Fallen Veil

  The Gods’ Rebirth: Book One

  Author: D. R. Rosier

  Copyright 2023. This is a work of fiction. Names, Characters, Places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  Afterword:

  About the Author

  Other erotic fantasies by D. R. Rosier:

  Non-erotic Fantasy titles:

  Book Description

  Prologue

  She pushed, a primordial scream escaping her mouth as the long contraction passed. The dual beeping of the monitor, one for her and a slightly faster one for her unborn child, was a touchstone for her exhausted and pain addled mind.

  She should’ve gotten the epidural, but she’d wanted a natural experience. Well, she’d never make that mistake again, and tried not to glare at her husband for allowing her such stupidity.

  The doctor encouraged, “Just one more push, Evelyn. Don’t forget to breathe.”

  She had no compunctions about glaring at the doctor, even as she started to breathe through the pain.

  Her whole body locked up and shook, and she wanted to rip the doctor’s head off when he told her to push. She was pushing, damnit. It was going to be magical, they said.

  Then she collapsed into the bed sodden with sweat and tears, and she felt faint as she heard the cries of her newborn child.

  The doctor said, “Congratulations, it’s a boy.”

  Calvin Washington, known as slash to his friends, because his real name lacked the coolness and street cred factor, lurked in a Chicago alley. It was dark, and close to three in the morning when his opportunity came along. A young woman, walking alone on the streets of the city, was just asking to get mugged and raped after all. He needed to teach her that lesson, and he needed cash for his next drug fix anyway.

  He stepped out of the alley and into her way, and her eyes widened.

  Then they turned red, burning from within, and she said, “Get in the alley, I’m thirsty.”

  He nodded like a zombie, and he moved into the alley to become the sexy vampire’s snack. Nothing unusual about that, it was hardly the first time she’d fed on him either, and he wouldn’t remember it when ordered to forget, but what was unusual is the CCTV system caught it all on camera.

  Stacy cried out in pleasure, Nate’s cock driving into her powerfully over and over again, sending paroxysms of pleasure through her body she’d scarce felt before. Her hot flesh clenching mightily around his gloriously fat and long cock as she came for him. It was the best fuck she’d ever had, his stamina was endless, and she’d lost count of the orgasms she’d had around his gorgeous cock. She even thought that she might’ve passed out a few seconds once or twice from the intensity of it.

  All her friends had warned her that Nate didn’t date. He just enjoyed the school sluts, and she should stay away from him, but she couldn’t help herself. They’d said he belonged to some cultish group right outside of the main village of the town, living in a house with multiple families, and he wasn’t allowed to date anyone from school. But… he was dreamy, hugely muscled, tall, and commanding. His presence always made her warm inside, and when she’d put up the flags, he’d quickly jumped at the chance to take her out.

  She’d told herself that it would be different for her. That the popular blonde cheerleader would be the one to land this gorgeous man. They’d also been right that he could fuck. He was an absolute animal in bed, so commanding as he pounded her tight eighteen-year-old pussy so forcefully, sending amazing waves of pleasure howling through her. No doubt in his gorgeous eyes, and that he knew a real woman liked it a little rough and demanding.

  She lowered her head, her body coming down from the masterful orgasm, and she looked up into his dark brown eyes with a thrilled and pleasure-addled gaze.

  Except, they weren’t dark brown, not anymore. They were golden, and they seemed to glow from within like a cat’s eyes. They were intense, animalistic, and he didn’t feel commanding anymore. He felt like a hunter, and like she was his prey. The sense of his presence so much more than it was, touching on the primitive fight or flight instincts in the back of her brain.

  She screamed, and for the first time of the night, not in a good way...

  Jake grumbled as he switched on his flashlight and opened the tent. It was three in the damned morning for goodness sake. He wondered if he should look into seeing a urologist, he hated not being able to sleep through the night any longer. At least he wasn’t going to be annoying Daisy this time, his wife was back home, didn’t like the hunting.

  The moon was up, but that wasn’t much help with the thick boughs above as he moved out the camping site and into the thick trees.

  He stopped and stared, not even sure what he was staring at. It looked like a tree with a trunk wider than his above-ground pool. No, wider than his damned house. He frowned, and he started walking toward it, wondering if it was the poor light or his head filled with the sand of sleep that was making him see things.

  But the adrenaline was clearing his head, and the view hadn’t changed. There were vines on the tree, all budding in different colors, and as he ran the flashlight up the trunk the boughs of the tree were so high that he felt dizzy trying to see the top of it.

  When he looked back down at the base of the tree, he saw movement in the trees above him. He frowned as he aimed the flashlight at one of them. She was young, nineteen or so. Platinum blonde, gorgeous purple eyes that had to be contacts. Her ears were… pointed?

  Her voice was melodic, “You can see me?”

  Jake nodded, “I can. Are ya supposed to be invisible girly?” he asked in a teasing voice.

  She replied, “Yes, I am. This… isn’t good,” then flipped out of the tree and landed before him. As graceful as any gymnast dismount in the Olympics, but he was shocked because she’d been too high. The fall should’ve broken her legs.

  She was quite lovely of face, though he preferred a woman with more curves, but her divine face almost made up for the tiny tits and understated curves.

  Then he felt eyes on him, from all around.

  He said, “Well, I’ll just be going, nature calls and all that.”

  She grimaced, “Not good at all.”

  Sherriff Carl Green groaned as the call came in. Something about lights and UFOs, which was ridiculous. Except the calls were coming in from several people around town, who’d been woken up by the flashing lights above Jackson Park. He reluctantly killed the Netflix tab on his browser, and he put his feet down. Damn near three-thirty in the morning, the nightshift was usually a quiet time at the station in the small town.

  The show was at a good part too, and while duty called he still regretted having to put it down.

  He checked his gun, not that he’d ever needed to fire it once, in the last twenty years. Then headed out and got in the police pickup. It purred as he started it up and put it into drive. He saw flashes in the sky, and he hit the gas as he turned on his own lights. No one was on the street, and he’d never seen lights move like that before.

  He pulled over, the ass of his truck still sticking into the street as he left the engine running, hopped out, and moved into the park. There was a running path, benches, and a pond in a large field, and beyond that the tree line. That’s where the lights were over, so he moved that way at a fast walk, even as he wondered if it could be aliens, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to put that in the report.

  Even if it was.

  He started to hear chanting, several women by the tone of the voices, and he slowed and moved carefully. Not sure what the hell he was walking into as he made his way to the edge of a small meadow.

  Thirteen women stood in a circle chanting. He recognized a few of them right off, including Catherine Eckles who he dated for two years in high school. He fondly remembered the fact she could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch, and she was still looking damned good twenty years later. Brianna Marks, Terry Cavanaugh, and Violet Carnes were also there, the others he didn’t recognize.

  They were all standing in a circle around a stone altar, covered with what looked like herbs, minerals, and flowers. It was really bizarre.

  Also, not where the exploding lights were coming from.

  Six of their daughters, ranging from ten to fourteen were sitting off to the side and giggling. They were also muttering under their breaths, one at a time, and sending the exploding multi-colored lights into the sky.

  So… witches. Little witches playing, while their mothers were doing more serious magic.

  Carl imagined the conversation with the judge. No, your honor, I was not drinking. No, your honor, I did not lose my mind.

  He cleared his throat.

  They all looked his way, and Catherine said in shock, “Carl? What the hell are you doing here?”

  She didn’t even look
worried, as if she thought he wouldn’t notice what they were doing. Like she was trying to play it off.

  Carl shot back, “Your kids are waking up the whole damned neighborhood. I’m also fairly sure there’re still laws about practicing witchcraft on the books,” he added in a bemused voice.

  Their faces drained of blood, and Catherine asked in shock, “They can see the light show?”

  He grumbled, “How could anyone miss it?”

  Catherine looked back at him helplessly, her eyes widening in fear.

  It was a night that the world would never forget, as evidence of vampires, shifters, witches, and fae were found all across the Earth, and that proof started to pile up so quickly there was just no denying the truth. Supernaturals were real.

  The supernaturals were equally concerned and confused. The magical veil the gods had set millennia ago to blind mortal eyes to anything but the mundane had fallen. They were exposed, and the normal humans of which there were billions to their hundreds of thousands, weren’t taking it well.

  At least, not at first. The riots and violence were bad at first, law enforcement not trained for supernatural beings tended to shoot first and ask questions later, and the government rounded up some to run experiments.

  It was a dark year, and supernaturals weren’t the only ones that fell.

  But eventually, the populations got used to it, shrugged, and got on with their lives. Supernaturals were not accepted, not fully, but the government did hire a few to combat the bad ones. The witches benefited the most, as their magic was suited to enchanting cuffs, finding missing persons, and even finding killers and fugitives.

  The humans didn’t care about the one thing that the supernaturals very much did.

  Where were the gods, and why did the veil fall?

  It would be a long time, before some births that night, all the children born just after two in the morning, would be connected to that event.

  The years passed. Supernatural and human living side by side, but far from integrated.

  Chapter One

  Twenty-One Years Later…

  The world burned, most of humanity consumed in fire.

  Chicago was blasted wreck, buildings collapsed, windows broken, streets filled with the broken cement and steel buildings. Humans running in panic while something chased them. Creatures of nightmare and absolute evil, that couldn’t really exist.

  It was all so vivid, it didn’t seem like a dream, but it had to be.

  I flinched away from it, and the tableau shifted.

  Warm smiling face, dark blue eyes, long black hair in ringlets down her back, and the face of an angel. Soft innocent beauty, and her smile was inviting and sensuous, a teasing come fuck me look I’d never seen the like of before from any woman, never mind aimed at me from a woman so beautiful. Her body was a perfect hourglass with symmetrical measurements, C cups and a curvy waist adorned in a conforming white sundress, with loose skirts that flowed over her succulent hips and reached almost to her knees.

  She was gorgeous, and a part of me recognized her, even if I’d never seen her before and this was just a dream. A part of me claimed her as mine, which was strange. I didn’t often look at beautiful woman and decide I owned them, that was creepy after all.

  Perhaps I should introduce myself. Mark. Mark Levinson. A twenty-one-year-old as of today starving artist and sculptor, recent art school graduate, and totally broke after investing all my hard-earned money on a house I couldn’t afford. I couldn’t help myself though, it had a room that would make a perfect art studio. Windows to the east, west, and south in the northern location of Chicago ensured a constant warm sunlight from dawn to dusk, weather permitting.

  More on that last in a minute.

  The dream shifted again, showing me another woman. This one a couple of inches shorter at five foot four. She was a redhead, eighteen, with light blue eyes. She had an exotic look, with pouty lips and severe cheekbones, with extremely light golden tanned skin. At a wild guess, half Latina and half Irish descent. She had B cups and a petitely curvy body, and she too was giving me a wide-eyed come-hither stare, and her lips were parted adding to the inviting look. The strangest thing of all was she was wearing an old-fashioned brown dress with flower designs, the kind of thing a grandmother might wear, and a young hot and gorgeous barely legal woman wouldn’t be caught dead in.

  I didn’t get the sense she was mine, but I did get the sense I could have her if I wished. Weird, I know, but less weird than the world burning, and far less disturbing.

  The dream shattered, and I gasped in a breath as I woke up. I was a bit disoriented for a minute, in the strange master bedroom of my new to me yet very old small mansion. It was my first time waking up in it, and I knew I’d get used to it eventually and it’d feel like home.

  I moaned at the headache I had from tying one on last night, it’d been my twenty-first birthday, at just after two in the morning today actually, and some friends had thrown me a party.

  I muttered, “Happy birthday to me. Weird creepily vivid dreams and a hangover.”

  I focused on trying to wake up and clear the fog, which surprisingly worked. I felt suddenly alert and ready for the day, even if my stomach was still a little off and I had that headache still, but nothing a little orange juice and breakfast wouldn’t fix.

  The bed creaked slightly as I got up and stumbled into the bathroom. My mouth felt like something had died, so after my absolutions at the toilet I washed my hands and face, then brushed my teeth. I felt almost human again as I stared into the mirror. Then frowned.

  My face was the same as always, and what most often won a woman’s attention. They almost all commented on it, my vivid blue eyes and symmetrical face. My body on the other hand while in decent shape, since I was a runner, lacked a certain musculature because of my chosen path in life. I was almost always sculpting and painting, I had no time to lift weights. In truth, I probably only ran because it helped me clear my mind and plan out art projects, staying in shape was just a side effect.

  Which was why the toned definition of my arms, chest, and abdomen took me by surprise. It was honestly a little freaky and surreal, and I was frozen as my mind raced. I mean, I didn’t turn into Adonis or anything, no bulging muscles, but I had a solid muscle tone and the faint lines of a six pack. Like an athlete, not a bodybuilder.

  I shook my head, got dressed in a pair of paint covered jeans and a cheap white t-shirt, because it never paid to work with paints in my best clothes, and then headed downstairs and started on breakfast.

  Yes, dear reader, I totally took the stick my head in the sand and ignore it approach. I was obviously in denial.

  It took about ten minutes to make toast, sunny side up eggs, and to pour an orange juice. It was only as I sat down and my stomach grumbled hungrily, that I realized the hangover was completely gone. I ignored that too and I started to eat and worry about normal things.

  Like how the hell I was going to make the monthly payments on this house. The house itself stood on a two-acre lot just west of Chicago. The downstairs had the amazing studio room in the back, though it had probably originally been a day room. It stuck out from the back of the house into the backyard, like an extension, so it had sun from three sides. The downstairs also had a laundry room, old kitchen and appliances that had to be twenty years old but still worked. The living room was huge and open, and it had a nice dining room.

  There was a large den as well, which would become my office, and a good place to stick the treadmill for the winter or intemperate weather runs. I didn’t run in the rain, I wasn’t that dedicated.

  Upstairs was the master bedroom, and three other bedrooms. There was only one bathroom up there, master bathrooms weren’t really a common thing when this ancient house was built, anyway. Save the uber rich, of course.

  I don’t know what’d possessed me to buy the old place, but I planned to fix it up and restore it. I’d just had to have that studio, as soon as I saw it, despite the ridiculously high price tag. Without my parents cosigning, I’d have never gotten the loan for it.

  Hell, I didn’t even have a job, only the faint hope of finding a gallery to sponsor me so I could start selling on more than just e-bay.