by Aiden James
Twice Bitten:
Dying of the Dark
Vampire Series
*
The Vampires’ Last Lover
*
The Vampires’ Birthright
by
Aiden James
Acclaim for Aiden James:
“Aiden James has written a deeply psychological, gripping tale that keeps the readers hooked from page one.”
—Bookfinds review for The Forgotten Eden
“Not only is Aiden James a storyteller par excellence, but his material for his story is riveting.”
—Ruth Wilson, Huntress Reviews for The Forgotten Eden
“The hook to this excellent suspense thriller is the twists that will keep readers wondering what is going on as nothing is quite what it seems. Adding to the excitement is that the audience will wonder whether the terror is an evil supernatural creature or an amoral human…Aiden James provides a dark thriller that grips fans from the opening.”
—Harriet Klausner for The Forgotten Eden
“Aiden James writing style flows very easily and I found that Cades Cove snowballed into a very gripping tale. Clearly the strengths in the piece were as the spirit’s interaction became prevalent with the family…. The Indian lore and ceremonies and the flashbacks to Allie Mae’s (earthly) demise were very powerful. I think those aspects separated the work from what we’ve seen before in horror and ghost tales.”
—Evelyn Klebert, author of A Ghost of a Chance
“The intense writing style of Aiden James kept my eyes glued to the story and the pages seemed to fly by at warp speed.…Twists, turns, and surprises pop up at random times to keep the reader off balance. It all blends together to create one of the best stories I have read all year.”
—Detra Fitch, Huntress Reviews for The Devil’s Paradise
“Aiden James is insanely talented! We are watching a master at work….Ghost stories don’t get any better than this.”
—J.R. Rain, author of Moon Dance and Vampire Moon
BOOKS BY AIDEN JAMES
CADES COVE SERIES
Cades Cove
The Raven Mocker
THE TALISMAN CHRONICLES
The Forgotten Eden
The Devil’s Paradise
GHOSTHUNTERS 101 SERIES
Deadly Night
The Ungrateful Dead
THE DYING OF THE DARK SERIES
The Vampires’ Last Lover
The Vampires’ Birthright
Blood Princesses of the Vampires
Scarlet Legacy of the Vampires
(Coming summer 2013)
THE JUDAS CHRONICLES
Plague of Coins
Reign of Coins
Destiny of Coins
The Dragon Coin
(Coming summer 2013)
WITH J.R. RAIN
The Nick Caine Adventures
Temple of the Jaguar
Treasure of the Deep
Pyramid of the Gods
(Coming summer 2013)
COLLECTIONS
Terror at Midnight
Dark Legacy
Twice Bitten
Pray for Daylight
Cursed Immortals
In the Dead of Night
Dying of the Dark Vampires
Vampires, Ghosts, and God
Twice Bitten
Published by Aiden James
Copyright © 2011 by Aiden James
Cover design by: R.C. Rutter
www.RCRutter.com
Ebook Edition, License Notes
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The Vampires’ Last Lover
Chapter 1
Consider this a diary of sorts. I’m not an English major, so forgive the occasional grammatical errors. I haven’t got time to take a class to further hone my writing. They’ve told me that it all could end very soon...unless the experiment to save my blood earlier this morning works. If it does, then we can outlast the ‘others’. But, in case it doesn’t, I’m writing as much as I can about what has happened during the past ten days and what it all means to the survival of our world.
To get it down on paper…this warning for others.
For, in the event this experiment doesn’t work, they’ll soon be coming for everyone else. They’ll feed enough to remain immortal, and many of you will die. Ridiculous, I know. But, what I’m telling you is the truth. You may have already seen the beginnings of what I’ll soon reveal on the latest television news reports.
Throughout my nineteen years on earth—my entire life—they’ve watched me. They’ve studied and hunted me and other females in my family, feeding at will. I found out just this week that it’s been going on for many centuries.
Hidden voyeurs in the shadows. All quiet…all hungry.
All vampire.
My name is Txema, which is pronounced ‘Chema’. Txema Ybarra. I grew up in Richmond, Virginia. Part of a proud Basque lineage, although my immediate family is like most American families of immigrant descent. My father and brothers cheer for the Redskins, and only my mother still adheres to the tenets of our Roman Catholic heritage. I grew up in an affluent neighborhood, where I enjoyed all the benefits of a privileged education. This later afforded me the opportunity to attend college on a full-ride athletic scholarship. But, I want to be a veterinarian. Or, at least I wanted to be a veterinarian.
It’s what brought me to Tennessee, where I enrolled at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville. It was to be the start of my medical career, while playing basketball for the legendary Pat Summit.
But, I will never do either one.
A fall down a stairwell in September that resulted in a partial tear to the ligaments in my right ankle took care of my freshman basketball aspirations. My present circumstances have ensured that a pursuit of a veterinarian career—or any other—won’t happen either.
Ironically, that accident may have set everything in motion that has happened since. I met my boyfriend, Peter Worley, while lounging in the lobby of Massey Hall. Tall, dark, and great looking, he had caught my eye at orientation, and we shared the same biology lab. But, we never had a chance to talk beyond basic pleasantries until he saw me struggling to balance my laptop while trying to stand up holding my crutches. I’ve seen other girls glare with envy, and he could have his pick, I’m sure. He’s not intimidated by the fact that I’m as tall as he, at six foot-two. He says he likes my smile and the way my hazel eyes shimmer when I’m laughing, and how my dark hair hangs in curled waves upon my shoulders. I think it’s more my other curves and the fact I lack nothing up top…although I’d like to believe what he tells me. At least he would have that in common with the vampire boys that soon came to call on me.
Am I in love? No…not yet, although Peter and I seemed destined for something special between us. On up until my cast was removed from my left foot, a few days before Halloween, we spent almost every waking moment together. They say initial passion can smother you if you’re not careful. At times, it has seemed too much. But when apart, I’ve often thought of nothing else but being with him. His smile, and the way his deep brown eyes turn brighter when he tells me that he loves me, has made it nearly impossible for me to complete my studies with the steadfast focus I’ve always had for my schoolwork.
Maybe it’s the fact we’ve only known each other for just a few months. Regardless, I’ve not b
een able to commit myself to him, fully. Yet, I cherish his touch, and how the Ralph Lauren cologne mingles with his skin when I’ve kissed his chest. He is like a drug I can’t get enough of. But, each time he says he loves me something inside me tightens up. I’ve sensed lately how my hesitation to commit really bothers him. He is patient. But it’s hard for such a catch to remain that way when other girls would give him anything he asked for. My soul is not ready.
This torment upon my heart…this desire to be close to him along with the need for distance was the main conflict in my life, until the night of my nineteenth birthday, just a little over a week ago. Tuesday, November 9th. While getting ready for a dinner and movie date with Peter, a sudden chill entered my dorm room. My roommate, Tyreen Davenport, had already left that night to be with her man, Johnny Ayers. Being on the fourth floor gives us both a sense of security. On that night, however, it felt as if a window was open, and the cold Smoky Mountain air had been allowed to rush in. Yet, the window was closed, and when I turned to look at the door to my room, it remained shut.
A young man stood in front of it, staring intently at me. The man’s paleness and presence immediately announced he wasn’t from around here. As it turned out, he wasn’t even from this world.
Chapter 2
“You are getting ready to go out tonight?” he asked. His husky voice was almost musical in its timbre, and the accent European, the richness genteel. Long golden hair partially covered his eyes, which glowed iridescent around constricted pupils. “Beware, and be forewarned, Txema. Those who want to end your life have come. They are outside…waiting.”
Staring at him, incredulous, my heart raced faster than I ever recalled before that moment. Not even while driving for a game-winning layup.
“Who are you?” I demanded. “And, how in the hell did you get in here??”
“I am Garvan de sang,” he replied while stepping casually toward me. Dressed in dark jeans and a burgundy sweater, his riding boots were muted by the plush carpet. His ashen skin looked garishly death-like beneath my room’s fluorescent light. It was as if every inch of his skin was covered in pancake makeup.
I instinctively retreated to my dresser. I kept a Tazer gun there that was given to me for protection by my older brother, the day I moved into my dorm room this past August. But before I touched the drawer’s handle, my visitor appeared next to me, somehow traveling silently across the room in the blink of an eye. I gasped in surprise while chills traveled up and down my spine. I considered the absurdity of what I had just witnessed, and for a moment wondered if this was some kind of waking dream that I’d fallen into. But, my breaths rising into the air provided a frigid dose of reality. I could feel Garvan’s iciness siphon the heat from my very essence as his penetrating gaze studied me.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, gently pushing my fingers away from the dresser. The coolness in his touch deepened, embracing my entire being. I couldn’t move. “We won’t hurt you, Txema.”
“Who’s we?” I demanded, surprised by the anger easily coming through despite my unease. I thought of every clothes accessory I had available to me that could be turned into a weapon. Perhaps my shoes, or the file in my makeup purse? “And, how do you know my name?”
He started to answer me, but suddenly jerked his head toward my door, as if he heard someone lurking outside my room in the hallway. It could’ve been anyone. After all, when does a dorm floor ‘rest’, anyway? The look on his face reflected intense concentration. I also strained to listen, unable to hear much beyond my own nervous breaths.
Now, I can certainly understand if everyone out there is wondering why I didn’t simply scream for help. Really, in retrospect, I should have. It wasn’t like this man named Garvan didn’t frighten me. But something else…. Something in my heart told me, absurdly, to trust this stranger. At least for the moment. So insane, and yet I felt so compelled to trust this pasty man whose frozen touch both repulsed and exhilarated me.
He remained focused on the door, which gave me a chance to study him more. Despite such paleness, he was actually quite good looking. Not much older than me, his strong brow gave his eyes a glowering look that belied his delicate features. His profile revealed gorgeous cheekbones and a sleek nose that accentuated supple lips, tinted blue. If not for his powerful build that stretched the fabric of his cashmere sweater and tight-fitted jeans, I suppose most people would assume Garvan was a far cry from the nocturnal warrior that I later learned he is.
“Your man…Peter? He is coming,” he said, turning again to face me, the glow in his eyes brighter, as if on fire. “Is he always this punctual, to be so early?”
True, Peter was never one to be late for anything, and as such would often show up fifteen minutes early for our dates. Normally, I would be in the finishing touches of my makeup, which sometimes irritated him. But, tonight could prove even more interesting if he arrived and my uninvited guest decided to extend his visit.
“Yes, he is,” I agreed, feeling increasingly frantic about what to do. Should I do the normal person thing and scream my head off? Or, should I follow the crazy feeling that told me instead I should try to hide this man? Where could I do that in a cramped dormitory room? And if I couldn’t, what lame excuse would come pouring out of my mouth when I sought to explain his unwanted presence to my boyfriend? If things turned violent, I seriously doubted Peter’s athleticism would save him against Garvan’s unusual speed and quickness. “You should leave…leave now!”
“And I will, before he gets here,” said Garvan, chuckling as he regarded my panicked expression. His fiery eyes so clearly revealed his arrogant amusement. “But, not before you promise to stay here all night. You must make sure you do. If he decides he can’t abide by this, then he leaves alone. Am I clear?”
His face flushed as he said this. It was as if whatever blood he carried in his veins suddenly rushed to his cheeks, sending also a surge of anger that further ignited his eyes. I could scarcely concentrate enough to formulate an answer, shaking my head to avert the spell of his words infecting my thoughts.
“I-I don’t know if I can promise that,” I told him, feeling defiance rise against a hostile takeover of my will. “It’s my birthday, and we’ve been planning tonight’s dinner date since last week. Peter’s gone to a great deal of trouble—“
“We are out of time!” he interrupted me, glancing at the door again. “So, you leave me no choice.”
In the instant that followed, he suddenly disappeared. At least, it seemed like he did. I felt something warm on the left side of my neck. The warmth soon became painful, two pinpricks that felt as if little knives were digging into my jugular vein. Then I heard the window’s latch unclick and click shut again in rapid succession.
Surprised, I gasped and reached up to where my neck throbbed, like a little girl who just got stung by a wasp or venomous spider. Wetness grazed my fingers. When I brought my shaking hand before my eyes, there was blood. It dripped down my fingers.
Just then, Peter’s familiar knock rapped upon my door.
“I’m coming!” I called to him, trying to sound as unalarmed as possible.
Garvan was nowhere to be found. The slight sway in the curtains wasn’t enough to prevent me from checking under the bed and in my closet. I began to feel weak and woozy. Feeling a wave of sudden nausea, I worried our dinner date was really going to suck!
“I’ll be there in a minute…. I’m just getting my shoes on!” I said, more plaintive after Peter’s second knock, the loudness revealing his irritation. But I had to look. I needed to see what caused the pain and my blood to drip down my neck.
I stumbled over to the mirror Tyreen and I share. Two small streams trickled down the left side of my neck, threatening to spill onto my dress. Luckily, the black wool would keep it from being immediately noticeable—even to Peter’s keen eyes. But what happened when I wiped a Kleenex over the twin wounds astonished me even more.
There were no punctures in the skin. No seepage, just fie
ry redness. The redness was brightest above a pair of birthmarks. ‘Little pink teardrops’ is what my Grandmother often called them. Like the tears tattooed beneath the eyes of the gang leaders in Richmond’s low-rent district, though not as dark in color. Now they were inflamed, tender to the touch.
But still no blood.
I looked back at the deep crimson streaks in the tissue I held, trying to make sense of what just happened. Meanwhile, Peter’s urgent knocks grew faint….distant. Then, the world around me went black.
Chapter 3
I’m not sure how long I was out. When I gradually came to, I heard Peter’s voice…getting gradually louder.
“Txema…Txema? Shit, I think she’s waking up.”
His image was hazy, but I could tell he was looking at Tyreen and her boyfriend, Johnny, as he said this. He sounded shaken, and the concern in his voice touched me…pulling me out of a dark cold place I’d fallen into. I’m not sure that I landed anywhere, just that I was immersed in a sea of thick blackness. At one point, I felt constricted and unable to move. Held fast in close confines, it felt as if a coffin that was too small for my build.
I remembered then the whispered voices that were talking back and forth. It was too difficult to understand the words, although the accent and cadence sounded French…and maybe a little Spanish. There were several of these voices, and most of them were male. As they spoke, the constriction lifted. Drifting on my back, softness now caressed me, as if I lay upon a lush feather bed. The voices echoed upon one another, soon joined by others that sounded alarmed. A cold grimy hand seized my throat, and that’s when I began to awaken, just before Peter spoke.
