by Loni Lynne
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Note From Author
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
Epilogue
About Loni Lynne
Coming Soon
Copyright
Acknowledgments
Immortal Heat
A Guardians of Dacia Novel
Loni Lynne
Loni Lynne Publishing
Dedication
To my amazing family and friends, thank you for all the love and support.
Note from Author
If you are like me at all, I download eBooks like they are candy, especially if they are on sale, even if I don't have time to read them right then. So by the time I have a chance to sit and read I've forgotten what they are about (unless I go back and search for them online). So to avoid delay and get right into the story (time is of an essence for most of us), I'm posting the blurb for Immortal Heat, with a lead in about the series, right here for you to get reacquainted:
The Guardians of Dacia Series
Romania has been called the mystical land of paranormal beings and creatures of the night. Before the Romans conquered their land, Dacia was a mystical land of magic and folk-lore until one man and his army destroyed the closely woven fabric set by the gods between man and beast. Now, cursed by their gods over two thousand years ago, one immortal clan struggles to maintain their private world while still learning to live and protect their human brethren while their enemy seeks power to destroy the new world.
But as the clans face extinction, a new generation of Dacian blood emerges to unite the clans once more. The world as they know it may never be the same.
Immortal Heat
Marilyn Reddlin is eager to explore her adventure working with an esteemed professor on Ancient Dacian History in Romania. But she never gets the chance. Captured for her own safety by a dark haired stranger who can hear her thoughts and set her body on fire, she's taken on a wild adventure of paranormal mystery and intrigue. Usually shy, suddenly she craves the man who captured her body and soul.
After centuries of waiting to repay his friend, Draylon Conier is finally given the opportunity when his friend and clan leader assigns him to keep American, college student, Marilyn Reddlin safe. The task seems easy enough. But Draylon doesn't expect the fiery auburn minx to fight him at every turn and make him wish he didn't have to deny himself of her heated touch.
But Draylon is more than an immortal being. He is the last remaining Zmeu and no woman has been able to survive his unleashed passion and he'll be damned if he destroys Marilyn Reddlin.
Now it's up to them to figure out who they are and what the truth is behind the clans' interests in Marilyn Reddlin. But will finding out the truth create a new beginning for the immortal people of Dacia or totally destroy their world as they know it?
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Chapter One
Mid-January—Timisoara, Romania
The brisk air hit Marilyn Reddlin in the face as she stepped out of the Traian Vuia International Airport terminal into a wintery Timisoara, Romania. She pushed her thick-lensed glasses up on her nose and squinted at her cell phone. The weather app showed thirty-three degrees. Even with her warm woolen pea coat and accessories, she couldn't help but shiver. Not many Americans considered Romania a bucket-list destination. But this was the homeland of her father, a place of mystery and magic steeped in tradition and history. Though never having met her father, Marilyn felt drawn to the country and its folklore.
Flashes of movement danced in her peripheral sight, putting her on edge. Someone was watching her. But who and why here? Blaming it on the paranoia her mother instilled in her at such a young age, she swore she wasn't going to let Diane Reddlin influence her adventure now.
Masculine spiced cologne of rich ambers and smoky musk assaulted her brain. Such a soothing scent. Inhaling involuntarily, she thought perhaps a man passing her in the terminal left his fragrance on her coat? The aroma settled into her brain and she tried to relax. Yet, why did her heart still race? Adrenaline kicked in chasing the sluggishness from her mind. The fine hairs on her arms stood up in awareness, magnetizing her nerves to a painful degree. Didn't her mother warn her of dangers lurking everywhere? She expected to see someone jump out at her. But there wasn't anything out of the ordinary.
People meandered, hailing the buses or cabs waiting for potential customers or going into the terminal to catch their flights. Shaking off the ill-ease, she rolled her suitcase along behind, wanting to get to the safety of the Hotel Elysee where Professor Vamier had her staying for the night.
Her time in Timisoara would be short. Just a brief layover until her flight tomorrow evening. She'd been lucky enough to have Professor Aiden Vamier at the Babes-Bolyar University in Cluj-Napoca, take an interest in her paper on pre-Romanian history. He'd even asked for her to be his work-student for her final semester of her Master's Degree in History.
She rubbed at her neck where stiffness had settled in from the flight. She'd cursed her mother's insistence to have Dr. Jon Johnston prescribe her "relaxants" for her first time flying. She hadn't wanted to be drugged and refused to imbibe until queasy turmoil and sore muscles had her downing a pain pill and muscle relaxer with a can of ginger ale before she even left the tarmac in Newark for her flight to London.
Marilyn had hoped the medication would help. But all they'd done was made her sleepy, leaving her groggy and lethargic. Her sleep patterns were messed up enough without the drugs. She needed to get back on some sort of schedule soon if she was going to work with Professor Vamier.
There it was again, the odd sense of being watched. She didn't want to turn around for fear of someone standing behind her. Worse yet, she didn't want to turn around to find no one there. Pulling her suitcase closer, she patted her coat to make sure her purse was still secure under her wrappings.
"Knock it off, mother. I refuse to be a paranoid-psycho," she said under her breath before closing her eyes and exhaling all of her pent up frustrations. Her mother had battered her with years of being overly protective when all she wanted was to explore life.
Hailing a cab, she asked the driver to take her to the Hotel Elysee. She was anxious to get to Cluj to start her research of Romanian history and antiquities, but she could wait another day and recover from the jet lag she already suffered.
The less than fifty-pound suitcase clunked into the trunk of the cab, weighing down the back of the small vehicle, nearly touching the pavement. Would the car be sturdy enough to carry her to her destination? The cabby grinned at her, showing crooked but gleaming white teeth, his hand out to receive money. He wanted a tip? Perhaps it was customary to tip for taking luggage?
Tentatively, Marilyn placed money into his palm. The cabbie opened her door and waved his hand as if he were a footman to her personal carriage. Bundling her coat around her, she stiffened her spine and held her head up higher to show she knew what she needed to do. Confidence, even if she didn't feel it, would divert trouble elsewhere. Taking one last cautious
look around, she slid into the warmth of the vinyl interior.
Buckled in, she waited for the driver. She needed to call her mother. The only way Marilyn managed to convince Diane Reddlin she'd be all right on this trip was to agree to call her when she arrived at each destination.
Knowing her mother the way she did, she would be checking incoming flights at every airport along the scheduled journey. Which she had. London was a battle—she'd taken a few minutes in the ladies room and found a pub that made authentic fish and chips when her phone rang only to have her mother nearly scream at her, trans-continentally, for not calling her upon immediate arrival.
Her driver pulled out into traffic without looking. A car horn blared behind them. Marilyn turned to see another cab breaking hard, giving her driver the universal gesture with his middle finger, before peeling into the vacant spot. The cabbie returned the greeting in the rear-view mirror, grinning at her and saying something about 'driving-assholes' from what she could translate. Marilyn only smiled and went to search her coat pocket for her cell phone so she could contact her mother before half the American Embassy and military forces were on the look-out for her.
Diane Reddlin picked up on the first ring.
"Your flight landed at six-ten. You've been on the ground for nearly an hour. What did I tell you about calling me immediately?" her mother badgered her. "That is so irresponsible of you. You do realize I have a meeting first thing tomorrow morning with the federal trade commission. I've been waiting for your call so I can go to bed."
Marilyn sighed. "I'm sorry Mama. I just wanted to make sure I got checked in through immigration, and it took longer than I expected for our luggage to be unloaded."
The cab veered to the right on two wheels, screeching in resistance to the torturous position the small vehicle endured. Marilyn squealed at the sight of cars whizzing by as if getting out of their way. Checking the view out her window, a cacophony of reverberating car horns signaled each other in their race to each personal destination as if their journey was the most important.
Her driver weaved in and out of traffic, like a drunken monkey, yelling the occasional profanity when other cars cut in front of him. Her fear of flying had nothing on her latest fear of Romanian drivers. She clutched the edge of the door and closed her eyes, praying the seatbelt was sturdy enough to hold her in and that she'd arrive at the hotel and not a hospital.
"What's going on, Marilyn? Are you still there?"
"Yes, I'm still here."
"I thought I heard you squeal. Are you hurt? What's wrong?" The panic in her mother's voice was evident. She would be jumping through the phone if she could.
Putting her shattered nerves back together, Marilyn tried to sound normal. "I'm fine, mother. Would you stop worrying?"
"My only daughter is half a world away, vulnerable and I can't do a damn thing about it—and you want me to stop worrying? You should have thought about that before taking this 'Aiden Vamier' up on his offer to study abroad."
"Mom, we've been over this. This trip is important to me."
Another hard right turn had her holding on to her phone and her empty stomach as if willing it to settle would keep her from getting car sick. The driver grinned at her in the rear view mirror. She feigned a small smile and held on to the door, making sure it was in the locked position.
"Why do you need to leave Frederick or the country for that matter? And Romania? Why it's barely out of the threat of communism!"
"That was twenty-five years ago, Mom. Things have changed."
"Not as much as you think." She was silent for a moment. "Your father was never heard from again."
There it was, the real reason for her worry. Marilyn couldn't blame her though. Her father had been an archeologist from Romania, working at the Smithsonian. He'd been sent on a research project to Cluj-Napoca when he went missing in the Hoia Forest, leaving her mother alone, six months pregnant with her.
"This trip will be good for me. I'm embracing the whole woman empowerment thing you've told me about over the years. How I need to find 'me.' Well, that's what I'm trying to do."
She had to take time to find out what she needed in life. She'd just been dumped by the one guy she'd given up everything for. It had been a disaster. This would be a fresh start with her to focus on her career and not a man.
"Yes, but I meant for you to find yourself here, in Frederick, Maryland not Romania." There was a derisive sniff from her mother. "You had your internship here at Livedel."
"Sorry Mama, I'm just not cut out to be a secretary."
"Administrative Assistant, Marilyn—and may I remind you it is what got you through your first two years of college. You had to go and fall in love with Daniel and follow him to Towson when you could have stayed in Frederick and gotten your degree right here at Hood or even Mount St. Mary's."
"Right now, that doesn't matter." Marilyn snorted. "I just want to focus on me. And this is the perfect opportunity."
"But in Romania?" Her mother's voice whined with true emotion. "You may as well be on the moon. I lost your father in Romania…why torture me like this, Marilyn?"
Frustration prickled. Always the same thing with her mother. "I'm not doing this to torture you. This is my time to shine. I can't follow in your footsteps. I need to be myself."
Her mother harrumphed.
Marilyn's upper body slid against the vinyl bench seat as her driver wove in and out of on-coming traffic to get around a slower driver. She closed her eyes as an echoing blast from a semi-truck alerted them of eminent doom if the driver didn't get back over in his lane.
This trip didn't bode well. Maybe she was doomed to death by a taxi driver instead of an airplane. Maybe her mother had a point. No…she wouldn't accept it. She would survive this trip, wild cab ride and all. Looking ahead of the car she took a calming breath. There were no cars in front of them now. She could relax or at least listen to her mother's ranting.
At times like this, Marilyn wished her mother would take a pill. The woman could try the patience of a priest. She'd been known to bring grown men to their knees in a board room but coddled her to suffocation.
"Couldn't you just be happy and excited for me, Mama? This is about my history, my heritage, a part of who I am. I want to explore the world and learn everything I can. I want to explore the ancient Dacian ruins and tour the Carpathian Mountains—I want to embrace the magic of Romania."
Her mother scoffed.
"I'm looking forward to studying with Professor Vamier." She wasn't sure what her future had in store for her. Whatever the situation, she wasn't going to find it sitting in a cubical at Livedel Enterprise the rest of her life.
Marilyn sighed and tried a different tactic. "You've taught me everything I know. Don't you think it's time I try to see if I really learned from your tutelage?" It was true. For all the smothering from her mother she'd also learned a great deal, she just never had the chance to use the skills she'd been taught.
She could hear her mother's deep breathing as if trying to hold back her true thoughts on Marilyn's beliefs. Finally she heard the switch in her mother's tone.
"How are you feeling? Did the muscle relaxants I had Jon prescribe for your trip help with the pain?"
"I'm fine," she lied, wincing when she noticed the speedometer on the cabbie's dash. Was there a speed limit in Romania? "But I think the difference in time is messing with me." She looked at her wristwatch. "It's six-fifty here and I finally feel awake, alert and raring to go."
"Are you taking your vitamins?"
"Yes."
"And your gingko?"
"Yes." Marilyn rolled her eyes. "Mom will you relax. You need to learn to start trusting me. I'm twenty-five now."
"Are you sure? What about your iron pills? I noticed you're looking pale and thin. You need more red meats, protein and iron rich foods. You might be anemic."
"I'm fine. Will you stop worrying?" Marilyn argued. She'd always been scrawny and pale, kind of no
n-descript. Her thick glasses and long, straggly, reddish-brown hair gave her a fem-geek persona. Being a book-nerd-history major didn't help her socially either. Her mother had tried to get her into society by having her attend Chamber of Commerce meetings and social functions with her since she'd turned twenty-one and could drink, but she was the gawky girl in the corner with a wine spritzer, trying to appear approachable.
"I know you have your meeting in the morning so I'll let you go, Mama. I'll call you when I get to Cluj-Napoca tomorrow night."
"All right. I have your itinerary so make sure you call me as soon as you land. You have your meds?"
"Yes. And I'll say my prayers before take-off."
"Good girl. I love you."
"I love you more, Mama." Marilyn made the natural effort to add 'more' to her closing.
Her mother said goodnight, letting her cell phone screen go dark. Lost in her own thoughts she jolted back to reality as her driver merged from an exit without signaling or giving the driver behind them room to let them in. She closed her eyes and prayed to arrive safely at her destination.
Maybe if she feigned sleep her cabbie wouldn't continue to grin at her as if he needed her approval to his asinine driving skills. Finally tires squealed on the pavement, and her body catapulted forward pressing the seatbelt into her breastbone. Well, it held. If not, she would've been upside down in the front passenger seat.
She looked out the side window and realized they were in front of the Hotel Elysee. A doorman dressed in a red jacket, black slacks and wearing a small cap opened her door and greeted her with a charming smile. Marilyn emerged from the car on trembling legs, thankful to have the aide of the doorman to keep her steady. The driver retrieved her suitcase from his trunk, and she paid him more than the trip cost. She didn't care, she was just happy to be alive and in one piece.
The doorman ushered a valet to see to her personal items and guided her up the marbled steps of the pillar-framed entrance of glass. Spiral topiaries stood sentry to the elegance of the reception area. Warmth and antique furniture greeted her. Bright chandeliers hung from Italian-Michelangelo paintings on the ceiling, giving the classic hotel a five star quality while she felt as limp and attractive as a haggard crone. Her glasses slipped down her nose.
