Antoinette cringed at her words, her hands grasping the air, searching for her daughter, but the woman held them apart.
Tears streamed down Antoinette’s face. “Please don’t hurt my baby,” she begged. “She’s only a little girl. She’s never hurt anyone.”
“That all depends on what your husband decides to do,” she said.
“I’ll do whatever you want,” he said. “Just don’t hurt them.”
The grip around Antoinette’s neck released and she fell to the floor. She scooped their daughter into her arms and crawled with her into the furthest corner of the room. “Sebastian,” she cried, “what’s happened to you?”
“Antoinette, please...” he reached out toward them, but his wife cowered in fear. He searched his daughter’s face. Whether she’d have recognized him before this terrible thing happened to him, he didn’t know, but she certainly didn’t now. There was no recognition in her dark eyes, only confusion and terror.
His heart shattered into a thousand pieces.
With his anguish, the dark need he’d experienced after he woke rose up inside. He became aware of a steady beat filling the room—no, two beats, one running slightly faster and fainter than the other. The pulse in Antoinette’s throat thrummed like a tiny butterfly caught beneath her skin and suddenly the scent of unshed blood filled his nostrils, perfuming the room like jasmine on a balmy night.
His breathing grew ragged and the musculature of his jaw changed, thrusting forward. Raising a hand to his mouth, he touched the sharp points of his teeth. His skin split and he snatched his hand away. A deep cut marred the pad of his finger. Beneath his gaze, the wound closed, healing before his eyes, leaving behind a smear of cold, dark blood.
Isabelle shrieked and clung to her mother’s skirts. Antoinette pushed the girl behind her, her eyes widening in terror as she stared at the thing that had once been her husband.
“Sustantivo!” she cried. Vampire!
Her word pierced through his soul and he stumbled back. Was she right? Was that what this woman-thing had made him?
Desperate, Sebastian reached out to them, “No, please, I would never hurt you.”
The woman-creature laughed, “Only a fool would believe such a thing!”
He rounded on her, fury burning like a brush-fire through him. Launching, he soared through the air like an animal, landing on his assailant. With no more than a bat of her hand, she swiped him away. Sebastian flew through the air and hit the wall with a crash. Part of the wall crumbled down around his ears but he felt no pain.
Gathering himself, he attacked again. Sebastian’s fingers clawed at her hateful face but she simply shoved him away. His family’s screams rang in his ears, bringing his attacks to a halt.
The female vampire laughed again. “You cannot hurt me, no matter how often you try. We’re not allowed to kill one of our own, it’s written in our laws.”
“I’m not the same as you,” he growled.
“Yes, you are. Leave with me now, accept the new life I’ve bestowed upon you, and I will leave your family alone. Continue to fight me and I’ll not only make them my next meal, I’ll make sure the child is your first.”
The memory of that thumping beat, how enticing he’d found it, made him clench his fists, in an effort to control himself. Sebastian’s fangs protruded once again and his daughter’s whimper reached his ears.
“I’ll not hurt them,” he said, his voice forced.
“No? Do you really believe that?”
In his heart, he would rather be dead than cause either his wife or his daughter harm, but now something else lived inside him, something that hadn’t existed before. Could he control the darkness or would it eventually control him? Was staying with his family worth risking their death?
His presence only further deepened his family’s fear. What was he to them now, as much a monster as the woman—the vampire—who had changed him? He would never bring them any good.
“I’ll leave with you,” he whispered, the words tearing him apart to say. “Promise their safety and I’ll d0 whatever you want.”
The vampire smiled, her eyes lighting in triumph.
“Sebastian?” His wife’s tentative call snatched his attention.
He turned to her and she lifted a hand toward him. Anguish filling him, he understood her gesture. She had pushed down her fear to say goodbye.
Sebastian went to her.
He wrapped his arms around his family, though they trembled beneath his cold touch. “I love you both and always will,” he told them.
“What’s happened to you, Sebastian?” she said, disbelief and shock clear in her voice.
“The devil. The devil has taken me.”
She suppressed a sob and held their daughter closer.
“Remember me as I was,” he told Antoinette. “If Isabelle remembers this night, don’t let her learn it was her father who terrified her. Don’t let this be the only memory she has of me.”
“What you are now isn’t her father.”
“No. Now, I am nothing to nobody.”
He bent to her and she allowed him to kiss her warm, soft mouth. He laced his fingers in her sleek hair, never wanting to let go. But the constant thump of unshed blood teased and tempted him and he knew he must.
Sebastian broke away and then dropped a kiss on the top of his daughter’s head, trying to commit the softness of her hair and her sweet scent to memory.
This time, he was going to war and never coming back.
“This is all most touching,” the evil woman sneered. “But we must leave.”
He straightened. “Very well.”
With one last longing glance at his family, he joined the creature who had made him what he was, the thing who had taken everything he’d ever loved.
He stepped out into the night, the statuesque vampire by his side. The chirp of cicadas filled the air, their call like music to his ears. Somewhere in the distance the smell of human blood hung on the air and a hunger rose inside of him. He would kill tonight and perhaps, for many nights to come.
“You’ll remember my name; Madeline,” the vampire spoke from beside him. “It will be the one constant you carry with you for the rest of eternity. I am your maker and you’ll always remain mine.”
Sebastian didn’t know how long it would take, but one day he swore he’d be free of this demon. How many years would pass before he would no longer have anything she could threaten him with? That his freedom meant watching his family grow old and die hurt him in some deep, inexplicable way.
However long it took, he would find retribution for the life she’d taken away, for the family she’d destroyed.
He would be the vengeful vampire.
Please continue reading for the first ten chapters of the urban fantasy novel, featuring Sebastian and Madeline, Alone.
ALONE
Chapter One
The day Serenity Hathaway came to view as the lowest point in her life, also turned out to be the day everything changed.
She’d been fired.
In many ways, losing her job shouldn’t have come as a shock; she’d been hanging onto her position for quite some time. Getting fired wasn’t her fault—but the fact didn’t make her any less terrified of going home to face her husband, Jackson, the ultimate cause of her sudden unemployment.
That had been early afternoon and she’d been walking the streets of downtown Los Angeles since leaving the office, too scared to go home.
The late November breeze chilled her skin and the last of the light slowly bled out of the LA skyline. Her ribs throbbed and the pain in her lower back made her walk with a hunch. Pressing her palm into the small of her back, she moved like an old woman instead of the twenty-eight year old she actually was.
Serenity believed she had control over the pain, envisioning it as a different sense, like sound or color, but today her meditation failed. When she took a break and tried to pee, the pain in her kidneys overwhelmed her and she passed out in the bathro
om stall.
Upon regaining consciousness, her boss demanded to know where she’d been for the past two hours. Too embarrassed—too humiliated—to tell him the truth, she lied and told him a late night caused an impromptu nap. He gave her a look containing a mix of disbelief, frustration and anger. Clearly, he didn’t believe her. She’d gone AWOL on the job one too many times and he told her to clear her desk.
A lump constricted her throat and she fought to swallow. The backs of her eyes burned, but she was out of tears. Long ago, she’d learned crying didn’t get her anywhere.
Their only income came from her job. Serenity supported her husband while he worked on a novel. If not for Jackson’s refusal to work, he would never allow her to have a job. After all, he denied her everything else. She had no family left, except for a step-father who’d passed her on to Jackson for him to continue the good work he’d started. Any school friends had given up trying to keep in contact with her.
This afternoon wandering the streets, terrified to go home, was the closest to freedom she’d experienced in many years.
Pain wrapped around her ribs, speared deep into her spine and threatened to cripple her. Serenity stopped on the corner of East and 3 Street to rummage in her bag. She pulled out a bottle of water, a packet of aspirin and another of paracetamol. She pushed two of each tablet through the foil backing, dropping the small white discs into her palm. Something else she had learned over the years; the two medications worked better together.
Except they didn’t work that afternoon.
Why hadn’t someone noticed her slumped in the locked stall, or checked on her when they realized she’d been missing for hours?
Her colleagues were apathetic toward her. Who wanted a moody, silent associate who never attended any social functions and regularly called in sick? Serenity didn’t blame them for finally losing their patience.
People trickled from the office buildings surrounding her. The tourist crowd had retreated to their hotels after a day of sightseeing and now the residents of LA were leaving their workplaces to head home.
Serenity glanced at her watch. Almost six; Jackson expected her home in the next half hour. Her stomach twisted into a knot of anxiety. Could she get away with not telling him and pretend to leave for work as usual the next day? She toyed with the idea briefly. Jackson called her at work several times a day and he’d discover the truth soon enough. Even if he didn’t, he’d known her the whole of her adult life and would see through her in a moment. Lying to him would only make matters worse.
A coil of anger stirred inside her—at her boss for putting her in this position, at Jackson for controlling her life, but mainly at herself for allowing him to do so.
She wasn’t stupid, Serenity knew what Jackson did to her was wrong. Yet, she always made excuses for him—she wound him up, he didn’t realize how badly he hurt her or, her old favorite, he’d change.
In truth, the excuses hid her fear.
Married to Jackson since the age of eighteen, she had no idea what life would be like on her own. A life where she didn’t have to watch out for the next fist was completely foreign to her.
Jackson’s reaction to her leaving terrified Serenity. He had no qualms about giving her a swift elbow in the kidney if she burned dinner; she didn’t want to imagine what he’d do if she told him she was leaving.
Serenity stopped on the edge of the sidewalk and waited for the lights to change. People gathered either side, closing in, and suddenly her head swam. Despite the cool evening, beads of sweat slicked her palms and her cheeks flushed. She stared in panic at the people flanking her, professional men and women in suits with their perfect lives. Her heart thumped painfully, as though the organ had swollen to twice its size and pounded against the inside of her rib-cage.
She couldn’t stand it, so many bodies pressing on all sides, talking loudly on mobile phones she couldn’t see. Part of her believed they were talking about her, laughing about her to the faceless people on the other end of the line. They gazed at her, judging, wondering how such a pathetic creature was even out here on her own.
Serenity realized she wasn’t going to wait for the lights to change. Stepping out into the road jolted her bruised ribs. Bright sparks of pain speared through her, making her gasp for breath.
Someone blasted their horn but she barely took notice. Instead, she half-stumbled, half-ran across the street.
People stared at her, curiosity and concern creasing their eyes. One woman put out her hand as Serenity passed, “Are you okay?” she asked, but Serenity shrugged off the kind woman and ran.
Blind to everything around her, she pushed past people, knocking shoulders and elbows as she went. Shouts of protest followed her, but the blood rushing through her ears muffled the sound.
“Hey, crazy lady!” one man shouted as she stomped on his foot in her effort to get by. Her heart raced and pressure built up inside her head, as if she teetered on the edge of something terrible.
Serenity ducked into an alley. Security lights illuminated the unoccupied space. Large commercial bins stood against the walls and Serenity sank between them, seeking shelter amid their tall plastic sides. She bent over, ignoring the pain, and rested her hands on her thighs. With her head hung, she gasped for breath. Her lower back screamed in agony. Jackson always hit where it hurt the worst and in places no one saw—her kidneys, ribs and the bottom of her spine.
Just a panic attack, she told herself, as the certainty she was about to die faded away with the adrenaline. Nothing to worry about. You’ve had them before.
Slowly, her breathing returned to normal and her heart lost its trippy beat. She’d begun straightening up when the solid weight of a hand touched her shoulder.
Serenity shrieked and leaped away, jarring her poor ribs once again.
“I’m sorry,” a man’s voice said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“By scaring me half to death!” Quickly, anger replaced the fear and she looked up.
The most beautiful man stood in front of her. Well over six feet tall, dark wavy hair fell across his forehead and curled around his broad throat. The square jaw and wide, generous mouth of a catalogue model graced his features, but his eyes blew her away. She did a double take and something deep inside jolted, like a flick back in time. Despite the darkness, his eyes were almost a fluorescent, bright green.
Green? Not yellow? Hadn’t they been yellow?
She pushed the strange thought away.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. Did she hear an accent, something European? “You seemed to be in distress. Perhaps I can help?”
“No. I’m fine. Please, just leave me alone.”
The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He stepped forward, hand held out.
He fixated those amazing eyes on her, “At least let me help you to your feet.”
She stared at his hand in mistrust, but couldn’t help glancing at the rest of him. Well-dressed in a smart woolen overcoat and expensive shoes, he gave the impression of someone of importance, of someone who knew his place in the world.
He was everything Serenity wanted to be.
His hand was large, strong and inviting. He certainly didn’t look like a lunatic.
Could this man do much worse than what I’ve got waiting at home?
The anger melted and she found herself incapable of resisting. Instead, she wanted to take his hand, touch the soft, strangely pale skin. Serenity reached out and slipped her small palm into his.
She gasped and would have pulled away if not for the strength of his hand closing around her own.
Cold. He was so cold.
It wasn’t just his temperature catching her breath. His touch fired every synapse in her body and goose bumps prickled her skin, her heart stuttering in her chest. Again, her brain jolted like a static discharge realigned her nerve cells. It felt as though someone had reached in and moved parts of her memory around, as if she’d experienc
ed something she should forget. Black blobs clouded her vision. Her legs folded and the world swam away.
His arms locked beneath her before she fell, his easy strength holding her, and she came back to the surface.
“Sorry,” she managed, embarrassed. “I don’t know...”
She tailed off, unsure of what to say.
“What were you running from?” he asked.
Serenity glanced up at him. Concern softened his eyes and the sight melted her; he was the first person in a long time to show her any kind of compassion.
“Myself,” she whispered. “I was running from myself.”
The Vengeful Vampire Page 2