After getting the unconscious Jacques downstairs and settled onto a bed in the same room where Irish still slept, Blake collapsed on a cot in the hallway.
Cat stumbled upstairs. She took a quick shower to wash off the blood, and the stink of Malia and her strange cohort, then fell into bed.
Sleep resisted coming though. She wondered where Blake had taken Eric. She’d not had the courage to ask.
Her yearning curiosity was answered when his scent hit her. He stepped softly through her room, then lay down behind her, pulling her into his arms, her back to his chest. Warmth suffused her. Her eyes burned, but she still didn’t have the courage to ask the many questions in her mind.
* * *
When Cat woke, she was alone. If not for Eric’s scent so heavy in her room, on her bed, she’d think she had dreamed the whole thing.
Slowly getting to her feet, she dressed and headed downstairs. The house was eerily quiet as she checked on the wounded men in the basement. Jacques seemed a little better, thankfully.
Upstairs in the kitchen, she poured a cup of blood. As she lifted it to drink, Eric’s scent wrapped around her and she froze.
He stopped on the other side of the island, staring at her with an expression she couldn’t read.
He slowly said, “I called my friend, Connor, and let him know what has happened here.”
“The Judge?” she asked, feeling a tremor of trepidation flit through her chest. Would the Council get involved now? The Arcaine of New Orleans wouldn’t be welcoming to outside interference, which could end badly for all sides involved.
“Aye,” he answered. “He said he’d forward my report to the Council, and let them know things here are resolved.”
Relief replaced the trepidation. “Thank you.” She couldn’t stop from sounding formal, unemotional.
There was only one other thing to say.
Slowly setting her cup down, she asked, “When do you leave?”
“Soon,” he replied.
Her heart fell, though she’d known this was coming. He rounded the island and before she could react, could even think, he pulled her to him and kissed her.
Passion flared, though she tried to ignore it. Wrenching away from him, she glared. “What are you doing? We’re not going to have a quick goodbye romp in the hay.”
He grinned.
She stepped back, but he didn’t relent.
“Tell me about Dawn’s Hope,” he said.
“W-why?” He was confusing her and she didn’t like it one bit. Couldn’t he tell how much this was hurting?
“Answer me.”
With a sigh, she replied softly, “My father believed in hope above all else. Every day, he said, was the opportunity to go after what you wanted and to keep it forever.” Her eyes burned as she remembered her father’s words. He’d never been through something like this, though.
She glanced at Eric. She wanted him, but hope was a bitter pile of ash where that was concerned. She stopped retreating when a wall hit her back.
Eric grabbed her hands, laying them over his chest. “Hope, huh? Fate? Guess they had it right. Do you know how much you complete me in a way I’ve never felt before? I’ve desperately needed a safe haven, and darling, you’re perfect.”
Her mouth dropped open as his words registered. She felt the need to clear her ears, certain she couldn’t be hearing right.
“Everything you are. A battle commander, a warrior fighting for those depending on you, compassionate for others, and even your fey magical blood.”
She slipped out of his grasp, moving sideways and away from the wall. He turned, keeping her pinned with his gaze.
“You can’t think I’m wonderful. You despise magic. Don’t trust it.”
He covered his heart with his hands and dropped to one knee, grinning at her in a way that stole her breath.
“It doesn’t matter and I’ll prove it. Sure, I’m a—how did you put it?—archaic asshole, but I can finally see clearly now. You’re nothing like those in my past.” His eyes grew sorrowful. “Let me prove it to you.”
Still unconvinced, she nibbled her lower lip. “How?”
“I need to go home and find my brother, but then I want to come back and explore this thing between us. If you’ll let me.”
She must be dreaming. That was the only logical explanation. Playing along, she said, “Fine. But you’d better be prepared to do a hell of a lot of groveling.”
His smile widened. “Darling, I’ll crawl through all the hells for you.”
She took a small step toward him. He jumped to his feet. Grabbing her and picking her up, he twirled them in a circle. As he lowered her, letting her slide down his delectably hard body, he nibbled her neck, then her lips.
As Cat led him upstairs and to her room, she decided that if she was dreaming, she never wanted to wake up.
He sweetly undressed her, then explored every inch of her body with such devotion, her world brightened, warming from the love she felt for this man. The same love reflecting in his endless blue eyes.
Epilogue
Cat lay on a thick blanket, staring up at the stars. The breeze blew the scent of spring flowers over her naked body, filling her senses, as Eric placed another strawberry on her belly, then leaned over to eat it. He kissed her skin, moving up over her breasts, then devoured her mouth.
Since he’d returned, their play had been endless. He was a completely different man than the one she’d first met. Happy, carefree, teasing. As if he’d been shackled to the painful past, but had finally figured out how to break those heavy chains.
He nipped her jaw, then whispered huskily in her ear, “I love you, Cathrina.”
Hearing it, she still felt suffused with so much emotion, though he’d been making sure to tell her multiple times in the two weeks since he’d been back. Turning to kiss him lightly, she replied, “Forever?”
“Aye.”
“I love you too, Eric.” He laughed when she added, “But you’re not nearly done groveling.”
As he moved down her body, his breath warm on her skin, he replied, “Darling, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
Then he proceeded to take her into the exquisite storm of passion and love only he could make her feel.
– THE END –
Scroll down for a preview of Demonstorm, Heart of a Vampire Book 6
Coming Spring, 2014
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Demonstorm
Heart of a Vampire Book 6
Copyright © 2013 Amber Kallyn
Coming Spring, 2014
E-Arc Excerpt (unedited)
Prologue
Sean MacDougal stood in the shadows at the back of the judgment hall in his new king’s castle. Vampires from the clan filled long rows of wooden benches, listening intently to the argument going on at the front of the room.
A war was coming, one that pit the Arcaine against one another.
Unfortunately, that was all they knew.
Jordan, King and newfound cousin, had invited Arcaine from all over Arizona to the historical castle hidden from mortals.
There were also vampires from clans all over the southwest.
No one from Jordan’s clan gave Sean a second glance, used to ignoring him.
The others though, had differing opinions on allowing a half-breed like Sean to live, much less listen to a conversation regarding such delicate discussions.
A
group of fey, tall and unnaturally beautiful entered the cavernous hall, gliding up the center isle to the front. As one, they stopped, each turning eerie gazes straight at Sean.
He stood straighter, ready for whatever was about to come.
The man at the back of the group hissed, drawing a sword. “Demon half-breed.” He dodged for Sean.
Slipping one of his katanas from the sheath across his back, Sean stepped into the fey’s swing. Swords met, ringing out in a clash of magical metal. Blue and red sparks danced above the blades.
“You dare draw a weapon while given sanctuary?” Jordan’s voice boomed through the room, making all there freeze. Intoned with over a thousand years of power, the man could make other’s quake with a mere glance, much less his reverberating voice full of power.
Jordan’s wife, Dalia, slid between Sean and the fey, pushing their blades down. “Come now, we’re here to talk peace.”
The fey literally trembled with the need to continue going after Sean. “Abomination,” he growled. Turning to glance over the room, the fey added, “Everyone knows the law of the Council. Half breeds are to be killed on sight.”
Dalia hummed lightly under her breath, the magic which made her an Omega, could bring peace to any Arcaine. “This one has an exception,” she replied sweetly, brushing back a lock of pink and blonde hair from her face.
The fey man’s eyes widened. “Not possible.”
“I can take care of this, Dalia,” Sean said softly, his voice laced with barely contained anger.
And then Sean’s heart sank, as Connor Gregory stepped in front of him, pushing the fey man hard enough to send him stumbling.
“I am the Council’s representative here. Judge and jury.” He bowed slightly, his lips turned up in a smirk that contained deadly intent. “This boy is under my protection. Spread the word.”
The fey man’s sword arm shook as he faced a Judge. Appointed by the Magic Council, Judges were the best of the best, the strongest of all Arcaine. And they were given the power to be not only judge and jury, but executioner as well.
Staring at the back of Connor’s head, all Sean could think about was smashing the flat of his sword against that skull. Maybe knocking some sense into him.
Connor turned, his gaze piercing the entire room. Many flinched and shrunk in their seats. “Any questions?”
When there was no answer, Connor waved his hand for the meeting to progress.
After long moments, conversations resumed and Connor leaned against the wall at Sean’s side.
“I could have taken care of it,” Sean mumbled.
“Aye, perhaps.”
Incensed at the constant lack of confidence from the man, as well as the fearful glances from some around the room—not at the Judge, but at him and his blood—Sean barely contained a growl of frustration.
It was bad enough anyone who saw him immediately realized what he was and either ran away in fear he must be possessed by a crazed bloodlust, or attempted to take his head. But to have everyone else coddle him as if he were an infant, rather than nearly a thousand year old vampire demon half-breed, was driving him insane.
Soon he’d be overcome by a bloodlust like they feared. Not from his demon nature, but from his overprotective parents.
His mother swooped in, shooting glares at the fey as they moved off. Ashlyn patted his cheek. “Are you all right? I’ll teach those jerks to threaten you.”
Sean sighed, shaking his head at the uselessness of it all. She thought him a child, as if they hadn’t been on the run for centuries, protecting each other.
Ashlyn sidled to Connor, lowering her eyes as she placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. But when she met his gaze, her eyes smoldered with such intense love, it nearly took Sean’s breath away.
And Connor, his father, looked at her the same way.
Sean scooted away, uncomfortable. He didn’t begrudge his mother her happiness. He didn’t even feel resentment anymore to his recently found father. He was truly happy they’d rekindled their love. His mother deserved it.
But he chafed at the chains of protection they both wanted to shackle him with.
A group of younger vampires sitting a few yards away laughed loudly. He caught a few whispers, glances his way.
And once more, he felt weak.
Useless.
How could he ever prove himself worthy of anything, of the clan? How could he ever show his parents he could take care of himself, when they never let him?
Oh sure, he was a master sword-fighter. Long swords, short. His father had recently taught him the joys of using a katana, which he now wore a matching pair strapped across his back.
But he itched to prove himself in a real fight. He was needed in this time of trouble, but no one would give him a chance.
The huge doors slammed inward as a short, old crone strode in. Stringy white hair fluttered around a deeply lined face.
Some in the room hushed, bowing their heads as the ancient woman walked by. Others seemed to freeze, as if hit by the power roiling off her.
It hit Sean. He took a half step forward, somehow drawn to the woman’s magic.
She stopped, glanced at him. Then she smiled kindly, before continuing to the front of the room.
The king and all those arguing with him fell silent and took a few steps back, making way for the woman.
When she spoke, her voice was impossibly strong. Magical. “Everyone out but those in charge.”
Jordan repeated her edict, “You heard her. Out.”
Vamps and other creatures began filing out, most avoiding looking Sean’s way.
From the front, the old woman whipped out a sheet of paper and gave it to Jordan.
“Connor, Ashlyn, stay.” He continued reading the list of those the woman wanted, then he hesitated, sending the crone a sharp glance.
“Aye. I want the man,” she said.
“Sean,” Jordan finally stated, looking up briefly.
Ashlyn opened her mouth to speak, but Connor shushed her.
Surprise coursed through him as he slowly made his way nearer the front of the room.
The other leaders began to grumble, but a quick glare from the crone shushed them.
Just great, he thought. Yet another one trying to keep him safe.
When everyone but those on her list were gone and the doors closed and barred, the woman whipped out a long black cloth from a hidden pocket and laid it over Jordan’s throne. From another pocket, she pulled out a silver cup. Something clattered inside as she shook it, then dumped the contents on the cloth.
Sean watched the small bones tumble over one another, only for them to stop prematurely as if guided by magic rather than gravity.
The woman didn’t look at the bones, but rather the small crowd around her.
“Most of ye know me. Some call me Jezamine. Others call me witch, seer, prophetess. Call me what ye will, no mind to me. But I have seen the next step needed if we not be dyin’ in this comin’ darkness.”
Niki, one of Jordan’s vampires held her husband’s hand. Shane, the local sheriff and Keeper of the Peace between the Arcaine, stared at the bones scattered over the throne as if entranced.
Dalia stepped closer to the throne, also staring at the bones. “What do you see?” she asked, twisting a piece of pink hair.
“There be one we need.” Jezamine glanced up sharply, staring at every single person. Then her gaze landed on Sean. And stayed.
He looked into the crone’s black gaze, feeling as if he was falling into endless depths.
“Demon,” she said.
Unable to shake his head, or move in any way, Sean denied her words. “Only half.”
She shrugged and with a smirk, stated, “Close enough.”
She finally looked away, leaving him feeling as if she hadn’t been looking at him, but rather into him.
“It be a demoness we need. She can see the future, she knows about the slimy darkness comin’ over us all.”
Jordan stood straig
hter. “We’ll gather our best men—”
“Nay,” the crone interrupted. “Only one shall go.”
Sean stepped forward. “I’ll go.”
His mother snorted. “You will not.”
With an exasperated sigh, knowing no matter how much he argued, his mother’s cousin, and the King, would never choose him, Sean slumped on one of the benches.
Before he even noticed her movements, Jezamine stood before him. She slid one long, sharp nail beneath his chin and raised his head.
Once more he fell into her gaze, but she blinked and glanced away before he could try to break free.
The crone stared at his mother. “You coddle this one like he be child. Do ye not see the man?”
She blinked, opened her mouth, then closed it.
Jezamine nodded to Jordan. “This one. He shall go, retrieve the one who can be our help. Alone.”
The room erupted in anger from nearly everyone, shouting over his blood, how a half-breed could never be trusted.
Sean caught his father’s assessing stare. There was not only confidence in Connor’s gaze, but approval as well. Though his mother looked like she was about to cry.
Standing tall, Sean faced Jezamine. “Thank you,” he said softly.
“It not be easy,” she warned. “But ye have it in ye to succeed.” Then she smiled beautifully, and for a split second, he could see a much younger woman shining from her gaze. “Succeed in many ways, if ye choose,” she chortled.
“We’ll get you prepared, packed—” Connor began.
Jezamine shook her head. “He leaves tonight.” She pulled out a few sheets of paper form yet another hidden pocket and handed them to Sean. “Trust yerself. That be yer key.”
Coming Spring 2014
Dedication
Like always, to my favorite writers and the critiquers who kick my butt into shape ~ The Seven Evil Dwarves. You guys tell me when it’s great... and when it sucks. I wouldn’t be here without you, so Thanks.
Firestorm: Heart of a Vampire #5 Page 16
