by Vivi Anna
“The amulets are gone.”
She grabbed his hand to pull him through the crowd on the dance floor, but the moment Olena touched him, Cale felt a lightning bolt of desire. He knew they had to get out of the club, away from the magic spell that was affecting them both. But he wanted to stay.
He wanted to bury his hands in her hair and kiss her hard and long. The thought of her tongue dancing with his made him instantly hard. Shivers of hot desire made his flesh quiver. Cale needed her so much, he could hardly breathe.
His brain told him it was magic making him feel this way. But in his heart he knew the desire had already been there.
He had to taste her. One taste would sate him. But even as he reached for her and crushed his mouth to hers, Cale knew with this mistress of the night, one kiss would never be enough.…
Books by Vivi Anna
Harlequin Nocturne
*Blood Secrets #11
*Dark Lies #26
*Veiled Truth #50
Winter Kissed #52
“Ice Bound”
*The Vampire’s Quest #61
*The Vampire’s Kiss #92
VIVI ANNA
A vixen at heart, Vivi Anna likes to burn up the pages with her original unique brand of fantasy fiction. Whether it’s in the Amazon jungle, an apocalyptic future or the otherworld city of Necropolis, Vivi always writes fast-paced action-adventure with strong independent women that can kick some butt, and dark delicious heroes to kill for.
Once shot at while repossessing a car, Vivi decided that maybe her life needed a change. The first time she picked up a pen and put words to paper, she knew she had found her heart’s desire. Within two paragraphs, she realized she could write about getting into all sorts of trouble without suffering any of the consequences.
When Vivi isn’t writing, you can find her causing a ruckus at downtown bistros, flea markets or in her own backyard.
THE VAMPIRE’S KISS
VIVI ANNA
Dear Reader,
The moment I finished writing the previous book, The Vampire’s Quest, I knew I would want to return to the European Otherworld city of Nouveau Monde. And I knew exactly who my next story would be about—sultry vampiress Olena Petrovich.
I love writing strong, independent women, and Olena is definitely that, having been on her own for a couple millennia. But I also love that she’s vulnerable and wants to find that perfect someone to spend many more years with. So who better to throw into her path, but a sexy British Interpol agent named Cale Braxton. Oh, and did I mention that he’s human?
How is that going to work?
I hope you keep turning the pages to find out.
All my best,
Vivi Anna
Come visit me at www.vivianna.net or drop me a note at [email protected]. I love hearing from all my readers.
To my family for all your love and support, without you
I would be out on the street begging for money.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 1
Olena Petrovich had had close to three hundred years to perfect sin to an art form. In the past, she’d used her vampiric charms to get whatever she wanted in life—money, sex, power. It helped, she supposed, that she was curvy and possessed a mouth some men had said was made for sin. But it had always proven to be too easy.
She didn’t want easy any longer. She liked working for the things she received. Like this case.
This was Olena’s first time as lead investigator and she was excited about it. She didn’t want to make one mistake. It wasn’t often that Inspector Gabriel Bellmonte let go of the reins. But he had for her. Or it could’ve been because she had begged him for the past three months.
The crime scene at the National Bank of Nouveau Monde wasn’t typical for a bank robbery. Usually the robbers took the money, but instead these guys—four armed, masked men—had herded everyone in the bank into the vault, then blasted apart the safety-deposit boxes.
Olena and her team wouldn’t be able to get a clear view of the situation until they’d pieced together all the boxes that had been destroyed. And by the looks of the mess, that was going to take considerable time.
The odor of smoke still hung oppressively in the air as Olena eyed the wall of boxes, taking in the destruction. Charred residue marred an array of the shiny metal squares in a circular pattern. The explosion had caused a lot of damage.
“I wonder what they were looking for.” She glanced over her shoulder at her investigative partner, Sophie St. Clair, who was busy taking pictures of the metal and plastic shrapnel scattered all over the black-and-white-tiled floor.
“I guess someone must’ve lost his key.” After snapping her last photo, Sophie stood beside Olena and surveyed the destroyed wall. “Kellen called. He said he’d be on scene in about fifteen minutes,” Sophie informed her.
Olena nodded. “Good. He can figure out this blast pattern on the remaining safety-deposit boxes.”
Kellen, a recent addition to their crime-scene team, was a damn good ballistics expert. He had come from America to France for treatment for a rare blood disease and had ended up completely cured, with a new job on the team and an engagement to Sophie.
Fate had a grand sense of humor.
“What did the bank manager have to say?”
“He said that around nine-thirty, about the time that they open for business, four men with black ski masks burst into the bank, waving guns around, and told everyone to get facedown on the floor.”
“Could he tell if they were vamps or lycans or anything?”
“No. He said he couldn’t really get a bead on any of them.” Olena frowned. “But he did say one of them smelled like menthol.”
“The manager’s a lycan?”
Olena nodded.
Sophie shrugged. “Maybe that guy had a cold and he’s been using cold medicines.”
“Yeah, that could be it.”
“I have my moments.” Sophie smiled.
“Once everyone was on the floor, one of the gunmen demanded that the manager open the vault and another two herded all the employees and patrons into it. The same one took the keys from the manager and shut the vault with everyone inside.”
“So nobody saw anything after that?”
“No.” Olena flipped her notebook open and read from her notes. “But three of the ten people in the vault said they heard an explosion at around ten-thirty.”
Sophie glanced at her watch. “Let’s see. It’s one now, so two and a half hours. Not bad to be on scene already.”
“A regular bank patron named Madame Fonteneau called 911 when she couldn’t get into the bank at eleven-thirty.” Olena smiled. “Whoever cased the bank didn’t count on Mrs. Fonteneau’s fortitude to cash her monthly social-security check.”
“Did she see anything?”
Olena shook her head. “No. Unfortunately, she was so upset about not cashing her check that she cried through mos
t of the interview.” She flipped her notepad closed and slid it into the inner pocket of her blue nylon jacket, the standard coat for all crime-scene technicians.
A young police constable stuck his head into the room. “Here are all the tapes from the security cameras.” He came in holding five tapes and handed them over to her.
“Thanks.” She smiled at him.
He blushed and continued to gape at her.
She glanced around. “Is there something else, Officer…?”
“Anderson,” he supplied. “Ah, yeah, sorry. There’s a guy up front who asked to see whoever was in charge of the scene.”
“Who is he?”
“I don’t know, ma’am. My superior officer just told me to deliver the tapes and to escort you to the lobby of the bank.”
Olena glanced at Sophie, who shrugged her shoulders. “Beats me. Could be from the mayor’s office. This is the biggest and most prestigious bank in Nouveau Monde. I bet a lot of bigwigs bank here, and they’re all worried about their money.”
“I hope not. I hate bureaucrats. There’s nothing more boring than someone with a political agenda.”
Before following the officer out of the room, Olena bagged and tagged the security footage and placed it into her crime-scene collection suitcase.
As she walked behind Officer Anderson, he kept glancing at her over his shoulder with a goofy grin on his boyish face. Olena sighed inwardly. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-three. A lycan, she had no doubt. A vampire wouldn’t have been so eager to please her. He would’ve had enough years of experience that a mere innocent smile from an attractive woman wouldn’t have sent him into a tizzy. Where were they getting these whelps? The puppy pound?
There was a lot of commotion in the lobby as Olena and the young officer approached. The bank manager looked as if he was arguing with another officer, frantically gesticulating.
The bank patrons who had been locked in the vault were still being interviewed. But standing out from all the commotion in the middle of the lobby, looking commanding but at ease, was a tall, ruggedly gorgeous man in an expensive-looking tailored suit.
Olena wasn’t easily impressed. Having lived so long in many different countries, she’d come across her fair share of attractive men. Libertines, princes and lords, all with power, prestige and perfectly formed butts. But this man stood out from them all.
She thought it was because he didn’t appear to be posturing for anyone or anything. He just was.
She wondered who he was. A high-powered investor inquiring about his holdings at the bank, or maybe the owner of one of the safety-deposit boxes, curious as to what had been stolen.
When the officer led her right to him, her heart picked up a few beats. And butterflies took flight in her stomach when his piercing gaze met hers and studied her with a clinical eye.
She was impressed. Most men started their study of her from the toes up, stopping periodically on her long legs and ample chest. His gaze never left her face.
Officer Anderson motioned toward the gentleman, then proceeded to move in another direction, his task complete.
“Are you in charge of this crime scene?” He had a deep voice and an accent. British, she thought, maybe Welsh. And he was definitely human.
“Yes. Olena Petrovich, NMPD crime-scene division.” She offered her hand. “And you are?”
As he took her hand in a quick, firm shake, he flipped open a badge wallet. “Inspector Cale Braxton, Interpol.” He shut the leather folder and slid it into his front pants pocket.
“Interpol? That’s a first.” She smiled, but he remained stoic.
“I’ve already spoken with Superintendent Jakob Weiss, and he assured me that there wouldn’t be a problem.”
“A problem with what? You have not even told me why you’re here.”
“This robbery. I’ll be heading up the investigation.”
Olena’s stomach flipped over. It felt like the floor had just dropped out from beneath her feet. She hadn’t worked this hard for this long to have her case yanked out from under her, not by anyone—even if he was a tall, light-brown-haired, ocean-blue-eyed, sexy man with a rugged jawline and full lips that looked as soft as satin.
“Why would Interpol get involved in a simple robbery case?”
“I’m sorry, but that information is above your pay grade.” He stepped around her as if she were nothing. “Now, if you could lead me to the actual crime scene.”
Olena looked him up and down, her first impression of him slowly starting to shift. She liked confidence in a man, even sought it out, but arrogance? That was one thing she could never stomach.
And this man had it in spades.
Instead of leading him anywhere, Olena dug into her jacket pocket, pulled out her cell phone and called Gabriel. She kept Cale’s gaze as she dialed. He wasn’t going to intimidate her. No one intimidated her. She’d been part of Marie Antoinette’s court in France, for Pete’s sake. One sexy British agent wasn’t going to get under her skin.
He answered on the first shrill ring. “Inspector Bellmonte.”
“Why is there a human from Interpol demanding to be on my crime scene?”
“He got there fast.”
“I take it you know about this.”
“Yes, but just barely. The call came in from the superintendent about five minutes ago. I was about to call you and give you a heads-up.”
She turned away from Cale’s gaze, not wanting him to see the anger and disappointment on her face. She wasn’t a woman who liked to be read easily. Her emotions were her own, and she didn’t like anyone having an insight into them.
“I’m sorry, Olena. I know how much you wanted to lead this one. But I have strict orders from the superintendent to grant the agent anything he needs on this case. Interpol is running the show on this one.”
“Fine. I’ll try to be nice to Agent Braxton.”
Cale cleared this throat at that, and she swung around to look at him. His lips twitched, and she could tell he was fighting a smile.
“Olena.” She could hear the warning in Gabriel’s voice. “Your nice and other people’s nice are two entirely different things.”
She smiled at that. Gabriel knew her too well.
“Be gentle with him. He’s only human, after all. We don’t want to send a broken agent back to Interpol. That’s one kind of trouble this community doesn’t need.”
“I’ll try, but I can’t promise you anything.” As she flipped her phone closed, she ran the tip of her tongue over her fangs. Cale watched the motion with interest. She smiled at his reaction.
No, she couldn’t promise Gabriel anything. She wasn’t very good at playing nice, especially with men who thought they were superior. Agent Braxton needed to be knocked down a few notches, and she was just the vampiress for the job.
Chapter 2
Cale tried to keep his face stoic as he watched the vampiress run the tip of her tongue over her distended fangs. It proved difficult. She was unearthly beautiful and sexy. An exotic-looking goddess with a full, sensuous mouth and rich sable-colored hair—which she likely used to her advantage. Especially in situations like this one. But he wasn’t going to let her play him.
He’d been played before by the same type of bewitching creature and lost a hell of a lot more than just the game. He wasn’t about to let that happen again. No matter how tempted he was.
“The crime scene is where?” he asked again, surveying the main bank foyer.
Olena looked at him for a long moment with her luminous green eyes, then without a word turned on her heel and marched back toward the hallway from which she’d originally appeared. He followed her down the long corridor. He was loath to admit it, but he watched every sway of her derriere as she walked in front of him. She was wearing simple gray trousers, but even their plainness couldn’t disguise the fact that the vampiress had amazing curves.
She glanced over her shoulder and caught him looking at her. The smile that came to her lips was o
ne of triumph. He was going to have to be extra careful around her and guard his thoughts like Fort Knox. The woman was potent, and she obviously knew it.
Stopping at the end of the hallway, she gestured to the room with the bars. “We’re in here.”
With a polite nod in her direction, Cale passed by her, careful not to catch a whiff of her perfume.
He’d always been attracted to a woman’s smell. It was something that remained with him long after meeting the woman.
Unfortunately, he picked up her tantalizing scent.
And it made the hairs on the back of his neck stir to attention. Damn, the woman was going to kill him, and he’d only just met her. If he had to work with her, it was going to be torture on his libido.
There was another CSI in the room when he entered. A redhead with a fierce gaze. And she pinned him with it the second he stepped onto the tiled floor.
“Qui est ceci?” the redhead asked of Olena.
“Interpol,” she said as she walked into the room and stood beside the other investigator. “He’s come to take over our crime scene.”
He looked at the both of them giving him twin looks of distrust. A united front against his intrusion. But he had a job to do, and he’d do it whether they chose to cooperate or not.
“Look, Ms. Petrovich, I’m sorry if you think I’m stepping on your toes, but there is more at stake here than your ego.”
Her eyebrows rose at that, and she glanced at her colleague, then back at him. He hadn’t meant to insult her or get her back up, but it looked as if he’d managed to do both. He just wanted to do what he needed to do, then move on. The less time in the vampiress’s presence the better. Sweat was already starting to drip down his back. He was known for being one of the coolest men in the agency, like ice under pressure, but this woman was testing him far beyond anything he’d experienced before. She had some power.
