Change in the Light: Shapeshifter Romance (Lightbearer Book 4)

by Tami Lund

  Eight months and almost no contact later, I was convinced my sister was stuck in a life she hadn’t bargained for … or worse.

  My assailants moved forward, crowding me. I darted a glance from side to side, trying to judge the best means of escape: the even darker dead end of the alley in which we all stood or the crowded street that seemed a million miles away. And to get to the busy intersection, I’d have to go through my two would-be attackers. Actually, given how busy the street was—it was St. Patrick’s Day weekend, after all—it shocked the hell out of me that no one had wandered down this alley to interrupt us yet.

  I considered screaming for help just as my gaze fell onto a door almost directly across from me, carved into the brick wall of the building making up the north side of this narrow passageway. If memory served from my earlier walk through the area, it was a bar, an Irish pub. Which meant it would be crammed with people drinking green beer and eating corned beef and cabbage.

  Perfect. All I had to do was get there.

  Taking a deep breath, I launched myself right, as if I meant to run toward the end of the alley, and as my unwanted guests instinctively mimicked my action, I shunted left, bolting around them and rushing toward the door.

  Which was locked.

  “No, no, no,” I shouted as I beat on the unyielding steel. “This is so not fair!”

  Pockmarked Guy and his ugly friend both stopped in their tracks and turned toward me, triumphant looks crawling across their faces.

  “Shit. Come on, somebody hear me! I deserve a break already!” I kept beating on the door, despite my hand going numb and the very real likelihood that no one inside that undoubtedly loud bar could hear the sound.

  The door flew open just as my two non-friends pounced. I leaped out of the way and basically fell into their clutches, although I had enough sense about me to notice the man standing in the doorway, watching us with a far more bored expression than I would expect from someone who had stumbled upon a scene where it was pretty damn obvious the girl was in distress.

  “Mind your own business,” Ugly Guy said. “This doesn’t concern you.”

  “A little help here,” I countered.

  “Shut your mouth,” Pockmarked Guy said, speaking to me.

  “Go on, close the door,” the first guy said. “We’re just having a little fun.”

  “She doesn’t look like what you’re doing is particularly fun,” the man standing in the shadowy doorway said. “Actually, she looks rather pissed off.”

  His voice was like silk. He had an accent that was absolutely not American. Irish or Scottish, maybe? I had no idea, but I sure as hell wanted him to keep talking. He could be a phone sex operator. I could listen to him for hours.

  Why am I going on about something so trivial, in the middle of a pretty damned desperate situation?

  “I said, mind your own business,” Pockmarked Guy said, and he attempted to shove the door closed.

  The man with the sexy-as-sin accent lifted his arm and flattened his hand against the smooth surface, stopping the door from closing. He didn’t appear to be exerting any effort, although it was admittedly dark and hard to see.

  Shit. Don’t tell me this guy was a vampire. Don’t tell me a freaking vampire was about to save me from being assaulted by two of the ugliest men I’ve come across in my life. And as I was raised in a small town in the middle of Illinois, I had to admit, I’ve come across some damn ugly folk.

  “You know what? On second thought, maybe I’m better off taking my chances on—” A firm, dry, and slightly cool hand wrapped around my arm and jerked me toward the door. A moment later, I stood inside a raucous, vibrant bar, my back against the closed steel door. I pressed my palms to the smooth surface and tried to gather my wayward wits. Someone beat on the door from the other side, and the man—vampire?—who saved me gently pulled me away, leading me down a hall, past signs indicating “lasses” and “lads” and into the main part of the bar.

  “How the hell did you hear me beating on the door with all this racket in here?” I asked.

  “I have exceptional senses.” He had to turn toward me and practically yell his response, because I sure as hell didn’t have exceptional hearing. Shit. He was a vampire.

  The pub was a narrow piece of real estate, divided by a half wall so that tables and the bar sat on one side, while the other was reserved for darts and pool. There were so many bodies crammed into this place, the darts had undoubtedly been packed away for the day.

  “Are you hungry?” that sexy, accented voice murmured next to my ear, causing me to jerk away so I could get a better look at the voice’s owner.

  Holy hotness. Was this guy for real? Seriously, I’d never seen something so perfect outside of the Internet, and all those perfect people were famous movie stars or rock gods and probably Photoshopped to hell and back.

  But not this guy. He stood before me, as real as my decision to come to Chicago to find my sister. Dark, curling hair started in a stark widow’s peak and then swept away from a face containing chocolate-brown eyes under heavy, black brows and a firm jawline covered with thick stubble. Hell, I couldn’t even drag my gaze lower to check out the chest, the thighs, the goods. I was too transfixed by his beautiful face.

  “You can’t be real.” I murmured the words, not actually intending to say them out loud.

  He smiled, giving me a glimpse of longer-than-normal canines and reminding me that not only were vampires real, but this guy probably was one. It helped, at least momentarily, to rein in my roaring lust.

  “Listen, I appreciate you saving me from those assholes, but I gotta get going.”

  “Those assholes are still out there, you know. Very likely hovering at the entrance, waiting for you to do exactly what you intend to do.”

  God, that accent. How the hell could nothing more than a voice saying very non-sexy words stir up my juices like this? Although, to be fair, the voice emanated from an incredibly handsome face, and a quick, sweeping glance told me the body was as glorious as the face and voice. No wonder I was so turned on I was probably flushed.

  He apparently took my non-response as acceptance of his theory, because he wrapped his hand around my arm and guided me through the crowded pub to where a big, burly guy with a thick, ginger beard sat on a stool, standing guard over a narrow wooden staircase. With the barest of nods, the guy unlatched a metal chain and my rescuer and I headed upstairs.

  “What are you doing with me?” My fear of vampires, of becoming a blood courtesan, overcame my annoying attraction to the guy, and I tried to tug my arm out of his steel-like grasp.

  “Taking you upstairs, where it’s far more quiet. I am not fond of crowds.”

  At the top of the stairs was a second dining area, with only a few occupied tables surrounding a bored-looking bartender standing behind an ornately carved wooden bar. She perked up at the sight of me and my new friend, and I felt a surprising rush of jealousy at the way her gaze roved over his person.

  “You didn’t answer me when I asked if you were hungry,” Tall, Dark, and Handsome commented as he led me to an unoccupied table tucked into a corner, far away from the other patrons in the room. The bartender hurried toward us with a menu in her hand, and I swear a few buttons on her tuxedo shirt had come undone since we first stepped into the room.

  “And you haven’t told me your name,” I countered.

  “Camden Devlan. You can call me Cam.”

  “Nice to meet you, Cam.”

  He smiled, a slow, small smile, as if he found something—or someone—amusing. “And you are...”

  “Anya Sinclair.” I blew out a breath and turned my focus to the bartender, who dropped a menu in front of me and offered Cam a million-watt smile.

  “Hello,” she said, dragging out the o and batting her lashes. “Something to drink?”

  “Wine,” Cam said. “The best cab you have.”

  “Of course.” She practically breathed the words. “Anything else?”

  His gaze
flicked to me, the amusement still there. “Why don’t you give us a moment to look over the menu?”

  Disappointment dragged down her features as she nodded and headed back to the bar.

  “What if I don’t like wine?” I asked as soon as she left. “What if I don’t like to drink at all?”

  “Do you?”

  “What?”

  “Drink?”

  I cast my gaze sideways, certain he could tell if I was lying, although I had no idea if that was really a vampire trait. Actually, come to think of it, I was still unclear whether he even was one.

  “Sometimes. I’m more of a beer drinker, though. Are you a vampire?” The words came out in a rush. Me and my awkwardness in new or uncomfortable situations.

  I hadn’t wanted my sister to go, to give herself over to the vampires. Yet if I were honest with myself, I’d admit she was perfect for the job. Despite growing up on a farm, she had managed to morph into a gorgeous, glamorous woman, whereas I was pretty typical of a farm-raised girl: flat, straight blond hair; cornflower-blue eyes; plump cheeks; an average, slightly athletic body that tended toward more curves than I preferred if I didn’t exercise regularly. Luckily, living on a farm presented itself with plenty of opportunity to get in my daily workout.

  “If you do not care for the wine, I’ll order you a beer. But I’d like you to at least try it. I love wine, and I prefer to drink with a companion. And yes, I am a vampire. I take it that is an issue for you?”

  “It is if you plan to try to turn me into a courtesan. Because I’m not interested.”

  “Duly noted.”

  His facial features didn’t change, nor did his tone sound sarcastic. Was there hidden meaning behind his easy acceptance of my declaration? I’d learned a long time ago not to trust vampires. And now they had my sister. And me, possibly. Cam wasn’t acting suspicious, and he had saved me from who knows what sort of fate out there in that alley, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have his own agenda.

  The bartender returned with a bottle of blood-red wine and two bulbous wine glasses that looked as if they each could hold seven and a half liters of liquid. She showed Cam the label, and after he nodded, she poured a tiny bit of the wine into the glass she’d placed before him. I watched, mesmerized, as he swirled the wine, sniffed it, then tipped it back and drained the contents. He appeared to savor it for a few moments before swallowing.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed, and I found myself swallowing compulsively. Images danced through my head, of steamy kisses, of lips trailing across my cheek to my ear to nibble for a bit before shifting to my neck, where I tilted it just enough to expose the vein there…

  I slapped my hand on the linen cloth hard enough to cause my wineglass to dance. I grabbed it to keep it from falling over, while the bartender gave me a dirty look and Cam paused with his own glass held a few inches from his lips.

  He arched those heavy dark brows and nodded at the bottle in the bartender’s hand. “Did you want to sample it as well?”

  Shaking my head and knowing I was blushing furiously, I said, “No,” and kept my gaze glued to the table, appalled at having such thoughts—about a vampire.

  I hated vampires, had since I was six years old. Fifteen years of loathing did not allow for fantasies just because the guy saved my ass a little while ago. I wasn’t a blood courtesan; I didn’t want anything to do with that lifestyle or the vampires who condoned it. My goal was to find my sister—hopefully alive—and return her to our safe, if mundane, life back home, far away from vampires and their evil ways.

  After a long pause, Cam’s sexy voice murmured, “It’s excellent,” and the bartender fill each glass half full before placing the bottle on the table. “Anya, would you care for some food?”

  “You sure are obsessed with eating.” I thought vampires didn’t need to eat. That’s what my blood was for. No, not my blood.

  His gaze dropped for a moment—was he looking at my lap?—before flicking up to my face. “I do enjoy … eating.”

  “Really? That’s the lamest double entendre I’ve heard. And I grew up on a farm, so I’ve had plenty of exposure to bad jokes about sex.”

  He chuckled and dismissed the bartender, much to her disappointment. “I grew up on a farm as well.”

  Yeah, right. This guy? He was as sexy as Tom Hiddleston, as suave as James Bond.

  Living and working on a farm lent itself more to the hunter-gatherer type, the sort who tucked in his flannel shirt when he had to dress up. That guy would also squash spiders in the middle of the night and was happy sitting around the bonfire with a beer in his hand. I bet Cam regularly wore custom-designed, three-piece suits. He probably attended plays and musicals and dined in fancy restaurants, too … Oh, and drank blood and killed his dinner when he was done with it.

  I couldn’t quite suppress the shudder racking my body.

  Those eyebrows shot up again. “Cold? Or nervous?” He nudged my glass. “Drink. It will help you to relax.”

  “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

  With an obnoxious eye roll, he lifted his glass and leaned away from me, draping one arm over the back of his chair. “Perhaps we should start over. Hello, Anya, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Cam, and I have no preconceived notions whatsoever about you. None. Now, it’s your turn.”

  Glaring at him, I said, “Can you read my mind?”

  “Nope.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe you?”

  “I’m beginning to suspect you won’t believe anything I tell you.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  He didn’t respond and instead signaled to the bartender. She practically leaped over the bar, so eager was she to do his bidding. It was sickening, and not because I disliked the way she drooled over him. Even if he saved me from who knows what out there, he was still a vampire, and they were bad news.

  “Let’s have an order of steak tartar,” he said to her before shifting his focus to me. “This is an excellent vintage; however, if you are not much of a wine drinker, it would be better complimenting the appropriate food. And perhaps a tray of cheeses?” he asked, glancing back at the slack-jawed bartender.

  She looked as if he’d put her under some sort of trance. Had he? Glamour, that’s what vampires called it. I dropped my gaze to the table and vowed not to look at his face again. I had no interest in that crap. He could probably convince me to ask him to make me a blood courtesan if he wanted to.

  I saw him wave at my glass. “Try it. And no, I’m not going to glamour you to make you do my bidding.”

  I glanced up sharply and narrowed my eyes. “So you lied about reading minds?”

  He chuckled and sipped his wine. “No. You are easy to read. So far, I’ve determined you aren’t from the city and someone has filled your head with tales of my kind that make you dislike us, or at the very least, not want to associate with us. I admit, I’m curious as to the rest of your story.”

  He leaned back in his chair and took another drink, as if he fully expected me to spill my guts. I glanced at the wine the bartender had poured for me. Did I dare drink it? I’d only ever tried too-sweet pink wine out of a box before. That was the night I’d ended up naked in the rafters of the barn with Sammy Montgomery. The next morning I woke with straw stuck into places it never, ever should be and a miserable hangover. When I called Sammy, he coldly informed me he’d gotten what he wanted and suggested I lose his number.

  “Try it. It’s truly excellent, and I promise I haven’t done anything to it. If it eases your mind, the bartender is human, and I doubt she would doctor the wine in any way.”

  “I figured she was human by the way she keeps gawking at you.”

  “Gawking?” He arched one black brow, as if he could hear my racing heartbeat. For all I knew, he could.

  “Yeah. I watched her wipe the drool away when she left a minute ago.”

  He laughed. “If all it takes to swoon over me is to be human, why are you not doing the same?”

 
“Because I know better. You guys are bad news. You steal humans away from their friends and family and then you torture them, and when you’re done with your games, you kill them.”

  The amusement fell from his face and he leaned forward with his forearms on the table. “Where did you hear such ridiculous tales?”

  Fearing that glamour business, I focused on my wineglass instead of him, finally lifting it and giving it a try. It left a strange, almost dry sensation in my mouth, but it wasn’t bad at all.

  “I’ve seen it. That’s what happened to my aunt.”

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  Want even more?

  Paranormal Romance by Tami Lund ~

  Lightbearer Series

  First Light (prequel #1)

  Broken Light (prequel #2)

  Into the Light

  Dawning of Light

  Light Beyond the Darkness

  Change in the Light

  Cupid’s Light

  Twisted Fate Series

  Of Love and Darkness

  Prim and Proper Fate

  Prisoner of Fate

  Resist: Anya

  (Part of the Vampire Blood Courtesans Series, written by multiple authors)

  Eternity: Abigail

  (Part of the Awakenings: Blood Courtesans boxed set, written by multiple authors)

  All’s Fair: Love & Warlocks

  Mirror, Mirror

  Gift of the Gods (Part of the 12 Magical Nights of Christmas Anthology)

  Contemporary Romance by Tami Lund ~

  Sexy Bad Neighbor

  Sexy Bad Daddy

  Sexy Bad Boss

  (Sexy Bad Series co-written with Misti Murphy)

  Tough Love Series

  Naked Truth

  Undercover Heat

  Delicious Deception

  Candy Crush

  The Bartender

  Separation Anxiety

  All above books can be purchased through online retailers, with the exception of Separation Anxiety, which is a free read available only on Tami Lund’s website.