers. His shoulders heaved from his labored breathing. He was pale. Too pale.
Help, he mouthed.
Grace made for him and threw his arm over her shoulder, taking as much of his weight as she could. Her teeth clenched from her effort while she guided him toward the doors. The first wave of paramedics burst from their vehicles, rushing past with their bloodied patients, each of which was escorted by an officer and cuffed to their gurneys.
The distinct scent of copper saturated the air, heavy and clawing. It burned her throat like a sharp mineral acid and made her voice thick when she called, “What happened?”
“Gunshot wounds,” one of the paramedics said.
“Bar brawl,” an officer added, hand on her gun, eyes trained on the patient she followed.
Grace swallowed hard as Angie the Charge Nurse pushed outside, barking orders when she pointed to one of the lesser wounded men. “Get him to E.R. room four. Move that car out of the way and for the love of all that’s holy, turn those damn sirens off!”
One of the prisoner-patients with a jagged gash across his cheek offered Grace an air kiss. “Hey there, blue eyes. You can take care of me if you want.”
A poisonous shiver prowled across her skin. “That’s Nurse Crawford to you. And you’ll be dealt with when your friends stop bleeding.”
The man she helped stumbled. She held tight but his momentum was too much. “He’s going down,” she warned. Several people lunged to catch him, too late. He collapsed, grunting when he landed hard. His hands dropped limp by his sides and his eyes rolled back in his head before they fell shut. Blood slithered from his slack mouth, crawling across his jaw like a life-stealing snake.
Grace cursed when she knelt by his side, searching for a pulse, and finding none. Setting her palms on his chest, she started compressions. “I need help over here!”
Dr. Rodan Brookes, a man in his late twenties, crouched across from her. His long-sleeved white lab coat skirted the ground while his keen, hazel stare took in the scene. He pressed his blue latex-gloved hands over the man’s wound.
“He’s lost a lot of blood,” Grace told him. Her shoulders and back ached from her efforts while the chill from the wintery ground seeped into her skin, taking root in her bones. Come on. Don’t die on me. Come. On!
