Red Knight Box Set (Books 1,2,3): Contemporary Vampire Romance

by L. C White

  The house I’m going to be surveying and valuing, is in the middle of nowhere. Killiecrankie to be exact. A house one of my dad’s close friends owns. When he showed me the photos, I told him there wasn’t a chance. I’m no bigtime estate agent. The one property I have sold, was only a two-up, two-down, townhouse here in Edinburgh. Not a freaking mansion. But he insisted, and told me to be professional. All I know is that the family I’m going to be selling for, have come back over here from the States, and need a quick and lucrative sale. The Knight’s. A prosperous but private family, I’m going to be spending three days with.

  I scrub my chin length layered black locks, praying with my eyes closed. I un-scrunch one lid, and slowly remove the towel to look in the steamed up bathroom cabinet mirror. Shit, shit, shit. It’s still flipping visible. Maybe I should wear a hat, or a damn bag over my head. My white face, my fucked-up hair, and tired eyes, scream unprofessional.

  My phone buzzes on the white cabinet shelf. I drop the towel into the bathtub and pick it up. It’s a message from my dad.

  Maeve, give me a call once you have landed in Killiecrankie. Remember, Mr Knight has a love for whisky, so don’t forget that 1988 bottle of bourbon I left with you. Also, it is important to gloss over minor structural issues and give a generous valuation. Be like me Maeve, it’s all about the deal. You’re selling the O’Riley name. Don’t let me down!

  “Fuck-off dad,” I utter as I type:Ok dad, love you x

  I slam my phone back onto the shelf and stride out of the bathroom.

  ***

  Jeez, it’s frigging cold today. As I leap into my black Beetle, my view is fogged up by my own breath. I slam the door and purr out. I take a second to calm my galloping heart, pulling down the sun visor, so I can check out my deplorable reflection once more. Okay, that’s enough of that image. I slam the visor shut. I’m just going to have to fuckin do the way I am. I just hope my hosts notice the nice grey designer suit I’m wearing, over my PURPLE hair. I don’t have time to sit here, sobbing over my appearance. The daylight is fading, I have my dad’s reputation weighing down on me, and I have less than one hour to make the two hour journey. Tonight is going to be frigging great!

  Well surprise surprise, I’m late. One hour late to be precise. I’ve probably broken several road laws on the way here, to Killiecrankie. I’ve been through one red light. On roads with no speed cameras, I’ve drove like a rally driver. I’m stressed, hungry, and tired. And to top it off, my darling Dad is now calling me. His name is flashing on the damn dashboard.

  “Piss-off Dad,” I yell at the inanimate speakers, ringing and ringing.

  I refuse to answer his call. He’s only going to ask me where I am. And if I tell him I’m not at my final destination yet, as well as driving on this pitch-black country road in the sleet, I’ll have to listen to him prattling on about punctuality. No, tonight my father can remain in the dark about my nightmare journey.

  Finally my album comes back on and Dad stops calling. Now I can concentrate on creating a reason I’m late, other than I was trying to wash Goth out of my hair.

  Okay, according to my satnav, I’m around a mile out from the Knight’s house. I turn to my right to take a look through the tall dense verges to my side. I’m looking through the trees for the lights of a house to come into view, but it’s no good. It’s too dark to see a thing out here.

  ‘Take your next right,’ the husky male voice of my satnav says.

  I whip my head around to face the road ahead, and I’m blinded by headlights coming straight at me. FUCK. Whoever is speeding down this road isn’t going to stop, or move aside. I pound the palm of my hand down on the horn. Too late. I’m now bumping over rough terrain, heading right for a tree. I scream, removing my hands from the wheel to cover my face, as my body jolts forward with the impact.

  My ears ring and neck aches. I groan out, lifting my head up from the airbag as I blink over and over, to focus through the smoke.

  “Oh god,” I panic, adrenalin bombarding my body.

  Gasping, I manage to unclip my belt and thrust open the dented door. I swing my quivering legs outside, noticing the car that caused all this, still up on the road around fifteen feet away. Why the fuck did I swerve to miss it? My car is completely trashed, and the offender’s wheels are in perfect working order it seems.

  I’m in shock. My heart is missing beats, and my breathing is erratic. There’s a humming in my head and I can taste the smoky fuel at the back of my throat. But even through the shockwave of what has just happened, I’m still so angry.

  I watch a male figure emerge from the car. As I get nearer, I understand why the dickhead wouldn’t move out of my way. His car is some old sports car. The kind of car you’d see a middle age man driving, because he’s having some mid-life crisis. The driver of this vehicle however, is young. I can only just see his shaded silhouette, but notice that his outline is tall and robust.

  “You fuckin idiot!” I scream, watching him jog toward me. “You could have killed me!”

  I clamber up the verge, using my hands in the cold wet dirt. I see the guy’s boots as my eye line becomes level with the road. He holds his hand down to me, but he can piss-off. I huff and strain, ready to attack this idiot.

  “Let me help you.”

  I freeze up for a millisecond because the voice of the guy has thrown me off course. Deep. Young. American.

  I don’t look at him as I reach the tarmac, stretching my legs and back to straighten up. I take in a vast lungful of air, brushing my filthy hand down my bicep.

  “I don’t need your help.” My eyes finally voyage up to land on his.

  He’s standing in the middle of the road with his hands out to his sides. Behind him is an old Porsche, widthways across the road with the door open. He’s tall, but still strong looking, wearing jeans and a grey hoody. He’s my age, and has the most stunning green eyes I’ve ever seen. Even in the darkness as he views me with concern, his eyes kind of glow with shit hot sex appeal. He’s very fine. The perfect specimen. But still, he’s a complete and utter tosser for what he’s just done. I can hold onto my dignity, and not let his good looks get to me. Hell, I’ve managed to keep my virginity for twenty-one years. I’m sure I can give this guy a piece of my mind.

  “Look…” he steps closer.

  My hand shoots out to stop him. “Don’t come near me. Are you nuts? Why didn’t you move over… asshole!”

  He puffs out, moving his head back. “Why didn’t you?” he says in a snappy tone. “In case you haven’t noticed, probably because you were too busy putting lipstick on or something, the road is barely big enough for two cars. You should have given way.”

  I stare at this beautiful idiot for a moment, wondering how someone so attractive and sweet looking, can be so selfish and retarded.

  “I’m staying just around the corner.” He moves near as I move a step back. “The signals not great here, so you can make what calls you have to.”

  He’s still moving toward me, slowly, and I find my feet are stuck to the spot. I don’t know what’s happening to me. Whether the shock is making me all queasy, or this guy. But something doesn’t feel right. I actually want this idiot to touch me.

  “What’s your name?” he asks as his boots stop only a foot from my feet.

  I can’t answer. In fact, I can’t even look up to him. His warm misty breaths are flurrying my hair. He’s not touching me, but his energy is. I can’t let this guy affect me like this. I don’t know him from Adam. I must have concussion, and my brains not fully functioning.

  “Maeve.” Shit, it just came out in a whisper, as though he somehow magically drew it from me.

  “Well Maeve. I guess I should apologise,” his tone is frustrated and tense.

  Okay, this is seriously messed up.

  I take two baby steps back, and lift my eyes to look at this strange guy. As my view becomes wound up in his, I frown, noticing a crease of pain flash over his forehead. He’s not normal. This situation isn’t no
rmal. I need to call for help.

  I move backward, keeping my eyes on him in case he tries anything. I need to get my bag out of my car. And I can say this with certainty, I’d rather take my chances with a smoking vehicle, than stay near this guy a second longer.

  “I need to call for help.”

  I turn and go to step onto the muddy ground, but within a second his hand is gripping my arm. What the hell is wrong with him?

  Chapter 3: Infected

  Daniel

  She’s trying to wriggle out of my grip, as I strain to keep this red hot pain and anger inside. I don’t want her to call for help. I don’t want anyone else here but us. Her presence near me is fucking me up, and I don’t get why. She’s human. Her hands are soft and warm, but there’s something about her. Something I’ve never felt before, and I’ve felt some pretty weird things in my life. The thoughts of her flashing around my head are so… so damn intense. She’s not even my usual type. I want her in ways I never knew existed. Fuck, I want her in vampire ways. Dark. Deep. Otherworldly. Predatory ways.

  “GET THE FUCK OFF ME, YOU PERVERT.”

  I release her arm and stagger back. Dammit, she’s right. I’m coming across as a weirdo. Some sick asshole, getting off on a girl’s fear.

  She frowns at me as I keel over. I’m winded, like I’ve been pummelled in the stomach with a brick, over and over. The fury and pain makes me fall to my knees. This isn’t like me, kneeling before some random girl. I can’t be near her any longer. She’s like my Kryptonite.

  I look like a dick here, trying to get up but failing miserably.

  I can hear her shoes hesitantly shuffling over the damp tarmac. If she comes near me, I’m going to erupt, and I don’t want to hurt her.

  “Don’t come near me!” I growl, my fingers gripping my knees.

  “Are you like sick or something?” Her Scottish tone is so sweet and confused.

  There’s a heat beneath my eyelids as the scent of her soap and cheap shampoo, drifts up my nose. I know my eyes will reveal that red I’ve seen before, when my head feels like it’s going to blow off. I can’t look at her, but we’re stuck on this fuckin road, and she thinks I’m having a fit or something.

  “You need help?” she asks, warily.

  “No I don’t!” I hiss down at the road, shoulders arching forward. “You need to shut the fuck up for a minute. Let me just…just.” I give up on trying to speak, because I sound so crazy right now.

  “Charming,” she huffs.

  “Yep, that’s me,” I wince, with my head still hung over my bent knees. “I’m a regular prince charming.”

  “Have you got epilepsy?”

  I look at her petite black shoes, glad they’re staying right where they are. I count to ten as she continues to question me. She’s asking me what my name is, but I don’t answer as I eventually manage to get up on my feet. With my eyes closed, I crack my neck side to side.

  “Are you listening?” she yells at me.

  I inhale, now feeling a little cooler. “Yep.”

  “Well, do you need an ambulance or not?”

  Shit, she’s blunt. A good thing I guess.

  “No… you need to make your way back down this road, to the village,” I point. “There’s a bar, pub, whatever you call it there. Call the RAC. You have a notepad and pen?”

  “What the hell for?”

  “So I can give you my details. You’ll get a brand new car delivered to wherever.” I make my way to Dom’s Porsche, glad she’s still in one piece.

  “Err,” she hollers. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah, what’s the problem?” I need her away from me as soon as.

  “What’s the problem… what’s the frigging problem,” she screams, marching right up to me. “You,” she prods my chest, hard. “You are my damn problem. You have completely ruined my fucking life in the space of fifteen minutes.” She keeps prodding on my chest, and it’s pissing me off. “I’ve probably lost my job. Not to mention you have totalled my car. You could have killed me, and you’re asking me what my problem is. Are you like some human wrecking ball, screwing up everyone’s life who comes near you. You… you are a big epic problem, matey!”

  As she goes to prod me in the chest again, I grip her wrist. Her anger, her glaring gorgeous brown eyes, are sending me back to that messed up place again. I feel myself slipping away from the light. I want to kiss her, and for a second she gazes up at me, like she’s waiting for it.

  “Daniel… Daniel, you little fuckin dick!” Shit, that’s Dom yelling at my back.

  Maeve’s eyes leave mine. She looks over my shoulder as I lower my head, irritated by Dom’s squeaky voice. I’m still gripping her wrist, and she seems at ease with me touching her.

  Dom pants in and out at my side. He’s checking out his car.

  “You’re lucky I don’t rip your head off for this,” he yaps.

  I keep my head down as all goes quiet. I’m somewhere else, still with Maeve in my hold. I can’t release her. She’s glued to my touch.

  “Daniel… Daniel!” Dom takes hold of my hand, and prizes my grip away from Maeve.

  Slowly, I lift my head to see Maeve moving back in alarm, holding her arm to her chest. Dom comes to stand right in front of me, blocking my view of her. He slaps me around the face, but it doesn’t pull me back.

  “Daniel.” He’s shaking me.

  He slaps me again, and the sting wakes me like ice water. I glare at him and see his fear. I can smell it.

  “What’s with you… your fuckin eyes, Daniel?” he hisses. “That’s not normal. Does Adrien know about this?”

  I angle my neck forward and shake my head. I need to stop being a freak, because that’s what I am, and it’s something that needs hiding away from the coven. I expel a breath and clear my head of Dhampir.

  “I’m fine Dom,” I insist. “Just shocked.”

  He cocks his brow. He doesn’t believe me, and he’s probably going to run back to the house and tell the boss.

  He looks over his shoulder at Maeve standing there, terrified. Her pale face, her perfect eyes and lips show fear, disorientation, and anger. Her hands are trembling as her legs move one tiny step back at a time.

  Dom turns back to me. “Your dad is out looking for you. He’s pissed… big time.”

  He pushes me back and makes me perch on the hood of his Porsche. Holding out his arms, he makes his way toward Maeve.

  “Hey, you okay?” he asks her.

  “Yeah. I’m just going to… to…” she points to her crumpled car.

  “Where you heading to?” She stays quiet for a second, unsure whether to trust Dom. “Look, I’m no serial killer.” Her eyes lock onto mine at his remark. “You’re on your own. It’s damn cold right?” She nods reluctantly. “Whatever you feel comfortable with, I’ll help you.”

  I watch as she kicks the sole of her shoe against the road, before looking back to Dom.

  “I’m supposed to be surveying and valuing a house for the Knight family. You know them?”

  Dom turns and rolls his eyes at me. “Unfortunately, yeah. One of them has ruined your night.”

  Oh shit. I rub my eyes, hard. This is just great. I can’t have this girl near me. She’s got the power to reveal what’s happening to me. She will show me, the real me, in front of all those who have been dreading this moment. The moment predicted by a witch. The moment I embrace hell.

  “Come on, I can take you right there,” Dom says. “You’re going to love Liz and Adrien. The best hosts on this side of the continent. Daniel will get your things from the car, and meet us back at the house. And as for this mess. We’ll clear it all up.”

  Maeve quietly agrees and climbs into the passenger side of the Porsche. She folds her arms across her chest, looking straight ahead.

  Dom leans to my ear. “Go and get her things from her car,” he says in a pissed tone. “Just pray you don’t bump into your dad flitting out here, looking for you.”

  He gets into the driver’s seat
as I push myself off the hood. He starts up the engine and smiles, patting the steering wheel of his beloved. I watch as he performs a U-turn, and drives toward the house.

  I turn to the smashed up Beetle. It’s still smoking, and the engines still running.

  My boots slide down in the dirt as I cautiously make my way to the wreckage. I can’t pick up the smell of fuel, which is good I guess. I ram open the door wider, then turn off the headlights and ignition. I take the keys out and slide them into my pocket, as I clamber up a small incline to get to the boot. I open the lid and take out a small suitcase, a bottle of whisky, and a brown leather folder. As I slip the folder under my arm, a sheet of paper drops out, and floats to the ground. I place the whisky back into the open boot, and bend down to lift it. Under the moonlight I look at this awesome drawing. I thought this folder contained paperwork on the house, but no, it’s artwork, by her hand.

  I turn and perch on the boot rim, looking at the picture. It’s drawn in pencil. It’s a dark picture of a couple fucking. Shit, this is crazy good. Loving, hard, sex. She’s drawn exactly what turns me on. This is so weird, and I feel so damn angry about it. I’m angry for being a nosy dick, but I really need to see all of these pictures. I’m way too fuckin interested to stop.

  I quickly tuck the picture back into the folder, and grab the whisky and suitcase. My night is going to consist of getting wasted out in the woods, and finding out more about the girl who has just crashed into my life.

  ***

  I’ve been sitting here with my back against this large wet boulder, going through Maeve’s drawings for the last hour. She’s one talented chick, and has basically created a whole new Kamasutra.

  I’ve consumed three quarters of this vintage whisky, and it’s done nothing to stop the ridiculous painful urge to know more. I don’t get why she’s working in property, or why she feels the need to draw these shit hot pictures. Are these her fantasies? I’m a guy, and even I’m not this creative when it comes to screwing.