by Maya DeLeina
Ambrose Heights Vampires 2
Veil of Seduction
A newborn vampire. A powerful leader. An inconsolable woman. The shaping of their eternity all lies within the eyes.
Steffan Matthews is the devastatingly handsome vampire leader of Ambrose Heights. He cultivates social order and invents concoctions that allow vampires to feel human once again.
But Steffan also has a devouring obsession that brings him to his knees. Her name is Anya. Steffan sets out to claim Anya, a mortal ripe for the taking, as his mate. But the blackness in the eyes of his newborn should’ve served as a warning. Anya is off-limits according to the vampire creed.
It will take the strength of the kinship, the purity of love, a hint of magic, and a subterranean guardian to shield Steffan against the wrath of Ryan Evans, protect him from the fate of the Nemesis, and bridge a passage to his rightful destiny.
Genre: Contemporary, Paranormal, Vampires/Werewolves
Length: 140,011 words
VEIL OF SEDUCTION
Ambrose Heights Vampires 2
Maya DeLeina
EROTIC ROMANCE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Erotic Romance
VEIL OF SEDUCTION
Copyright © 2012 by Maya DeLeina
E-book ISBN: 1-61926-292-4
First E-book Publication: January 2012
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 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
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
Dear Readers,
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DEDICATION
People come into your life and make you laugh, learn, love, and grow. For me, I’ve met wonderful people who did exactly this and so much more.
Suzanne—your support goes beyond any scale of appreciation. Your talent and creative passions are endless and fascinating. But most of all, your friendship is a gift as valuable as life itself.
Lee, Tanya, Regina, Kim, and Beth—you are the vision-makers, making all that you touch with your artistic magic shine. Thank you for your friendship and lending your gifts to my projects.
Dawn and Geralyn—thank you for being my “go-to” critics with each book I write. Your friendship and ability to polish my stories are priceless.
Adam—your humility, creative light, and humor are spellbinding. Stacy—you are the epitome of beauty, perfection, and inner strength that every woman strives for. You both personified what I thought only existed in fairy tales. Thank you for your charm and our blossoming friendships.
Natalie—much can be said for overdue e-mail responses. Cheers to a great relationship.
To my editor—thank you for all that didn’t make it into the book.
Dad, Chris, Jen, Mike, Mark, Big L, and Lady—your love and support is comforting and what keeps me grounded.
Mom—your praise is better than a five-star review. Thank you for all that you have done for me, taught me, and instilled in me to get me where I am today. I love you.
And finally, to M.J.—home is where you are. Dorothy had it right—there’s no place like it.
VEIL OF SEDUCTION
AmbroseHeights Vampires 2
MAYA DELEINA
Copyright © 2012
Prologue
The evening marked the first snowfall of the season.
Ryan stepped out into the cold night air and reached deep into the pockets of his long wool coat. He wiggled his fingers against the smooth satin lining, his senses soaking in the opulence that surrounded him.
Every detail of the five-star resort was exquisite.
His gaze traveled the length of the porte cochere, then drifted upward on the ornate ceiling. The Italian Renaissance architecture boasted ornamental moldings finished in shades of gold, black, and cobalt blue. It was striking against the white marble archways that lined the entry.
He remained fixated on the lavishness until a sweet voice breached his trance.
“Sir? I am so sorry. I forgot to have you select your fortune before you left the restaurant.”
She was slightly winded but polished and expressive in her footing. Her arms outstretched toward Ryan, displaying an elegant glass bowl filled with little silver and gold foil packages. She wore a white, button-down shirt, a delicate sheen laced in the fabric. The top two buttons had been left undone, revealing her cleavage to eager eyes. The shirt tucked into a black pencil skirt that accentuated her curves. An ankle bracelet adorned one bare leg and complimented her peep-toe, black heels.
She stood shaking, inadequately attired for the frigid temperature of the evening.
Ryan looked at her curiously. “You work at the restaurant? I don’t remember seeing you.”
“Well, I definitely saw you.”
“And you ran out after me, in this cold, all because of a fortune cookie?”
She flashed the flirtiest smile. “I could never live with myself knowing I deprived you of your chosen enlightenment to fulfill your destiny, sir.”
Like a wildfire, Ryan felt his smile spread from ear to ear.
A spark flashed in her eyes.
In that moment, Ryan realized their immediate attraction to one another.
Ryan scanned her from head to toe. He estimated she was at least a decade younger than him. Delicious images danced in his head as he mentally undressed her within seconds. He fished his nestled hands out from the warmth of his coat pockets and reached for a shimmering package in the glass bowl.
“Well then, when you put it that way, how can I refuse?” Ryan selected a package with his left hand while his right shrewdly retrieved a business card from his inner chest pocket.
“Hopefully, you will not make the same mistake and deprive me of anything else in the future,” Ryan uttered slyly as he handed her his card.
Her eyes widened as she examined his card. She smiled at the personal information carefully penned on the back. Her lustful gaze fixed on Ryan as she bit her lower lip and evaluated his physique. She leaned in close and whispered in his ear, “I assure you, I never make the same mistake twice.”
She pulled back, noting the smug-laced grin that was etched on Ryan’s face. Giving him one last assessment, she parted with a flirty wink. “I’ll be seeing you…Mr. Ryan Evans.”
Ryan watched as the young woman retreated back into the lobby. He took in a deep breath, absorbing her musky perfume that suspended in the air. Instantly, his naughty imagination unleashed once again. With her pinned securely beneath him, she writhed under his control. Her perky breasts bounced with a raw intensity to the demands of his thrusts. Her lustful moans rang deliciously in his ear. She huffed and panted, begging him to fuck her harder and faster like an animal.
Ryan pulled himself from the wicked fantasy and refocused on his surroundings. Resigning effortlessly, he sighed.
Taking another lover was no longer a question of if, but when.
Once she disappeared from his sight, he tore open the elegant foil packaging, and retrieved the fortune cookie. One half of the crescent was dipped in dark chocolate and finished with a dusting of edible gold flakes. He broke open the cookie and fished out the small piece of paper hidden inside.
Those who have love and happiness, have wealth beyond measure
“Mr. Evans, your car has arrived,” interrupted the valet as Ryan read the fortune’s message.
Ryan popped the broken cookie pieces into his mouth, tipped the valet, and slipped into the warmth of the vehicle. He buckled his seat belt and made the necessary mirror adjustments, glancing once more at the fortune. A chuckle escaped him as he edited the fortune, discarding it out the window.
“Those with wealth beyond measure can buy love and happiness.”
* * * *
From the refuge of the lobby, the young woman peered out of the window, watching Ryan as he got into his vehicle. The lights of the porte cochere beamed off of the highly polished Mercedes SUV. She caught a glimpse of the vanity plate just before Ryan drove off into the darkness.
MNEM8KR.
“Money maker,” she said to herself, “I gotcha!”
Chapter One
Of the seven properties that made up Ambrose Heights, Ryan Evans purchased the smallest home in the exclusive gated community.
But what his home lacked in size, it made up for in its architectural presence.
Covered in stone and stucco, visitors were welcomed with intricate carved designs in the wooden doors at the vaulted entrance. The home was built on stilts, offering the illusion of balancing precariously on the edge of the mountain. Floor-to-ceiling windows created unobstructed views of the neighboring mountain vistas and the city below. Yet, the striking feature of the home was the portion of the mountain that protruded through the framing and the large boulder that seemingly jutted up through floor.
Careful attention to incorporate the mountain terrain translated into a truly unique home.
Ryan had first laid eyes on the property when he happened upon a copy of a local architecture magazine. Lingering in the smooth finish of a rusty nail at the lakeside bar in his favorite hotel in town, the magazine cover caught his eye. The home was the feature story. With each page turned, Ryan couldn’t believe his eyes. The magnificent home was the first glimpse he ever had into Ambrose Heights.
Ambrose Heights was a bit of an enigma in the town. It sat secluded, access restricted only to residents, with very little activity seen on the only road leading to and from the mountainside neighborhood. Even the locals in the area didn’t know much about the place or its residents. In fact, most would swear that the community seemed to just appear overnight. All that was known of Ambrose Heights was it loomed above picturesque Manitou Springs, vigilant of the eclectic and spirited ambiance of the town.
And it was this, the exclusiveness of the neighborhood, which captivated Ryan. It drew him in like a moth to a flame. He wanted to be a part of the status, seize its prominence and distinction.
He tucked the magazine in his brief case and immediately went to work, feeding his latest obsession.
No matter the price, the home would be his.
* * * *
Ryan exhausted his time in relentless research of the property. He poured through public resources for information on the owner, land zoning, builders, anything he could tie to Ambrose Heights. He even resorted to locating the author of the magazine article and was thrilled to learn that the owner was known to entertain proposals to purchase the property from time to time.
This was the fuel Ryan needed.
Soon, Ryan’s persistence and determination paid off. He landed a face-to-face meeting with Vaughn, the caretaker of the property.
Ryan spent the next few weeks communicating with Vaughn at the mercy of the guard post station. When Vaughn finally agreed to present the owner with a purchase proposal, Ryan found himself making multiple visits to Ambrose Heights, more than he could count. Vaughn always insisted on daytime visits, without a single offer to enter the home for a private tour. Instead, he offered Ryan rides in a golf cart down the long street that made up the community as the negotiations played out.
On one visit, Vaughn freely shared information about Ambrose Heights residents as they stopped to admire the home that sat in the bend of the crescent-shaped road.
This home was quite different from the others in the community. This was an estate.
The residence had a definite old-world charm, drawing inspiration from medieval European designs. It was clad in stone and boasted ornate oriel windows and two tower steeples. Vines climbed the walls of the towers that flanked a large Juliet balcony. Perched high on the hill, the castle-like estate was surrounded by a manicured garden that created a labyrinth design on the sprawling front lawn. Two long cobblestone driveways lined each side of the lawn and led up to the circle courtyard at the staircased entrance. And while Ryan was still seated in the golf cart on the street, he could make out a stately tiered fountain in the courtyard and a four-car garage accessible by a glass, enclosed breezeway.
“This was the first home built. It is also the largest,” Vaughn stated plainly. “The owner had originally purchased all of this land and worked with a developer to create this private community. Originally, the plan called for thirteen homes. If I am correct, he finally decided to keep it a close-knit community with fewer homes but still owns most of the undeveloped land up here.”
“And am I to assume that this home is not for sale?” Ryan asked.
“You are correct. An offer would never be entertained for this home. He resides here.”
“He?” Ryan looked curiously at Vaughn.
“He.” Vaughn stated with a sense of authority in his eyes.
“Interesting. So, the residents here, are they celebrities, neurosurgeons, infamous attorneys?” Ryan asked, deciding this was his only opportunity to inquire about the wealth and status of the residents of Ambrose Heights without sounding crass.
“Old money.” Vaughn winked at Ryan. Vaughn exited the golf cart and Ryan followed suit. They leaned against the cart’s frame, admiring the grand ho
me from the street.
“I’m not of old money. And, I know how people of that stature are. They are very particular of their social circle,” Ryan declared in a troubling tone.
“The residents have been briefed on your proposal to purchase a property and are quite interested in you. It is certainly not a bad deal to have a highly successfully hedge fund manager in their community.”
Vaughn stared at Ryan, waiting for him to bring up a subject they had yet to discuss. “And in case you were wondering, I do have an option to work for another family here if my owner decides to sell to you. I won’t be out of a job.”
“Sorry, Vaughn, I didn’t even think about that.”
Truth told, although Vaughn had been nothing but amiable and receptive to his requests to visit the area, there was still something uneasy about him. Vaughn stood about five foot nine, the same height as Ryan. He was a little overweight, and Ryan determined his age to be around fifty years old from the gray in his hair and wear on his face. Still, Vaughn wielded some undefined creepiness that Ryan couldn’t quite pinpoint.
“Tell me something.” Vaughn stepped back around the cart to the driver seat as Ryan slid into the seat next to him. “Why do you want this so bad? My employer is not even willing to let you tour the home, yet you still pursue this. You do very well for yourself. Certainly someone of your stature would already own a magnificent home.”
“I do very well for myself,” Ryan said sharply. He scanned the neighborhood as he shook his head in veneration. “And, I do have a nice home. But this is Ambrose Heights. Being here would be different for me. This is the epitome of prestige and stature. To live here means recognition, distinction from everyone else out there. Just look how many homes are here, how exclusive this community is. How many people make this drive, sit up here looking over the town, and call this place home? Not many.”
