BLOOD EMERALD
by
AMBER ANTHONY
TORRID BOOKS
www.torridbooks.com
Published by
TORRID BOOKS
www.torridbooks.com
An Imprint of Whiskey Creek Press LLC
Copyright © 2018 by Amber Anthony
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
ISBN: 978-1-68299-268-5
Credits
Cover Artist: Kelly Martin
Editor: Dave Field
Printed in the United States of America
WHAT THEY ARE SAYING ABOUT
BLOOD RISING
“Amber Anthony is not only a good writer; she must've had some vampire experiences of her own. I have read a few vampire stories in the past, but this was the first one to ever really get my attention with its truly creative plot and interesting characters. Who ever thought that a vampire would have a code of ethics? – never get emotionally involved with a human. The writer did and it works extremely well to make the story gel in my mind. Matt Brenner, the protagonist, realizes he has much more to live for than just immortality. This is a must read for vampire romance readers.” - R.C. Goodreads,
“The Author has on offer a plot both interesting and good—the subplot is more so. Some of the details left me curious, giving me trouble finding a place to stop. The ending has quite the unexpected twist, as well! I have to admit that although I like Matthew and Catherine, my favorite character is Richard Hiatt, and I'd love to see him featured in his own novel. This book has what you’re looking for in the genre - characters with a past, vamps, romance, and an engaging plot. It reminds you that vampires are not to be messed with - or are they? Catherine and Matthew have a lot of potential, and much to explore. If this book has more than one follow-up, I look forward to them!” – L.M., Amazon
“Sexy hot vamps, a dark secret and a fatal attraction. What more can you want? Well written and a captivating story, leaves you wanting more.” – J.K.R., Amazon, UK
Other Books by Author Available at Torrid Books:
www.torridbooks.com
Blood Rising
Dedication
To chance meetings and those who said ‘Yes’.
Chapter 1
Rick Hiatt got no rest on the jet. No donor on the flight, so he fed on that low fat, vegan, homogenized, bagged blood he hated. That wasn’t the only reason he was edgy. He recounted the ballroom disaster in Barranquilla, Colombia at The Lust for Life vampire-exclusive resort. Initially, the event had been staged like any of the Saturday night grand buffets. The dining Vamps bid fiercely for the thirty seats; it was the crème de la crème of the sanguine new age. These jaded high rollers found even Rick’s exotic BDSM clubs so last week.
The chandeliers were dimmed before the undead entered the room. For the right price, they would find a god or goddess in every corner, tanned and plumped by a month of the sun and richest foods. The sixty donors, willing to trade their life’s blood for the ecstasy of the vampire’s bite, lounged languidly on leather fainting couches awaiting that orgasmic thrill. Each of them spent their days on the beach between eating, drinking and receiving the ultimate spa services. Their blood was primed perfectly to sing of oysters and marbled beef, the finest wines and liquors. Their young, tremendously toned bodies were waxed to silky smoothness, leaving only the fragrant hair on their heads. These pampered few were the stable for the resort. They rotated their bodies and blood every fifty-four days to feed the rarified echelon of billionaire vampires. Tonight after “work,” they’d return to their suites and begin the cycle again.
The feedings began with playful tumbles, vampires slipping out of their robes to press living flesh against their tomb-cold bodies. Rick and Adam were invited to be monitors months ago, before the current party drug fracture within the vampire world. They were known for their abilities to handle entitled vamps and jaded donors with firm diplomacy.
Master Adam Lachlan, Rick’s Senior Dom, slipped silently between the fainting couches and the draped walls exchanging nods with Rick. Their gazes met across the room at the first pained murmur. Rick’s reflexes tensed at the male donor’s cry. This was not the expected orgasmic moan, but a visceral shriek. The feasting heads down over their meals lurched at the irregular sound, and then rose in peculiar unison.
Rick saw unbridled blood lust in newly turned vamps, but never, never in experienced vamps, and never in such great numbers. Rick and Adam were trapped in the center of the melee, unable to aid the wounded humans. Back to back, they were barely able to protect each other. The transformed monstrosities acted out their carnage with killings, which began as sexual eroticism and ended in extreme mutilation. When the last mortal heart silenced, they turned on each other, and the weaker undead fell prey to their stronger brethren.
Rick and Adam deflected and outmaneuvered countless attacks. When balancing on blood-slicked marble became overwhelming, they fell to their knees and continued to fight. Adam’s lamentation rose to Valhalla. Thrown back onto his elbows, Rick marveled when Adam’s spine undulated and lengthened. He extended each leg and turned it outward as it muscled and formed claws. His hands clenched and rested at his hips as wings extended from his back. His arms lengthened into front legs, muscular and long, each ending in three vicious claws. He dropped his head as great curved horns grew from his skull. As his neck lengthened and his gaze swept the ballroom, a mace-like tail unfurled. Within seconds, he transformed into a Fire Dragon. Adam’s cool Nordic looks warmed to ombré shades of carmine and gold. To Rick’s amazement, the beast rolled his shoulders, releasing his leathery wings, testing their flexibility.
The Dragon’s head swayed. His gaze swept the ballroom, seeking and finding Veronique Moreau. She was the Queen of Hearts who masterminded this carnage. She stood at a railing watching coolly from the mezzanine, totally unmoved by the plight of the mutilated dead. For a moment, Rick expected the creature to flame her, frankly hoping he would.
With a definitive stomp of one great foot, the beast arched his long neck. Before Rick could regain his senses, the Dragon crouched low, and with his snout rolled Rick onto his broad, armored back. His great wings spread, fanning the scent of brimstone through the ballroom. Massive feet plodded over the dead toward the balcony. His claws balanced on the precipice. Then, with a bunching of his powerful haunches, the beast leapt to the sky. His wings caught the air, beat against the down draft, and soared above the treetops. Rick tucked his head down and held fast to the scaled neck of the ancient creature as they rose above the coastline and headed for the Andes mountain peaks.
* * * *
Now, in the safety of his elegantly appointed corporate jet, Rick’s hand still shook imperceptibly as he held the Baccarat tumbler filled with blood. He had survived a lot in his five hundred years. The perennially handsome former Peer of the Realm had fought in many battles, and had prevailed in them all. Nothing had prepared him for what he witnessed this weekend.
Veronique Moreau was a darkly evil Princess since the day she
was turned, centuries ago. Combine that nature with the kind of money she raked in when she developed the vamp party drug, Humanité, and it produced the lethal combination they witnessed in Barranquilla.
Rick couldn’t see the appeal himself. Why would anyone become a vamp and then take a drug to pass as human a few hours at a time? It wasn’t like he missed the ability to cavort in sunlight. He found nighttime pursuits much more pleasurable. Still, the vamps who used it loved it. Now that Veronique had increased its addictive properties, it had become a threat rather than an annoyance.
He and Matt Brenner, his business partner and best friend, banned the stuff from their clubs once its addictive qualities became known. They created a BDSM empire catering to Vampire-Doms and willing donor-subs who traded sexual ecstasy for blood. They hadn’t built their entertainment mega conglomerate on vamp or human misery, and they didn’t intend to start now.
Their nightclubs—both legit and clandestine—began as speakeasies, and morphed into S&M playgrounds in the 1940s. Now they enjoyed an incarnation as BDSM clubs. He and Matt’s blended talents proved phenomenally successful. Matt managed security, personnel, and the physical plants, and Rick managed guest relations, business, and finances.
One set of clubs grew to more than eighty in cities all over the world. If one vamp required several donors, a million vamps required legions, and they all needed a home. Little by little, Consort Group became Consort Group International, or C.G.I. They expanded their reach into other areas until now Matt and Rick owned a diverse number of businesses.
The two were as close as brothers, and Rick knew Veronique had a score to settle with his best friend and business partner. In her current egomaniacal state, God knew what she might do, either to Matt or to his new bride. Rick decided he needed to be warned.
He picked up the ringing phone, “Hiatt.”
Matt’s buoyant voice sang back to him. “Hey, old man, the Captain said you called. What up?”
“Where are you?”
“Juneau, you know?”
“Well, that’s delightful, I’m sure.” Rick replied tersely then dialed it back. “You and Cat must be making the most of that yacht. You sound relaxed.”
Matt hesitated. “You don’t.” Rick could hear Matt’s concern over a few thousand miles. “What’s going on?”
“I just left a bloodbath orchestrated by Veronique.” Rick heard a swell of loud music and a navigation horn. A door slammed, followed by quiet.
“What the fuck has she done now?”
“Have you ever scented a donor’s fear as some hopped-up vamp tore open his chest?”
There was a moment of dead silence. “Ronnie orchestrated that? How?”
“Humanité. She altered the formula to make it more addictive.”
“She did what?”
“This new formula, when it wears off, removes all restraint.” Despair sat heavy in Rick’s voice.
“Rick, slow down.”
“You know, Matt, I’ve been proctoring these events for a while. At their wildest, I’ve never seen anything like this. We were at Lust for Life, Ronnie was the hostess. It started like any Saturday night. Then, at first bite, they went savage.” Rick’s voice choked, “Ronnie stood there like some Ring Master at the Devil’s Circus.”
Another long pause. “Did Adam make it out okay?”
“Physically, he’s okay. Mentally, he’s up in the mountains trying to regroup.”
“Is that the safest place for a man who’s just gone through this?”
Rick hesitated. “It’s probably the best place for a Fire Dragon who hasn’t shifted in over two hundred years.”
“Whoa, he what?”
“If he hadn’t shifted, I wouldn’t be talking to you.”
“Do you want us to come home, Rick? Because we will…”
“No. Ronnie’s lost her senses. Gas up that yacht and head for open waters. Do it quickly and quietly, and keep an eye out.”
“You think she’s coming after me?”
“I’m afraid she might go after Cat.”
“Should we hunker down and prepare for it?”
Rick heard the tremor in Matt’s voice. “I have no idea. You know how spiteful she is, but she may have other things to worry about right now. As soon as I get Council clearance, I’ll do what I can to terminate her.”
“Rick, if you need me, I’ll come back. Whatever you need.”
“I know you will, dear boy. Give my love to your beautiful bride.”
Rick cradled the receiver and fell back in his seat. He let out a long sigh and shrank into the upholstery. If word of this gets out, vampires will be hunted to extinction.
* * * *
The Tesla P100D was parked in his private hangar at the airport. Occasionally the nights were his alone, and he savored time to drive and think. With this car, he didn’t even have to drive. His carry-on bag hit the trunk with a thud, and it wasn’t long before he was out on the 101. At two in the morning, traffic was relatively light, so he let the car drive itself and turned his thoughts to what should have been an ecstatic feeding in a dream setting.
Rick was an acknowledged expert Dom. He knew donor-subs experienced sexual euphoria as a result of a well-given bite. It drove mortal subs back time and again. Male or female, they craved Rick’s discipline and longed for his famous fang-on-flesh feeding. The fact that Veronique had managed to corrupt a beautiful symbiosis was disturbing. Well, that and the fact it put all vampires in imminent danger.
When Veronique and her psycho vamp sire, Papa Moreau, threatened the life of Matt’s ladylove, Rick took care of Papa personally. He thought Papa’s termination would inhibit Ronnie’s criminal inclinations. Obviously, he was wrong. With Papa out of the way, Veronique was completely off the chain, and Rick laid the blame for the new menace right at his own door. He should have taken her out along with her sire.
Now Matt was off honeymooning, and even as he and Cat were bonding, Rick seriously needed his best friend’s help. Tonight Rick was also without Adam to manage The Gaoler. So there went Rick’s right hand and his left. Have I ever felt lower? This was no pleasant slip into chaos; he felt every blow.
Thankfully, Matt’s deputies for his responsibilities at C.G.I. were taking care of business. Rick couldn’t begrudge them a learning curve; he and Matt ran things together for almost a hundred years. A replacement for Adam was more problematic. He not only managed their flagship BDSM club; their member donors and vamps had specific and particular relationships with him. For the past twenty-five years or so, Rick and Matt were happy to let Adam handle it. Neither donors nor vamps were willing to trust their kink to just anyone, you don’t change dicks in the middle of a screw unless you specify first.
Rick worked himself into a fit of frustration by the time he pressed the remote on the garage barrier and turned into C.G.I.’s indoor parking. Agitated, he took the ramp’s corner too quickly, his tires squealing in response. What the fuck am I going to do about Veronique and her drug-crazed vampire freaks? She is making the vamp community far too conspicuous, and it…
Rick swerved into his reserved parking space inattentively, just as a waif-faced specter emerged from the shadows. He braked in panic when the headlights illuminated her swirl of flaming hair. The car jarred to a halt, and Rick was out the door before it stopped rocking.
“God’s bones! Are you trying to fucking kill yourself? Have you fallen into madness?” As a vampire, he had no adrenalin to surge, but he shook anyway. Exasperated, he ran a hand through his thick caramel brown hair and drew in several unnecessary calming breaths.
She shook too. She had retreated into the darkness, back against the rough concrete wall to get out of his way. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
Rick searched her face. She seemed an apparition with her pale, porcelain skin, jade eyes that dominated her entire face, and that mass of titian hair. Recognition dawned on him. “Wait a minute, I know you.” He pointed to her. He always thought she looked far too you
ng and delicate to be a donor. “You’re Matt’s donor. The hanger-on always dawdling in the lounge. You’re…” He snapped his fingers trying to drudge up the name.
“Anna.” Her voice was melodious, and filled with embarrassment.
“Yeah, Anna.” He agreed with a scowl. “We banned you. What are you doing here?”
“Matt banned me. That’s why I’m in the garage. I knew where your parking space was, and I…”
“So you thought you’d stand in it till I ran you over?” he bellowed melodramatically.
“No. I couldn’t get into the club, and I couldn’t get up to the Consort offices. I have to see Matt, so I…”
“You’re banned. We have nothing more to say to you.”
“If it meant vampire lives, would you speak with me?”
“That’s pretty desperate.” Rick’s whiskey brown eyes searched her face closely.
Her voice grew more strident. “I need to talk to Matt.”
Rick shook his head, close to pity for this mortal girl. “Look, Matt just got married.”
“Married! Matt?” Her tea-rose complexion paled to near vampire transparency.
“Hitched. Jumped the broom. On his honeymoon as we speak. So, if you’re really concerned about our safety, tell me. If this is a ploy to get Matt back, it’s been done before. Which is it?”
Hot tears filled her vividly celadon eyes. She swallowed hard. “It is about your safety. Though why I should care at this point, I don’t know.”
Rick took a long beat, assessing her. He opened the door and slid into the car with a gruff, “Get in. You have two minutes.”
Seemingly defeated, Anna slid into the passenger seat. “I’ve been out of the life for like, what, a year?”
Rick’s eyes narrowed, “While you’re young, dear, get to the point.” He inhaled deeply. “You been smoking a little weed tonight?”
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