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…One solitary tear fluttered down her cheek, a bead of wetness that would betray her emotions, her strength. She raised her hand to wipe it away but Beau was quicker. He brushed his fingers over her cheek and wiped the tear, then his mouth was there, where the wetness had been, replacing it with his own hot kiss and the delicious feel of his lips against her skin. “You’re warm,” she murmured, unable to hide her surprise. He chuckled. “You don’t know much about us.” It was a statement, not a question, and Ash didn’t feel the need to reply. Instead, she removed the crucifix and wrapped the heavy chain around her hand. Then she pushed up against him, her breasts pressing against his chest, and she tangled the fingers of her free hand in his hair. Her mouth found his, hot and inviting, and she traced his lower lip with her tongue. Her fear had vanished, to be replaced with an almost overpowering need. At that moment, she wanted him more than she wanted to breathe. Nothing else existed but this moment, the feel of Beau’s tongue invading her mouth, his arms enveloping her body and pushing her up against him. She broke the kiss reluctantly and looked up at him. His breath came quickly and his hair partially hid his eyes, but the hot look of desire in them was unmistakable. “Take me,” she said, and his eyes widened in response. Heat crept into her cheeks and she placed her hand against his chest to hold him at bay. “Not that way,” she said quickly, hoping to clarify before his fangs found their way into her throat. “Fuck me.”
ALSO BY LACEY SAVAGE Oceanbound
GRAVE PLEASURES BY LACEY SAVAGE
AMBER QUILL PRESS, LLC http://www.amberquill.com
GRAVE P LEASURES AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2005 by Lacey Savage ISBN 1-59279-332-0 Cover Art © 2005 Trace Edward Zaber
Layout and Formatting provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com
PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
As with everything, this book is dedicated to my wonderful husband who supports me in everything I do, and provides wonderful inspiration for my writing. I also owe a huge debt of gratitude to Trace Edward Zaber and my wonderful editor, Karin Story, for helping me bring Ash and Beau to life.
Grave Pleasures
CHAPTER 1
Aisling O’Reilly crouched under the brightly-lit window of Crumpets & Tea Antiques. Her heart threatened to break out of her chest, its pounding echoing in her ears. Damn. I should never have agreed to do this. Sweat pooled between her shoulder-blades and dripped down her spine, enveloping her in a swift chill that blended with the cool air. She glanced at her watch. 2:00 A.M. If she hesitated much longer, the sun would rise, the owner would return, and she’d have to go home empty-handed, again. No more stalling. No more delays. She’d been hired to do a job and she had to carry it out. So what if it she’d never done anything like this before? At least the reward would pay the rent on her shabby basement for another year. Okay, Ash. Now. Go now. She stood up, pins and needles running down her legs. Leaning 1
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against the storefront window, she waited for the blood to start pumping steadily through her limbs again. She pressed the heel of her palms against her eyes, hating that she had to use yet another delay tactic. It should have been enough that she’d finally decided to do this. She’d taken the job a week ago, and whoever wanted this item proved even more impatient than she’d expected. Daily reminders showed up on her doorstep in the form of hulking thugs, and each day she’d been forced to come up with a better excuse than the last. No more excuses. Ash took a deep breath and dropped her hands from the window, scanning the street and trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. The bare branches of nearby trees rattled together like bones, and a flash of distant lightning slashed across the sky. A man and his dog walked on the opposite sidewalk, and she waited until they passed. What kind of idiot walked his dog at two in the morning, anyway? She shook her head and turned back to the task at hand. She could see it from where she stood. The crucifix lay on a small table in the middle of the cluttered room, surrounded by big fluffy dresses and velvet mantles, as well as dainty pieces of jewelry. The crucifix itself, however, was anything but dainty. Ash leaned in and tilted her head to get a better look. In fact, it could only have been described as utterly hideous. Its dull bronze glow and lackluster texture were accented by lifeless glass inlays. It was at least the length of her hand, if not bigger, and it hung on an equally drab chain. It could have been gold, but Ash guessed it was probably copper, or bronze at best. Though the store was bathed in light, nothing glinted off the surface of the crucifix, as if it alone lay in darkness and shadow. Two thousand dollars. That’s how much the thing was worth to the guy who’d hired her. She wished she could have met her client in person, but he’d been cautious and reluctant to reveal his identity in 2
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their past dealings. Instead, he sent messengers, menacing men who scowled and ground their teeth, even when they talked. She took a deep breath, gathered her courage, and pulled on a pair of thin leather gloves. She wouldn’t even have to break in. Her client had procured a copy of the key. Piece of cake. Turn the key, get in, grab the crucifix, get out, and lock the door. Ash rubbed her palms on her faded jeans. Right. Simple. Her hand trembled as she inserted the key in the brass lock. Her heart caught in her throat as she pushed it all the way in, waiting to hear the satisfying click. She paused and glanced around her again, but with the dog-walker gone, the street loomed as empty as before. The key turned easily, and Ash pushed down on the old-fashioned handle. The door creaked as she opened it, slowly at first, hesitantly. The gap in the door widened and some of Ash’s anxiety began to drain away. She’d been silly to fear this. Breaking and entering was no harder than swiping a wallet or a credit card from the back pocket of an unsuspecting stranger. Sure, this carried more jail time, but the consequences were irrelevant if she didn’t get caught. She jumped when the door banged against the wall. She was in. The crucifix was only a few steps away now, and she’d be home and snuggled safely in her bed in twenty minutes. Her first step inside the store was soundless, her worn sneakers silent on the wooden floor. The air held an almost overwhelming aroma of potpourri and scented candles, and the sweet fragrance helped to soothe Ash’s frazzled nerves. Her second step was accompanied by a high-pitched shriek, a shrill so loud Ash instinctively brought her hands up to cover her ears. She stepped back, frantic, trying to locate the source of the noise. The alarm! No one said anything about an alarm! Bolting through the open door and down the street was her first 3
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instinct, but she paused when she caught another glimpse of the crucifix. She’d only have to take a few steps to reach it, and then this whole ordeal would have been worth it. A fine film of dust covered every surface, as if the antique store hadn’t welcomed a customer in years. Ash stumbled over a wooden chest and exhaled in relief when her hand finally met with the satisfying feel of metal. She lifted it, surprised at its weight. Ugly and heavy, she couldn’t imagine anyone tossing the monstrosity around her neck. Two thousand dollars. She chanted the words in her mind like a mantra. Leaping over the threshold, she halted abruptly and turned to shut the door behind her. If the cops were on their way, at least the closed door might throw them off for a while. Who was she kidding? She knew nothing about this sort of thing. She took off at top speed, the streetlights blurring around her as she ran. Some of the money from this job would definitely have to go towards getting a T.V. She needed to watch more cop shows if she was ever going to get any better at this. Not that she was ever doing anything like this again. In the distance, sirens howled their approach. She continued to run, despite the stitch in her side and the shortness of breath. All she had to do was run twelve blocks, then hop on a subway. She turned a corner and almost collided with a police cruiser. The screech of tires on pavement and her startled scream broke the stillness of the night. Her vision blurred as she spun on her heel and ran down the way she came. She was dimly aware of a tall officer climbing out of the car, pulling out his radio and calling for backup. Backup? For me? The thought of twenty cruisers chasing her down the dark street almost brought her to a fit of hysterics. Her stomach was tangled up in knots, her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest, and sweat 4
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drenched her body like a second skin. Through it all, the crucifix in her hand pulled at her like a heavy weight, but she gripped it tighter, feeling the glass inlays dig into her palm, and pushed forward, away from the blue lights and the wail of the sirens, turning right, then left, then right again each time she came to an intersection. With the exception of the sirens and her own footsteps on the pavement, the street was quiet. It was Tuesday night. There were no rowdy teenagers, no one coming home from a late date, no sudden benefactor to protect her. Where had that thought come from? Ash wondered as she took another deep breath to calm the stitch in her side. She didn’t need anyone to protect her. And no one had; not since her parents had died when she was ten years old. She halted when she came to a familiar intersection and bent forward, hands on knees, panting hard. She’d grown up in Boston and lived in the slums most of her life, so the city had been her playground. She knew every turn, every road, and the knowledge had aided her more often than she cared to remember. She could continue to run, but the ache in her legs and side convinced her that she probably couldn’t get much farther on foot before they’d catch up to her. The other option was the subway, but it was still five blocks away and the sirens blared louder, closing in. The noise made Ash’s blood pound in her head, her dread growing with each pulse of the siren. She had to hide somewhere. She scanned the area wildly, but this neighborhood was part of the reconstruction of the city, all cement buildings and not a tree in sight. There weren’t even any balconies she could climb up to and hide until all this blew over. A gas station nearby, with its beaming neon lights, was her only chance. She could hide behind a gas pump if nothing else, and hope 5
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they wouldn’t stop to search every nook and cranny in the neighborhood for a stupid crucifix. Get a grip, Ash. This isn’t the first time you’ve been chased by the cops. Heat flared in her cheeks at the thought. She’d promised herself that one night spent at the police station would be the last, and it had been. She’d never spent another night on the streets after that either. She’d tried to turn her life around, keeping out of danger as much as possible, while staying alive, and relatively well sheltered and clothed. So her dingy basement apartment wasn’t the Ritz, but it wasn’t a blanket in an alley either. She strolled nonchalantly toward the gas station, hoping not to attract attention from the attendant. The cruisers seemed to have slowed their pursuit, but she didn’t dare hope to have lost them entirely. The neighborhood was full of winding roads and crescents, but that didn’t guarantee they wouldn’t find her. A white van sat idling at one of the pumps. Blue smoke crawled out the tailpipe in thick rivets, and the engine sputtered with each rotation. That’s definitely a bad idea. Running from the cops wasn’t her first choice for a fun night out. Being blown up by some idiot who left his car running at a gas station seemed even less enticing. A police car rounded the corner and pulled into the station, its tires squealing at the sharp turn. She spun around and faced the headlights, her eyes closing against the harsh brightness. Oh, God. This is it, then. This ridiculous crucifix will land me in jail. “Step away from the vehicle, ma’am.” A man’s voice boomed through the speaker and across the lot. She opened her eyes in time to see the policeman climb out of the car and head toward her, one hand resting easily on the hilt of his gun. 6
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The vehicle. The van! The stupid van, and its idiot owner, were going to save her. Without giving it a second thought, she dashed for the driver’s side door, hoping the officer wouldn’t fire and the door would be unlocked. Since the keys were still in the ignition, it was a safe bet the driver didn’t have a second set. She pulled on the handle, relief washing over her when the door slid open. Ash jumped in, threw the crucifix down on the passenger’s seat, shifted into gear, and slammed her foot on the gas. The van groaned its protest, but lunged at her command, and she veered right and away from the cop struggling to get back into his car. “That’s what one too many donuts will do for you,” she said aloud, and followed the statement with a nervous giggle. She’d done it. She was driving away, far away from the antique shop and the threat of jail time. And all she’d had to do was steal a car. She groaned as she relaxed her foot a little. The last thing she needed was to get pulled over for speeding. So she’d stolen a van. There had to be a first time for everything. Maybe this would mark her launch into a far more dangerous, and perhaps far more lucrative business. She wouldn’t have to pickpocket another tourist if she continued to do this. A van today, a Lamborghini tomorrow! Ash reached up to adjust the rearview mirror and was puzzled to find she couldn’t see out the rear windows. Tinted black, the small panes in the back doors of the van offered no view of the outside, and she wondered briefly whether that was even legal. Wasn’t there something in the handbook about needing to look in your rearview mirror as you drove? She squinted, and wished she’d paid more attention when taking her driver’s test. But that had been years ago, and she passed only because she flashed the driving instructor a glimpse of her breasts. A slow smile 7
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spread across her face at the memory. She might not be proud of everything she’d done since her parents died, but at least she’d survived, and had learned to use the few assets she had. The sharp, thin wail of a siren reached her ears, and she gripped the steering wheel tighter with her sweaty hands. She couldn’t see behind her when she glanced in the side-view mirror, and she pounded the dashboard in frustration. Ash took her eyes off the road long enough to glance over her shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, through the darkened windows. A scream caught in her throat. Two stretchers lay side by side in the back of the van, both covered in white sheets draped over frighteningly-familiar forms. Human bodies. Oh God. I’ve stolen corpses. The police could be right behind her for all she knew, although the sound of pursuit now echoed faint and far away. But she didn’t dare stop to ditch the vehicle until she was certain she’d lost them. Forget joy rides and the fortune stealing cars would bring. If she got out of this alive, she was never taking another job again. Dead people gave her the creeps. She’d only seen one close-up before, an old bag-lady who’d croaked in a trash bin trying to keep warm. Ash shivered at the memory of the wrinkled face, slack in a permanent grimace. Who carried corpses in the back of a van anyway? Another look behind her confirmed that no blood stained the sheets, so at least she wasn’t stealing murder victims that could later be tied to her. She hoped. She blazed through a red light, her concentration waning. Fuck. Pay attention, Ash. Ditching the van had become a priority. But where? If she left it 8
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idling by the side of the road, it would only be a matter of time before the cops found it. Dusting for prints wouldn’t uncover much since she was wearing gloves, but the cop at the gas station had seen her. They had a description they could plaster all over the city. They’d nail her before sun-up. She could drive the van into the river. She laughed, a thin strangled sound that didn’t rise to completion. Perhaps she’d been watching too much T.V. after all. Another red light caught her attention, and since she no longer heard the siren behind her, she slowed for this one, then came to a complete stop. Her foot tapped impatiently against the floor. Out of reflex, she lifted her head to glance back in the rearview mirror. A pair of bloodshot eyes glared back at her. This time she screamed, the sound filling the van with its intensity. She turned her head and stared into a man’s pale face. Dark circles contrasted with crimson eyes, and his purple lips moved without making a sound. A sweat of pure terror broke out all over her skin and she couldn’t stop screaming. Her lungs felt like they were going to explode, but her jaw was frozen wide open and the sound kept bursting forth, despite the calmness of the man’s face. The other sheet moved, and a second man sat up on the stretcher, then turned toward her. The motion was eerie and unnatural. Only his waist shifted, but his legs and neck stayed fixed straight ahead, as if he no longer needed his spine to keep him in place. This one had dark skin, and a gash over his eyebrow that began to ooze slightly as he moved. A demon stared out of his red-rimmed eyes. The first man stretched out a large, calloused hand and wrapped it around her neck. That stifled the scream, and they were suddenly plunged in silence, nothing but the sound of the motor breaking the bloodcurdling stillness. 9
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Ash fought back, clawing at the man’s face with her fingers, regretting having bitten down her nails to the stubs. She couldn’t get a good grip, and his arm was strong, relentless. His hand was ice cold around her neck, sending shivers down her spine even as she struggled for breath. He lifted her slightly from her seat while she struggled to find the gas pedal with the tip of her foot. She tapped on the ground once, twice, finding nothing but air and thick, shaggy carpeting. Straining herself to stretch even further, she tapped the gas pedal hard enough to send the car flying from the stoplight. Ash couldn’t turn her head, so she didn’t know whether she’d just driven out into traffic, but it didn’t seem to matter. Death by car crash seemed preferable to death by strangulation. She continued to punch, jab, and try to claw at the hand wrapped tightly around her throat, but to no avail. The strength drained out of her slowly, until her eyelids drooped heavily and her hand only rested on the cold but powerful arm. A loud crash reached her ears only moments before her head slammed against the driver’s side window, and she plunged into the relief of pure darkness.
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CHAPTER 2
Beauregard L’Hereaux wrapped his arms around the woman’s slim body and lowered his mouth to her throat. He’d forgotten her name— Candy? Kelly?—it didn’t matter. The scent of her skin and the pulsing vein on the side of that lovely, smooth neck sent his senses reeling. She moaned against him and whispered his name. The soft trail of her words penetrated the darkness of the empty parking lot. He leaned her against a black Mercedes, her pale skin a stark contrast to the metallic gloss of the car in the moonlight. “Make love to me, Beau,” she said in a whispery, too-seductive voice. He ran his tongue tentatively over her skin, tasting the faint sheen of salty perspiration mingled with arousal. “Soon,” he said. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, pressing her voluptuous chest against him. Her tight, erect nipples rubbed against his shirt, and he shivered and pressed a hard kiss to the hollow of her throat. 11
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He could hear the blood pounding through her veins. He could almost taste it, and the thought made him lick his lips. His tongue tentatively toyed with one of his fangs as he breathed in her scent one more time. He brought his hand between them and intimately cupped her pussy in his palm. She wore tight jeans, and the heat emanating from her core was relentless. He had to make her believe he wanted her in that way, in every way. She’d lower her resistances and allow him to take what he needed—her essence, her blood, and if he wasn’t careful, her life. Behind her, the streetlights cast pools of watery light on the pavement. There were no witnesses to watch them, though no one would have been interested in two lovers culminating the end of a pleasurable date anyway. Except that it was after dark, and the street was as empty as the rest of the city. Respectable citizens stayed indoors after nightfall, leaving the streets to thieves, vampires, and those seeking a little reckless pleasure. Like Kelly. Candy. Whatever. Beau closed his eyes and opened his mouth, affixing his fangs to that beautiful pulsating vein. She tightened her arms around his waist and pulled him closer, willingly offering her body for the taking. “Yes,” she said, her voice urging him on. The thirst overtook him, and his fangs scratched the surface of her throat, teasing, playing, without enough force to draw blood. She moaned again and found his cock, wrapped her hand around his balls even through the thick material of his pants. His fangs pressed deeper. He’d break her skin soon, find that forbidden treasure that flowed through her body and drink it, possess it, until her essence filled him and the raw, sweet taste took his breath away. The squeal of tires on pavement and the loud revving of a motor startled him from his euphoric thoughts. He lifted his head and the woman muttered a sharp word of protest, but his eyes were glued on 12
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the van that sped at an alarming rate down the narrow road. The light inside the vehicle was on, and three shapes were clearly outlined through the side windows. Beau only had a few seconds to make sense of the images, but the scene imprinted itself on his brain even as the van passed out of sight. He’d seen the woman struggle with another figure, while at least one more watched. With one last longing look at the pale skin he’d been about to bite, he took off at a speed no mortal could match. He leapt over the chain enclosure surrounding the lot and bolted down the street, following the waning rasp of the overworked engine. He could make out its taillights at the end of the road, increasing in size as he approached. The crash came suddenly and with a deafening burst of sound, the impact of the metal against the dumpster drowning out the thin wail of a siren in the distance. The van idled, its tailpipe still streaming noxious black smoke. Beau neared it and was relieved to notice the impact had only dented the bumper and the front of the car, the damage falling short of reaching the driver’s seat. Still, he could make out the unmistakable trail of blood along the side window, and he pulled the door open quickly to assess the damage. A woman leaned against the door. It was her head that had left that trail of blood on the window, and he hurried to settle her back against the seat. The scent of fresh blood made his mouth water, and he dug his fingernails into his palms to keep from claiming her. Taking advantage of wounded women wasn’t his style. He wanted them willing when he fed, eager for him. And this woman looked in no position to consent. She sure looked beautiful, though. Her lightly tanned skin provided the perfect backdrop for the enticing trail of blood curling away from her forehead, down her cheeks and disappearing into her blouse. Short, spiky dark brown hair framed her face, and full pink lips slightly parted 13
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in surprise hinted at sensual delights. He reached out to touch her on impulse, with no plan or thought as to where this would lead. His hand barely brushed against her velvety cheek when the back doors slid open and the stench of rotting flesh permeated the air. Beau stepped back from the van in time to deflect a determined fist from colliding with his face. He ducked at the last moment, then spun and grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it behind him. Only, the skin felt clammy, cold, and that overwhelming scent of rot made him gag. This isn’t a man. Another arm twisted around Beau’s throat and pulled him back from his original assailant. This creature was stronger, but still no match for Beau’s abilities. He freed himself easily from the unwelcome grip and landed a well-placed elbow in the creature’s middle, knocking it off its feet. A swift kick sent the first one flying through the air, to land with another loud crash on top of the dumpster. The body slid swiftly down into the garbage heap, and Beau turned back to the one laying on the ground. It remained still, its crimson eyes glassy and unblinking. Beau nudged the creature with the tip of his boot in disgust. He’d have to take it back to the Clan and have it assessed at the lab. Zombies hadn’t risen in centuries. He couldn’t be certain this unfortunate man was a corpse risen from the grave, but the ashy, gray complexion and cold skin gave credence to Beau’s theory. And the smell! Beau fought back the bile rising in his throat and leaned down over the lifeless form on the ground. Its head had been smashed against the pavement, and its jaw hung slackly against its chest. Beau opened his mouth and ran a finger absentmindedly over one of his fangs, testing its sharpness as he considered the body before him. “Don’t move.” 14
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The voice came from behind him, feminine and confident. Despite the order, Beau rose and turned to face her. “I said, don’t move.” This time, panic broke through her composure. Her breath steamed in the cold air. She was even more beautiful now, with her full lips narrowed into an angry line, and a blush tinting her cheeks. He could see her eyes for the first time, dark and mysterious, the glint of anger making them sparkle in the harsh glare of the streetlights. The blood had begun to dry on her cheek and her disheveled hair gave her the appearance of a wild warrior woman. Or a vampire slayer. In one hand, she held a golden crucifix pointed at his heart. *
*
*
Ash’s hand trembled as she held the crucifix, its weight pulling heavily at her sore arm. Her shoulder burned from being slammed against the driver’s side window along with her head, and she shifted the crucifix from her left hand to her right. “I know what you are,” she said. The vampire lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “And why wouldn’t you?” He moved a step closer, and she lifted the crucifix higher. “I’m not going to survive being attacked by those…whatever they were, just to be eaten by a vampire.” He chuckled, the sound soothing, masculine. His long, dark-blond hair fell forward, hiding the blue eyes blazing in the light of the street lamp. Despite her terror, Ash’s breath caught in her throat and her pulse quickened as he peered at her from under impossibly long lashes. “You can’t kill me with that,” he said matter-of-factly, the beginning of a smile twitching at his wide, generous mouth. His voice was low, husky, with the slightest tinge of a French accent. Damn. She’d always found foreign accents irresistible. Especially 15
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when uttered by men who looked like they belonged in underwear ads. Ash’s face heated at the thought, and she gripped the crucifix even harder in her hand. “I know,” she snapped. “But I can hurt you.” “Perhaps.” He shrugged, his shirt tightening across his broad shoulders. He narrowed his eyes and studied her, and Ash quivered under the weight of his stare. Her heart beat out a frenzied rhythm. What did he want, anyway? And why had he helped her fight off those creatures? “Put that down, and we’ll discuss this. You want to know what these things are?” She nodded, but didn’t lower the crucifix. It was the only weapon she had against him. She knew vampires roamed the city occasionally, but they usually kept to themselves, only coming out to feed. There hadn’t been a murder by a vampire in Boston in years, and the community’s interest in them had waned and then eventually almost disappeared. Every week there was another small article in the Boston Herald about the vampire menace, but for the most part, the media found their enjoyment elsewhere. “What’s your name?” Ash asked, stalling for time. She scanned the area around her, looking for a place to hide if things turned dangerous. The van wasn’t totaled, but it wouldn’t be going anywhere either. “Beauregard L’Hereaux,” he said, that same sexy smile curving his lips. “I’m Ash.” She cleared her throat. “Well, Beauregard, what do we do now?” “Now, you put down the crucifix. And you call me Beau.” Ash smiled despite herself. “Fitting,” she mumbled under her breath and hoped he hadn’t heard her. The broad grin on his face told her he had. She relaxed her arm and he took a step forward. Terror crept back 16
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up her spine and into her throat, and she lifted the weapon again. “I don’t think you should come much closer. Thank you for helping me, but now you need to go.” Beau lifted his hands in the air. “I’m not here to hurt you.” “And why should I believe you?” “Because if I’d wanted to feed, I would have done it by now.” “Lots of predators toy with their victims first, giving them a sense of false security. If I wanted to end up as dinner, I could have stayed in the van.” Ash didn’t see him move. One second he stood before her and the next, his breath teased the back of her neck, making her hair stand on end. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you.” His low whisper sent her heart hammering against her chest. “I want some answers as much as you do. I need to know why those things were after you.” Ash lowered the crucifix to her side, then took a deep breath. “They weren’t after me. I…found them. Sort of.” She cringed, not sure how much she should divulge. “Explain.” Another frustrated sigh escaped her lips, and she turned to face him. He was so close, she could see the fine lines around his eyes, his mouth. He wasn’t as young as he’d first seemed, but that didn’t mean anything. He could be thirty, or a thousand years old. And he could still eat her. On impulse, she jerked her hand forward and pressed the crucifix against his thigh. The smell of seared flesh and the faint shadow of smoke rose from his leg, and Beau clenched his teeth. She thought he’d lash out at her, but he made no move to attack or to back away from the distressing object. Reluctantly, Ash broke the contact herself. “Do you feel better?” he asked. She glanced at the wound. His beige, finely-pressed pants sported a 17
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seared hole in the shape of the cross, the material burned throughout. His skin was red and blistering underneath, but as she watched, it began to heal, a fresh layer of skin covering the wound. “I’m sorry about your pants,” she mumbled. God, that sounds so lame. To her surprise, he smiled. “I’ve got more. Do you want to talk now, or are there any other parts of me you’d like to burn off?” As if against her will, her gaze settled on the evident bulge between his legs. His cock wasn’t hard, but it was long and thick enough to stand out even flaccid against the material of the pants. Heat rushed to her face and she dropped her gaze to the ground. “No more. You could have hurt me, but you didn’t.” She threw the chain over her head, the crucifix dangling just below her breasts. “Why are you helping me?” “Zombies.” He gestured with a hand at the motionless figure on the ground beside them, and Ash shivered at the sight. She turned away, fixing her stare on Beau instead. “You’re kidding.” Zombies? Those brain-eating, mindless creatures that crawled out of graves? She took another look at the corpse. In the van, there had definitely been something odd about the two, something not quite right with the way they moved and acted. And the clammy, cold skin of the hand around her neck… Ash brought her hand up and touched her throat, and saw Beau’s eyes follow the motion, his pupils dilating as he watched her stroke the spot where she’d been strangled. Aware of his need to feed, she dropped her hand and backed away. “Look, I really think I should go. I need to get rid of this crucifix, and it’s getting late.” She’d go home, collect the money in the morning and continue living her dreary little existence without vampires and 18
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zombies to contend with. And no more robberies and car thefts. “Stop.” The tone in Beau’s voice commanded authority, and she stopped backing up. She turned instead, hoping to flee down the street, but her gaze settled on a group of people heading their way. They walked slowly, but the red glow of their eyes pierced the darkness and she could make out their ashen skin even from this distance. “Zombies?” she whispered, afraid of the answer. “Yes. Come with me.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her in the opposite direction. She ran, laboring to keep up with his speed, then looked over her shoulder. The zombie group followed, but seemed in no hurry, maintaining their comfortable gait even as Beau and Ash sprinted down the street. “Where are we going?” she managed to ask between panted breaths. “Home,” he said, and a new wave of terror washed over her. Away from zombies and into a vampire lair. Somehow, Ash didn’t think her night had improved much. He led her through the city at that same break-neck speed until Ash thought her legs would give out from under her, bruises aching with each step. She knew she wasn’t in the best shape, but she couldn’t have afforded a gym membership even if bending, stretching, and squeezing various body parts had been something she’d been interested in pursuing. Sure, she tried to avoid chips and chocolate as much as the next girl, but that didn’t prepare her for running a marathon with a vampire. “Hold up,” she managed to gasp. “We’re almost there.” To her dismay, he didn’t even sound winded. She had the distinct impression he ran at a slower pace than he would have if she hadn’t been with him. Ash scowled. She hated being treated as a burden by anyone, especially devastatingly handsome vampires who had just saved her life. 19
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Devastatingly handsome? Careful, Ash. He’s not human. As if hearing her thoughts, he looked over his shoulder and bared his fangs in a smile. They gleamed white and dangerous in the darkness of the street and Ash felt a wave of arousal spread through her body. Arousal? She should have been terrified! The man could still snap her neck with one swift move, attack a vital artery before she could even manage a scream. Yet he’d saved her life. Would he have done that if his only goal was to make her his next meal? “Welcome home,” he announced, stopping in front of a three-story brick mansion. It was like something out of a Gothic novel, with old, dusty windows, vines creeping up over the walls and surrounded by a thick metal gate. In contrast to the ancient aura, Beau punched in a few digits on a keypad, and the massive gate swung open to allow them entry. The garden brimmed with color, silver moonlight bathing lilacs, violets and other plants Ash didn’t recognize. Flowers with broad yellow petals and bright red centers lined the delicate winding path through the garden, and the scent of lilac, with its sweet fragrance made the scene seem peaceful, welcoming. Tension drained from Ash’s muscles as they entered the tranquil garden, and she startled out of her reverie only when the gate slammed shut behind them with a loud metallic clang. She spun on her heel and stared at the entrance that now barred any escape, and her throat tightened in what had quickly become a familiar terror. She started to utter something about wanting to go home when Beau gently slid his hand into hers. If Ash hadn’t already been stunned speechless by the night’s adventures, this new turn of events would have astonished her. She peered up at Beau and found him watching her, his face a calm mask, only his eyes divulging the emotions surging beneath. They blazed with a blue fire, an intensity she wouldn’t have thought possible 20
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from someone who was no longer even really alive. “Don’t be afraid,” he said, and she squeezed his hand in response. Taking a deep breath, she followed him into the mansion. A languid whiff of tobacco smoke accompanied her as she stepped over the threshold into a brightly lit chamber. The radiant light speared her eyes after the comfortable darkness outside, and the cacophony of noise and color made her want to flee as soon as she’d entered. Laughter and the buzz of conversation reached her ears before her eyes adjusted to the light, and once she was able to focus, the room came into clarity, in all its lavishness and riches. Velvet covered couches and plush chairs sat in an elegant array in the middle of the room. A massive crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling and bathed the room in a glow of brilliant rainbow lights which sparkled over the glass coffee table and the china cabinets. On the right wall, a fire blazed warmly in the fireplace, its heat radiating throughout the room. But even more astounding than the furnishings were the people who fit so well into this scene. Women draped in fancy, slim-fitting gowns and men dressed in designer suits hung on each other’s every word, propped on the edges of seats or standing with glasses of wine in their hand. At least, she hoped it was wine. Her blood turned to ice thinking about the alternative, and she tried to take comfort in Beau’s presence, his strong hand holding hers. The room stilled when they entered, the dull roar of conversation lowering to a mere whispered hum. In such a place, a stranger would not remain unnoticed. Ash noticed the men’s stares on her face, lingering at her throat, then lowering to her breasts and down farther, only to come back up to her eyes and greet her with a broad grin. Most of the women’s glares weren’t any more welcoming, their sharp yet delicate fangs making 21
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brief appearances over blood-red lips. Yet all the glances subdued when they fell on Beau, and the vampires once again fell into conversation, if a little more restrained. “You’ll be safe here,” he said. Ash laughed, hoping she didn’t look as nervous as she felt. “I don’t know if I believe you. Perhaps I should leave—” “And go where?” Beau grabbed her shoulders and spun her around until she faced him. “Back on the streets with those things?” “Are those things better than these things?” She indicated with a broad sweep of her arm around the room, but kept her gaze lowered. She felt Beau stiffen beside her. “Let’s take a walk.” He placed his hand under her elbow for support, and led her up a set of marble stairs. Thick burgundy carpeting covered the floor, muffling their footsteps. Rich mirrors gilded in gold hung on the walls about a foot apart. As they passed one, Ash peered into it and groaned at her disheveled appearance. She wiped at her cheek feverishly to dislodge the dried blood, then gasped as she realized that only her features reflected in the mirror, though Beau stood right beside her. She turned and gave him a hard, appraising look. “You seem real enough,” she said, trailing her fingers around the edges of his face. He inhaled sharply and Ash thought he’d pull back, continue walking. Instead, he leaned into her hand, the smooth skin of his face making her palm tingle in anticipation. Heat built between her legs. His unnerving gaze bore into her, and she ran her thumb over his lower lip, which parted as if on demand. God. What’s gotten into me? She pulled her hand back and smoothed it over her stomach to calm the butterflies that had settled there. If she’d only known when she stepped out the door this evening what the rest of the night would bring, she might have thought twice 22
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about doing this job. But it had all seemed so simple. Get in, get the crucifix, get out. Well, she’d done the job. Despite her bumbling inefficiency, she’d even gotten away with it. Tough assignments and cops she could understand. She could deal with those. But this…this vampire standing across from her stirred deeper longings in her than she’d felt in years. “Why have you brought me here?” she asked, fearing the answer. “It’s not so we can feed, I can assure you.” His voice was calm, soothing. “Then why?” “I wanted to protect you.” He took a deep breath, as if the admission pained him. “When I saw you in the van, I knew I couldn’t let you get away. That you’d be in danger.” Ash nodded. “I was in danger. You saved me.” He shrugged as if it were nothing. “I suppose it’s my way of giving back. I take so much from your kind, but always with permission. I can’t allow anyone else to take from you, too, to harm you.” “So you’re sort of like a protector of mankind?” He laughed, and the sound reverberated through the wide hall. “Hardly. Think of me more like a predator with a guilty conscience.” “I’m not sure I should be comforted,” she said, smiling despite herself. “Do you really think those things out there…that they were zombies?” His features turned grave again. “I do. The scent of them, their skin, and those red eyes. I can’t be certain, but that’s my best guess. I’d meant to bring one of them in here for some of our scientists to look at, but with the appearance of the others, I thought it might be safer if we just left him there. Besides,” he added, “If they really are zombies, we’ll encounter more of them soon.” Ash shivered. “We?” The word squeaked out of her throat before she could stop it. “You said ‘we.’” 23
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Beau grinned, flashing those brilliant white fangs. “I did. Stay with me and help me figure this out. I don’t know why, but I think you’re the key to all this.” “Me?” Ash scoffed, her hand fluttering to her chest and resting on the crucifix. “I told you. I found them. They didn’t come after me. I’m not the key to anything.” His eyebrows lifted and his blue eyes sparkled with humor. “You don’t believe—” Her words were cut off by the pressure of his lips against her mouth. He’d moved so swiftly, she hadn’t seen the steps he took to bridge the gap between them, but she felt the moisture of his mouth, the heat of his breath against her lips. A thrill of delight urged her to open for him, her lips allowing his tongue to invade her mouth with its sweet taste, its silky texture. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected—the taste of blood perhaps—but this wasn’t like anything she’d felt before. The kiss was passionate, intimate, yet he held his body aloof instead of pressed against hers. She broke the kiss and gave him a questioning glance. “You can touch me, you know.” He shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t.” Her body tensed at his words. “You can kiss me, but you can’t touch me? Is this some sort of silly vampire superstition?” Beau grinned, then pointed at her breasts. Her nipples hardened and rubbed against the cotton of her shirt, but she couldn’t understand what her chest had to do with anything. Was he saying that her breasts were too small? “Listen here—” she began, then lowered her gaze to where he pointed and swallowed the rest of her sentence. The crucifix hung across her chest like a barrier, a weapon keeping him at bay. “Oh,” she whispered, and grabbed the chain from around her neck. 24
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She let the crucifix dangle in her hand, unwilling to part with it after all the effort it had taken to obtain it. Her lips still tingled from the contact with him, his deliberate and thorough kiss. His eyes blazed with unconfined lust, and Ash wanted nothing more than to feel his body pressed against hers, the hard length of his muscles and his lean form resting on top of her. Before he could take her by surprise again, she shuffled her feet and turned away from him. “We should keep going,” she said. “Was there something you wanted to show me?” Beau cleared his throat while Ash stared at herself in the mirror. She knew he stood right behind her, but not being able to see him sent a shiver up her spine. “I wanted you to meet a friend, but at this time, he wouldn’t be up here. He’d probably still be downstairs tending bar.” “Who is this friend?” “Donovan O’Connor. He’s our resident warrior, one of the few to have encountered a zombie uprising in the past.” “Then he’ll know what to do,” Ash said, hoping to reassure herself. This was all like a strange dream. Vampires existed, but zombies? And how many other kinds of undead were there, just waiting for an opportunity to take over the world? She shivered and Beau wrapped his arm around her. They descended the stairs back to the main entrance, then continued lower, to the basement. Flooded with light from wall sconces, the underground hallway was as richly decorated as the rest of the mansion. They traversed the length of the hall to stop in front of a set of large, mahogany double doors. The words “blood bar” had been etched into the doors in a jagged hand, the crude edges a sharp contrast to the rest of the decadent elegance of the place. 25
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“Blood bar?” she echoed, unable to keep the terror from her voice. Beau moved away, but fixed his intense gaze on her. “I should have warned you, but I assumed you’d know.” Fear gripped her stomach, made her mouth go dry and her pulse pound in her ears. She didn’t want to hear another word about vampires, or undead beings. No matter how sexy this one was, he was as unnatural as they came, and Ash had the overwhelming urge to run. She gave in before he could argue and convince her to stay. He was wrong. The zombies hadn’t been after her, and she could offer no answers he couldn’t find on his own. Sure he’d saved her, and right now protected her, but that couldn’t—and wouldn’t—last. She fled down the hallway, back up the stairs and through the door to the serene garden. At the gates, she paused for only a moment before punching in the numbers on the keypad. If there was one skill she’d picked up on the streets, it was that of looking over other people’s shoulders while they did things she wasn’t supposed to see. She’d become an expert at memorizing pin numbers by the swift move of fingers over the keypad. The gates opened with a lurch and she breezed through the gap. She threw the crucifix back around her neck and ambled through the empty street, in what she hoped was the direction of the nearest subway station. If she could only manage to avoid all manner of unnatural beings until she got there, she might still be able to salvage what was left of the night.
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CHAPTER 3
Ash kept her head down as she walked, focusing her stare on the pavement and the tips of her toes. She feared looking up into the red, bloodshot eyes of a zombie, or being recognized by a wandering cop. And there were plenty of cops. The streets swarmed with them, as if they’d released a city-wide alert for her capture. That was unreasonable, of course, and Ash knew better. Her little stint with the crucifix in the antique store wouldn’t warrant an army. But a zombie uprising might. The rain that had threatened all night finally began to fall in a light drizzle. Ash hurried her step, heading toward Faneuil Hall Marketplace, relaxing a little as she turned the corner and caught sight of the market and the beautifully restored nineteenth century buildings. As a child, this had been her favorite place to go when life on the street became too much to bear. In the daytime, the market brimmed with activity. Tourists and locals gathered at the shops, restaurants, and bars lining 27
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the busy street, and the atmosphere always brimmed with cheerfulness and friendly acceptance. Tonight, however, the place looked deserted. Since the vampire scare a few years ago, people stayed indoors at night. And now if the other undead threat was being publicized, most people wouldn’t come out of their homes unless the sun blazed down hot enough to fry an egg on the pavement or kill an unnatural creature in an instant. Her footsteps fell silently on the cobblestones, and Ash shivered as a nearby street light flickered and burned out. She glanced up, and into a nightmare. She stood in front of the famous replica of the Cheers Bar, the light from its bright neon sign bathing the zombie in a pale yellow light. Its skin shone dully, and the dark bruises under its eyes gave its face a skull-like appearance. The sickly sweet scent of rotting flesh gagged her, and Ash struggled to hold her breath even as she looked, horrified, into a familiar face. “Myra?” she managed to whisper, the sound coming out as a frightened croak. The zombie didn’t answer, yet the woman’s face was unmistakable. The skin had sagged over her bones, and her eyes were no longer the rich green they had been when she was alive, but her thin lips and long, curly, blond hair brought back instant memories. “It can’t be…” Ash’s voice trailed off as she stared at the creature before her. “You died a year ago.” The zombie took a step towards her, and Ash retreated. She backed into the thick post of a street lamp and stumbled, but the zombie extended a hand and caught her before her knees hit the pavement. Startled by the icy touch, Ash jumped to her feet. The shadow-faced cadaver held her by the shoulders, and she was forced to look into those glittering ruby eyes. “Ash,” it said, in Myra’s voice. Her soft, wonderful voice. 28
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Ash’s eyes filled with tears, and she blinked hard to hold them back. “What do you want?” The creature stared unblinking at Ash. For a long time, she didn’t speak, and Ash prayed for a cruiser to drive by. As she’d learned from her years on the streets, there was never a cop around when she needed one. The zombie parted its lips and Ash caught a glimpse of a rotting stub of tongue. She froze, the horrible possibilities streaming through her mind. Did zombies eat flesh? Maybe they always went after friends, someone they knew. Or perhaps Myra was here to turn her into one of them, gather more soldiers for their unholy army. Ash yanked her body away hard from the zombie’s grasp, but the creature’s grip was too strong. The skeletal fingers dug fiercely into her shoulders. “You have something…” The zombie’s speech was slurred and slow, the tongue no doubt impeding whatever speaking capabilities it still had. Ash nodded, urging it on. Whatever it had to say, she wanted it to say it quickly, then let her go. “You have something,” it began again. “Something my mistress wants.” Ash felt paralyzed with fear. Could Beau have been right? Had they been after her all this time? She shook her head, trying to clear the thought away. That was impossible. She’d climbed into the van willingly. She licked her lips, her dry mouth badly in need of moisture. “Whatever it is, she can have it.” “Good.” The zombie shifted with slow, precise movements. She removed one hand from Ash’s shoulder and wrapped it around the crucifix at her neck. “No,” Ash heard herself say before she could stop the words. 29
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“That’s—” The zombie tugged on the chain with a sudden yank, causing it to bite down harshly on Ash’s skin and cut off the rest of her words. Two thousand dollars. Gone. She hadn’t paid rent in months. It didn’t matter that the apartment was nothing more than one shabby room. It was hers, and if she didn’t get paid for this job, she’d be back out there, with creatures like this. It wasn’t safe to be on the streets these days. Not that it ever had been, but there were worse things than rapists and murderers to worry about now. Ash tried to slap the zombie’s hand away, but its grip was like steel, anchored and strong. “Give it to me now,” it said, its delicate if slurred female voice at odds with the harshness of its movements and its disturbing appearance. “And you may yet live.” *
*
*
Keeping his distance, Beau trailed silently behind Ash, blending in with the dark shadows of the night. When she’d run out of the mansion, he’d been certain she’d come running back, asking him to open the gates. When she didn’t, he’d followed her, only to find the massive exit open and the woman gone. It hadn’t been hard to pick up her trail. Her scent called out to him, the enticing musk of femininity blending with the sweet tang of fear. She was so natural, without a trace of the fake abrasive scents so many women wore these days. And the taste of her mouth still lingered on his lips. Beau rubbed the back of his neck, frustration knotting his muscles. If only she hadn’t fled from him. They could have worked on this mystery together, discovered a way to rid Boston of the recent undead threat. But Ash had appeared more frightened of him at the mansion than she had been of the zombies out on the streets. 30
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He shouldn’t have been upset by her reaction. After all, he’d encountered it a thousand times before. It took time, but women usually saw him for the charming vampire he was and eventually came willingly to him. But Ash was different. There was an apparent strength in her unlike any that he’d encountered in the past. And he’d never before been so easily aroused. It had only been one kiss, but the sheer intensity of it still ran through his veins, his need and longing for her intensifying with every passing moment. And now he watched her, his body pressed against the hard brick of a building across the street, as she struggled with the zombie. She’d run from him. Pride kept him glued to the building, though his desire for her urged him on. It wasn’t like him to stand by without helping someone in need, but he wanted her to come to him, to ask for his help. She’d rejected everything he was, his very being. He couldn’t leave his nature behind any more than she could. But was it fair to let her suffer because of one mistake? Perhaps if he rescued her again, she’d be grateful. Maybe she’d run into his arms, apologize for fleeing at the mansion. He took a step forward, walked out into the harsh glare of the street lamps. Light rain coated his skin, while dark clouds hid the moon. He had to do this quickly and get out of here, back to the safety of his coffin before the coming dawn. The zombie yanked on Ash’s chain and her neck snapped forward from the impact. Her face was rigid with fear. Beau lunged across the street, landing beside her in less than a second. His elbow connected with the zombie’s midsection and the creature gave a startled cry. Dropping its hands from Ash’s shoulders, the zombie scuffled back, dragging its feet against the cobblestones. It held a bony hand over its side, the look in its glossy eyes viciously cold. Beau rushed forward, intent on dealing the creature another blow before it fled. 31
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“No!” Ash grabbed his arm and held him back as his fist hovered just over the zombie’s face. The creature pressed back against the building, no fear shining in its eyes. It lifted its chin. “My mistress needs that,” it said brokenly, gesturing with a thin finger at Ash’s chest. “The crucifix.” Ash’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “Why?” The zombie closed its eyes, the dark shadows beneath its lashes a stark contrast to the pale eyelids. Without the red eerie glow from its orbs, the creature looked almost harmless. “Who is she?” Beau said, trying another tactic. “Your mistress. Who is she?” The red eyes popped open, and the zombie shuffled to the right, keeping its back to the brick of the building. “She’ll find you,” it whispered, its voice a hollow moan in the air. Beau reached out to grab the zombie, but Ash pulled him back again. “No,” she repeated. “Don’t hurt her.” “Her?” Beau glanced at the spot on the wall where the zombie had been, but it was gone, no doubt having rushed off to report back to its mistress. He placed his hands on Ash’s shoulders and felt her stiffen. “They’re not human, Ash. Not anymore.” She inclined her head and looked at him with wide, troubled eyes. Her body trembled beneath his touch, tightening his stomach into knots. He hated the thought of being feared, especially by a woman he wanted more than he could remember wanting anyone. Her scent filled his senses, and he fought the urge to pull her to him, to lower his mouth to hers and thrust his tongue between those gorgeous lips. “Neither are you,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. *
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Ash’s breath caught in her throat as she watched Beau’s face turn to stone. She didn’t understand why her statement would hurt him, but it was obvious that her careless words had done just that. She raised her hand to his jaw, stroked his lips with a feather-tight touch. “Ash.” The word was a groan, a mere tremble from his lips, but it ran through her body and caused heat to pool between her legs. She wanted to throw her arms around him, to relish in the comfort his strong body offered, yet she couldn’t banish the memory of the zombie or of the blood bar beneath the mansion. What had she gotten herself into? How had one night’s work become so complicated? “Are you all right?” he asked when she didn’t follow up on her touch. Ash nodded, swallowing the tears that stung the back of her throat. “You knew her, didn’t you?” he asked. “I did.” Ash looked away, her gaze settling on the ruffled feathers of two pigeons pecking at the cobblestones near their feet. At least some harmless creatures were still brave enough to come out at night. “She was my neighbor, a year ago.” Beau stepped nearer and enveloped her in his powerful arms. She rested her head against his chest, breathed in his scent and continued. “She wasn’t in the best profession.” “She was a prostitute.” His voice was so matter-of-fact, Ash raised her gaze to his. She found no judgment there, only a flicker of interest that urged her to go on. “Yes, she was. One morning, I was jolted awake by sirens. When I got up to look out the window, there were maybe ten cruisers parked outside the front door of our building. I threw on some clothes and walked out, curious to see what new development would have brought them there.” She licked her lips. “This wasn’t new to me. If I wasn’t awakened by sirens, I considered it a miracle. I don’t exactly live in the best neighborhood.” 33
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Beau kissed her forehead, his lips gentle and tender against the heat of her memories. “It was Myra. Someone found her in the dumpster behind the building, raped and beaten. But she looked fine today, didn’t she?” The question was almost an afterthought. The zombie’s face had held no bruises, no reminder of her cruel fate. Only dark shadows under crimson eyes. Beau shrugged. “Who’s to say what happens to them when they rise?” “Do you think she remembers?” A shadow passed over Beau’s face. It was so brief Ash almost missed it, but she saw his eyes darken and his brows furrow for an instant before smoothing back into place. “I don’t know.” “I hope she doesn’t.” “There must have been good things in her life she’d want to remember,” Beau said, his piercing blue gaze holding hers. “But there were more bad things she’d want to forget.” “How can you be so sure?” “Because I would.” Ash bit her lip, lowering her gaze back to the ground. Whoever said the pain lessened with time had to be a fool. She felt the same ache in her heart now when she thought of her parents as she had all those years ago. “Do you think every dead person has risen?” She asked in a stricken voice. “Do you think they’re all here, roaming the streets?” Beau shook his head. “No. I mean, I don’t know for sure.” Frustration was etched in his handsome features, and she had to fight the urge to touch him, to smooth away the worry. “My parents…” Unsure of how much she should reveal, she let the words trail off. One solitary tear fluttered down her cheek, a bead of wetness that would betray her emotions, her strength. She raised her hand to wipe it 34
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away, but Beau was quicker. He brushed his fingers over her cheek and wiped the tear, then his mouth was there, where the wetness had been, replacing it with his own hot kiss and the delicious feel of his lips against her skin. “You’re warm,” she murmured, unable to hide her surprise. He chuckled. “You don’t know much about us.” It was a statement, not a question, and Ash didn’t feel the need to reply. Instead, she removed the crucifix and wrapped the heavy chain around her hand. Then she pushed up against him, her breasts pressing against his chest, and she tangled the fingers of her free hand in his hair. Her mouth found his, hot and inviting, and she traced his lower lip with her tongue. Her fear had vanished, to be replaced with an almost overpowering need. At that moment, she wanted him more than she wanted to breathe. Nothing else existed but this moment, the feel of Beau’s tongue invading her mouth, his arms enveloping her body and pushing her up against him. She broke the kiss reluctantly and looked up at him. His breath came quickly and his hair partially hid his eyes, but the hot look of desire in them was unmistakable. “Take me,” she said, and his eyes widened in response. Heat crept into her cheeks and she placed her hand against his chest to hold him at bay. “Not that way,” she said quickly, hoping to clarify before his fangs found their way into her throat. “Fuck me.” He groaned and slid his powerful arms under her knees and waist, lifting her in one fluid move. She wrapped her arms around his neck, careful to keep the crucifix from making contact with his skin, and trailed kisses along his jaw, then up higher, stopping to nibble on his earlobe. His sharp intake of breath told her he wanted this as much as she did. “Hurry,” she whispered in his ear. “I want you now.” They ducked into the dark confines of a narrow alley. The faint 35
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smell of smoke and something sharper, more acrid, greeted them, but Ash didn’t want to think about what might be lurking here. She felt protected, safe from any undead beings except the one she was with. He lowered her feet to the ground and she pushed him hard against the wall. The only light came from a nearby street lamp and spilled onto the ground to bathe the alley in half-shadows and murkiness. His face was hidden in darkness, but when he smiled, his fangs shone brightly against the dark backdrop of the alley. To her surprise, fright didn’t overcome her as it had before. She couldn’t explain it, but she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. Ash slipped her fingers under his brown suede jacket and slipped it off his shoulders. It fell to the ground, but he didn’t protest. Next, she found the buttons of his shirt and started unbuttoning them one by one. Beau placed his hand over hers, stopping her in mid-motion. “This is taking too long,” he said, and her pussy throbbed in response to his words. “Yes,” she agreed, tearing his shirt open. Buttons hit the ground with a faint clang. She kissed him again, her tongue exploring, searching, yearning for something more than she’d ever had, more than sex—a unity that would fill her and banish the memories of her past. Somewhere deep inside she knew that was impossible, and too much to ask even from a vampire. His hand found her breast and kneaded it gently through the thin material of her worn cotton shirt. She moaned against his mouth, feeling her nipples respond and tighten at his touch. She cupped his hard length through his pants and he moaned and thrust his hips forward, his cock throbbing against her palm. With a quick flurry of movements, she had his zipper undone. The pants fell down around his ankles and his boxers soon followed. With the same expert skill she’d used, he unzipped her jeans. Hers 36
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were tighter and didn’t slide down as easily as his had, but he pushed them down over her hips, his tongue never leaving her mouth. He stripped her of her panties also, which were nearly soaked-through, and the whole arrangement hovered around her knees. She smiled against his mouth at the thought of someone coming by, finding them like this. But no one ever wandered the streets at night. No one but vampires and their consorts, which was what she’d suddenly become. The cool night air tingled against her skin, brushing through the wet curls between her legs and making her shiver. She grabbed his cock and pulled it to her, trailing it through her folds. Her pussy throbbed, begged for him. His hand left her breast and moved down, lingered over her stomach, then found its way lower, hovering just over her pussy. His cock was slick with her juices now and she rubbed its tip over her swollen clit. “Do you want me?” he asked, his voice sending a thrill through her body. A laugh escaped her lips. “Don’t I seem to want you?” She slid her hand over his shaft to illustrate, the motion slick and rapid. Beau moaned, his breathing rough and ragged. “I can’t force you to do this. You must be willing.” She hid her amusement behind another kiss. When was the last time a man had asked her if she was ready to fuck when they were so close already? When they parted, she turned to face the wall, placed her hands against it and spread her legs. The cool breeze played over her bare ass and the rough texture of the brick bit into her palms. She whimpered when he grabbed her hips and spread her feet as far apart as the bunched up clothes around her legs would allow. His hard cock found its way between her legs, nudged insistently at her pussy. She pushed back against it, felt it glide into her completely, filling her. He slid slowly in and out of her, his hands steady on her hips. 37
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Ash bit her lip and leaned her head against the rough brick exterior of the wall, matching his rhythm. His hand left her hip and trailed over her waist, down to her swollen clit. He touched it gently at first, then quickened the motion, matching the speed of his cock entering her pussy. She wanted to scream, but the thought of attracting unwanted attention in the middle of this mind-blowing experience made her hold back. His thrusting increased and she bucked against him as he slammed into her again and again. The orgasm came quickly, like a brilliant flash of light behind her eyes, and she bit down on her cries and let the sensation consume her from head to toe. Beau followed swiftly with his own intense explosion. Hot, sticky come erupted inside her, then flowed down her thighs and legs. It was too much for her to contain and she groaned, pressing herself tighter against him, holding his cock inside her for as long as she could. Ash slumped back wearily against him, letting the wind dry the come on her skin. When she could trust her legs to hold her, she turned in his arms and met his weary grin. “First time with an immortal?” he asked, then placed a playful kiss on her lips. She sighed and ran a hand over his muscular shoulder. “First time for a lot of things tonight.”
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CHAPTER 4
Ash awoke on satin sheets in a luxuriously comfortable bed. She sighed and buried her head deeper in the pillows, inhaling the sweet scent of lilac imbuing the room. Lilac? Her room never smelled like flowers of any kind. Nor did her bed feel so spacious and soft. Where was she? Her eyelids fluttered open. Moonlight spilled over the lavishly decorated room, its silvery glow blending with the light of dozens of flickering candles. Beau stood in the threshold of a set of glass doors leading to a small balcony, his broad shoulders and muscular back tense beneath a crisp blue shirt. She sucked in a breath as she watched him, his hair tousled by the slight breeze. “How long have I been sleeping?” she murmured, propping herself up on an elbow. Beau turned to her, his lips lifted in a playful smile. “All day.” Ash groaned and let her head fall back onto the pillows. “I missed 39
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my appointment.” “The crucifix?” Beau asked, staring at the object in question. It lay on a nearby end-table, the soft light in the room doing nothing to dispel the shadows surrounding it. Ash nodded. “I had a…client waiting for it.” “I see.” He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press for further explanation. He crossed the space between them in the blink of an eye and sat on the edge of the bed. “This is your room?” Ash asked, surveying her surroundings. Bookshelves covered the walls, thick tomes lining each shelf. Tall lamps stood in each corner of the room, their dark red shades dimming the brightness of the bulbs beneath and setting off the rich velvet curtains hanging by the windows. Beyond the balcony, she could see the magnificent garden bordering the mansion. “One of them,” he said, lowering his mouth to hers and placing a soft kiss on her lips. “I’m glad you didn’t run out when you woke. I was afraid you might.” He toyed with the edge of the sheets, his eyelids and long lashes hiding his brilliant blue eyes. Heat flared in Ash’s cheeks as memories from the night before came rushing back to her mind. The way she’d run out of here—he must think her a complete coward. “I’m sorry about that,” she said, but he shook his head and covered her hand with his. “Don’t be. It’s in your nature to fear those like me.” “I don’t fear you,” she whispered, running her fingers through his hair. He leaned his head into her hand, and the heat radiating from his body was almost a physical thing. “Prove it.” He grinned, the sparkle in his eyes matching the glint of his sharp fangs. She sat up and lowered the sheets from her breasts, letting them fall around her waist in a tangled mess. She was naked, and she wondered 40
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briefly whether she’d undressed herself or if Beau had helped her. She couldn’t remember much after they’d made love in the alley. As soon as they’d finished, Beau pointed out the first faint sprinkling of light over the dark sky and they rushed back to the mansion. It hadn’t occurred to her to protest as the events of the long night finally caught up with her. When they arrived, he’d led her up here, then…then she woke up. “You’re stunning,” he said, lowering his mouth to grab an erect nipple between his teeth. He nibbled on the sensitive bud playfully, and a moan escaped Ash’s lips as she leaned her head against the headboard. She entangled her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer to her, the soft sucking from her breast the only sound shattering the silence in the quiet room. He raised his hand and let his fingertips caress her cheek, then her lips, as his tongue laved at her breast. Ash captured his index finger between her lips and sucked on it gently, suggestively, letting her tongue circle its tip, then taking it deeper into her mouth. A low rumble from his throat vibrated against her breast and moist liquid heat pooled between her legs. “I can’t get enough of you,” she murmured as he focused his attention on her other breast, the cool air caressing the wet spot where he’d licked her skin. His hands worked their way over her body as he continued to suck on the fevered nipple. He circled her waist, then traced his fingers over her stomach before reaching lower to dip his fingers in the wet curls between her legs. Ash tugged insistently on his shirt and he lifted his head from her breast to allow her to unbutton it. It was quicker this time, and she didn’t have to resort to ripping the damn thing, but it still seemed to take forever. Her frustration grew; each button released from its hole became a small victory. 41
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She trailed her fingertips over his muscular chest, over the lines and ridges of his tight abdomen, reveling in the look and feel of his body. She’d never been with anyone so devastatingly sexy, so breathtaking. He was intoxicating, his mere proximity burrowing into her heart and leaving her breathless with anticipation. “More?” he asked, an eyebrow lifted in questioning as his thumb brushed against her engorged clit. Ash gasped at the pleasure shooting through her body at the contact. “Yes,” she said, her voice barely above a throaty growl. “Now.” He captured her mouth in a rough kiss, his tongue insistently pushing itself into her mouth, and she tangled her fingers in his hair and merged her own tongue with his in a sensual dance of discovery She rubbed the bulge in his jeans and heard another muffled moan against her lips. She unfastened his zipper and he broke the kiss long enough to stand up and pull off the restraining garments. His cock stood proudly, long and hard against the flatness of his stomach, and Ash reached out and wrapped her hand around the engorged, throbbing shaft. He stood by the side of the bed, his cock firmly in her hand, and Ash got to her knees and climbed over the covers, her mouth even with his cock. She trailed her fingertips over the length of his shaft, then lowered her mouth to his testicles, allowing her tongue to sweep over them in one languid stroke. Her mouth nuzzled his balls as her fingers held his cock out of the way, then she licked her way up along the length of his shaft and paused at the tip, letting her tongue slide through the slit and taste the precome gathered there. “Ash.” The word was a raw whisper of wonder and desire, and Ash felt her heart constrict with longing. Her pussy throbbed almost painfully, but she wanted to devote all her attention to him, to his needs. She wrapped her mouth around his cock and sucked him in, then 42
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began moving in a slow, calculated rhythm as she strained to take him deeper each time. His hips bucked against her, pushing him farther against her throat, his hands caressing her head as she drew his shaft into her mouth. His cock stiffened and throbbed and she knew he was close to orgasm. She withdrew reluctantly, her gaze locked with his. Beau pulled her up by the shoulders until she sat on her knees, then kissed her, driving his tongue into her mouth with the same force he’d used to relentlessly give her his cock moments before. Her hand found his shaft and stroked it, and he growled and pushed her back on the bed. He climbed on top of her, nudging her legs with his thigh. “Open up for me, beautiful,” he said, and that was all the encouragement she needed. Ash spread her legs, pulled up her knees, and flattened her feet on the bed. Beau hovered over her, then effortlessly slid his cock inside her slick passage. She groaned at the stab of intense pleasure, gripping his ass as he pushed himself deeper into her. Her pussy enveloped him tightly, sliding along the length of his shaft, his thick cock straining against the confines. He found his rhythm slowly at first, then sped up as she urged him on by thrusting her hips against him. The orgasm arrived swiftly and she shuddered, her pussy clenching tightly and gripping Beau’s cock as she came. He buried his hard length deeper into her, his thrusts growing faster as she climaxed, then groaned as he spilled his come inside her in quick, hot spurts. She shuddered around him, seizing him tightly until his body relaxed. His cock continued to pulse inside her as Beau placed a light kiss on her lips. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, rolling off her. “Are all immortals this good?” she asked, keeping her tone playful. “At least I’m no longer the undead.” He grinned, and she smiled back at him. “And to answer your question, I wouldn’t know. I’ve never fucked an immortal.” “Got you there, then. I have.” 43
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His low, throaty chuckle resonated through the room as Ash tucked a soft pillow under her head. She rolled on her side, still fighting to catch her breath. Her head reeled from the force of the orgasm and their lovemaking, and she considered that quite possibly, this was the happiest she’d ever been. Then her gaze fell on the open lid of the coffin. Beau placed a gentle kiss on her shoulder, the tip of his tongue brushing faintly against her skin. The sensation sent waves of pleasure streaming straight between her legs, but her body tensed and she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the coffin. “You…you sleep there?” Her voice was shaky and she cleared her throat. “Can you think of a safer place to hide from the deadly rays of the sun?” Ash swallowed hard. “I guess not. But a coffin? Isn’t that… creepy?” He laughed into her back. “I’m already dead, Ash. You might not like to think of me in those terms, but as you so perceptively pointed out, I’m not like you.” She sat up and brought the covers up to her chest. “I still don’t know how to feel about all this.” Beau watched her intently, his blue eyes revealing none of the emotion that stirred beneath. “That’s fair,” he said finally. “I can’t demand that you accept me the way I am. But I can hope.” Ash turned her head and stared out at the dark, peaceful garden beyond the mansion. She gnawed at her lower lip as she considered Beau’s words. “Come with me,” he said, placing a hand on her arm. “Let me show you the rest of the mansion before you judge me further. Walk into the bar with me. I promise you’ll be safe.” Before she could change her mind, Ash nodded and leapt out of 44
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bed. Her clothes had been neatly folded and placed on a nearby chair. After she finished dressing, she threw the crucifix around her neck, its weight comforting against her breast. “Is that to protect you from me?” Beau asked while buttoning his shirt. He kept his eyes down, concentrating on the task. “I don’t know,” Ash answered honestly. “But I thought I should be prepared.” His jaw clenched, he grabbed her hand and led them out of the room. Within minutes, they once again stood before the dark mahogany door, its eerie inscription vividly etched upon the wood. “Are you ready?” Beau asked, squeezing her hand. Ash nodded, too afraid to speak. Her heart pounded hard against her chest, and in truth, she wanted nothing more than to run out of here. But she owed it to Beau to at least walk in. He’d saved her life twice, and after each sexual encounter her feelings grew more confusing and complicated. She wanted to understand him, his drives and lifestyle, before running away again. Beau pulled the door open for her, and let Ash step through the threshold into a vampiric fantasy. Loud music assaulted her ears, though she hadn’t heard a thing while standing out in the hall. The harsh rhythm of techno music matched the flashing lights pulsing in shifting patterns over the room. Pieces of the bar came into view in spurts. Each time the neon lights flashed in unison to the music, she could see a little farther, more details imprinting themselves upon her eyes. At once everything looked familiar and distorted. She’d been in enough bars to know what one looked like, and at first glance, this was no different. People danced together in the middle of the room, the green and blue flashing lights casting a strange glow over their skin. Ahead, a bar like any other stood against the wall, and bottles of all shapes and sizes lined the shelves behind it. Flasks, jugs, and glasses 45
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along with more traditional bottles had been arranged in a modern fashion and reflected in a large mirror behind the bar. Beau squeezed her hand gently and she gripped his harder. She meant the gesture to be reassuring, but he leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “You’ve done it. You walked in, and as I promised, there was nothing to fear. If you need to go, step through the door behind you and leave. I won’t follow.” She believed him. Instinctively, she knew that if she returned the way she’d come, he wouldn’t pursue her and she’d never see him again. That possibility was too difficult to consider, so she slid her arm around his waist and pressed him forward. “I trust you,” she said, though the music drowned out her words. They had to pass through the throng of dancing vampires to reach the bar, and Beau held her tightly to him as they made their way through the crowd. She felt their stares burning on her back, but when she glanced at Beau, his eyes were fixed ahead, as if he hadn’t noticed. Perhaps he hadn’t, or maybe her anxiety made her fear things that weren’t really there. She glanced over her shoulder, but no hungry eyes watched her from the darkness and she relaxed slightly. They perched on barstools and a big man, whose long brown hair melted into his thick beard and moustache, approached them as soon as they sat down. He wore a white suit with no shirt to cover his muscular chest, the contrast of the fabric striking against his tan complexion. “Who’s your friend?” he asked Beau as he slid a tall glass filled with dark, thick liquid in front of him. Ash glanced away as Beau raised the contents to his lips. “Donovan, this is Ash. She might be able to help us with the zombie rising.” Ash’s pulse quickened, her head reeling. This wasn’t the first time Beau had hinted that she might have more to do with the zombies than she’d let on, but she couldn’t figure out how she fit into all this. She 46
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was obviously no fighter like the men beside her. She could barely break into a store without setting off alarms and alerting half the city! The idea that she could help send back an army of undead to their everlasting resting spots was ludicrous, to say the least. She opened her mouth to protest, but Beau’s hand on her thigh banished the thought from her mind. His thumb traced slow circles over her jeans, the motion sending waves of heat between her legs. It took all her composure not to groan. Donovan scoffed, the sound bringing her out of her reverie. “Her? She don’t look like much.” Ash’s hair bristled and she sat straighter in her chair, fixing Donovan with her most fierce stare. Amusement flickered in his gaze and he grinned, revealing perfect white teeth, the pointy fangs glittering through his beard. “She can hold her own,” Beau said, and took another sip of his drink. “What have you discovered?” “My sources tell me the uprising started in one of three places: Blue Hill, Cedar Grove, or Knollwood.” Beau stared at the glass in his hand. “Then that’s where we’ll go.” “Where?” Ash asked, unable to contain her curiosity. “What are those places? More vampire hideouts?” “Cemeteries,” Beau said, then drained his drink and slammed the glass on the counter. “Cemeteries?” Ash’s mouth felt dry, and she swallowed hard. Wandering through such a morbid place in the middle of the night didn’t exactly sound enticing. Still, if there was a way she could help send the zombies back to their graves, clean up Boston’s streets a little, she wanted to try. “I’m coming with you,” she said, expecting Beau to protest. Instead, he nodded and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I knew you would.” He trailed a soft kiss over her forehead, the 47
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silky texture of his lips sensuous and comforting against her fevered skin. Beau stood up and took a few steps toward the door, but another thought struck Ash and she tugged insistently on his arm. “Having second thoughts?” he asked. Ash shook her head. “Not exactly. I just…I don’t know where my parents are buried.” There. She’d said it. “And you’re afraid of running into them at an inopportune moment?” When he put it that way, it sounded absurd. Two days ago, she’d have never imagined she’d be having a conversation with a vampire about running into her dead parents. “I just thought that maybe…” “There’s always a chance,” he said with a slow shrug. “I don’t know how widespread this is. Maybe it’s centered in one cemetery, or maybe it’s a city-wide problem. That’s why we have to find out.” “Aren’t you concerned about your family? Don’t you worry about running into them?” “I wouldn’t recognize them if I did,” he said, turning back to the crowd. He pushed his way through the throng of bodies, Ash following close on his heel. When they were out in the hallway, she placed a hand on his arm, stopping him again. “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you know your own family?” Beau sighed deeply, the soft lines around his eyes wrinkling his smooth skin. He was definitely older than he looked. “My clan is different,” he said. “When we’re turned, we lose our memories of what came before. We wake that night as vampires, without a trace of our human past.” “You mean you don’t remember anything?” Ash gaped at him, her eyes wide and unblinking. 48
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“Nothing before I was turned. Whoever my family was, they’re long dead now and it’s irrelevant anyway.” He strolled down the hall and Ash had to run to keep up with him. Her head spun. If he couldn’t remember anything, then that meant that whatever terrible things had happened to him in his childhood would be gone too. Her pulse quickened as she considered the implications. No memories meant no pain. No thoughts of living on the streets, of losing her parents, of having to trade her body to survive… She shook her head, willing the harsh reminders away and bit her lip to stem the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. “Turn me,” she said, and Beau halted in mid-stride. He cupped her chin gently in his hand, trailing a finger down her cheek. She blinked furiously and tilted her head, baring her neck to him. She wanted this over in a heartbeat, all the memories gone forever, her new life starting in the blink of an eye. She took a deep breath and waited for the pain. Beau released his grasp, and his hand fell to his side. Panic and confusion rose in her throat. “You have to,” she insisted. He shook his head, soft curls obscuring his face. “I won’t.” *
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*
Fog slithered over the soft earth as Beau, Ash, and Donovan entered the Blue Hills Cemetery. The soft white mist permeated the air, lingering close to the tombstones and obscuring their footsteps. Beau clasped his hand tighter around his semi-automatic handgun. At his hip, he carried a longsword, one of the few remaining souvenirs from his life as a human. He had brought the weapon along more to humor Donovan, who preferred his instruments sharp and old fashioned. To Beau’s left, Donovan pulled out two straight, double-edged swords and held them out before him. Beau had seen him use them countless times, always with great skill and even greater success. 49
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“The zombies won’t stand a chance with you here, my friend,” Beau said. Donovan grinned, the moon casting an eerie glow over his bared fangs. “Let ’em try anything,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “The graves don’t seem disturbed,” Ash observed, placing a hand on Beau’s arm. The mere proximity of her, the feel of her palm against his skin sent shivers up Beau’s spine. He was starting to think that bringing her along hadn’t been such a great idea. He couldn’t concentrate with her so near, the faint scent of perspiration and femininity on her skin drawing his attention like a magnet. And it didn’t help that she’d barely said two words to him since they’d left the mansion. “At least not here, at the entrance,” he agreed. “The rising might be random, or perhaps whoever’s causing this started at the back of the cemetery so as not to be prematurely discovered. We’d best keep going.” She nodded, her gaze fixed straight ahead. He’d offered her a pistol before they left, a light, compact piece, but she’d refused it, claiming she didn’t know how to use it. So she walked unarmed beside them, her hands deep in the pockets of her tight jeans. “Look,” Beau said, as they passed a raised family monument and Donovan stepped in to make sure the lid of the cement coffin was still sealed shut. “I think I need to explain why I didn’t turn you back at the mansion.” “No need,” Ash said. There was a snarl in her voice. “I understand perfectly.” “I don’t think you do.” Beau lowered his gun and grabbed her arm, spinning her to face him. “Being turned isn’t something we decide to do on a whim. Only the strongest, most deserving humans partake in the ritual.” A shadow passed over Ash’s face and she lowered her eyes to the 50
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ground. “That’s what I thought,” she said. “I’m not good enough. I might be good enough to fuck, but not to turn into one of you.” “No,” Beau insisted, tightening his grip on her arm. “That’s not it at all.” He gritted his teeth, frustration charging through his veins. “Just yesterday you wanted nothing to do with my kind. You wouldn’t even walk into the blood bar. And today you want to be a vampire?” A flash of lightning seared the sky, the bright light reflecting in Ash’s eyes as she stared at him. “Forget it,” she said, pulling her arm away. “You wouldn’t understand.” “Try me.” “Hey guys,” Donovan said, his voice carrying across the mist. “I thought I saw something stirring in that copse of trees. I’m going to check it out.” “Fine.” Beau waved his hand dismissively. Donovan was always eager to get himself into trouble. If he thought something stirred in the distance, he wouldn’t rest until he found something to kill. Ash hadn’t answered Beau’s question. She stared off in the distance, her eyes glazed and remote. “Do you mean to tell me that you’re ready to drink blood, sleep in coffins, and never see the light of day again?” Beau asked, tucking his gun into its holster. He took a step forward and wrapped his arms around her, and she leaned back against him, her soft curves fitting perfectly against his body. “Don’t make it sound so awful,” she said. “I haven’t heard you complain yet.” “That’s because I’ve had many years to get used to it. I often wonder what it would be like to see sunlight. Do you know,” he said, whispering against her cheek, “that I don’t know what a sunrise looks like? My memories from before the change are all gone. Not just who I was, but all of it. Dawns and sunsets, the taste of real food and what it’s like to dream.” 51
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“You don’t dream?” “No. Our sleep is different. It’s all encompassing, like death. Each night when I lay in that coffin, darkness overtakes me and brings me down with it. I approach each sleep as if it were my last, for I wouldn’t know the difference if it were.” Ash shivered and he wrapped his arms tighter around her delicate body. “Think about it some more, sweetheart.” “Michael Wallace,” she said, pointing to a nearby tombstone. The inscription read: Loving father, husband, and solider. Stabbed while sitting down to supper in his own house. “I don’t want to end up like him,” she said, her voice grim and determined. “I want you to turn me.” He sighed and released her. “I can’t.” *
*
*
Ash cringed and nibbled at her lower lip. “Fine,” she said. Her vision blurred, and she fought to keep the tears and the flush of anger at bay. If he didn’t like her enough to turn her, that was his choice. He had every right to make that decision, but it hurt like hell. “Ash.” Beau took a step toward her and she moved back. Her foot hit empty air and she staggered, grabbing on to his shirt against her better judgment. He pulled her back to him and enveloped her in a warm embrace. She sighed and broke free of his arms. A freshly dug grave loomed behind her, vacant and ominous. “Watch out,” Beau said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You don’t want to end up there before your time.” Ash gritted her teeth. Did the bastard actually think that was funny? “I suppose you’d know,” she said. “How many people have you sent to an early grave?” His brow darkened and the amusement faded from his eyes. “Other than the zombies that attacked you, I haven’t killed anyone in years.” 52
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“Years,” Ash scoffed. “I suppose I should congratulate you on your restraint.” He took a deep breath and released it in a bottomless sigh. “It’s not like that.” “Of course not.” Ash crossed her arms over her chest. She was tired of this conversation. He wouldn’t turn her, and every word out of his mouth only served to aggravate her further. She wasn’t worthy of vampire status, but he hadn’t thought twice about sleeping with her, or even taking her out here to find the cause of the zombie uprising. So she was good for some things, but not others. What a load of bullshit. They stood a while in silence, then Beau kneeled before the grave and ran his hand along the side of the freshly disturbed ground. Damp earth coated his fingers, its granular texture clinging to his hand. He brushed the dirt off his hands and continued his exploration, this time focusing on the tombstone at the head of the grave. Ash saw this as her opportunity to get away from him for a while. If he started cracking jokes about her mortality one more time, she was sure she’d scream and knock him into that grave herself. But she didn’t want to take her chances with a vampire, even one as devastatingly handsome as this one. Instinctively, she knew Beau wouldn’t hurt her, yet she still wasn’t eager to test that theory. She slipped away while he traced the etchings in the tombstone. Here lies Carter Jones, an honorable man. Ash did her best not to snort in derision. An honorable man. As if such a creature even existed. The moon hung low in the sky, the bright orb casting its pale silver glow over the graveyard. It shimmered over the tombstones, between the blades of neatly cut grass, and played over the red, yellow, and purple flowers strewn haphazardly by different tombs. Were her parents here, too? Ash had been only ten years old when they were murdered, and the 53
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foster care family she’d been placed with had been less than kind. She ran away within a week and never looked back. For months, she shrieked and hid each time a cop came near, but no one ever found her. Eventually, some of the women on the street took her under their care. They showed her how to steal, where to sleep, and how to survive. She never learned where her parents were buried. A tall, ancient vault stood nearby, its door wide open. Ash creased her brows, trying to decide if that should have been sealed shut. Had it been a brand new tomb, it might still be waiting for its eternal occupant, but this one looked ancient, with vines creeping along its side and the harsh lines of time etched into its marble designs. A glint of light shimmered inside the vault, then vanished as rapidly as it had appeared. Ash blinked, unsure whether she’d seen it at all. Intrigued, she stepped forward. A whisper, faint and melodious, beckoned her through the opening. The foul scent of decay assaulted her senses, and she gagged as it fought its way into her throat. She leaned against the doorframe for a moment and willed the nausea to pass. When she opened her eyes, the scent had faded, to be replaced instead with the sickly sweet aroma of too many roses in an enclosed space. Still, it was better than smelling rotting flesh. She turned back, intent on finding Beau and bringing him back here to explore further, but her knees wobbled, and she felt lightheaded. The glimmer of light shone again, this time brightening the entry into the vault. An elderly woman with leathery, wrinkled skin and black narrowset eyes held an old-fashioned lamp in her hand. She moved slowly toward Ash, but her eyes didn’t glow with that eerie red luster, and her skin wasn’t sallow and white. Ash relaxed slightly, fighting her sluggish thoughts. “My, my,” the old woman said, lifting the lantern and staring into 54
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Ash’s eyes. “What have we here?” “My friend is outside,” Ash whispered. She licked her dry lips. Her mouth felt parched, her head throbbed. “He can wait. You, on the other hand, don’t look too well.” Ash wanted to argue, but it felt like a pound of lead had settled in the pit of her stomach and she couldn’t dispute the truth of the old woman’s words. “Who are you?” Ash asked, the question pouring out in a ragged breath. “My name is Jorah.” She bowed slightly, formally, and Ash couldn’t suppress a giggle at the absurdity of the gesture. Her eyes blurred; Jorah’s visage seeming ghostly now as she stood a foot away, enshrouded in bandage-like cloth. Ash shivered. Had the old woman been wearing that earlier? “Why don’t you lie down?” Jorah suggested, nodding in the direction of a nearby slab of stone. “You could use the rest.” Ash couldn’t argue. Her mouth felt clammy, and her jaw didn’t function when she tried to speak. It would only be for a minute… She shuffled to the spot Jorah had indicated and lay on the cold stone with her hands crossed over her chest. A chill crept through her flesh and settled into her bones, but it didn’t matter. Her eyelids closed swiftly against her will. A moment’s worth of panic rose in her throat, but her tired, weary body dismissed it and settled in for the relief of slumber. Her last thought before giving in to the comforting darkness was of Beau, bent over the grave. Through a veil of fog, she read the freshlyetched inscription on the tombstone: Here lies Aisling O’Reilly. Unwilling to trust, unfit for eternal life. May she rest in peace.
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CHAPTER 5
The scent of fresh earth assaulted Beau’s senses as he bent down to peer into the grave. Something wasn’t right. At first glance, the grave looked to have been recently dug, but as he peered into the dank hole, he could make out the marks of a coffin. The rectangular shape had pressed upon the ground, packing the earth in tightly. “Be wary,” he said, rising. “I think we should expect visitors.” Ash didn’t reply. Beau turned sharply, realizing she was no longer with him. “Ash?” his voice carried through the cemetery, but she didn’t run out from behind a tombstone or cry out for him. A feeling of deep unease settled in his bones, and he pulled out his gun and begun frantically scouring the area for a glimpse of her short, spiky hair or her worn cotton shirt. A familiar yell pierced the silence of the graveyard, and Beau broke into a run. Donovan’s war cry echoed through the night air, along with 56
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the metallic clash of his swords, and led Beau to him. Donovan had an entire army on his hands. Beau stopped a few feet away, took aim and fired briskly, knocking out a zombie ambling toward Donovan’s back. “Watch out,” Beau yelled as he fired another round of bullets, this time hitting a nearby creature in the chest. The zombie fell in a heap to the ground. Donovan handled his weapons expertly and they flew through the air, rending limbs from bodies and swiftly piercing flesh. The stench of decay was overwhelming, clinging to Beau like a shroud. Beau fought off a shiver and aimed at a zombie who had wrapped his hands around Donovan’s neck while the warrior fought yet another fresh onslaught of creatures. The bullet hit its mark and the zombie crumbled at the impact. Beau paused to reload and take stock of the situation. There must have been a dozen zombies still scrambling nearby, while at least another dozen lay on the ground. A soft shuffle from his right made Beau turn toward the noise just in time to glimpse the heavy fist about to connect with his cheek. The blow echoed and pounded through his head. His mouth pooled with blood, the warm, rich taste sending his senses reeling. Even his own blood had the power to reenergize him, and he rose his gun to retaliate. He fired two swift shots into the zombie, watched the creature stagger on his feet. Another shot tore through the zombie’s shoulder, tearing its flesh. The cadaver dropped to the earth with a soft thud. He spun around, his gun held stiffly out, searching for the next target. The night was calm, without a wisp of breeze stirring through the air. Donovan’s ragged breathing rasped in quick bursts, shattering the stillness. The ground was littered with zombies, dark, rotten blood pooling around the bodies, and Beau fought back the bile rising in his throat. “Nice work,” Donovan said, eyeing the remnants of the creatures. 57
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Blood coated his silver swords as they glinted in the moonlight. His face was cast in shadows, his features set and determined. “Where did they come from?” Beau asked. “I sent them.” The voice came from behind him, and Beau spun around to face an old woman. She was wrapped in a dirty white sheet, her dry, sallow skin hanging off her bones. She gave off the distinct impression of a cadaver, only without the rotten stench to accompany her. Stringy white hair fell around her face, but her piercing blue eyes sparkled with knowledge and intelligence. “And you must be the one behind all this,” Beau said, narrowing his eyes. “Why?” The old woman eyed Beau with a mixture of impatience and hostility. “That can wait.” Beside him, Donovan stiffened and readied his swords. “The girl’s dead, you know. You should have never brought her here.” Ash. Blood roared through Beau’s veins, Ash’s beautiful face looming before him. “I don’t believe you,” he said, his eyes scanning the area. “She’s here somewhere. She must have hidden when the fighting began.” The old woman shook her head, and something terrible glinted behind her eyes. “She’s not. And the only way you’ll see her again is if I decide to reanimate her and add her to my group of faithful soldiers.” She glanced at the zombies littering the ground. “Though her fate might not be too pleasant in that case.” Beau gritted his teeth and lunged for her. His gun forgotten, he held out his hands and leaped, intent on strangling the life right out of the old bat. His hands met resistance and a sharp icy pain ran through his fingers and up his arms, numbing them. He landed hard on the ground. 58
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When he looked up, a shimmery orb pulsed lightly around the woman. Donovan gave another startling war cry and charged, rushing forward with weapons drawn. His swords set off sparks when they fell against the protective barrier draped around her and dropped out of his hands. He clutched at his wrist, pure rage etched across his hard features. “What are you?” Beau whispered, rising and clenching his fingers to bring feeling back into them. The old woman’s face was impassive, as if their attacks had been inconsequential. “What I am is irrelevant, though if you must know, I’m a necromancer. But it’s who I am that’s more important.” Beau groaned. There hadn’t been a necromancer this powerful in centuries. “Fine. I’ll bite. Who are you?” “I’m surprised you even have to ask, though I suppose I shouldn’t be, knowing Clan Merivion as I do.” Beau narrowed his eyes. “How do you know of my clan? You’re not one of us.” “And yet, I’m closer than you think.” She ran a hand through her wispy hair, smoothing it into place. “I know about the memory serum, but I had hoped you’d remember your sister, Beauregard.” “My sister?” His mouth felt suddenly dry, and he bit his lower lip. His fangs embedded themselves into his skin, tearing the flesh. Blood dripped from the wound and he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “I have a sister?” “Jorah,” the old woman said, a smile playing across her lips. It made her look almost kindly. Then it disappeared, and her brows furrowed. “Pay attention, Beau. You’ve only seen human zombies until now, but I have the power to turn your kind as well.” “That’s impossible.” Beau murmured. “I control the dead. All dead. It takes a little more willpower and a lot more magic, but you and the entire clan can be turned into faithful 59
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followers in a heartbeat. Unless…” “Unless what?” Weariness rested in Beau’s bones. The first soft hints of light played across the sky. They’d have to return to the mansion soon to reach the comfort and safety of their coffins before night’s end. “Unless you turn me.” Jorah’s eyes burned with a luminous intensity and Beau stared at her in disbelief. “Why is the vampire lifestyle suddenly so popular? First Ash, now you—” “Ash is dead. Forget her. As for me, I’ve waited ninety years for this. I was fifteen when they turned you, Beau. I begged and pleaded with them to turn me, too, but they wouldn’t. They said I wasn’t strong enough to accept their gifts.” She spat on the ground. “I spent my entire life learning to become one of you, but all I’ve accomplished is this.” She swept a hand around her, indicating the cemetery. “I learned to slow down the effects of time, but my body is still ravaged by it. I’m fighting a losing war, and unless you turn me, all my efforts and knowledge will disappear with me. What good is controlling the dead if I’ll eventually be one of them?” Beau took a step forward, causing the shimmer around her to intensify in warning. “The vampires who turned me were right. You’re not strong enough.” Moonlight reflected off the harsh glint in her eyes. “I command an entire army of undead. How dare you tell me I’m not worthy of your so-called gifts?” Her voice was deathly quiet, barely above a whisper, and it sent a chill down Beau’s spine. “Clan Merivion doesn’t need to deal with loose cannons for eternity. I won’t turn you, and neither will anyone else.” Anger swept over Jorah’s face. She scowled, her sallow skin stretching tight across her bones. “You will turn me, or I’ll destroy mankind, and your entire clan. If I die, you’re all going with me.” She 60
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turned and stormed off, her shroud billowing behind her. Donovan clapped Beau hard on the shoulder. “It looks like the fate of humanity rests in our hands.” He grinned broadly, his fangs a sparkling white contrast to the darkness of the graveyard. “Yeah,” Beau agreed, wiping dirt off his hands. “All in another day’s work.” *
*
*
“Drink this.” Beau sat on the edge of his bed, his head cradled in his hands. A tall glass of blood-laced wine appeared in front of him and he wrapped his hands around it, glancing up at the woman still holding the bottle. “Thank you,” he said, his fingertips brushing hers. There had been a time when the contact would have sent desire surging through his veins. Beau had spent years trying to seduce the beautiful vampire, but she’d always preferred the company of women. Over the last decade, what had formed between them went deeper than lust or desire. They’d developed a bond of friendship and Beau was grateful for her company this morning. The thick velvet curtains had been drawn tightly over the massive windows. The sky hadn’t lightened completely yet, but Beau and Donovan had had to rush back to the mansion. Beau had wanted to stay behind and search for Ash, but as usual, Donovan had been the voice of reason, pointing out that Beau could be no help to Ash as a sprinkling of dust and feeble remains. “If she still lives,” he mumbled absentmindedly, bringing the glass to his lips. “You’re concerned about the girl.” Mandara’s voice was soft, soothing even. There wasn’t a hint of judgment in her tone, and Beau lifted his eyes to meet her gaze. “There’s something about her, Mandy.” Mandara sat beside him and reached for his hand. She trailed a 61
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finely manicured nail over his palm. “I told you to be ready when it happened.” Beau inhaled sharply and studied her over the rim of his glass. “She’s the one?” “Perhaps.” She gave a small shrug of her slender shoulders and gazed at him with piercing china-blue eyes. Her shoulder-length, dark brown hair shimmered in the light from the crystal chandelier. “If she is, and what you say is true…and you’ve lost her, well…” “I know,” he murmured. “If I lost my mate, then I might have lost her for all eternity. At best, I can hope she’ll be reborn swiftly and ready for me in another twenty years. At worst—” “—she’s gone forever,” Mandara finished for him. Beau closed his eyes and ran his tongue along the tip of his fangs. “If I’d only known, I would have turned her when she asked.” “She wanted to be turned? And you denied her?” “I did.” Beau swallowed hard. “She seemed too tender and fragile. I thought for certain making her one of us would go against all the rules about strength, skill, and determination.” “You’re a protector, Beau. No one would have questioned your judgment.” “Perhaps,” he answered, running his hand through his hair. “You intend to search for her, don’t you?” “First thing tonight. I’m heading back to the cemetery if I have to haul every warrior in this mansion along with me. That abomination is going to meet her end when I put a bullet through her brain.” He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. His fangs protruded through his lips to bite at the tender flesh. A drop of blood beaded quickly to the surface and he swept his tongue over it, relishing in the sweet taste. He took another sip of blood-laced wine to add to the heat spreading through his body. “You said she was your sister?” Mandara asked, arching a perfectly 62
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shaped brow. He’d told her as much of the night’s events as he could manage, but he wasn’t ready to analyze the situation. “That’s what she claims, but who really knows? I sure as hell don’t.” Mandara tapped the tip of a fingernail against her fang, the sharp clicking noise echoing through the room. Beau fought the urge to pull her hand away from her mouth. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to meet my family,” she said in a soft whisper. Beau let his mouth gape open, unable to hide the shock that ran through him at her words. “Really? But we’re—” “Yes, yes, I know. We take pride in who we are.” She turned toward him, her eyes blazing with an intense sparkle. “But don’t you ever wonder who you were? Whether you had a family who missed you after you were turned? Who searched for you and wondered where you were?” “Of course I have,” he admitted, tearing his gaze from her eyes. “But I never thought I’d run into my kin under these circumstances. Perhaps Ash was right. Maybe it is better not to remember.” Mandara grunted, and the sound could have been one of agreement. “I hope you find her,” she said gently, laying a hand on his shoulder and standing up. “With our gifts, she might have been able to defend herself. It’s my fault she’s dead.” “Perhaps,” Mandara said. Her eyes were tender when she looked at him. “Rest. If she’s still alive, you’ll need your strength to find her. After that, you can decide what to do with her.” Mandara crossed the distance to the door swiftly and disappeared out into the hall before Beau could reply. He knew exactly what he wanted to do with Ash. Her soft, tender skin and those luscious curves called out to him even now. He could still smell the scent of her arousal 63
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on his sheets. Oh yes. He definitely knew what he wanted: every inch of her, every sweet drop of her essence on his tongue. He only hoped it wasn’t too late.
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CHAPTER 6
The throbbing in Ash’s temples jolted her awake. She blinked to clear the shadows from her eyes, but to no avail. Blackness hovered near, surrounded her. There wasn’t a shred of light peering in from anywhere. No comforting yellow beams of moonlight, or the sliver of light under a nearby door. She turned her head, but couldn’t make out any distinguishing features of the room she was in. Damn, Ash. What did you get yourself into this time? She remembered Beau hovering by the grave, and her skin prickled. She wanted nothing more at this moment than to leap into his arms, to feel the masculine weight of his body pressed against her. She nibbled at her lower lip, remembering their conversation last night. Why had he so adamantly refused to turn her? She hadn’t met any vampires before him, but she’d always thought that they were out to turn humanity into their kind. Never had she considered it would be so hard to convince one to do just that. 65
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A dull ache had settled into her muscles and she arched her back and stretched. Her hands hit something solid on both sides. She felt her way along the obstruction cautiously and realized that it surrounded and encased her completely. Like a grave. No. A coffin. Bile rose in her throat, along with sheer horror. She’d been buried alive. She remembered the old woman, her sinister smile and the way she insisted that Ash hadn’t been feeling well. Ash hadn’t had the energy to disagree with her at the time, but why? What had the old woman done to her? She pounded her fist against the smooth interior of the coffin. It didn’t as much as creak against the force of her hand, and she tried again, this time kicking against the lid. Nothing. She clawed at it, her fingernails digging into the silky lining, tearing it, feeling the wood splinter under her attack. Slivers of wood embedded themselves beneath her nails, causing warm liquid to spill over her hand. Blood. Nausea rose in her stomach. She had to get out of here. A few minutes of kicking and trying to tear away at the coffin left her thoroughly drained. She panted heavily from the exertion. She screamed, hoping the sound might attract someone—anyone. Even the old woman would have been a welcome sight if only she’d lift the lid. No one came. She couldn’t hear a thing from the outside, and wasn’t sure if that was because the coffin was so thick, or because she was alone. No sooner had she finished contemplating that terrifying thought than another occurred to her. What if they’d already buried her? She could be lying six feet under, and no amount of shouting would bring anyone. She’d die here of suffocation and no one would ever be the wiser. Beau. Why didn’t you look for me? 66
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Maybe he really didn’t care about her. Had the past couple of nights been nothing but an act? The warmth in his eyes, the lust in his voce— there had to be more to it than that. He’d rescued her twice. There was no reason to think he wouldn’t do so now. But how long would it take him to find her? Hours? Days, even? She shook her head. Too long. She was on her own this time. Ash reached for the crucifix at her neck, needing all the help she could get, but her hand closed around empty air. Shit. She sighed wearily. The crucifix was gone, along with her fee. Frustration and anger rose to a crescendo around her. She gasped in another lungful of air, her chest tightening under the growing pressure. Her fists gripped the lining of the coffin and she tugged at it, harshly, the sound of ripped fabric resonating through the casket and filling her with at least a small amount of satisfaction. The texture of the wood beneath the lining was rougher, less polished. She traced the edges and sharp angles hoping for a crack she could push at, or a screw that might have come loose. Anything at all. She briefly considered the irony of all this. Waking up inside a coffin was terrifying, yet that would be her lot in life for all eternity if Beau would only turn her. She brought her injured hand up to her lips and tasted her own blood. The coppery flavor sent her senses reeling. Blood and darkness. Perhaps she wasn’t ready to become a vampire after all. She continued her search, breathing slowly through her nose. She’d wasted too much precious oxygen kicking and screaming. And now, when she needed it most to stay conscious and find a way out of here, it ran dangerously low. Sharp stabs of pain from her torn nails ran up her arm, but she 67
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ignored them. The injuries wouldn’t mean a thing if she didn’t get out soon. Her finger scraped against something sharp, and she traced the object with her palm. It was long and narrow, embedded behind her head, along the crease between the lining and the wood. It was probably something used in the construction of the coffin, but whether or not it was actually useful to keeping it together, she couldn’t say. It might have been forgotten by the workers when they’d assembled it. Whatever its purpose, Ash didn’t hesitate. She pried it loose easily from the juncture and held it in her palm. It was relatively heavy, about the length of her arm from the elbow down. Its tip was sharp, scraping across her thumb as she tested it. The hinges. The thought struck like lightning, and Ash didn’t stop to consider it. She searched along the top of the lid until she found the small metal joints holding it together, then wedged the rod between them. A satisfying squeal rewarded her efforts and she pushed harder, ramming the object between the hinges and applying as much weight as she could to the task. A loud snap echoed through the casket. When she jammed the rod again, the lid lifted slightly, allowing a fragment of dim light to illuminate her bloody hand. Encouraged, she pushed harder, and the resulting crack loosened the hinges completely. One last harsh kick at the lid caused it to break free and topple over to the ground. She sat up quickly and scanned the area around her. She was still in the vault, surrounded by coffins lying on slabs of rock. She wondered briefly how many other inhabitants of the caskets were alive, then bolted through the door out into the graveyard. She couldn’t stay here to pry caskets open on the off-chance there might be someone alive in there. She had to get help. Get Beau. 68
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Bright purple, pink, and red streaks played over the darkening sky. The wind whipped Ash’s hair as she ran in the direction of the mansion. The streets had begun to clear of people as night approached, and she found herself one of the few souls still braving the cold evening. The branches of bare trees rattled together like bones on a string, and she fought back a shiver. The mansion loomed ahead, its high towers blending in with the clouds and the rising darkness. She stopped in front of the gates and punched in the security code. An error message popped up swiftly on the keypad. Damn. They changed the code. She pushed the bright red button at the corner of the security system and a buzz emanated from the console. “Yes?” She didn’t recognize the male voice. “I need to see Beau.” Her words poured out at once, breathlessly. “I’m sorry ma’am. He’s still slumbering.” “Let me in, then, and I’ll wait.” She took a deep breath, then released it. “This is very important.” “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” the man said. “You need an authorized vampire entry to access the mansion.” Ash’s throat tightened as frustration surged inside her. “I had one yesterday. Doesn’t that count?” The man chuckled. “I’m afraid not. Though you’re welcome to wait there until Mr. L’Hereaux awakes.” She considered scaling the gate, but that seemed like a bad idea. Not seeing another option, she slumped against the wall and sat on the hard pavement. Her gaze scanned the street, now shrouded in shadow, for any sign of red, beady eyes. *
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*
The subtle creak of wood alerted Beau to someone opening the lid 69
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of his coffin, and he woke instantly, blinking against the harsh light of the chandelier. Mandara’s features were blurred by the bright illumination behind her, but her blue eyes sparkled intently. “She’s here,” Mandara said, her blood-red lips breaking into a wide grin. “She’s asking for you.” “Ash?” It was impossible, but Beau blurted out the first name to settle on his tongue. At Mandara’s nod, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the coffin. “Are you sure?” “Positive.” He searched the room and his gaze settled on the large, empty bed. “Where is she?” “Outside. We told her to wait until you awoke.” “You left her out there? She was dead this morning, Mandy. Now she’s here, and you’re letting her wait outside, to take her chances with zombies and who knows what else?” He clenched his fists as he stormed to the balcony. Grabbing the gold-plated handles, he pulled the double-doors open and stepped into the cool night air. And there she was, huddled against the brick wall surrounding the mansion. Beau’s keen night vision settled in on her, and she lifted her head and fixed him with a piercing stare. “Bring her to me,” he said, and listened as Mandara’s footfalls faded out into the hallway. He watched Mandara as she made her way down the path into the garden to speak to Ash. Their heads bent together, he could only make out the slight inclination of Ash’s head. Mandara led the way back into the mansion and Ash followed, but didn’t reward him with another probing look his way. By the time she stepped into his chambers, he’d pulled on a black silk robe and tied it loosely around his waist. She entered alone, Mandara having obviously decided that some private time might be in 70
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order. She’d been right. Crossing the distance between them in two long strides, he swept Ash up in a hard, almost crushing embrace. He wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he’d expected, but she clung tightly to him in return, her slim body quivering against his. She rained fevered kisses across his cheek, his jaw, and the base of his throat while he sought her lips, eager for a taste of her. When he found them, she opened to him instantly and the taste of her mouth overwhelmed his senses. She clenched her hands in his robe and tugged, pushing herself closer against him. He braced himself for the feel of the crucifix against his skin, but the sudden realization that no pain came with her embrace had a sobering effect. Reluctantly, he released her. “What happened, Ash?” he asked, gently stroking her cheek. Her gold-flecked brown eyes sparked with unshed tears. “I know who’s doing this, Beau.” He nodded. “I do too.” “You do?” her eyes widened with surprise. “How did you find out?” “Jorah told me.” A moment of confusion shadowed her features, to be replaced by sudden understanding. “The old woman.” “She’s my sister.” Ash’s mouth gaped open. Beau sighed and slumped on the bed, then lay there for a moment, gazing at the ceiling. “I’m sorry,” Ash murmured. She sat beside him, and he lifted himself on his elbows to stare at her. “I thought you were dead.” The words tumbled out along with a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. A smile pulled at her lovely, full lips. “Not quite yet.” 71
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She bent over him and brushed her mouth gently over his, pausing to nibble at his lower lip. The sensation sent a rush of heat into his cock and he groaned as her hand trailed circles across his chest and down his abdomen. She untied the belt, letting the silky material fall away, leaving him naked to her ministrations. He reached up to feel the weight of her firm breast in his hand, then stroked it gently and paused to grab a hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He pinched it lightly and she rewarded him with a low moan. Ash sat back on her knees and pulled her shirt over her head. Throwing it to the side of the bed, she then rose and wiggled out of her jeans and panties. The bra came off last, unleashing those gorgeous, perky breasts. Grabbing her waist, he pulled her down to him. Her beautiful dark areolas stood out against her pale skin, and he trailed his tongue over an erect nipple. She tossed a leg over his waist to straddle him, the scent of her arousal making his mouth water. Her cunt was warm against his stomach and he groaned, his hand dropping to her pussy. He traced the soft folds with the tip of a finger, then slid it along her pussy lips. Ash shifted her weight and pressed down against his hand. His tongue continued to lap at her nipples as she ground her hips against his palm. She lowered her head, her breath hot on his shoulder. “I want you.” Her juices coated his fingers and he ran them lightly down the skin that separated her cunt and ass, applying just the slightest bit of pressure as he did so. He nudged his finger closer to her anus and circled it lightly. Ash stiffened slightly in his arms, then relaxed as he pressed against her tight hole. “You’re driving me crazy,” she murmured against his neck. She grabbed his cock and stroked it expertly, the tight movement driving him to distraction. 72
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His thumb found her clit and he caressed it gently, slowly, listening as her breathing quickened into ragged gasps. He inserted a finger into her open cunt, then removed it immediately and plunged two fingers deep into her tight passage. Withdrawing again, he dragged her wetness through her velvety folds from her clit to her eager opening. “Oh, Beau.” She breathed out his name and he thrust back inside her, increasing the speed as his thumb stroked her clit mercilessly. Ash worked her hips in small circles against his thumb, moaning as the release built inside her. He stroked her faster, needing to send her over the edge before plunging his overheated cock into her willing, slick passage. Ash shuddered against him and cried out, arching her back. The look of pleasure on her face was one of the hottest things Beau had ever seen. She grasped her lower lip between her teeth and bit down hard as her body relaxed, but her cunt tightened around his fingers as the orgasm overtook her. When she stopped quivering, Beau grabbed her hips and slipped his cock between the folds of her pussy. He found her moist passage quickly, and thrust inside her until she cradled his cock in her soaked cunt. He slipped his hands behind her and grabbed her ass, using the leverage to allow her to slide up and down his shaft. Her eyes widened and tremors shook her abs as she rode him. She tossed her head back, her perky breasts bouncing along with her. Beau felt the familiar tightening in his balls and knew he couldn’t hold back, the need to release all of his come into the gorgeous woman mounting him almost overwhelming. As if hearing his thoughts, she sped up her rhythm and tipped her head, her piercing stare driving right into him. A slow, sensual smile lifted the corner of her lips as he ground his hips hard against her and exploded, filling her with his seed. She clenched her muscles and milked him fiercely of every last drop. 73
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His softening cock remained nestled in her heat until she finally slid off him and fell onto the bed, her chest heaving from exertion. He dipped his fingers into her dripping pussy and felt his seed spilling out of her. She shuddered at his touch and he brought a finger to his lips, relishing the taste of their combined pleasure. Sweet and just a little bitter, the flavor sent another wave of arousal into his spent cock. He groaned and flicked a nipple lightly with his thumb. Ash turned on her side and rested her head on an outstretched arm. “Was that good for you?” she asked, humor sparkling in her eyes. “So good I want more.” “Now?” She arched an eyebrow in mock-surprise. “Later,” he admitted, a lazy grin spreading over his features. “But there is something I want to do as soon as possible.” Ash propped herself on her elbow and cradled her head in her hand. Her eyebrows furrowed. “And what would that be?” “I want to turn you, Ash.” His heart beat faster at the realization that he’d passed the point of no return. Once the offer was out there, he couldn’t take it back. He wanted this woman with him, not just now, but for eternity. She let her head fall back against the pillows. “No,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “I was wrong. I’m not cut out for vampirism after all.”
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CHAPTER 7
Beau inhaled sharply and waited for the pounding in his head to subside. He couldn’t have heard her right. “Did you just say you don’t want to be turned?” Ash nodded, and a wave of anger surged through him. He fought to hold on to the patience that had begun to wear thin. “You spent the last day trying to convince me to turn you, and now, suddenly, you refuse?” Ash sighed deeply, the breath fluttering out of her as she released it. “I’m sorry, okay? I guess I didn’t really know what I was asking.” She flushed a becoming shade of red and a rush of desire spread to his cock. Beau bit his lower lip to keep from claiming her beautifully curved, sensual lips. “I don’t understand,” he said when he could trust his voice to speak. Her rejection hurt more than he could have imagined. “You seemed so willing to do this yesterday. What changed?” “Jorah tried to…” her words trailed off. 75
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Beau stroked her cheek gently. “She tried to do what?” “She locked me inside a coffin.” Beau sat up, instantly alert. “How did you escape?” A small smile played across Ash’s lips. “I guess I’m more ingenious than she thought. A thief who couldn’t break into anything can sure break out of the most unexpected places.” “Or maybe you just have a strong desire to survive.” She gazed at him, her bright eyes wide. “There’s that, too.” “Let me guess,” Beau said. “You didn’t like waking up in a coffin?” “No offense, but it was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life.” He grinned, despite himself. “Understandable. But remember, if I turn you, you’ll forget that experience. When you wake up the next morning, in a coffin, this will all seem right to you. Or at least, not terribly wrong.” Ash smiled back and flicked a short tendril of hair off her forehead. “Not just yet, Beau. Perhaps someday, but not just yet.” He tried to prevent the flicker of disappointment from showing on his face. “Part of the reason I want you to be one of us is to keep you safe.” He clenched his fists in the bed sheet, unsure how much of his feelings to reveal. He’d definitely scare her away if he admitted how much it had frightened him to think that she’d been killed, how quickly he’d grown to feel more for her than he’d felt in decades for anyone. “You do a pretty terrific job of that all on your own.” She caressed his lips with the tip of her finger, then placed a swift kiss on his cheek. “I wasn’t there last night, Ash. You were alone with who knows what kind of demons. You made it through this because you’re damn smart, and damn brave.” She flushed again, her skin glowing with a wonderful healthy shimmer. Beau’s gaze was drawn by the slight pulse in her throat and he held back the desire to nip at her flesh. Just one drop of her sweet 76
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blood wouldn’t be enough to feed his arousal and his need for her. He shook his head sharply to clear the thoughts away. This was more important. Ash tilted her head and watched him with a puzzled expression. “You think that if I were a vampire, I’d be able to defend myself a little better,” she said, and her eyes shimmered with sudden understanding. “I do.” “I’m sorry, Beau. Maybe I could take some martial arts classes or something.” She grinned, but the thought spread like wildfire through his mind. “That’s not a bad idea.” He leaned over to the other side of the bed and opened a drawer in his nightstand. An automatic revolver glinted darkly from within the confines of the small space. He pulled it out and balanced its weight in his hand, then offered it to Ash. She shrunk back from the weapon, her eyes wide with terror. “No, Beau. I’ve already tried to tell you, I don’t like guns.” He looked at the revolver, then back at Ash’s face before putting it away again. He slammed the drawer closed with an audible frustrated sigh. “Why? They save more lives than they take, you know.” “So says the man with the sharp, pointy teeth.” She was trying for humor, but the tremor in her voice resulted in a failed attempt. “My parents were shot by the side of the road and left to die in a ravine. All because some guy with a gun wanted their car, their wallet, and my mother’s wedding ring, which she refused to give him.” A solitary tear trailed down her cheek, and Beau wiped it away quickly with the back of his hand. He opened his arms and she fell into his embrace, her soft body wracked with silent sobs. “Oh, Ash,” he said, smoothing back her unruly mop of hair. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She sniffled against his chest. “I didn’t think it was important.” “I think I understand why you want to forget,” he said softly. 77
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“Part of it, maybe, but there’s more.” She tensed in his arms and pulled away. “Can we talk about something else?” “How about those martial arts lessons?” She grinned, the gesture brightening her eyes and dispelling some of the sorrow that had settled in her gaze. “I’ll see if they offer anything at the community college.” “I have a better idea.” He kissed the top of her head, then stood and threw the robe over his body, tying it with a belt around his waist. He crossed to the door, then stepped out into the hallway. A lanky, blond vampire leaned against the wall to his chamber, deep in conversation with a petite redhead. “Vladimir.” The young vampire spun around quickly at the sound of Beau’s voice. “Yes, sir?” “I need you to get Donovan. Tell him he’s needed in my quarters, immediately.” Vladimir wrung his hands, inclined his head sharply, and rushed down the hall. The redhead watched Beau with a puzzled expression and shrugged before following Vladimir down the hall. When Beau stepped back into the room, Ash was already dressed. She stared out the balcony at the full moon spilling its milky light across the garden. Beau walked up behind her and enveloped her in his arms. She leaned back against him and he breathed deeply, inhaling her unique, feminine scent. A few minutes later, Donovan stormed into the room and they both turned at the sound of the door slamming against the wall. The big vampire grinned, showing pearly white teeth and fangs. “You beckoned?” he said, though the playful lilt in his tone softened the sarcasm in the words. 78
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“Ash needs a quick lesson in defense. Think you can help?” Ash tightened her grip on Beau’s arm and looked up at him. “Now?” “Can you think of a better time?” She shook her head, then stepped forward. Donovan had already drawn his two long swords from their sheath and stood facing Ash. “Go easy on her, would you?” Donovan threw one of the blades to Ash and to Beau’s surprise, she caught it deftly in her right hand. They faced each other, both with drawn steel, Donovan grunting his approval. Beau leaned against a wall, folded his arms across his chest, and tried to stay out of their way. Donovan proved as skilled at teaching as he was at handling the blades himself, and Ash showed herself a willing and able student. She parried and slashed at his command, then ducked and blocked his oncoming attacks. Beau held his breath each time Donovan’s thrust came too close to her skin, but he never drew blood, or even sliced through her thin cotton shirt. A rainbow of colors from the fragmented light of the chandelier danced upon their blades. Ash gritted her teeth, the lines of determination around her face speaking volumes about her dedication to this. When he’d suggested it, Beau had expected her to humor him a little, perhaps learn to hold the weapon in her hand. Instead, she’d given herself over completely to the swordplay. A strip of pale, creamy skin showed between the bottom of her shirt and the waistband of her jeans as she stretched to parry Donovan’s weapon. Beau’s breathing quickened as he watcher her twirl and attack, the sword held elegantly before her. Donovan leaned in to correct her form, and Beau stiffened as the big warrior held Ash’s arm from behind, his body pressed closely against hers. Jealousy surged through him and he clenched his hands at his sides. The rational part of his brain tried to tell him he was being 79
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foolish, but his emotional reaction wouldn’t subside. His pulse pounded in his ears, and only eased when Donovan backed away and resumed his fighting stance. A sheen of perspiration dotted Ash’s brow, but she held the sword high and kept her knees bent, her gaze fixed on her opponent. Beau grinned as he watched her, a feeling of pride and intense longing surging through his veins. After all these years alone, could he finally have found a mate to spend eternity with? Ash parried a deft thrust and Donovan’s eyes widened in surprise. A broad grin broke over his features and he clapped her hard on the shoulder. Eternity was such a long time. And yet this beautiful, sensual woman stirred a longing in Beau he hadn’t known himself capable of. Now if he could only convince her to become immortal and stay with him— A soft hum from outside the garden walls interrupted Beau’s musings. He walked to the balcony and paused to peer out over the railing. A swirling wind tossed fallen leaves and whipped his hair around his face, while the air held the sickly sweet scent of decaying flesh. Ash and Donovan paused the lesson and joined Beau outside. “What is it?” Ash asked, placing a hand on Beau’s arm. The touch of her fingers against his taught skin sent a shiver of sensation up his spine. That feeling was quickly replaced by cold fear as the cause of the noise came into view. There must have been hundreds of them, maybe even thousands. An entire army of mindless zombies, their red, glowing eyes visible ever from a distance in the shadowed darkness, approached the mansion. The steady drone of a low chant floated up through the garden. “Rally the vampires,” Beau said to Donovan. “We’re under attack.” *
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Ash tightened her grip on Beau’s arm as she watched the zombies 80
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climb over the garden walls. Their moves were effortless, though sluggish and deliberate. No zombie lost its footing as it rose over the gate, and one by one they landed steadily on their feet on the other side. “Stay here,” Beau said, turning to face her. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into a tight embrace. “I’m coming with you,” Ash said, lifting her chin to fix Beau with a determined glare. If he thought she’d stay behind and cower, then he’d better think again. “Jorah’s down there,” Beau said. “I don’t know why she was so intent in capturing you the first time, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to give her the opportunity to do it again.” “You and me both. She’ll never lay another hand on me. And neither will her minions.” Beau sighed and raked his fingers through his long hair. “I need to face this threat head-on, Ash. I can’t stay here with you, nor can I fight to the best of my abilities if I have to continuously look over my shoulder to make sure you’re all right.” Bile rose in Ash’s throat along with a sudden surge of fury. “Are you that certain I can’t take care of myself? What about the lesson back there? I held my own against Donovan. Put a sword in my hand and I can kick ass with the rest of you.” Her breath came raw and ragged as she tried to choke back her anger. She was not going to let him go out there and risk getting slaughtered while she hid in his coffin, praying she wouldn’t be found. Besides, Jorah had her crucifix. By the time this was all over, she intended to collect for a job well done. Beau’s eyes shone with a harsh glint and he tightened his grip on her arms. “This isn’t the time to prove yourself, Ash. You’ve had one lesson from Donovan. That doesn’t make you an expert in self-defense, especially when we’re talking about hundreds, maybe thousands of zombies.” He glanced back over the balcony railing and Ash followed 81
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his gaze. The zombies kept pouring over the gates and there seemed no end to their forces. A siren sounded somewhere in the distance, but Ash doubted they could get here in time. Or do much good once they did, for that matter. She shook herself out of Beau’s grasp. “Watch me,” she said, then darted to the door, Beau’s infuriated cry echoing after her. Pulling on the handle, she threw the door open and crossed the length of the hallway, then ran down the plush-covered steps. She stopped in mid-stride to stare at the scene unfolding before her. The room at the entrance, only a few days ago so richly decorated, now lay in ruin. The couches had been torn apart and tables had been overturned. Even the sparkling chandelier lay in a myriad of broken pieces on the floor, plunging the room in semi-darkness, lit only by the moon that cast intricate shadows on the floor. The battle still raged in full-force, and the noise was deafening. Ash covered her mouth with her hand to keep out the putrefying stench of blood and decay, but the feeble attempt provided little relief. Vampires huddled at the entrance, trying unsuccessfully to stop the flow of zombies from invading the mansion. But for every creature that fell, three took its place, and the vampires were already starting to look weary, their drive wavering with each new wave of enemies breaking through their ranks. Ash knew they were immortal, unless killed in very specific ways, and the creatures attacking the mansion now didn’t seem to carry any wooden stakes or guns filled with silver bullets. Still, that knowledge did nothing to alleviate her apprehension. Thousands of zombies against perhaps fifty vampires. The odds weren’t good, no matter how she looked at it. She saw Donovan cleaving through the creatures, his swords slick with black blood. The zombies seemed frantic now, the blood in the air urging them on. They fell on the corpses littering the floor. and Ash 82
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trembled as one looked up at her, its red eyes piercing, its mouth wet from the corpse beneath him. A glimmer of light broke through the mass of zombies at the door, and Jorah entered the mansion unhindered, power and malevolence surrounding her like an evil aura. Bullets ricocheted off her shimmering orb of protection while more traditional weapons such as swords sent sparks flying throughout the room on contact. Ash glanced around her quickly in search of a weapon, but Jorah was already heading up the stairs. She paused in front of Ash and gave her a dangerous smile. “Took you long enough to do the job,” Jorah said, fingering the heavy crucifix now hanging around her neck. “Some thief you are.” Ash gaped, open-mouthed. “It was you?” Jorah nodded. “I really should have chosen a professional, but my army hadn’t risen yet, and I wanted to remain discreet. Had I known it would take you so long to work up the courage, I would have never hired you.” “But why need a thief at all?” Ash asked. “You’re powerful enough to storm the place, tear it apart.” “The idiot owners have protective spells around their store.” She snarled, her skin tightening across her cheekbones. “I needed a blubbering fool who wouldn’t be affected by magic.” Ash was too stunned to be angry at the insult. Apparently finished with the conversation, Jorah swept past her. Ash turned to follow, but halted when she saw Beau at the top of the stairs, his black automatic revolver pointed at Jorah. The old woman laughed, the harsh sound mixing with the cries of battle below. “And what do you hope to do with that, dear brother?” The words were deliberate, mocking, and Beau clenched his jaw. A vein throbbed in his temple. “I intend to kill you, one way or another.” 83
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Jorah scoffed and took another step up the stairs, extending a bony arm and pointing with a slender finger. Beau flew through the air and crashed against the wall. The sound of bone cracking sent a chill of terror down Ash’s spine and she ran to him, but Jorah stopped her with an outstretched hand. “Take another step toward him, and you die first.” “What do you want?” Beau asked through clenched teeth. A dark smear of blood stained the white wall behind him as he struggled to rise. “I already told you what I want.” Jorah narrowed her eyes. “But I’ll be happy to tell you again. Turn me into a vampire, and this will all be over. Refuse me, and you and your clan will suffer as I’ve suffered.” “Being turned into a vampire is a gift,” Beau said, his voice eerily quiet. Ash had to strain to hear him over the cries from below. “I refuse to be blackmailed into this.” “It’s entirely your call. I’m sure another member of your precious clan would be happy to do as I command to make this nightmare stop.” She indicated with a shriveled hand at the zombies that kept pouring through the opening. The door had been torn off its hinges and now lay battered in the middle of the entry chamber. “No member of Clan Merivion will do as you desire. We’ve fought too hard to protect our way of life, and we’ve been too careful in turning only those prepared and ready for the life we offer. We have no intention in turning the world into one dysfunctional vampire family.” Jorah waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes. I’ve heard this all before. You think you’re so much better than everyone else. I’m here to prove you wrong.” Beau raised an eyebrow, but didn’t reply. He lifted his arm and aimed the gun at Jorah again. “Go ahead,” Jorah said. “Fire.” 84
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CHAPTER 8
The shot rang out through the hallway. Jorah’s protective shielding came up at the last moment, its shimmering glow easily deflecting the bullet. Ash cringed and fell back against the railing. She was dimly aware of zombies shuffling up the circular stairway and huddling just out of reach. They’d probably been ordered to stay away until Beau made up his mind for good. If he still refused to turn her, Jorah would have them all killed, but she’d likely kill her brother herself. Beau clutched at his hand, writhing in pain on the ground. His blue eyes burned with anger and he bared his fangs in a deep scowl. “You can’t kill me like this,” he said to Jorah. “I know.” The old woman smiled, an expression that narrowed her eyes to slits. “But I can hurt you, and at this point, that’s a lot more fun.” Ash threw a desperate glance over her shoulder. She thought of screaming out to Donovan, or someone—anyone—but knew the effort 85
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would be futile. They had their hands full keeping the zombie infestation away below, and besides, it seemed they couldn’t have harmed Jorah anyway. Jorah shuffled closer to Beau until she stood only inches away. “I’ve got all the time in the world. You, however, only have until dawn to decide.” She glanced out the window where the moon had begun its descent. “A few more hours of pain and agony. Then either I kill you, or the sun will.” Beau clenched his teeth, fury etched in his handsome features. “Is this any way to treat a long-lost family member?” Jorah laughed, the sound of genuine amusement ringing out through the hall. “I spent ninety years waiting for this. And in fact, yes, this is pretty much exactly the way I’d envisioned our reunion. I had hoped my brother would be a little smarter, though.” Ash took a tentative step forward. If only she could catch Jorah offguard before she could activate that magical shield, she might be able to stop her, at least long enough for Beau to finish her off. She shuffled slowly along the wall, afraid to glance behind her for fear that the zombies would attack in an instant if they suspected her intentions toward their mistress. She edged forward, hesitating as she stepped on broken shards of a mirror framed in elaborate gold. Seven years bad luck… “Leave,” Beau said, leaning back against the wall. He rested his revolver against his knee. “I don’t believe this,” Jorah said. “You’re ordering me around, just as you always did when we were kids.” “This is not going to end as you wish.” Beau cast a quick glance over Jorah’s shoulder and Ash inhaled sharply as their eyes met. He knew what she planned to do. Gathering strength from his stare, Ash moved another few inches along the wall. Jorah’s back was still turned to her, but if she leapt, she could be upon the old woman in an instant. 86
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Sure, the zombies would attack just as quickly, but she hoped she could give Beau the time he needed to make his move. “I’d rethink those words if I were you, brother,” Jorah said, leaning forward over Beau. Her form cast a long shadow along the ground. “I could kill you without a trace of remorse.” “Then try,” he said, his face only inches away from Jorah’s. The crucifix dangled around Jorah’s neck as she leaned down. Her eyes were glued to Beau’s, the intensity in their gazes filling the room with a tension no violent attack could match. They were both ready to strike, and Ash feared the outcome. Beau was strong, but Jorah seemed to have a malicious power all of her own, something dark and evil that couldn’t be deflected with weapons or brute force. A shaft of moonlight slid through the window and reflected brilliantly off the crucifix. Ash leaped, acting more on desperate impulse than anything else. She lunged for the pendant, her hands closing against the heavy gold chain and yanking harshly. She saw Jorah’s head snap forward from the force of her tug, and the fury that burned in her eyes. It’ll all be over in a minute. She’s going to fry me with a spell and that’ll be the end of me. Oh, Beau… I’m so sorry I didn’t let you turn me. Ash’s heart leaped in her throat as she thought the words, the commotion around her slowing and stretching into infinity. If only she’d let him make her immortal… there might have been hope for them. They could have fought Jorah together, and perhaps even defeated her. The chain snapped in Ash’s hand and the crucifix tumbled to the ground. Upon contact with the floor, a latch popped open, revealing a hidden compartment behind the cross. A thin piece of paper flew across the carpet, landing at Ash’s feet. Jorah scrambled for it, a sharp cry breaking free from her throat, 87
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echoing off the walls and merging with the screams of battle from below. Ash glanced down at the paper. “Perite crucifer,” she whispered as a blaze of blue light flared through the hall. *
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Beau couldn’t see Ash. The light blinded him, sent a stab of pain through his head. He’d heard her murmur the words and knew instinctively that they held more power than either he or Ash could have anticipated. His blood ran cold and fear soured his throat. “Ash!” He screamed her name, praying for an answer. It came, her voice soft and melodious; the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. The blue blaze dimmed and flickered to fade completely. Jorah stood between them, her back stooped and her dry skin mottled with liverspots, hanging off her bones. She’d aged greatly in the past few minutes, Beau realized with a start. The aura of power was gone, as was her protective glow. Suddenly, she was no more than an old woman, and her eyes lacked the power and menace they’d held only minutes before. “I didn’t know,” Jorah murmured, her voice coarse and ancient. “I didn’t know the crucifix’s secret, only that possessing it would ensure my powers.” “It sounds to me like you needed to do more research before attempting to take over the world,” Beau said between clenched teeth. “Why did you do it?” Jorah asked, staring at Ash. Ash shrugged her slender shoulders. “I had to. You threatened everything I’d come to love.” Love. There it was. She’d said it, and Beau couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. She looked so beautiful, her eyes sparkling as she stared back at him. Beau couldn’t tear his gaze away, but he knew he had to, and with 88
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great effort broke the spell that held him fixed to Ash and glanced around the now empty hallway. He caught a glimpse of Jorah’s bandage-like garment as she descended the stairs. He tightened his grip on his gun and gave chase. He stopped at the railing, leaned over it, and took aim. However harmless this old woman might seem to be tonight, he had to stop the threat to his people, to Ash. The shot rang out through the massive hall and the bullet found its mark. The contact seared through him, making him stumble. His fangs dug into his bottom lip as a surge of memory flashed through his mind. They were young. Jorah’s blond hair was tied neatly in a ponytail and gleamed in the sun as she sat cross-legged on a log in their backyard. “You’re the best brother ever,” she said. “Promise to take me with you wherever you go?” Beau heard himself laugh, the laugh of a child not much older than his sister. “Only if you don’t get in the way.” But she had gotten in the way. She’d threatened the clan and the woman he loved. And now as he watched her stumble and collapse down the stairs, her garment seeping with dark blood, a pang of deep regret and longing spread through him. If this is what it was like to have a family, if it caused so much pain and suffering, then he was better off with the Clan, the only family he’d ever known. Silence enveloped him and he realized the zombies had stopped attacking. They poured out of the empty chamber slowly, lumbering heaps of flesh. The vampires gave chase into the garden beyond, unaware of what had happened above. “Donovan.” The warrior glanced up at the sound of his name. Thick rivulets of blood ran down his chest, and he grinned, his fangs flashing white in 89
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the moonlight. “Call them back,” Beau commanded. “It’s over.” Donovan nodded his assent and disappeared into the garden. Beau gripped the railing tighter in his hand, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. His head swam and his mouth was dry, like he hadn’t fed in days. Ash’s feminine scent enveloped him and he knew she was there even before she placed her warm hand on his shoulder. He turned to her, smiled, trailed his fingers over her cheek, then cupped her face in his palm. He couldn’t believe how close he’d come to losing her. “I love you,” he murmured. Ash grinned, that small gesture restoring all he’d lost.
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CHAPTER 9
Ash tangled her fingers in Beau’s hair and pulled him down to her. The weight of his chest pressed against her breasts and drove her deeper into the silky coverings and pillows splayed upon his bed. His mouth claimed hers and their tongues entwined, mated in the seductive dance of a thorough, passionate kiss. She moaned against him, the sound drowned by his own groan of pleasure. When he broke away and looked into her eyes, his gaze was intense and fierce. “You didn’t have to stay with me,” he said, and she nodded in understanding. She could have fled the mansion many times, and she didn’t have to come back here after her ordeal in the cemetery. “I wanted to,” she said, and then his mouth possessed hers again. They’d stripped slowly, languidly, before falling into bed together and now his erection nudged the inside of her thigh. She sighed against his mouth. Tonight was theirs, to celebrate their victory over the creatures of darkness, over those who sought to destroy the vampiric way of life. 91
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Beau nibbled the curve of her throat, trailed hot kisses down her collarbone and paused to flick his tongue in the valley between her breasts. He grabbed a nipple lightly between his teeth and circled it with his warm tongue, the feeling sending a sharp jet of desire to the apex between her legs. Ash stroked his head rhythmically and arched her back, a moan of longing escaping her lips. He slid down farther, his hands caressing her hips. He positioned himself between her thighs, his warm breath flirting with her overheated cunt. She wiggled her ass and pressed her wet core closer to his mouth, but he expertly avoided the not-so-subtle movement and grabbed her legs instead, settling them over his shoulders. Ash was wide open to him now, the position leaving her vulnerable and incredibly aroused. She could smell her own juices on the cool night air and she groaned, knowing that Beau’s senses must have been even more assaulted by the musky aroma than her own. He brushed his tongue against her pussy, stroking it rhythmically, exploring her folds with soft, playful flicks. Ash bunched the bed sheets in her hands in an effort to keep from crying out. He nibbled at the tender skin, the slight pain mingling with the overwhelming pleasure. His fangs grazed her sensitive flesh and she gasped, her muscles contracting with the first waves of orgasm. His tongue licked slowly, gently, the whole slick length of her, while her hips moved up and down as of their own accord and she tightened her grip on the sheets. As the full onslaught of pleasure claimed her body, she couldn’t hold back her scream of sheer pleasure. Beau continued to lap at her juices as they flowed down her thighs, his warm mouth locked in a passionate kiss with her pussy. Beau lifted his head from her depths and raised himself up to balance on his elbows on top of her. Juices glistened off his chin and Ash reached out tentatively with her tongue to taste herself on his skin. The sweet, spicy flavor of her come mingled with the heady scent 92
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already permeating the room and threw Ash into another lustful frenzy. “I want you inside me,” she whispered, her breath coming in ragged gulps. Kneeling, he pushed the tip of his cock inside her slick passage, teasing her with his length. He moved in and out of her slowly, until finally he plunged his shaft into her in its entirety. She moaned and ground her hips against his, the delicious feeling of his thick cock inside her tight passage threatening to overwhelm her. Beau ran his hands up her body as he thrust inside her, slid them up along her waist, ultimately cupping her breasts. His rhythm didn’t waver, and he pinched her nipples lightly between thumb and forefinger. Ash threw her arms around his neck and bolted upright, startling them both. A laugh escaped her lips as she pushed Beau up on his knees. She straddled him, their bodies bouncing in unison, his cock still embedded deep in her cunt. He felt so big like this, so completely filling, and she gasped as he plunged deeper into her with each move. Ash grasped his body tightly and ran her tongue over his lower lip, eliciting another moan. The kiss was quick, passionate and intense, and when she broke free, she moved her mouth down to the side of his neck, to the fast pulse pounding there. Her tongue found the vein and lapped at it, preparing herself for what she knew she had to do. But for now, Ash’s only concern was the cock inside her, the feel of Beau’s muscular arms holding her close. Beau brought his hand down between them and flicked his thumb gently over her engorged clit. Another shimmering sensation swept through her. She sensed Beau was close to coming; his cock seemed to enlarge within her as his finger circled her clit. She bucked against him as another orgasm burst forth. Her pussy clenched around his cock and milked him hard, his semen pumping thoroughly from within, filling her with his hot seed, letting her experience the joy of his release amid her own. 93
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Ash collapsed onto the bed and closed her eyes, her pussy still throbbing in an intimate reminder of what they’d just shared. She opened one eye and looked up to find Beau still kneeling over her, grinning, the sheets tangled around his sweaty, naked body. “You look pretty pleased with yourself,” she said, smiling back. “Why shouldn’t I be? You look thoroughly satisfied, yourself.” Ash sighed and settled back deeper into the pillows. She couldn’t deny the sense of deep fulfillment that swept over her. She brought her hand down between her legs, remembering the feel of his tongue there. “This has to end sometime, doesn’t it?” She stared at him, afraid of his answer. “Not unless you want it to.” “Are you saying you’d do this with me forever?” “For all eternity,” he said, leaning down to kiss her brow. “If you’ll have me.” Tears stung the back of Ash’s throat, and for a minute she remained silent, not trusting her voice. “I won’t remember,” she said finally. “I won’t remember my love for you.” Beau exhaled a deep breath, his eyes glittering with amusement. “Is that all you’re afraid of?” Ash nodded, wishing she could let go of the anxiety that tightened her stomach into knots. She was eager to forget her childhood, and even most of her past, but knowing that she wouldn’t remember the last week brought a wave of panic crashing down on her. Beau rose from the bed and walked to a large desk in the corner of his room. Ash propped herself on her elbows and watched him, the hard lines of his body standing out against the shadows in the room. He came back with a notepad and a pen, then scribbled on it quickly. When he lifted it up to show her what he’d written, Ash couldn’t suppress the burst of laughter that escaped her throat. 94
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Ash loves Beau, he’d written in a cursive hand. And below it: That means you love me. Forever. She nodded and tilted her head, baring her neck to him. “I do,” she said simply. He watched her in silence for a moment, perhaps waiting for her to change her mind. Ash’s happiness was so huge and complete that she didn’t move, but held his gaze, her confidence never wavering. He lowered his mouth to her neck and placed a swift kiss on her skin. She shivered with anticipation. When his fangs grazed her tender flesh, she sucked in a breath, waiting for the sharp stab of pain. It was just as she expected, and yet so much more. She felt his fangs sink into her and her head reeled, every sense on high alert. She clutched his shoulders and pulled him closer to her, the soft sucking sounds filling the room. Contentment and arousal filled her, fear and doubt fleeing to the furthest recesses of her mind. Her eyelids felt heavy, and she closed her eyes and pressed herself against him. “I love you,” she whispered. “Forever.”
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LACEY SAVAGE Lacey Savage began her love affair with romance at an early age. In high school, she checked out steamy romance novels from the public library and would often be found reading them in the middle of class. Lacey still reads more than she cares to admit, and probably more than her husband would like, considering how many books she keeps bringing into the house. Her favorite genres have always been erotica, romance, fantasy, science fiction and mystery, so she tries to incorporate a little of each into her writing. She initially majored in Marketing, then went back to school to major in English Literature. After earning her degrees, she decided to turn her efforts to her true passion: writing. A hopeless romantic, Lacey loves writing about the intimate, sensual side of relationships. She currently resides in Ottawa, Canada, with her loving husband and their mischievous cat. Fans can learn more about Lacey at http://www.laceysavage.com, and can reach her at
[email protected]. *
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Don’t miss Oceanbound, by Lacey Savage, available from Amber Quill Press, LLC
It should have been just another ordinary swim in the ocean for Máelán and his sisters. Instead, the three mermaids were killed; slaughtered
before Máelán’s eyes by humans. Forced to endure the never-ending pity and compassion of his fellow merfolk, Máelán seeks solitude, and returns to the place where his sisters perished. But when a moment of weakness leads to his own capture, Máelán faces the possibility of reuniting with his kin—in the afterlife. Convinced that he’s going to die, and with nothing left to live for, Máelán is stunned by the depth of his feelings toward Caera Geddes, the daughter of his captor. With no reason to trust humans, yet unable to resist the enchanting woman who takes care of him, Máelán is torn between love and loyalty, lust and suspicion. Can a merman with every reason to hate humans fall in love with one? And will a human taught to hate “demons” risk everything for a merman?
AMBER QUILL PRESS, LLC THE GOLD STANDARD IN P UBLISHING
QUALITY BOOKS IN BOTH PRINT AND ELECTRONIC FORMATS ACTION /ADVENTURE
SUSPENSE/THRILLER
SCIENCE FICTION
PARANORMAL
ROMANCE
MYSTERY
EROTICA
HORROR
WESTERN
FANTASY
MAINSTREAM
HISTORICAL
YOUNG ADULT
NON-FICTION
BUY DIRECT AND S AVE http://www.amberquill.com
