by Tami Lund
“She met a vampire. He had been passing through town, heading here to Chicago. They hit it off. They gave in to the attraction and slept together. Uncle Dirk found out.” I swiped at the tears spilling onto my cheeks.
“He … he arranged for a couple of guys to kidnap her from the barn one evening while she was tending to the animals. The rest, you know, of course. Except it wasn’t vampires. They were human.”
Abby stumbled over to the nearest chair and sank into it, staring at the floor. “He killed her?” she said after a pregnant pause. “Because she cheated on him? I mean, that’s wrong, but not wrong enough to kill someone.”
I nodded.
“Wow.” She shook her head. “You know, when I told Parnell the story I’d heard my entire life, he told me it was crazy. He said no vampire would leave her to bleed out like that. Human blood was too precious to waste.”
“Cam said the same thing. And for whatever reason, he decided to investigate, see if he could find out the real story. Crazy enough, the vampire who had the affair with Aunt Samantha works for him. I met him. He’s a gentleman. Sophisticated, elegant, quiet. I can’t imagine him abusing anyone. I’m sure Aunt Samantha couldn’t, either.”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“Me either. Except I’m kind of glad Uncle Dirk isn’t around anymore. I don’t think I could look him in the eye now.” I decided not to tell her how Uncle Dirk died. It didn’t seem necessary.
“What do we do about Dad? Do we tell him her husband killed his sister?”
I sank onto the carpet at her feet and rested my head on her knee. “I don’t know.”
She placed her hand on my hair. “Well, now we really need to go home. I feel like I need to make amends with Dad. And you do, too. Does he know you came to find me?”
I sighed. “Yes. I told them I needed to make sure you were okay. They weren’t happy I left, but I think they kind of wanted me to go. They miss you, even though they won’t say it out loud.”
“Please come with me. Camden told me to take you home.”
He told her to take me home. He didn’t want me to stay, to be a part of his world. I supposed, if I looked at the situation objectively, I could see his point. The idea of never seeing my family again was difficult to swallow. But I wasn’t sure if never seeing him again wasn’t the lesser of two evils.
Chapter 13
Okay, I could admit when I was wrong. No, not really. Not usually. But in this instance, I was wrong.
I should never have let her go. I should have kept her. I should have turned her. Then I could have kept her with me forever. Even if we eventually grew tired of each other, she would still be bonded to me, because I’d be her maker. If I summoned, she’d have to come. If I wanted her, she’d have to comply.
Another reason why I’d made the decision to send her away. If I’d turned her, she would have been beholden to me, and I did not like that feeling. I wanted her to stay entirely of her own volition.
And she hadn’t.
I should be happy for her, for reuniting with her sister. And according to Parnell, who also had not been able to let Anya’s sister go entirely, they had made up with their parents. The sisters, the women we let go, were happy.
That wasn’t exactly making me feel better.
Dusk was falling, as was a light snow. I stood at the window in the great room and watched it coat the ground. It wouldn’t last, though. Like humans, and love, it would eventually melt away. Sooner than later, no doubt. We were due for a break in the weather. Spring was coming; it was inevitable.
I needed to feed. I hadn’t since she left. Ten days. I was acting a fool; regardless of my broken heart, I still had a city to run, and I should have learned from Hollis’s attempted coup to never let my guard down, to never let myself get into such a position of weakness again. With a gusty sigh, I pulled out my phone and typed a message to the Madame of what was, I suppose, my favorite courtesan brothel. It was nothing to do with the girls or what they offered; it was only that Jasmine was a friend and I trusted her explicitly.
The return text was almost immediate.
She’ll be there in twenty.
I shot a text to the vampire who’d taken guard duty tonight outside my house, let him know to expect company, and then I headed to the wine cellar to select an appropriate varietal. By the time dinner arrived, I’d poured two glasses and the rest of the bottle into a decanter so it could breathe properly. At the moment, I had no interest in having sex with the woman, I only wanted to feed, but I knew that would change once I sunk my fangs into her skin. Sex and blood were inexplicably intertwined for vampires.
The doorbell rang, and I made my way to the front door. When I opened it, a tall, thin woman with dark skin and a mass of curly hair on her head stood on the front porch. “Hello, Cam. It’s been a little while.”
“Ebony. Appreciate you coming over on such short notice.” I held open the door.
“I brought someone with me. Hope you don’t mind.”
Ebony was the only courtesan I used on a regular basis. She was one of a precious few who had no expectations of the vampires to whom she was contracted. She was perfectly fine being dinner and a fuck and walking away at the end of the night.
Admittedly, our forays occasionally turned kinky. There had been that night when she’d invited a fresh, young courtesan along because she said the girl needed some gentle guidance and she knew I would not steer her wrong. And no, I hadn’t declined the ménage that naturally occurred that evening. But tonight, I was not in the mood.
“I really would rather…” The words dried on my tongue when the beautiful, smiling blond stepped into view.
“Anya?”
Her smile widened and she lifted a hand and wiggled her fingers.
“You look … different.” Still gorgeous, still breathtaking, still caused the heart I did not have to clench with desire. But…
Luther stepped out of the shadows. I automatically dropped to one knee and bowed my head. When I glanced up, I saw Anya had done the same.
“I thought you were in New York,” I said as I straightened and offered Anya a hand to do the same. Once I had her in my grasp, though, I did not want to let her go. Possibly ever. “You feel cold,” I said to her. She giggled.
“I was. And then this one”—he shoved his thumb in Anya’s direction—“managed to track me down. Damned impressive, for a human.”
“Thank you,” Anya said demurely. I narrowed my eyes. What was going on?
“And insisted I return to Chicago. And then she insisted I turn her.”
“She what?” I turned to glare at her. “You didn’t.”
But I knew she had. Her hand was too cool, her skin too pale, her eyes too dark. Now that I realized it, her entire demeanor positively screamed vampire.
“How long ago?”
“Three nights.”
Three nights. “How do you feel? Are you … okay?” When I’d first been turned, it had been so painful, I wanted to die, for real, the true death. I had barely been able to walk for a week.
“It wasn’t pleasant, I’ll admit that,” Anya said, glancing at Luther.
“I warned you,” he said.
“But I’m feeling better. Not a hundred percent yet but good enough to see you. To … tell you.”
“She needs to feed,” Luther announced, crashing through the sappy moment about to ensue. He glanced at his watch. “And I need to catch a flight back to New York. Christos only knows what sort of trouble Selina is causing.”
I should probably have asked if Hollis had been taken care of, but the truth was, I trusted my maker, and all I could think about was being alone with Anya. Well, not entirely alone.
“You’re okay with this, Ebony? Two of us feeding off you?”
“Getting sucked on gets me high, babe. Getting sucked on by two vamps is gonna be a nice, long trip to Heaven.”
Luther waved and stepped off the porch, striding toward the car idling at the curb.
“Come inside, ladies. Please. I think I need to pour another glass of wine.” I led them toward the kitchen, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Anya was here and she was a vampire. She could stay with me forever—if she wanted to.
“You’re gonna need another bottle,” Ebony said, swiping a glass and taking a deep slug. She knew well a vampire’s taste for wine-soaked blood.
Anya stared at her, a familiar hunger in her eyes. I knew that hunger was for Ebony’s blood, but what else would she want tonight? We’d had so little time together, I knew nothing of her sexual preferences, outside of what she liked me to do to her.
By the time I returned above stair with another bottle of wine, the two glasses I’d poured were empty. “You really do have wonderful taste in wine,” Anya said, sauntering over to me and placing her hand on my arm. I covered it with my own. I wanted to pull her to me, to hug her tightly, to kiss her, to…
“Just do it, already,” she said, smiling up at me.
“What?”
“Kiss me. I can tell you want to. If it helps, I want to, too.”
“What else do you want?”
She glanced over her shoulder at the human woman who was keeping a polite distance. “I don’t know. Luther says I need to feed. He says it won’t take much, that Ebony will be able to handle both of us drinking from her. He also said he doubts you’ve fed since I left, so I’m supposed to make you do it. But outside of that … all I really want is to be with you.”
At that moment, I understood exactly how the Grinch felt when his heart swelled ten sizes too big, or whatever the hell it had done.
“The rest of it, I don’t know. I mean, I know we need blood to survive, and the most logical way to get it is to feed from humans. And that it’s a sexual experience, or at least it was with you.”
“It is. It always is. But we can feed from Ebony, even at the same time, and then send her on her way and enjoy the rest of the evening, just the two of us. We can set her up with a regular appointment, if you like her.”
“What if … what if I want to … you know?”
Unable to resist a moment longer, I snaked my arm around her waist and pulled her flush to my body. She wiggled, rubbing herself against the erection swelling behind the fly of my pants.
“Whatever you want, my sweet Anya. So long as it involves me, I am happy to indulge you.”
“What I want is to be with you. Forever. I love you, Cam. I don’t ever want to be away from you again.”
“And I love you. I swear to never send you away again. Ever.”
“Good. Now, come on, let’s eat. I’m starved.”
The End
Thank you for reading! I hope you’ll take a moment to leave a review wherever you purchased this book. And if you want more, I suggest you start with REBORN, the first book in the Blood Courtesans Series, although each book is standalone so it is not necessary to read them in order.
Blood Courtesans Series
Reborn (Myra)--Michelle Fox
Ensnared (Star)--Rebecca Rivard
Bitten (Nova) & Taken (Nova, part 2) & Resurrected (Nova, part 3)--Kim Faulks
Marked (Winter)--Gwen Knight
Wanted (Corynne)--Kristen Strassel
Needed (Angel)--Ever Coming
Stolen (Dakota)--Marissa Farrar
Resist (Anya)--Tami Lund
Releasing in late 2016:
Cursed (Piper)--Jami Brumfield
Pursued (Mia)--Lisa Carlisle
Desired (Stella)--Monica La Porta
Caught (Katharine)--Julia Mills
Fallen (Paige)--Ever Coming
Hooked (Poppy)--Selena Kitt
Coming soon!
More books set in the Blood Courtesans world from authors TL Reeve, Elianne Adams, Tabitha Connall, and Ava K. Michaels!
Visit www.bloodcourtesans.com for more information!
***
If you liked my vampires, you’ll probably like my shifters. Keep reading for a sampling of Of Love and Darkness, a story about shape-shifters and a Fate who likes to wear dresses and is built like a linebacker ... Yep, you read that correctly.
CHAPTER ONE
There was a reason humans feared that which went bump in the night. Shadows in dark alleys, the rustling of dried leaves on an otherwise still night. Basements and dark corridors.
Because the monsters were real.
Gavin Rowan knew this because he was one of the monsters.
Used to be. He used to be a Rakshasa like the rest of them. A shape-shifter who hunted humans for sport, hunted rare shifters called Chala because that was what his kind were born to do.
Now, thanks to a two-hundred-year-old curse, he hunted his own kind and protected the Chala. If there were even any Chala left to protect. The Rakshasa had done an impressive job over the course of the last millennia, and as far as Gavin had been able to tell, it was likely there were no more Chala to hunt or protect.
So he protected the humans instead. He’d made this area his turf, this urban landscape desperately in need of some sort of champion.
I don’t want to be a champion.
Yet he knew he had no choice. The curse saw to that. Every day, he fought the battle in his head—the need to kill, to torment the humans against the need to protect them, and to destroy those who would otherwise torment them. He should have gone mad long ago but the one who cursed him had known what she was doing and she knew damn well he would live forever with this internal torture.
So he persevered, because to go mad was to let her win and he would never, ever do that.
Tonight was a good night for his particular plight. There had been a gathering at the convention center, and humans were pouring into the streets, well after dark on a winter’s evening. Gavin knew the Rakshasa were waiting, hiding in the shadows, ever ready. And the humans were so foolish, so hopelessly naïve. They would walk in pairs and singles, and they would tell themselves the shadows weren’t really moving, that the monsters did not really exist.
Gavin drained the last of the coffee in the cup and slipped from the booth. He stretched, pulled a ten out of his wallet, and dropped it onto the table. Silent as a cat, he left the diner and disappeared into the shadows. It was time to do what he did best.
It was time to hunt.
CHAPTER TWO
Sydney Amataya hated working conventions when they were located downtown. Especially by herself. She was a damn good event planner and was even a decent salesperson. But when it came to directions, she was ten times lousy.
Getting here from the suburbs had taken two full hours, when the GPS said it should have only taken forty-five minutes. Yes, she’d even used a GPS and still had issues.
Then she parked her car on the street instead of in the attached parking garage. She told herself she was saving her employer twenty bucks. It always took them forever to reimburse her anyway.
When the convention was over, she packed up her tabletop display, piled her supplies onto a cart, and wheeled it down to the main lobby. She left it there to go in search of her car, with the intention of pulling it into the circle drive in front of the massive convention center, loading her supplies, then heading home.
It felt like hours since she’d wandered outside on this quest for her vehicle.
She was lost. In downtown Detroit. Alone. With the sun quickly sinking behind the towering old buildings that felt as though they were pressing in on her. Shadows appeared quickly when one was surrounded by high-rises.
She was certain she had parked her car right here. Or maybe here? Or there?
Yep, she was lost. She threw her gloved hands into the air and blew out a frustrated sigh. Her breath came in a puff of white and then quickly dissipated.
Her stepbrother William was going to harangue her endlessly when she got home. If she got home. She couldn’t even use her cell phone to call him to come rescue her, which would normally be her first choice—well, after she worked up the nerve to admit she was lost in the first
place. She had stubbornness issues, and didn’t like to admit when she was wrong.
But her phone was dead. She’d taken too many pictures and sent too many texts while at the convention, and the phone charger was, of course, in her car. Which she couldn’t seem to find at the moment.
She dug the keys out of the pocket of her thick downy coat and began walking again, pushing the panic button on the key fob, as she’d been doing for what felt like hours already. Her knockoff Uggs were ruined from walking in the dirty gray slush covering the sidewalks. A heavy, wet snow had fallen while she had been inside the convention center, and now the sidewalks were treacherous and sloppy. At least she could derive some comfort from the fact that she had chosen to buy thirty-dollar knockoffs instead of the two-hundred-dollar real thing. Plus, they were three years old, so she’d certainly gotten her use out of them.
Small comfort.
She stared down at said boots, forcing herself to admit that they truly were no longer salvageable, when the most peculiar feeling washed over her, so intense that she actually came to a stuttering halt and lifted her head, looking around sharply. She had wandered into an alley, she realized with a spike of fear.
I’m never coming downtown alone again.
Sydney tried to decipher the source of the sensation flooding her body, the sense of . . . awareness. Her nerve endings tingled. Her body was on fire. In the middle of January with temperatures in the teens, she was half-tempted to shed her coat and thick woolen sweater.
She unzipped her coat but the action did nothing to cool the strange feeling. Her body seemed to be warring with itself. Run. Stay. Run.
Run?
“You lost, little girl?” The drawling voice was deep and rusty, as if the owner had just rolled out of bed and had not yet had that first cup of strong, black coffee.
