“Yep, we had to go to hell and back, but we made it,” Addix added with a smile before kissing his soon-to-be bride.
About The Author
Crystal-Rain Love resides in the South with her three children and enough pets to host a petting zoo. When she's not writing she can usually be found creating unique 3D cakes,hiking, reading, or spending way too much time on FaceBook. Slightly obsessed with David Cook and Supernatural.
Find out more about her here:
http://crystalrainlove.com
http://facebook.com/crystalrainloveauthor
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Other Works By This Author:
Romantic Suspense:
The Fire Still Burns
Little White Lies
Contemporary Romance:
Guardian Cowboy
Second Chance Cowboy
Lucky In Love
The Moonlit Series:
Moonlit Dream (novella)
Moonlit Watcher (novella)
Moonlit Protector (novella)
The Blood Revelation Series:
Blood Curse
Slayer’s Prey
Witch’s Net
Siren’s Snare
Please enjoy this sneak peek of SIREN’S SNARE:
PROLOGUE
The blood would never come out. Disgusted, Marilee shut off the faucet and threw her stained cutoffs across the bathroom. They hit the wall with a soppy wet thud and fell to the floor. She joined them there, her knees pulled up to her chin as the tears she’d fought back all day finally broke free.
I killed.
And it felt good.
Marilee’s stomach turned over with her silent admission and she quickly lurched forward, hanging her head over the toilet bowl not a second too soon. She purged the contents of her stomach, flushed the toilet, and grabbed hold of the sink. It took effort, but she pulled herself to a stand, bracing her wobbly legs to support her slender weight.
She had to leave. She had to get away from the stain of other people’s blood on her favorite pair of jean cutoffs. The soiled material taunted her from where it lay on the floor, reminding her of what she’d done. And why she’d done it.
How much I liked doing it.
Marilee traveled the narrow length of the hallway until she reached her small, cramped room. The voices of those she killed seemed to follow her, crying out in rage. She shoved the tortured sounds into the back of her mind and grabbed a duffel bag from her closet. Quickly, she grabbed clothes and stuffed them into the black bag along with the five hundred bucks she’d stashed under her mattress for an emergency. Becoming a murderer was an emergency, she assured herself as she struggled to see through her tears.
The cross her grandmother had given her when she was just a little girl still hung on her bedpost. She scooped it up, running a finger over the black and clear beads Gram had lovingly threaded together. A tear plopped onto the gold cross before Marilee raised it over her head and allowed it to hang from her neck. The cross was all she had left of the woman she’d loved more than anyone on earth.
Choking back a sob, she grabbed the duffel and left her room without a backward glance. She didn’t leave a note for her mother before stepping out the front door of the little white shotgun house for the last time. If Becky had survived the attack, she wouldn’t even miss her. If she hadn’t survived… Well, there was no use worrying about that when the woman had never really been much of a mother. Gram had been everything to Marilee, and she knew she hadn’t survived the attack because the vampires had taken over Gram & Grampa’s house after killing them.
She’d done nothing to protect them.
Marilee tossed her duffel into the old pick-up truck and slammed the door closed. She didn’t want to think of the dreams she’d had, the gnawing sensations in her gut telling her danger was coming. She didn’t want to think of her grandparents’ kind smiles or generous hearts. More than anything, she didn’t want to hear her grandmother’s voice, but the sound wouldn’t leave her.
You have a destiny to follow, my sweet girl. You know things nobody else knows, and see things others are blind to. You will be called to do great things one day, and your gifts will bless many.
Marilee swallowed down bile. Her gifts didn’t save Gram or Grampa. She’d foreseen their death, but like so many dreams before, she’d ignored the warning, never thinking the monsters from her nightmares would become real.
Now the feeling in her gut that had led her to the sheriff’s department two nights ago, just in time to help a slayer destroy a group of vampires, told her it was time to leave town. Somewhere out there, her destiny called.
She prayed her true destiny was something more than being a killer.
ONE
“Move it, Blondie. Table nine’s gettin’ pissy.”
Marilee glared at the chunky redhead in the two-sizes-too-small outfit and bit back a scathing retort. She usually didn’t let Brenda get to her, but her gut was twisted out of shape tonight. Something was going to happen, something big and most likely dangerous.
She grabbed the basket loaded with mini corn dogs and fries, and the two plates of burgers and onion rings, and balanced them on her tray. Wedging herself between the bar and Brenda’s fat ass, she managed to get past the skank-bag and onto the floor. A gyrating couple nearly backed into her, but thanks to her quick reflexes she managed to get the order out to the trio at the table.
A heavy man in a baseball cap sat with his arm wrapped around the shoulders of an overly made-up brunette. Opposite him in the booth, a tall lanky man ogled her unabashedly. Bet those perky tits would taste real good.
Marilee clenched her jaw and turned on her heel. It was better to leave than to cause a scene.
“Uh, excuse me, honey,” the woman called out. “I need a refill!” Stupid bitch didn’t even ask when she saw my empty glass. Her tip just got smaller.
“Another Coke coming up,” Marilee called back over her shoulder with a tight smile. She barely restrained the urge to flip the skinny woman off. People couldn’t control their thoughts like they could control their tongues, and if she’d been on her game, she wouldn’t have read the woman’s mind anyway. Her nerves had her off and she had to deal with the consequences.
As she grabbed a frosty glass out of the cooler and filled it with Coke she let her gaze rove over the room. Hank’s Hoe-Down was just like the thirty or so other hole in the wall bars she’d worked in over the years since leaving Hicksville without a backward glance. The music was loud, the food greasy, and the drunks plentiful.
This particular bar was decorated in a country western motif, not unusual for small towns in Texas, and cowboy wannabes filled the room. So did the cowboy wannabe groupies, in their short skirts and smaller tank tops. Couples danced in the middle of the floor, people sat wedged into the booths, chewing on greasy burgers or sloppy ribs, and in the far corner a group of men bet on the outcome of a pool game between two guys in T-shirts and tight well-worn jeans.
It was a normal Friday night at Hank’s, except for the unease slithering around in Marilee’s belly.
She delivered the Coke and two icy longnecks to table nine, careful to lockdown her mind so she wouldn’t hear what other parts of her body Pervo-man wanted to taste, and took orders from two more booths.
“Order up, Charlie,” she called to the heavyset man whipping up food in the kitchen before glancing at the clock. Two more hours until closing time.
A cold chill skirted up her spine and an unnamable force drew her gaze to the door as a tall, dark silhouette filled the entry. Her breath caught as he stepped forward into the light.
He stood about six feet two inches tall, with wavy black hair that fell just below his shoulders, and dark, piercing blue eyes that met hers across the room and refused to let go.
“Where did that big hunk of sex in the flesh come from?”
Marilee broke free of the man’s gaze and turned her head to see B
renda pulling down her tank top and pushing up her breasts until they nearly toppled over the edge of her neckline. “I don’t know what he’s having for dinner, but I’m gonna be that man’s dessert.”
We might all be. Marilee swallowed hard as she watched Brenda sashay over to the man, who now sat leisurely at the corner table closest to the door. He wore black combat boots, black pants, a black T-shirt and a black leather jacket. Back to the wall, he tapped his long fingers on the table as he kept her in his sights, his perfectly carved face giving away nothing.
“Hey! You deaf or something?”
Marilee jumped and turned her head to notice the grizzly looking man who’d parked himself right in front of her at the bar. “I asked for a Rattlesnake.”
Blinking out of her stupor, she swallowed hard and nodded. “Sorry.”
“Marilee! Get these orders out, dammit!”
She quickly made the drink for the man at the bar and turned to grab the food Charlie had set out several minutes ago. The looks she received from the cook and Hank himself, who leaned against the back wall, competed with those of her customers in the glare of death contest.
About damn time.
I bet that hair came from a bottle. Probably thinks she’s hotter than me, and if John doesn’t quit looking at her ass in those little shorts…
This food better be worth the wait.
Maybe if I leave a big tip, she’ll let me in those shorts.
Hot little thing, but she sucks as a waitress.
Marilee ground her teeth together and fought to push the thoughts out of her head as she made her way back over to the bar. All the while, she felt the weight of the man in black leather’s stare on her.
“Move!” Brenda barked as she cut her off to slide behind the bar. “Table five requested you,” she said bitterly, grabbing two frosty mugs out of the cooler to fill up at the tap.
Marilee glanced over to the corner table where the man stared her down. “I have to get beers over to tables eight and ten.”
“I’ll take them,” Brenda offered, grabbing two more mugs, “and I’ll take your tips for those tables.”
“Bitch,” Marilee grumbled as she watched the she-devil carry the tray of beers over to one of the tables.
“Table five hasn’t been served,” Hank reminded her, a deep scowl etched into his face, as he stepped past her to get to the kitchen.
Biting back the impulse to tell him to go to hell, Marilee squared her shoulders and walked over to the corner table, where the trouble she’d sensed awaited.
She’d killed men like him before, but there was something about this one, some secret hidden in the depths of those inky blue eyes that told her this one wasn’t like any man she’d come across before.
“What can I get you?” she asked in a low voice as she reached the table. “A Bloody Mary? Maybe a Bloody Nancy? Or Susan?”
The side of his mouth turned up into the slightest hint of a smile. “I like your accent, and your humor. Am I that obvious?”
“The leather jacket in the middle of a Texas summer was a dead giveaway,” she answered, ignoring the little sparks of electricity shooting through her system at the sound of his rich, melodic voice. “A human wouldn’t have lasted a minute without keeling over from heatstroke.”
He glanced down at his attire, grinned, and then let his gaze slowly wander up her body. “You’re certainly dressed for the heat.”
Marilee folded her arms in front of her chest, desperate to stop the tingling sensation in her breasts caused by the man’s perusal. He was a bloodsucker for crying out loud, the last thing he should be doing was turning her on. “What do you want?” she asked, wishing she hadn’t worn such a snug T-shirt.
He cocked his head to the side and chuckled, low and throaty. “Isn’t it customary for waitresses to be pleasant to their customers?”
“When those customers are drinking beer or Coke, not blood.” She glanced around to make sure no one overheard her and found Hank watching her with narrowed eyes. He jerked his head toward table nine where the trio she’d served earlier were glaring at her, empty beers in hand.
“I’ve got other tables, so if you would just do us both a favor and l—” She turned around to see the vampire looking back at her with an air of impatience, a menu open in front of him on the table.
“I’ll take the T-bone, very rare.”
“I’ll just bet you will.” Marilee angrily scribbled the order onto her pad. “If you so much as look at anyone here the wrong way, I’ll kill you whether there are witnesses or not.”
“I was warned that you would, Marilee.”
Her hand froze over the pad and she clenched her fingers tight around the pen to hide any visible shaking. “How the hell do you know my name? We don’t wear nametags here and I sure didn’t introduce myself.”
“You have other tables, Marilee.” He looked past her. “And your boss looks very irritated. I’d suggest you turn in that order and see to your other customers.”
“Blood-sucking son of a bitch,” she muttered under her breath as she turned to head for the bar, worry producing a ball of nausea in her stomach.
The vampire’s deep chuckle let her know he’d heard her.
“I don’t know what it is about you that fine hunk of sexiness finds so appealing,” Brenda muttered as she continued putting freshly washed mugs into the cooler. “Barely a curve on you.”
Marilee bit her tongue and continued wiping down the bar. She could always kick the more-fat-lumps-than-actual-curves-bitch’s ass in the parking lot. After she got paid for the night. And what a night it had been, with table after table of customers. Friday and Saturday nights usually were busy, but in the three weeks she’d been in the little Texas town, she’d never seen it so packed. Her feet ached from the constant walking and standing, and a headache was starting to form from the concentrated effort it took to block out the thoughts of the people surrounding her. She was normally much better at blocking, but everything about this night was off. Especially the man still sitting in the corner watching her intently, the steak he’d ordered untouched. “Trust me, he’s not my type.”
“You can go on home, Brenda,” Hank said, strolling behind the bar. “Tell that man over there we’re closing up, would ya?”
“Love to.” Brenda pushed up her boobs, sucked in her gut, and sauntered over to the table, her hips whipping back and forth so fast, it was a wonder she managed to move forward.
“You know that gangster?” Hank asked, his tone indicating his disapproval.
Marilee glanced up from the bar to see Mr. Tall, Dark, and Bloodthirsty following Brenda out the door. He looked back at her and that near-grin he was good at doing showed itself. Marilee’s heart slammed into her throat. Brenda was a bitch, but if he so much as touched one hair on her head he would meet his maker before the night was through.
So dramatic. Which maker do you refer to? I already killed my sire.
Marilee gasped as the vampire’s voice registered clearly in her head. She’d picked up on people’s thoughts before, but never had anyone spoken directly to her through her mind, let alone read it.
Relax, little vampire killer. The redhead will not be harmed.
“Marilee!”
She jerked, and turned to see Hank’s irritated scowl. “Where is your head, tonight, girl?” He slammed the cash drawer closed and started counting out bills. “Here.”
Marilee took the small wad of bills he handed her and frowned. She didn’t need to count it to know she was about to get really upset. “This isn’t what we agreed to, Hank.”
“That’s the thing about working under the table,” he said with a smug grin. “Who you gonna complain to?”
“You son of a—”
“Watch it, girl.” He fanned the bills in his hand. “That tone might guarantee you don’t see another dime.”
Marilee’s hands tightened into fists. “I’m leaving town tomorrow, Hank. I don’t give a damn whether you employ me another night o
r not.”
“Oh, just skipping out, are we?” He chuckled. “Wasn’t even going to tell me, and you wonder why I don’t give you the amount we agreed to? Face it, you’re not the best waitress. You know the drinks, but your customer service skills are seriously lacking.”
“I had an off night.” And yours is about to get even worse if you don’t pay me right.
“Whatever. I got several complaints about you. In fact, I could have lost business tonight thanks to you.”
Marilee rolled her eyes. “You don’t have any competition in this town, Hank. Your drunks aren’t going anywhere else. Just pay me what we agreed on and you’ll never see me again.”
“You haven’t earned the amount we agreed on.” He leaned against the bar, his arms folded as his beady eyes roamed down her body. “But there’s still time for you to earn the difference.”
Marilee’s stomach rolled as his intent dawned. “Hank, there’s not enough money in the world for what you’re wanting from me.”
His eyes darkened. “I know your type. You come around looking for under the table work because you’re running from something. You either knocked off a convenience store, ran a scam, or poisoned your cheating boyfriend. I don’t know what you did and I don’t care.” He stepped closer. “You need money to leave with, and there’s only one way you’re going to get it.”
“Prying it out of your cold, dead hands?”
He stepped back, swallowed hard at the implication, but the moment of fear was fleeting. Understandably. His six foot one bulky frame dwarfed her five foot seven slender form. “A little scrap of a girl like you can’t do much damage.”
He stepped forward again and trailed a finger over her shoulder, down the length of her arm. “Now are you going to earn the money or not?”
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