“Just be careful,” she advised the Vossimer king. “Not all love stories end like Julian’s and mine.”
Happily ever after. She hadn’t thought it existed—despite seeing her grandparents’ love for each other. And she never would have believed a man such as Julian existed.
“I’m real,” he assured her as he took her hand from his grandfather’s arm. “And our love is real.”
“And eternal.”
“You two are skipping ahead on the vows,” the Underground minister teased.
“I guess we didn’t need you after all,” Julian shot back with a wink.
We didn’t, Sienna silently agreed. They’d already forever joined their souls.
Julian winked at her, as if he’d read her mind, which he no doubt had. The two of them were one; they didn’t need to repeat the minister’s vows to seal their union. But they exchanged their promises and rings, a plain gold band for Julian and Nana’s diamond for Sienna, so that they could celebrate their love with their friends and family, those dead and those undead.
Breaking away from the passionate kiss that punctuated their wedding ceremony, Sienna smiled and laughed.
“Happy?” Julian asked, his handsome face beaming with his own joy.
“Yes.” And so was Nana. Despite her grandmother being dead, Sienna felt her approval shining down upon her as clearly as the stars and the twinkling Christmas lights.
Reading her thoughts again, Julian nodded. “Even Orson’s happy for us.”
“He loves you,” she said and repeated when she felt her new husband’s doubts. “He loves you. He just doesn’t know how to express it.”
“He doesn’t know how to feel it,” Julian scoffed.
“He wants to try,” she defended her new relative.
Julian gestured toward where his grandfather stood near the dark-haired vampiress. “I hope he’s not going to try with her.”
“I don’t think so.” Orson was too clever to waste his time with someone who couldn’t return his feelings. She sighed and admitted, “I feel sorry for Ingrid.”
“Why? If she’d had her way, you’d be dead now,” Julian reminded her.
Sienna shook her head. “No, if she had her way, she’d be with the man she loves.” A twinge of guilt tempered her happiness. “I’m so lucky that I am…”
“We’re so lucky,” he said, “to have each other.”
Music began to play, softly, from a string quartet set up near the Christmas tree. Julian took her hand in his as he wrapped his other arm around her waist and drew her against his body. Then he began to move in time to each sweet chord.
“We are lucky,” she agreed.
“And brave,” he said.
They had been brave to open up their damaged hearts to love. “Yes,” she agreed.
“You were brave to trust me to turn you,” he clarified his compliment, “and not kill you.”
“Trust had nothing to do with it,” she said. “It was love…”
With them, it would always be love.
For all eternity.
UNWRAPPED
Bonnie Vanak
Dear Reader,
Have you ever received a gift you never anticipated—one that fulfilled your wildest dreams?
That’s what happens to the vampire hero of “Unwrapped.” Banished to his isolated Maine estate, Adrian is given a suspicious Christmas package by six green gremlins dressed as Santa Claus. The gift is Sarah—a lonely Draicon werewolf on the run from enemies wanting her dead, the same enemies Adrian must kill to regain his clan’s acceptance.
It will take everything these two have to destroy the killers after Sarah without surrendering to the feelings they both deny. But it’s Christmas and magick is in the air. What better magick than the power of love?
I’ve always believed the best gifts are expressions of the heart. When Adrian and Sarah learn to share their hearts, they receive a gift they will forever cherish.
I hope you enjoy Adrian and Sarah’s story in “Unwrapped.” I wish all the best for you this holiday season, and a lifetime of love and romance.
Happy reading,
Bonnie
For my mother, who taught me to believe in Christmas
magic and miracles. Miss you, Mom. Love you always.
Chapter 1
F or the sake of a werewolf, he was risking his life.
Adrian was a vampire. Powerful and fearless, he could move swifter than the eye could blink. But not now. Peeking over the gray ocean’s horizon, the rising sun began to sap his enormous energy.
He was doing all this for Sarah. She was a Draicon, werewolves who once used their magick to learn of the earth, who were now hunted by the more powerful Morphs—former Draicon who embraced evil by killing one of their own.
The Morphs shuffled forward on the beach, saliva dripping from their yellowed fangs. Adrian tensed, waiting to see if they would shift to attack. Sarah’s enemies could turn into any animal or insect.
A cluster of hooded vampires suddenly glided onto the nearby dunes. Clad in thick robes to protect them against the encroaching dawn, elders from his clan had come to rescue him. But they would not help until Adrian begged. Those were the rules. This was not their war, and he had broken with his clan to fight in it.
Vampires and werewolves can never be allies, his father always warned.
Sarah rushed past him, kicking up eddies of sand. She stabbed the Morphs in the heart with a steel dagger, killing them instantly. The Draicon was a tough little fighter, but he knew she couldn’t face her enemies alone. She’d asked Adrian to join her. No one else stood with her—not her pack, her sister or even her own father.
Only two Morphs remained, but where the hell had they gone? Adrian turned around. His heart jumped into his throat as he spied the pair shifting from seagulls, assuming their true shapes behind Sarah. Their dark, soulless eyes glowed red. With the last bit of his strength, Adrian sped to Sarah. He pushed her to safety and turned to take her enemy’s blows upon his weakening body.
Sensing his weakness, a Morph slashed his cheek with its razor-sharp talons. The creature howled in triumph as Adrian collapsed.
A collective hiss of disapproving anger echoed over the dunes. The Morphs turned and saw the vampires. Their shrieks of outraged fear turned into the cries of seagulls as they shifted and flew off.
He’d failed to defeat the enemy. The price would be banishment, if he lived long enough. Through a dazed fog of pain, he struggled to stand. Adrian held out a hand to Sarah. “Help me,” he told her.
Her terrified gaze whirled to the vampires. Iridescent sparks filled the air as she shifted. In wolf form, she raced off. Blood trickling down his face blurred his vision as he stared in grief-stricken disbelief. Sarah, the Draicon he secretly adored. Sarah, now leaving him to die.
The ocean’s tumultuous waves crashed over his trembling body, saltwater sealing the deep gouges on his face. The sun’s cruel rays touched his skin. A scream tore from his throat as he smelled his flesh scorching. Adrian finally pleaded with the vampires for aid. But instead of rescuing him, his family began mocking him in a chorus of singing laughter…
Singing?
Adrian Thorne struggled out of the throes of the dream that had haunted him for the past decade. In the darkness, he opened his eyes and then snatched up a thick burgundy robe and belted it on, marching toward the window. After depressing the button that opened the heavy metal shutters, he swung open the glass panes. Twilight glimmered on the waves crashing against the sweeping, pink granite bluffs below, reflecting the deep rose and crimson hues of a spectacular Maine sunset. Cold wind whistled inside, whipping back his shaggy black hair.
Adrian stared down at the scene on the deck of his two-story mansion. A chorus of green, grinning faces greeted him. Six gremlins dressed in Santa Claus outfits warbled an off-key rendition of “Jingle Bells.” Adrian winced and shouted down.
“Are you trying to raise the undead? Do them a favor, let them rest.”<
br />
“Adrian!” one squealed at him. “Come down and get your Christmas gift.”
“Dare I hope it’s peace on earth, or at least peace in my house?” he suggested.
As he shut the window, the gremlins belted out a rap song about “peas on earth.” Adrian shook his head and scrubbed the day stubble on his jaw. In a few days, elders from his clan would arrive for the winter solstice convocation. Ten years ago, his father, the clan’s leader, had banished him until Adrian restored his honor by killing the Morphs that nearly killed him. But Morphs feared a vampire’s power and though Adrian had funded numerous efforts to find them, he had failed to do so.
Only Sarah could lead him to her enemy. And she had vanished without a trace.
Downstairs, he went outside onto the wood deck, relishing the harsh winter wind stinging his cheeks. Squealing, the gremlins rushed over, the pom-pom balls on their Santa hats bouncing. The tallest, only four feet, had tinsel dangling from his pointed ears. Six faces beamed at him, showing rows of serrated teeth.
Snark, oldest of the six brothers, thrust a wrapped package at him. “Merry Christmas!”
Adrian felt a small tug of pleasure as he examined the shoebox-size package, his first gift in years. It was wrapped in gold-and-red striped paper that bore faint stains, and the red ribbon smelled like oranges and sour chicken. He raised a dark brow.
“Have you been rooting through the garbage again?”
A chorus of innocent nos with equally innocent looks confirmed his suspicions.
“Open it, open it,” they began to chant.
“We got you exactly what you wanted. Just add water and read the note,” Snark added.
Curiosity consumed him. He headed for the nearby pool house, the gremlins skipping in his wake. Inside, he switched on the soft overhead lights and sat at the wrought-iron table. Slowly he began to unwrap the present, wanting to make it last. The gremlins squealed with impatience.
Oh, very well. Adrian ripped the paper and tore off the box lid. He lifted a thin layer of tissue paper.
Beneath it lay the ugliest doll he’d ever seen. The smile died on his face. A black, Frankenstein-like scar snaked down the doll’s right cheek. Tufts of hair grew from a balding scalp. She was dressed in a lime-green polyester pants suit. A silver bracelet was included in the box, along with a small white card. He read the card. Congratulations, You are now the proud owner of a Sally Ugly Bunch doll. There was an 800 number and a Web site address at the bottom.
“Have fun playing with your gift!” Snark chortled, and they scampered off.
A hollow ache filled his chest as he lifted the doll. His fingers stroked the deep gouges on his left cheek. The doll stared sightlessly back at him, its own scar mocking him. Adrian glanced in the direction the gremlins took.
“I thought you were my friends,” he whispered.
Grief twisted and writhed like hissing snakes in his belly. Primitive rage exploded, making his fangs descend. Adrian shook the doll, his voice a strong roar that echoed through the pool house’s open glass doors and over the five acres of his cliffside estate.
“Damn you!” He threw the doll against the wall.
“Ouch.”
He froze. Were the gremlins playing another trick? Snark said to add water. Adrian picked up his Christmas gift and marched outside. The pool was heated, and remained uncovered for the gremlins’ nightly swim. Wind billowed his robe, fluttering it open and exposing his strong, muscled legs. He flung the toy into the water.
Shock filled him as the doll began to thrash. Stiff limbs became arms and legs beating the water. The doll grew to life-size, dark hair sprouting from its balding head. No longer a doll, but a woman.
She sank, only to surface again. “Help me,” she choked out, before she went under.
This time she did not surface.
He was no hero. The last time he’d played the part, he’d been left to die. But he was no ogre, either. Shrugging out of his robe, Adrian dove into the pool. He swam underwater, grabbed the woman and dragged her upward. Swiftly towing his gift to the pool’s edge, he then climbed out and hoisted the woman up into his arms.
Inside the warm pool house, he gently laid her down on the tiled floor. He inhaled, taking her scent into his lungs. Fangs exploded in his mouth as a familiar hunger seized him.
Only one woman could cause this kind of volatile reaction. Stunned, Adrian took a closer look. The repulsive scar was gone, replaced by smooth flesh. Instead of a chubby moon face, bulbous nose and thin mouth, she had full lips, a pert nose, high cheeks and long lashes.
Shocked, he sat back on his haunches. Adrian bent closer. “My beautiful Sarah,” he whispered. “Just as lovely as when you left me. Traitor.”
She lay still as cold marble. Very gently, he turned her head to one side. Adrian straddled her hips. Decades ago, he’d given CPR to a little boy who’d nearly drowned. Now he avoided everyone and was dead inside. But maybe he could give life again.
He compressed her chest. She coughed, and a stream of water spilled out of her lips. Satisfaction filled him as color returned to her cheeks. He did another compression and she coughed again.
The delicate blue vein in her throat throbbed with life. Just as he’d always done in the past, he fought the ferocious urge to take her blood. Instead, he stroked her throat, marveling at the feel of satin skin beneath his caressing fingertips.
Blood pulsed just beneath smooth flesh, calling to him in a siren song. He hadn’t been near a woman in years, not even to feed. Adrian didn’t trust the darkness inside him. His private blood bank took care of his needs.
Clenching his fists, he stared at her lying beneath him. He envisioned Sarah naked, her long legs open, her body sultry and inviting. Flat on her back, the perfect position to sink his fangs, and his body, into her. The strong sexual pull he’d always experienced around her, and never fulfilled, roared to unwelcome life.
Sarah was forbidden. He’d hungered for her, would have given her the world, but destiny promised her to another of her kind. Adrian had honored her chastity, guarding it from all, even himself. He had never even kissed her.
He could not help himself now. His fangs lengthened, echoing the raw desire pooling much lower. Adrian leaned down, and brushed his mouth against hers. Warm, wet lips moved beneath his. She tasted as delicious as he’d imagined.
Enchanted, he deepened the kiss, moaning at the honey of her mouth. Adrian reluctantly drew away. How the hell had she gotten here? He fetched the note from the doll’s box.
“Dear Adreean,” (the gremlins had never learned to spell, despite his best efforts to teach them). “Puleze accept with thankz thiz fer letting uz stay on yur guezt houze without pay. We finds her after we smells wolfie when letting air out of car tyers in town. Put thee bracelet on her and she cant do magickz. Meerry Chrismes.”
He crushed the note beneath his fingers. Adrian smiled darkly as he retrieved the silver bracelet. He had a pretty Christmas present. And he wasn’t about to let her go.
Not until she lured her enemies to his house so he could destroy them and gain admittance back to his clan. Take his rightful role as his father’s heir and future ruler of the powerful clan of vampires.
As he snapped the bracelet on her wrist, feeling the chilled, but soft skin beneath his fingertips, he only hoped the old feelings he harbored for her would not destroy him first.
Chapter 2
A naked man had kissed her. The warmth of his wet mouth had spread through her icy body like lava. Making her blood sing, filling her with life.
I’m hallucinating.
Shivering and coughing, Sarah Roberts tried to clear the thick haze in her mind. Her eyes fluttered open. She tried to get a bearing on her surroundings. Her powerful senses picked up distant waves crashing against rocks, the mournful howl of a bitter wind skirting over the cliffs, smelled chlorinated water.
She was wet.
Remembering her pursuers, Sarah bolted upright. She raised her hands to ward off
the enemy. A curious draining sensation made her limbs lethargic. Her gaze fell to the circle of silver encasing her right wrist.
Trapped by silver, she couldn’t shift or perform magick. Terror and confusion collided together. Sarah fisted her badly shaking hands. They wanted her afraid. The Morphs would feed on her fear as she lay dying. Let them try. She’d go down fighting. A growl rumbled deep in her throat.
“Feisty little thing, aren’t you?”
The deep timbre of the sensual voice sounded both familiar and dangerous. She inhaled and a delicious, spicy scent filled her senses, tugging at her memories. This was no Morph. She smelled vampire.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“Ho, ho, ho.”
She knew that voice. From where? Sarah turned. A man sat on a chair, a damp robe clinging to his powerful body. His face was hidden, his body silhouetted by the outdoor lights ringing the pool. The scent of chlorine covered him, as well.
He’d briefly, sweetly, kissed her. No, not a man, but something much more powerful and deadly, someone she knew. Her fingers grasped her wet clothing with growing dismay.
Yuck. Polyester. How did she wind up wearing this?
Then she remembered.
She’d been driving home after visiting distant relatives in Maine in hopes of finding a mate and had been in such a rush that she’d failed to wear the perfume that usually masked her scent. The Morphs picked up her trail. And sensing a vampire nearby, and knowing how Morphs feared them, Sarah detoured through the tiny seaside town of Anderson. But in town, the aging Ford’s transmission finally bought it. A band of gangly Santas cheerfully bearing tools offered help. But instead of Mr. Goodwrench, she got…
Gremlins.
They had been in human form, then shifted into little green headaches. They took the watch from her wrist, chanted something, and she found herself trapped inside a plastic body.
She gingerly touched her temple, recalling the man’s warm mouth moving over hers.
Holiday with a Vampire III Page 14
