The Born Vampire series: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (The Complete Series, NSFW Edition)

by Elizabeth Dunlap

  He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Of course I notice, my love. You don’t know how many times I’ve wished I could turn my damned aura off. But no. They’re my prey. As if I NEED an aura when my literal purpose is to lure them in with the promise of passion.” Balthazar sipped his tea after I’d finished adding sugar and milk to it. “The turning was today,” he stated, carefully watching my face.

  My back automatically stiffened, but I tried to be cavalier about it. “You’d think I’d be used to it by now,” I said disarmingly. But the screams. Oh, those terrible screams.

  “Yes. They are quite horrid,” Balthazar remarked quietly, and I realized I’d spoken out loud. “They will be over soon. And then you’ll be too busy to see me. Maybe I’ll have to have that gorgeous woman to myself if you don’t visit.”

  We playfully argued over that for a few minutes, and then we chatted about nothing and everything for hours, sipping fruit-flavored tea and eating powdery desserts. Being with Balthazar was nice. He grounded me in a way my other friends couldn’t. He never reproached me, no matter what I discussed with him, and he never treated me like I was dense when I asked a simple question.

  The only thing I was never allowed to ask him about was my mother and grandmother. I knew he knew them, only because one time during the French Revolution he was drunk on whatever can actually get an Incubus drunk, and he kept talking about how much he missed my grandmother and how much I looked like her. As far as I could find out, no one else knew who my mother and grandmother were. My father was a bigger mystery, one Balthazar didn’t even know. A mystery I’d convinced myself held no interest to me.

  When my stomach had reached its limit, in addition to the blood I’d drunk earlier, we left the tea shop and strolled through a park nearby, recounting old memories in soft tones that the humans wouldn’t hear. I wasn’t sure what the response would be if they overheard Balthazar recalling Nefertiti’s wardrobe choices.

  When morning turned into afternoon, my mobile buzzed signaling a text from Olivier.

  Get your white ass home. We have things to do.

  As soon as I’d finished reading it, I felt a flutter of wind and my walking companion was no longer there. Balthazar enjoyed showing off his incorporeal abilities by appearing and disappearing at will. And that included several occasions when he was suddenly not there as the conversation got boring. God damn it. I’d have to walk back alone. I swore and cursed him under my breath for leaving me miles away from my car without someone to talk to as I walked back. By the time I returned to my car, I was half angry at the state of my hair from the wind blowing it, and half at the fact that the trip could’ve taken only a few minutes if I had used my true speed. I knew better than to zip across a human walkway. That didn’t mean I wasn’t tempted.

  I started driving back home, but I felt itchy to move my muscles. Pulling over, I parked my car on the side of the deserted road and got out. I put my hair back into a ponytail and started running down the street at top speed. Trees became a blur, and the smell of everything I was passing hit me all at once. Rain puddles, pine trees, asphalt, and the lingering scent of human, a companion from our house if I was correct.

  My ears could pick up animals miles away; rabbits, mice, and the occasional big game. The sharpness in senses I was feeling only happened when I ran. My brain was processing everything quickly, mapping out in my head what my predatory instincts needed in case I wanted to hunt. The thought of hunting made me slow down.

  There was no denying what I was. I had never been ashamed of being a Born vampire. It was only my centuries of experience that made killing humans so utterly abhorrent to me. They were frail. Their lives ended. One mistake, one decision could end them forever. And then your friend was never there again. Lives were too precious for that.

  “Nice legs, Forest Gump.”

  I looked up and realized I’d already reached the front gate of my home. Cameron stood in the front lawn peering over the tall stone fence with a smirk on his face. I hoped for his sake he wasn’t trampling the hedges.

  “I felt like running,” I said out loud, even though he hadn’t asked me anything about what I was doing.

  “I can see that,” he replied. “And your car is…” I pointed behind me and winced when he instantly looked murderous. “You left. Your sports car. ON THE FUCKING HIGHWAY??”

  I winced again and tried to defend myself. “It’s not like people drive out here, seriously. I wouldn’t be running if they were.” I vaguely wondered why I was making excuses to someone less than a fourth my age, but Cameron’s glare made me feel like a fledgling again.

  “Go the hell back. Pick your damn car up. Carry it home. If there’s a single scratch, I will force you to listen to Justin Beaver.”

  “Who?” I asked dumbly.

  “MARCH!”

  I grumbled and turned around, then went into a light sprint back to my car. Funny how just this morning, I was the bossy older person in this relationship. I didn’t, in fact, pick up my car and carry it back. I might be able to run fast enough so a human couldn’t see me, but there was no way I could hide carrying a car down the road.

  As soon as I got back and parked in the underground garage, Cameron was there swinging around a yo-yo, waiting for me. He walked over, swinging his yo-yo to narrowly miss my face (show off), and inspected my car. “Good girl. You pass.” I flipped him off.

  Our smiles faded when we opened the door leading to the turned dormitory. The screams had died down a little; they’d lost that agonizing tone that made them so hard to listen to. The room felt cold and dreary, and the coffins didn’t help the atmosphere feel less like a death chamber. Cameron’s fingers started twitching so he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

  In the center of the room stood creepy face Othello, looking over some paperwork with one of the Born that handled the companion system. A few bigger vampires stood guard among the coffins, making sure the turned didn’t escape. They were locked in, of course, but sometimes a strong one broke out and had to be dealt with. And by dealt with, I mean we beat their ass and put them back in.

  “Ah, there you are,” Othello said as we approached, handing off the papers in his hand, and motioned for the companion supervisor to leave. The other vampire winked at Cameron as she passed. I growled a warning to her to keep her hands to herself. Cameron started coughing into his hand, hiding a laugh. “They should be ready in the morning,” Othello told us, like the turned were baked chickens in the oven. Though it was kind of true, I suppose. He gave me a once-over, stopping at my breasts for an appreciative look, and that was my cue to leave, before I tore his head off. I grabbed Cameron’s elbow and we left the basement.

  When we entered the larger drawing-room, Olivier was lounging on a divan with a binder in her hands that had a cartoon vampire on the cover. Her companion, Renard, sat next to her and his hand drew lazy circles on her arm, the other held a goblet of wine. He was a devoted Frenchman, very sexy, and liked to sass his Lady as much as possible. This was his third tenure with her. Age had only made him more handsome. Romantic relationships between vampires and humans were forbidden, but that didn’t stop any of us from looking the other way when these two started flirting. I’ll admit, I wanted them to hook up. A stolen kiss, a tryst in the woods. I’d never tell anyone.

  Renard jumped up and tipped his faded top hat to me, exposing his buzzed red hair. “Ah, ma belle mademoiselle!” he said brightly with a twist of his barbell mustache. “Do not worry, ma Cherie,” he added, turning to Olivier who was ignoring him. “There is no one as charmante as you.”

  “Ass,” she muttered in French before calling him stupid, and a few other things that weren’t so charmante of her. Renard dropped his outspread arms and gave her the stink eye. She smirked, still focused on her binder.

  And that’s what I meant by flirting.

  Renard rolled his eyes and sat back down to drink from his chalice. “The screams have gotten better. Mon dieu. That is a relief on my ears.” He’d been her
e long enough to have a vampire-like attitude about it, but I could still see circles under his eyes. He downed his wine in one long gulp.

  Olivier closed her vampire binder and sighed. “I can’t wait until tomorrow when we can start getting some fucking work done. God, I hate sitting around.” Before she came here, she had been one of the Hunters, the vampire police. They traveled in a small group, hunting down those of us that broke the law. The vampire law, I might add, not human law. We didn’t abide by their rules. A Hunter’s job never ended, they were always pursuing a subject. Always. I didn’t know why Olivier decided to leave them and come here, and I knew better than to ask.

  She wasn’t the only one looking forward to tomorrow when the screams would stop and the work began.

  3. Bacon, bacon, bacon

  Sleeping didn’t come easily that night. Olivier and I had spent the rest of the day going over paperwork. Cameron went to his room as soon as we finished dinner, leaving me by myself in the large castle. After all my work was done, I went to my room and changed into a nightgown, but after an hour of lying in bed, I was still wide-awake. I put on a kimono robe and went downstairs to the library. Maybe I’d read more of that sexy book and do a little rub a dub dub.

  The large library was part of the turned portion of the castle. Red carpet, red walls, electric candelabras instead of normal lighting, and heavy curtains at the windows that could be drawn during the day. The Born rooms were bright with large windows and no curtains. This was, after all, our home. After the turned were trained, they would all leave and be reassigned to another Order. We were the oldest group of vampires and maintained our purity. The turned were not allowed to have a permanent residence here. It was a bit snobby, but who was I to scoff at tradition?

  Waiting for me in the library was a sleeping figure on one of the ornate sofas. I smelled wine and brandy. Moving closer, I saw Renard’s sleeping face. His snores made his barbell mustache flutter. A large and mostly empty bottle of brandy lay atop a stack of books on the floor in front of him. I reached down and picked it up, my eyes searching the red carpet for the lid.

  “Amore…mi amore,” Renard muttered in his sleep. He suddenly came awake when I reached beside him to retrieve the brandy lid. “Ah, belle Lisbeth.” He sat up and scrubbed a hand down his face to scratch at his red stubble.

  “Did Olivier kick you out again?” I asked him, only half serious. She’d only done so once in their thirty years together. He dared to make a joke about her vampire mermaid dresses. Or maybe they’d finally made love and she regretted it. Who knew.

  Renard’s violet eyes caught the moonlight, a shade lighter than my own purple eyes. It seemed as if all our companions had some exotic quality, like how humans kept exotic pets. Bad analogy. “Non. I needed to drown the damn noise.” The screams were still going on downstairs, and all the tuning out in the world couldn’t make me not hear it. The turned were close to being ready, and in a last push, they’d gotten louder hoping we’d let them out. It wouldn’t work.

  Renard got up and gently took the bottle from my hand, then leaned down to my face and kissed my cheek. “Back to my Lady. Bon chance.” He sauntered out, grabbing onto something for balance a few times. I sat on the sofa he’d been sleeping on and plopped my head down to the headrest.

  My eyes closed. Instantly, I felt someone push a cup of coffee in my face. I sat up quickly, startled, and saw Cameron in front of me, laughing. It was morning already, the sun beat into the red room without the curtains to block it. I’d fallen asleep without even noticing. I started adjusting my kimono robe and noticed Cameron had brought me a dress with shoes that matched it. He turned his back so I could change.

  “Thanks,” I said to Cameron when I was done. He turned and handed me my mug of coffee. We sipped in awkward silence, both unconsciously testing to hear if the screams had stopped. I counted two individual screams from the dormitory, the ones I’d heard last night screaming in rage. Those two would be trained by Olivier specifically. She handled the tougher turned. I might have been just as unbreakable, but she put my strength to shame. I’d seen her win a fight against vampires decades older than her.

  Cameron took my mug and I followed him to the kitchen. He was muttering a mantra under his breath, “Bacon, bacon, bacon, bacon.” The kitchen and small cafeteria were bustling with vampires and their companions eating breakfast. Cameron skirted around other people cooking at the stoves and took two plates out of one of the ovens. All the tables in the cafeteria were taken, so after grabbing silverware and drinks, we went outside to eat in the garden.

  The outside tables were surrounded by plots of flowers and plenty of lawn in case someone wanted to have a picnic. Othello sat at one of the umbrella-shaded tables with Marie, a younger Born vampire, who was staring at me like I’d insulted her shoes. Being Othello’s mate meant power, and Marie wanted that power. She was welcome to it. Hope you enjoy seeing Othello’s O-face, Marie. Oh god. Now I was contemplating Othello’s O-face.

  Cute puppies. Cute puppies.

  Cameron and I put everything on a table far away from them and started eating. Cameron had made us Japanese lettuce pancakes with bacon and some kind of sauce on top. My lip curled at the sight of it.

  “Stop making a face,” he scolded me. “This is good food. Just because it’s not blood pudding, or whatever rich ass people ate in the middle ages-” I cut him off by flinging a piece of lettuce pancake at him. He almost looked like he was about to start a food fight, and I was fully prepared to defend my side of the table, when he started laughing and took a big bite of lettuce pancake to spite me. “MMmmmmm!” he moaned defiantly. Othello and Marie approached us mid-pancake. Marie had a dainty lace parasol in her hand that was the same pink as her stylish suit. Your parasol is pointless, dainty one. Othello wore his typical Victorian getup, looking like a giant tool.

  “I left you some daisies in your suite,” Othello informed me, giving me a look like he expected me to suddenly decide to screw him then and there because he’d brought me flowers. Again. For a million days in a row. I made an ‘Oh?’ face and put pancake in my mouth so I wouldn’t say something rude, like ‘keep trying, bitch. I will not drop my pants for you.’ Unfortunately, as always, he pretended to not notice my lack of exuberance. “After breakfast, we will convene in the dormitory.” He turned and walked back towards the castle, rebuffing Marie’s attempt to take his arm.

  Cameron imitated Othello’s deep British accent. “‘We will convene in the dormitory.’” He rolled his eyes. “Creepy ass dude with his creepy ass accent.”

  “You know I used to have an accent, right? As did you.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Not a creepy one. What did your accent sound like? You were born in Hungary, right?”

  “Transylvania,” I corrected since that was what it had been at the time. “As cliché as that sounds. Ugh.” I waved my hands around while saying in my Dracula voice, “Ooo, a vampire born in Transylvania!” Cameron laughed around a piece of bacon. “I was raised in England, actually. We just managed to stick around in England long enough for the accent to arrive. Right so, guv-nah.”

  Cameron snorted as Olivier and Renard came around the corner of the castle, arm in arm. Olivier wore a black mermaid dress decorated with leather belts, and she was squinting at the sun like it was there just to torture her. She hated being outside. Renard’s broad shoulders dwarfed her small frame and blocked some of the sun.

  “We’re needed,” she said evenly. I couldn’t tell if she was dreading it, or was excited at the prospect of working again.

  Both. Always both.

  I looked down and realized I’d finished the lettuce pancake and it had tasted good, shockingly. Cameron was smirking at me since I was such a picky eater and had eaten something different for once. I flicked more lettuce at him and stood up to follow Olivier to the dormitory.

  Taking my spot, Renard sat down with Cameron and they started talking about a TV show they’d both been watching like they were the clo
sest of friends. They had something of a good relationship, considering how long Cameron had been here, and how often they had to entertain themselves while we were busy.

  Olivier was quiet on our trek, breaking the silence only to comment on someone’s poor fashion choices, and to tell me I had bacon breath. I almost asked what was bothering her, but then I remembered. In a few weeks, new companions would be brought here for the turned and Born to choose from, and that meant the end of all companion contracts. Olivier was probably scared that Renard wouldn’t renew his tenure for a fourth time. He wasn’t a young man anymore. He was in his mid-40s now. His face was beginning to show thin smile lines, and his buzzed hair was thinning out. Would he really want to spend more years of his life with a woman that he could never have as his own?

  Cameron was leaving.

  The thought sobered me, and any buzz from the nice morning was gone. We both entered the dark haunting basement looking like someone had just slapped us. Well. I did, at least. Olivier looked like she was going to punch the next person who was cheerful to her. The atmosphere in front of us was somber, so everyone’s face was safe for now. Othello had put on a long black robe, trying to look official as the head of our Order, and he held two large golden keys in his hand. Those keys would unlock every coffin in the room.

  Two voices still came from the coffins, screaming faintly, waiting for us to let them out. When they found out we weren’t going to, they’d start up again. Logically, we would be doing this ceremony after dark, when the turned couldn’t be reduced to a lovely pile of ashes if the sun touched them for too long, but Othello worked on his own schedule. He refused to bend it for the turned.

  Olivier and I approached the small group of Born vampires, nodding to the ones we worked with sometimes. Othello silently handed me one of the keys, and he and I walked to the end of the room and began unlocking each coffin, except for the two that were still noisy. It took us a few minutes to reach the other end of the chamber. When we finished, we walked back to the center, where the tall iron candelabras stood.