From Jennifer Ashley, With Love: Three Paranormal Romances from Bestselling Series

by Jennifer Ashley

  “Making me want to meet him more and more.”

  “You will be fine as long as I am with you.” Adrian leaned down and kissed the corner of her lips, his eyes sparkling. “Besides, I definitely want a kick-ass witch beside me if I’m going into a vampire’s lair.”

  * * *

  At nine that night, Adrian drove them in Amber’s new Mustang into the heart of downtown Los Angeles, where the upscale vampire nightclubs blossomed. Valerian had stuffed himself in the back to accompany them.

  Amber still didn’t know quite what to make of Valerian. He exuded life magic, all right. A shapeshifter, Adrian said, but he wasn’t like any shapeshifter Amber had ever encountered. Valerian was a big man, attractive in a brutal sort of way. Like Adrian, he was a fighter, but their similarities ended there. Adrian had enormous power within him, and Valerian had raw physical strength. Valerian’s magic, she sensed, let him shape shift, while Adrian’s magic could blast everyone and everything out of his path.

  Amber kept her charged crystals, amulets, and herbs in a drawstring bag on her belt. Adrian seemed amused that she wanted her accoutrements, but no way was she walking into a vampire club without magic backup. The fire spell she could throw wasn’t as strong as what she could cast with her stones. Fire was potentially deadly to a vampire, but easily doused if the vampire was quick enough. She wanted far stronger magics than that on her side.

  Amber was dressed in new clothes, a blouse over a tight, cropped tank top, jeans, and high-heeled sandals. Adrian still hadn’t wanted Amber to leave the house even to go shopping in a public place, so Kelly called her couturiers and asked them to come to Adrian’s. The clothiers knew Kelly for a rising star and happily came running.

  Adrian bought Amber a slew of clothes from casual to dressy, all chic, all form-hugging, all sexy. Amber tried to stop him, but he ignored her and handed money to the clothier, who was more apt to listen to Adrian.

  Kelly had laughed at her and said, “Honey, take what you can get. Men always treated me like shit. Now I buy them presents.”

  Adrian parked the car and walked around to open the door for Amber before the two vampires in suits who’d come out of the club could. Valerian piled out behind Amber, smiling dangerously. The vampire doormen pretended to ignore him as they opened the dark stained-glass doors and ushered the three inside.

  Amber found herself in a vestibule, painted black, containing a vampire who demanded they hand over all weapons. That included not only knives and guns, but swords, stakes, crosses, and holy water.

  Valerian smiled and spread his arms, declaring he was clean, and dared them to frisk him. The doormen gave him baleful stares but didn’t touch him.

  The vamp behind the counter demanded Amber’s bag of magical equipment.

  “It’s not a weapon,” she said hotly.

  “Could be.” The weapons taker peered into the bag, very carefully touching nothing. “Witches can stir magic against vampires. No magical implements allowed.”

  “In other words, if things get ugly, I can’t defend myself.”

  The vampire gave her a deadpan stare. She carefully looked at his left cheek, not about to be sucked in by a vampire’s gaze. “Rules of the club protect you,” he said. “No human to be killed on the premises.”

  “Septimus likes to avoid problems,” Adrian told her. He pulled off his armlet, which changed into Ferrin the snake the moment Adrian dropped him to the counter. “He likes wine, but be careful. Too much makes him cranky.”

  Ferrin wound into a coil and raised his head, flattening his neck into a hood. All three vampires stepped back uneasily.

  “A cobra’s poison can’t kill them,” Amber whispered as they walked toward the club’s main doors. “What are they afraid of?”

  “It would make them sick for a while,” Adrian answered, hand on the door handle. “And if they’re too sick to feed, they’ll starve to death. A human bitten by a cobra has a cleaner and quicker end.”

  Valerian rumbled behind her, “That’s why I love you, Adrian. You’re so evil.”

  “Years of experience,” Adrian answered and Valerian laughed. The laugh was swallowed by a roar of music as they entered the club.

  Whatever harsh, staccato, beat-into-your brain music was popular that month blasted from hidden speakers in the middle of a black-dark room pierced here and there with spots and strobes beaming on the packed dance floor. The lyrics, sung by a low-voiced female, moved from suggestive to blatant and back again. Tables lined the dance floor, and a bar, lit from below with red lights, glowed along an entire wall. Amber smelled the tang of alcohol—for the humans, although vampires liked it too.

  Amber didn’t see any actual biting going on between the couples huddled at tables in the shadows, though they came damn close. Doors lined the other side of the dance floor, probably to private rooms, from what she’d heard about these clubs. Biting definitely went on back there and sex too, not always involving only two people. Vamps loved sex and didn’t like the idea of limiting themselves to one partner at a time. Blood slaves had to get used to that, but from all accounts, by the time a person was addicted enough to a vampire to become a blood slave, they didn’t care.

  Adrian reached behind him and grasped Amber’s hand, his muscled arm like a lifeline as he led her through the crowd and the dance floor to the doors beyond. Looking around, Amber saw that she was underdressed—or overdressed—however she wanted to view it. Women danced in tiny black leather outfits that showed off bosoms and butts, their feet encased in impossibly high heels. Others wore still scantier clothing, halter tops or cropped shirts and tiny skirts, or jeans riding so low that string bikinis showed over their waistbands—those who’d bothered with underwear at all. Amber’s blouse over her cropped tank baring her tiny butterfly tattoo seemed almost matronly.

  Valerian’s presence faded behind her, and Amber looked back to see the big man stop to talk with a woman in a black leather dress and a collar. He put his hand on her hip and moments later they were dancing together, so close that molecules of air couldn’t slide between them.

  Adrian didn’t notice but pulled Amber after him through the dark and the dense music to a door flanked by a pair of vampire thugs. They straightened up and gave Adrian a respectful look, but blocked the way to the door. “Mr. Septimus wants to see you alone,” one said.

  Adrian said nothing as he studied them in return, and the vampires shifted nervously. “His orders,” the first vampire said. “Sir.”

  Amber had never seen a vamp look scared before, at least not of anything but a higher-ranking vamp. Both of these looked like they wanted to run far and fast from Adrian’s steady gaze.

  “It’s all right,” Adrian said, half to Amber. “I know you’ll be perfectly safe out here.” He trained his gaze straight on the vampires, not worried about their powers of the mind. He could look a vampire in the eye, and it was the vampire who cringed and backed down.

  “Yes, sir,” the first vamp said, turning swiftly to open the door.

  Adrian leaned to Amber. “No one will touch you, and Valerian’s here. Shout if you need him. Enjoy yourself.” He gave her a smile as though they were at harmless picnic in the park, then turned and slipped through the door, leaving her alone with the vamps and their sexy music.

  Chapter Nine

  “Hey, you’re new, aren’t you?” came a cheerful voice.

  Amber gave the guarding vampires a last look, carefully avoiding their eyes, and turned to the young human woman who’d spoken to her. The woman wore shorts cut halfway up her backside and a white tank so tight her nipples pressed dark circles against. She had short red hair, freckles, and green eyes made luminous with colored contact lenses. A tattoo of a winged creature spread itself across her upper chest, and she wore black lipstick on her smiling lips.

  Aside from the makeup and the have-sex-with-me clothes, she looked clean-cut and almost cute. Her neck sported scars from past vampire bites plus two bright red spots from a more recent feeding. Sh
e didn’t have the half-crazed look of a blood slave, although they could hide it well.

  “First time here,” Amber said.

  The girl examined Amber’s neck, brightening when she saw no teeth marks. “A vamp virgin? Girl, you’re going to have some fun tonight. I’m LaChey. Want to dance?”

  She started wiggling and bumping to the music, lifting her hands in the air. Amber glanced at the closed door with the two vampire guards, and at Valerian, still leg-locked with black-leather-dress woman. LaChey looked harmless. A girl out on the town, enjoying her favorite addiction. No drug tracks scarred her arms, her eyes were clear, and she didn’t reek of smoke or alcohol.

  “What the hell?” Amber said.

  LaChey laughed and wriggled her way out to the floor. The music was catchy, the lights beating in time with it. Amber followed her until they were dancing in the middle of the floor. The vampires ignored them, focusing on women or men who were lifting necks to them, begging to be bitten.

  Amber got into the dance, enjoying herself for the first time since Susan’s death. No, not really enjoying, she thought. Letting loose. Dancing in a pool of danger, shaking her booty while sharks circled. They must know that she’d never been fed on—a vamp virgin, as LaChey had called her—and they must know she’d come here with Adrian.

  Someone danced up behind her. She felt a body brush her back, legs in black leather curving inside hers. She looked over her shoulder to find a bare-chested vampire in low-slung black leather pants dancing tight against her, his black hair flowing to muscular shoulders. He moved his hips so his groin brushed her backside, dirty dancing with her.

  LaChey laughed. “That’s Bryan. With a Y. Hey, Bryan.”

  Bryan flashed a look at LaChey from his liquid dark eyes before going back to being too sexy for his fangs. His sharp white teeth showed against his sensual mouth, and he slowly licked his lips.

  “I didn’t come in here to get bit,” Amber said over the music at him.

  “You wanted vampires,” he said, his voice low and sultry. “If you didn’t you’d have waited in the car for your man.”

  He had a point. Adrian could have left her in the protection of the car with Valerian if she’d asked, but Amber had been curious about the club. She spent her time avoiding or fighting off death-magic creatures, never seeing them behind the scenes. As much as she didn’t understand people wanting to be blood slaves, she could see the attraction. Julio had blown her away before she’d realized he was vamp. Bryan was certainly beautiful, and he probably made the feeding a sensual, magnetic experience.

  “Really, I don’t want to be a blood donor tonight,” Amber yelled over the music.

  “You’re mean to tease,” Bryan said. He sidled closer, his hips and thighs cradling hers. “Let me give you a little nip. I’ll erase the marks so your boyfriend will never know.”

  She felt his breath on her neck, his cool lips, the tiny scrape of his teeth as he touched them to her skin.

  Valerian’s voice rumbled from on high. “Oh, goody. An excuse to kick some vampire ass.” His big hand closed on Bryan’s shoulder.

  Bryan hissed, his scowl ruining his sexy-vamp look. “Lick me, lizard man.” He turned on his heel and swayed away, the pants so tight that every curve and crevice showed.

  Valerian growled after him. “Bloodsucker. Amber, Adrian needs you. Septimus sent me a message to have you brought in.”

  “Sent you a message? Why couldn’t he send one directly to me?”

  Valerian laughed. “Vampires are the ultimate chauvinists. They only think in terms of vampire and blood slave, dom and submissive. If you’re not one, you’re the other.”

  “How flattering.”

  Valerian lifted his hands. “Hey, I didn’t make vampires complete assholes. But whatever you think of him, it’s a bad idea to keep Septimus waiting. Adrian too for that matter.”

  “Fine,” Amber said. “Let’s rush to see the big bad vampire.”

  LaChey waved from where she danced with another leather-clad vamp, this one blond. “Come back and talk later.”

  Amber returned the wave and walked away with Valerian. “Lizard man?” she asked as they neared the door through which Adrian had disappeared. “You’re not a were-iguana, are you?”

  “Huh. I love a witch with a sense of humor.”

  Valerian hadn’t answered the question, though, she noticed.

  The vampire guards let them into a short hallway with plush carpeting and expensive-looking artwork, then to a door at the far end of the hall which led into a lavish office. The office had black marble walls and no windows, all the better for a vampire who wanted to keep working during daylight hours.

  The office was ultra-chic, with clean lines, and decorated in black and white with splashes of red to relieve the monochrome. Adrian lounged in a black leather armchair, his long legs stretched out in front of him but he got languorously to his feet when Valerian and Amber entered.

  A man as tall as Adrian rose from behind the polished granite-topped desk. He looked like what Amber expected from a vampire—well built, attractive face, dark hair, dressed in a black, expensive suit.

  A wave of death magic swamped her, one so strong she thought she’d be sick. He didn’t deliberately throw it at her; it surrounded him and pulsated through the air. Amber wondered how Adrian, as full of life magic as he was, could stand to remain in the room with him. She noticed Valerian stood tensely, maybe not as disgusted as she was, but certainly wary.

  As though Adrian read Amber’s distress, he came to her and put a comforting arm around her. “Amber, meet Septimus. He’s evil but helpful.”

  “Too kind,” Septimus said dryly. He held out his hand to Amber. “Ms. Silverthorne, I’ve made a promise never to hurt you, though I assure you, your neck is quite bitable.” He said it as a human might compliment her eyes or face.

  Amber barely touched his palm with hers. Her first quick glance told her his eyes were blue as a deep lake and promised all the delights of fragrant grass crushed under bodies as they twined together, mouths seeking each other’s. Her gaze began to travel upward against her will, the need to look into his blue eyes compelling, though she knew she’d be lost if she did.

  Adrian’s hand on her waist burned through her thin shirt, and the vision snapped away. She dragged in a breath and dropped her gaze.

  “She is strong,” Septimus said to Adrian in admiration. “I congratulate you.”

  “She’s very strong.” Adrian guided Amber to a chair and eased her into it. He perched on its arm, putting his backside near her line of vision, a preferable sight to Septimus’ dangerous eyes. “I noticed that the moment I met her.”

  “When the demon attacked her, yes.” Septimus rested one hip on his desk, dangling his long well-tailored leg. “You say he was an Old One?”

  “I haven’t felt anything like him in centuries. He ran instead of trying to incapacitate me, but I think that was because he simply didn’t want an out-and-out fight, not then. As though he didn’t have time for it.”

  “An Old One?” Valerian demanded. “What’s an Old One?”

  “Shit you don’t want to mess with,” Septimus said.

  Amber remembered Adrian explaining that Old Ones had come from ancient times, even before Adrian had been conceived.

  “He’s something even the gods were worried about,” she said. “Am I right?”

  “Well, that sucks,” Valerian growled.

  “It explains much,” Septimus said. He reached across the desk and swung his flat-screen computer monitor around so they could all see it. “I’ve felt the balance of magic tipping, death magic creeping in more than it should. Too many human deaths, too many vampires made.”

  “That should suit you,” Valerian said. “You feed on death.”

  “I don’t like chaos,” Septimus said. “I like death to be orderly and useful. Random and out-of-control dark magic is as annoying to me as a huge influx of living magic. And I hate living magic. It’s all I can do
not to lose my dinner with the three of you in the room.”

  Interesting, Amber made a mental note. The information that she made him as sick as he made her might come in handy someday.

  Septimus almost delicately clicked the mouse next to the computer and brought up a multicolored chart, red and yellow waves running evenly on top of one another. “This is a record of vampires Turned versus human deaths in Los Angeles County a year ago. As you can see, it’s fairly balanced. There were no more human deaths than usual, no upsurge of the vampire population. Now this . . .”

  He clicked to pop up another chart. In this one the both lines were higher, and the red shaded area was much larger than the yellow.

  “This is vampires made versus human deaths in the last eight months. As you can see the death rate for humans has risen sharply. But the rate for vampires appearing has risen even more sharply. Many of those vampires likely came from the surplus of dying humans, but vampires are multiplying at an unprecedented rate. Most of these I knew nothing about. They were certainly not authorized.”

  “You have to authorize vampires to Turn someone?” Amber asked.

  “In my jurisdiction, yes,” Septimus answered. “A vampire is allowed two Turnings a year in my area, and only under certain circumstances. Violation means death, for both the vampire and the Turn-ees.”

  His handsome face remained neutral, a corporate CEO explaining why employees got fired. They break the rules, they’re out.

  “Are all vamp neighborhoods run this efficiently?” Amber asked.

  Septimus quirked a smile. “No. Or rather, I don’t know. I concern myself with my territory and that’s it. How others choose to run things is their business. I like rules, and rules keep Adrian off my back.”

  He shot Adrian a glance that had a measure of respect in it, but Amber sensed simmering tension behind the calm eyes. Adrian had him tamed for now, but if Adrian’s power ever slipped . . .

  The vampire turned away and called up another chart, this one black and white with solid and broken lines rising on a graph. “And this is the recorded demon activity in the last eight months. Demons enslaving humans permanently, deaths in demon clubs.” He added in disgust, “The vermin can’t regulate anything.”