Kiss Noir
Jen is the quintessential twenty-first century young woman; she’s in her late twenties, professionally employed but less than thrilled with her job, and the love of her life is her dog, Cobbs. She can’t understand why she hasn’t found the man of her dreams. Jen assumes she’s too picky and unrealistic.
Dameon LaFaim is half-vampire, half-human; he has spent his life searching for the scientific solution to suppress his darker side. He’ll try any treatment, no matter what the terrible cost. He has lived for hundreds of years, but true love has eluded him, until now.
Jen doesn’t see herself as heroine material, but she captures Dameon’s heart.
Dameon is hunted by an obsessed, dangerous vampire named Tatiana, who would destroy Dameon rather than let another woman have him.
Jen and Dameon have to battle both external obstacles as well as internal, before they can love each other.
Genre: Paranormal, Vampires/Werewolves
Length: 94,749 words
KISS NOIR
Robynn Clairday
ROMANCE
www.BookStrand.com
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A SIREN-BOOKSTRAND TITLE
IMPRINT: Romance
KISS NOIR
Copyright © 2010 by Robynn Clairday
E-book ISBN: 1-61034-063-9
First E-book Publication: November 2010
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2010 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
www.BookStrand.com
DEDICATION
To Matt, my ultimate hero and supporter. To Kari and Michelle, for their friendship and faith. To my good friend, muse, and loyal reader, Carly.
KISS NOIR
ROBYNN CLAIRDAY
Copyright © 2010
Prologue
...We are such stuff
As dreams are made on...
(Shakespeare, Prospero, Act IV)
Klüten, West Prussia ( Germany ) 1791
He would not take her milk, nor any other milk. The kind of nourishment her baby craved was an abomination. Sprintz Braun leaned over the cradle to comfort her crying son. It pained her that she, as a mother, could not satisfy her own child's hunger. If only Papa were alive, he could help me find the perfect solution, a better alternative, she thought in despair.
She fought back the urge to weep. As Fritz's daughter, she would not give in to such weakness. But she longed for her father's comforting presence, his clear-eyed wisdom and endless loving support.
Sprintz had been Fritz's only child, the apple of his eye. He had raised her the way he saw fit, not as society dictated. He was much more suited for his role as scientist than as the aristocrat.
Fritz, youngest son of a duke, was an eccentric man, brilliant, ahead of his time. It was the Age of Reason, and King Frederick the Great was eager to foster the sciences as well arts and culture in Germany. The atmosphere was ripe for bright, pioneering minds that emulated those revered in France. Fritz married late in life, became a father at the age many were already grandparents, and mourned the premature loss of his wife, Hilda, till his dying days. He lived only for two things—his daughter and his work. Fascinated by science, particularly the biology of medicine, he passed on his knowledge and his accumulated research to Sprintz.
Sprintz carried on her father's studies after he died. Stoic and solitary by nature, she preferred the company of books to people. Her one dream was that her father would gain the recognition in the history books he deserved. Alone with her work and dreams, her heart grew encased in a lonely shell, and she was considered an oddity by the town's people.
At twenty-three years of age, she had long since given up on marriage, and was a confirmed spinster. Count Lucien La Faim came into her life unexpectedly. He was older, suave and charming, and claimed he was from Austria. He was visiting the vineyards. As a wine connoisseur, it was his desire to add to his collection. Initially, she had scorned him as a dilettante, but he pursued her, wooing her with his wit and intelligence. And, soon, she had fallen madly, if uncharacteristically, in love with him.
When she discovered the truth about the count, she'd accepted the unbearable horror of it with her usual stoicism, as was her nature. He tried his best to persuade her to become one with him—transform into a convert vampire, and return to his home and castle as his wife. She stalwartly refused. As well as being a dedicated scientist, her father had been a devout Christian. To join Lucien would mean denouncing the church and embracing Satan. Despite his many pleas, she turned away, and insisted he leave her, and their soon-to-be born child, alone. For his kind, these were not safe times, nor throughout history had mankind ever allowed them to reside in peace.
Despite Austria's archduchess, Maria Theresa's earlier decree against vampire hunts, persecution continued, fed by man's hatred and fear. All minions of darkness were under siege. Books like those by de Schertz and Calmet were still used as guides for dealing with the wicked and the unholy. Lucien knew I was right, she thought. He knew it was dangerous for us to be together. And now that we have a child...Lucien could have forced her to comply, but was too proud to use coercion where love failed.
Sprintz was rubbing tears from her eyes when Lucien arrived. It had been an ordeal as always to find new food—new blood to feed her child.
Her maid, Sophie, stared at Lucien, wide-eyed and aquiver with delicious fear at the sight of the count, and scuttled off, eager to depart and share the latest gossip with the other maids. As usual, Lucien had appeared with little fanfare, and not in the mortal fashion, but by simply materializing. He wantonly radiated the charismatic aura of his kind, careless of its intense impact on humans.
"Can't you be more circumspect, Lucien? Must you so freely advertise your powers?" Sprintz frowned at him. Lucien would never restrain himself. He was arrogant and refused to fear humans, or recognize the threat they were to him and other vampires.
"I want to see my son, liebling. Even you cannot deny me this one thing."
"You may see him, Lucien. But let this be your last visit, unless you wish to endanger his life as well. Don't come back, Lucien." She held her g
round, jaw set.
As Lucien watched her, his eyes lit with sudden fire, and he started to reach for her. Instead, he stepped back, his expression admiring but resigned..
He knelt beside the cradle, an unusual expression of tenderness crossing his face. The tall, handsome man looked down at his son, the softness in his eyes erasing the usual air of dissipation. He kissed the baby's forehead, and stood up, pride shining in his eyes. "He is half my child, after all. "
Sprintz was cold and distant. "Yes, it's very apparent he's not a mortal child. And, unfortunately, it's not only I who's aware of this fact. The villagers have been gossiping, spreading exaggerated untruths about him," she said. "They call him a monster and unclean, the bastard son of Satan. I fear we must take leave before the situation grows worse."
Lucien wasn't listening. He couldn't keep his eyes off his child, and reached down to tickle him under the chin. Smiling as the baby chuckled in delight, he spoke as if to himself, "The child fills me with such joy. You can not know what this means."
"No, I don't. Should we be happy to bring such an afflicted innocent into this world?" she demanded.
"An afflicted innocent? This innocent little baby is more precious and rare than you can imagine. Do you never wonder why there are not more of my kind?"
"God in His goodness..." Sprintz began, watching him uneasily.
"God has nothing to do with it. We vampires are not good breeders. We have too few children. And transformations—they are rarely successful. Humans too often go mad and bring the eyes of the public upon us. They cause nothing but trouble. Humans cannot handle the power of the vampire."
"And yet you were going to do this thing to me!"
Lucien sighed. "But, liebling, it is different with you—you are a woman of inimitable strength and unique character."
Sprintz broke in, her voice rising emotionally. "What of our son, Lucien? What of his future? Poor little thing, he's both a deviant and a bastard."
"I wanted to marry you," he reminded her, replaying an old argument between them.
The two exchanged heated words. Lucien first begging and then demanding that she bring his son to Austria. Stubbornly, Sprintz insisted she would take her child to France where her cousin lived. Lucien left defeated, and Sprintz dried her tears, determined to make plans to provide the best life she could for her son. Before Lucien departed, he made a final request—
"Tell my son about his true heritage—that we do not descend from Vlad, son of Dracul. Tell him this infamous myth is an utter falsehood. We are not kin to that mad barbarian. Give him my name, La Faim, ‘the Hunger.’ He must understand how we came by this title. I pass on to him the family curse, but also the honor."
Sprintz could only nod silently, refusing to let him see the tears in her eyes. She knew she would not see Lucien again.
Ten days later, packed and ready to leave under the cover of nightfall, Sprintz was intercepted by a silent, masked messenger. From Lucien. It was a trunk, and in it was a fortune in gold, diamonds and other gems. No note was attached. None was needed. Lucien had complete faith in Sprintz's intelligence and common sense. He also knew his son, as a vampan—a half-breed—would have a very difficult time ahead of him. Lucien knew that wealth would make his path easier. Sprintz had a good head on her shoulders, and would wisely manage the fortune he had left with her for their son's future.
1809 Gateau, France (In the Alsace et Lorraine Region)
How can I tell Dameon what has happened? Sprintz agonized. If only I could spare him. She, herself, was dry-eyed. Her emotions had long ago hardened and solidified. All of her remaining passion was poured into her child. The girl who had recklessly loved Lucien so many years ago no longer existed. She did feel the briefest flicker of sadness at the thought of him passing, at the indignities that he must have suffered. She thought of Lucien's stubborn refusal to admit that humans could pose a genuine threat.
Sprintz sighed softly. He would never see that humans held a distinct advantage. Humans were tremendously prolific, vampires were not. Humans outnumbered vampires and always would. Lucien had always believed his psychic abilities could bend and shape human will, ignoring the fact that his powers always wore off. His powers, if overused, resulted in humans becoming aware that he was a vampire, and turned them against him. I'll make sure Dameon learns his father's sad lesson. He mustn't abuse his powers like Lucien did, Sprintz told herself. Dameon must learn that the step from victor to victim is often a small one.
But Dameon saw Lucien's death before Sprintz had a chance to tell him the news. Before she could say a word, he began speaking in a soft monotone, telling her of his vision, Lucien's castle burning in the night, the wildly excited, blood-spattered peasants carrying Lucien's head on an iron-tipped pike, his body thrown aside. Stricken by what he saw, Lucien's son fell to the floor, unconscious. Sprintz shook Dameon, whose face was white from fear and the shock of Lucien's death, he looked up and said simply, "I know. I know he's dead."
Her son was as handsome and tall as his father and as psychically empowered, but was blessed with more self-control and thoughtfulness. As a mind master Vampire, he could have abused his ability to telepathically influence humans or read their thoughts, but instead, restrained himself. Lucien's death had taught him the lesson well. Sprintz attributed his wisdom to his human blood.
They had not been easy years for her, struggling to discover a solution—a drug that would control his dark side, his thirst for blood. When the drug failed, they were forced to resort to animal blood, and when that didn't suffice, human as well. Sprintz prayed for understanding. Surely the Lord understood it was not evil for her child to need sustenance to live. And the ones chosen for this purpose were often wicked beings, who deserved their fate.
When her child was young, Sprintz had been driven to hire "help" for the gruesome duty of hunting humans, and then often had to pay the mercenaries double to prevent them from turning her family in to the authorities. Sprintz had been forced to permanently silence the few determined blackmailers whose greed overrode their prudence. Later as her son matured and he was able to hunt for his own blood supply, Sprintz's worries grew. Her fear of discovery kept her awake many nights. Finding the right drug to end her son's nightmarish plight was imperative, and she would stop at nothing to achieve her goal.
Constant guilt plagued Sprintz, but stronger was the terror that Lucien's legacy would condemn her child to the same terrible fate of his father, a life of cruel, relentless persecution only to end in a violent death. Her cousin was a sterile, unfeeling woman. The frugal yet affluent widow had only taken them in for duty's sake. Sprintz had been careful not to tell her about the jewels and gold.
Babette had eventually learned of the child's nature, and berated Sprintz for not destroying the "child of Satan," and for consorting herself with the Devil. They must both be punished. It was God's will, had been her pronouncement. Sprintz had been terrified that her cousin would alert the authorities, but luckily, Babette had died of a brain fever before she could follow through with her threats. Babette had spitefully left her fortune to the nuns, but Sprintz didn't care. Her child was safe and would not be branded and hunted to his death. She would not allow it to happen.
The drug, thus far, was somewhat effective, but the process had been arduous and frustrating, and the side-effects were often devastating. Her son would often fall into a near-coma, or lay shaking and heaving for hours or even days. Not long after Lucien died, after a particularly brutal session after his treatment, her son, trembling and coughing up blood, she wondered to herself if vampirism might not be the lesser of two evils. Could living the life of a vampire be more horrible than this? Sprintz was working feverishly in their lab when he staggered to her side.
"Perhaps we should give up," he whispered hoarsely.
Sprintz looked up, horrified and speechless. Tears, which so rarely fell any more, slid down her cheeks.
He touched her hand. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to hurt you." He p
aused to cough and gasp, pain racking his body. "Maybe my destiny is meant to be what my father's was—to kill and be killed."
Sprintz's eyes grew fierce. "Never. Over my dead body. I swear we'll find a cure that will work, and you will live a normal life."
He kissed her cheek, and then shifted his gaze from hers "Of course, you are right. I must be more patient."
Later, alone in his room, he studied the red stone ring his father had bequeathed him, and twisted it on his finger. "A normal life?" He nearly laughed out loud. "My father's people will never accept me and my mother's would kill me in an instant if they knew what I was." His statement was depressingly accurate. Humans endangered him as much as he was a threat to them, but the vampires feared him, and too much intimacy with other vampires seemed to bring out his worst, most hateful traits. Blood calling to blood.
Sighing softly, he thought of a life ahead of him, alone and belonging nowhere and to no one.
Sprintz had decided that she must learn more about her son's condition, which was different from that of a full-blooded vampire. Full-blooded vampires were hard enough for her to understand. There was one woman who could help them, a terrifying, mysterious woman who seemed more powerful than any mortal or vampire could or should be. "Claudia," Sprintz whispered out loud. The fascinating woman who kept a whole village in fearful thrall of her, a vampire, they said, who was over eight-hundred years old.
Sprintz stiffened her spine, determined to seek this arcane creature out. Surely, an eight-hundred-year-old vampire could give them answers. Claudia would have to help them, Sprintz decided; she wouldn't take no for an answer.
Kiss Noir (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 1
