Dark Wine at Midnight (A Hill Vampire Novel Book 1)

by Jenna Barwin

  “Er—”

  “Trust me. We can fix this.” Yacov reopened the wound in his wrist and started to pour his blood onto Blanche’s throat and chest.

  “Put the heart back in first.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better if we just staked it?”

  “If we’re going to tell Tig, she will want to question Blanche.”

  Yacov looked thoughtful. “You could be right.” He spread the ribcage, picked up the heart, and dropped it in, then pushed the ribs into place. Blood from his wrist hit the shredded skin, causing it to knit together. The claw marks and other signs of an animal attack were soon erased. “There. Satisfied?”

  He nodded his agreement. Tig might still find animal hair on the body, but it wouldn’t be her focus with the wounds gone. He rolled to his knees and, with some difficulty, stood and adjusted the belt of his bathrobe. He reached for the foyer cabinet, opening the door to retrieve a cable made of silver from among the weapons he kept there. The silver cable was covered in plastic so it wouldn’t hurt his hands. He tried to lift it, but just as quickly dropped it, falling to his knees again, still too weak to handle the deadly metal, even wrapped.

  Yacov retrieved the silver cable and bound Blanche in it. Once she was tied tight, he picked her up. “Do you have a refrigerator we can toss her in? Can’t leave her out here all day.”

  “The game room.” He slowly stood. His head spun a bit, and his feet were unsteady beneath him, but he managed to lead Yacov to the spare refrigerator. Yacov removed the empty trays, folded up Blanche, and stuffed her in, dialing the thermostat cold enough to preserve fresh meat.

  “Yacov,” Henry said, feeling the tug of dawn pull at him. He leaned up against the wall, and Yacov slipped an arm under his, helping him downstairs into the basement when the sharp pain in his side returned. Each slow step reminded him he owed Cerissa his life.

  When they reached the corridor carved from the granite bedrock underneath his house, Henry slipped a key ring out of his bathrobe pocket, fumbling for the one that would open an empty crypt. Yacov caught the keys before they fell from his hand.

  “I’ll call Tig before I sleep,” Yacov said, patting his back reassuringly. “It will all work out.”

  Henry pointed to the right key, and Yacov slid it into the lock of the guest door. “Good sleep, my friend,” he said, handing Henry the ring of keys before disappearing inside.

  After a couple of tries, Henry managed to open the door to his own crypt. Once inside, he threw the deadbolt and leaned with his head on the closed steel door. He couldn’t let Tig find out what Cerissa was; he had to come up with a believable story, a story to protect his beloved from Tig’s inquisitive mind. But how could he explain the unexplainable? He had to find a way. He must.

  The cold metal door provided no answer. His eyelids became heavy, and he pushed away from the door, wishing he had time to change out of his blood-soaked bathrobe.

  “Henry, are you okay?”

  His eyes opened wide. “Cerissa?”

  She stood there in human form, naked and smiling at him. My beloved.

  * * *

  “Flash technology,” she said, pointing to her wristwatch before rushing to put her arms around him. She’d zeroed in on his precise location by tracking her own blood, which now flowed through his veins. “I had to know you were all right.”

  He leaned against her. “Keep your voice down. Yacov is across the hall.”

  She supported him as he stumbled over to a small cot. “Is that what you sleep on?” she asked. “We’ll need a king-size bed at least.” She took a quick glance around the small crypt. “Well, maybe a queen-size bed.”

  He sat down heavily on the cot. “You will not be sleeping here.”

  “Why not?”

  “A well-fed tiger is not a threat. A hungry tiger—”

  “You’re no threat to me.”

  “You cannot be here when I wake. You will leave before then.”

  It was so cute, the way he gave orders—like she was ever blindly following anyone’s orders again. She untied the leather string that held his long black hair. He lay back onto the cot, folding his hands across his chest.

  She moved his hands aside and opened his bathrobe. “Let me check your wounds.”

  The damage was already healing. She ran her fingers across his taut stomach muscles, tracing the pink lines where she’d removed the bullets, to the edge of his silk boxers…

  “Enough,” he said, stopping her hand. “I need to sleep.”

  He wrapped his hand around her head and pulled her close for a soft kiss. Her core warmed with anticipation, but now wasn’t the time.

  She rolled onto her side, her head on his shoulder, and cuddled in close. His arms wrapped around her.

  “Promise me you’ll leave before dusk,” he said groggily.

  She took a deep breath and let it out. “Yes, Henry, I will.”

  She’d humor him this time. Besides, she didn’t want to run into Yacov.

  It was then she noticed it. He’d become very still, frozen, really, as he fell into the deep sleep of the dead. Something fiercely protective swirled within her at his vulnerability. When he awoke, she’d be gone, as promised, but soon, she intended to never leave his side again. No matter who commanded otherwise.

  “I love you,” she whispered in his sleeping ear.

  She liked the feel of those words on her lips.

  Chapter 59

  Dawn was minutes away. Tig jogged up to her house, still carrying the unfired dart gun. What was Jayden doing outside? Dressed only in pajama bottoms, he had the phone pressed to his ear. Someone must have woken him up.

  He ended the call and said, “You were right. Blanche was behind the attack on Henry.”

  “What happened?” She walked past him into the house. She didn’t have much time.

  “They caught Blanche,” he said.

  “San Diego?”

  “No, that was Yacov on the phone. Blanche shot Henry—”

  She whirled around to face him. “She what?”

  Jayden held up his palms. “He’s okay, don’t worry. Yacov stopped Blanche in time, and now she’s locked inside Henry’s spare refrigerator.”

  “How did Blanche get back in?”

  He ran a hand across his head. “Yacov didn’t know. I’ll check with the gate guards, see what happened.”

  Her eyelids began to droop. Not much time left—she had to get to her sleep room before the sun rose. She turned to climb the stairs to the second floor. Jayden followed her.

  “Why didn’t Yacov call me?”

  “Your cell phone went to voicemail. He got routed to me through the switchboard.”

  I was probably in a dead zone. Shit.

  “By the time you wake up,” he added, “I’ll have a better idea what happened.”

  She stopped at the door to her sleep room and threw it open. “I should have posted guards on Henry and Yacov.”

  “Yeah, like the council would have agreed to that expense. Don’t blame yourself.”

  He gripped her shoulder, the type of touch intended to comfort. Instead, it just upped her own anger at herself. She dropped the dart gun in the corner, the butt of the gun making a loud thump.

  “Follow up on whatever you find out,” she said. “And write up a staff report. Ask the council to approve security cameras along the walls. They like paying for toys—well, now’s the time. The proposals are all on my desk.”

  “You got it.”

  At least she could depend on him while she lay helpless during the day. Thank the ancestors for that. She stretched out on her bed, not bothering to change clothes.

  And sat up just as suddenly. “Do you think Blanche came in through the mountains?”

  “It’s possible…”

  “We’ll need security cameras along the mountain trails, too.”

  “I’ll add it to the staff report.”

  She lay back down. “And look through that damn paperwork on Blanche. I want t
o know everything about her, starting with every community she’s visited since she went broke.”

  “I got it, Tig.” He stayed standing at the door. “You still think Blanche was working for someone else?”

  “Blanche had the imagination of a mouse tick. I’ll know more after I talk with Henry and Yacov, but I’d bet my badge she was.” Tig closed her eyes, the impending dawn dragging her down. “Oh, and send someone to pick up the police van at Henry’s. I left it parked there.”

  The sound of Jayden’s footsteps was followed by his warm lips on hers. Too soon, his lips left hers.

  “You can’t be perfect all the time, Tig,” he whispered. “Let go and let me help.”

  “But this is what happens when I’m not perfect,” she said. Just what Phat had said each time she screwed up.

  “No one died. You’re doing everything you can. We’ll figure this out together.”

  His words eased a little of her self-blame. He was more than her mate—he was her partner, someone she could trust and rely upon. She fought the lethargy and ran her fingers along the muscular bulge of his bicep, the spark of arousal mixing with longing.

  His lips touched hers again, and then she heard his key turning, locking her in for the day. He was right. She had carried Phat around in her head for too long. She couldn’t be perfect all the time. She’d heard it before—what was the new saying?

  Progress, not perfection.

  And once she had Blanche in her hands, there would definitely be progress.

  Author’s Comments and Upcoming Events

  Thank you for taking the time to read Dark Wine at Midnight. I hope you enjoyed it.

  Book 2 in the Hill Vampire series, Dark Wine at Sunrise, is slated for publication this coming winter. Sunrise will pick up with Tig’s attempt to get the truth out of Blanche, while Henry and Cerissa fight to overcome the obstacles standing in the way of their romance. But it gets more complicated for all of them when a serial killer starts taking victims in a neighboring city. Is it a vampire addicted to adrenaline-spiked blood, or is there something deeper and darker at work?

  Want to be among the first to know Sunrise’s release date, and receive special announcements, exclusive excerpts, and other FREE fun stuff? SUBSCRIBE here to join Jenna Barwin’s VIP Readers and receive Jenna Barwin’s Newsletter (https://jennabarwin.com/jenna-barwins-newsletter/)

  And if you enjoyed Dark Wine at Midnight, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review on Amazon or your favorite review site. Word of mouth and reviews are an author’s best friend and much appreciated.

  Although this book has been through many rounds of editing, it’s always possible for errors to slip through in the publishing business. If you find errors, or have any comments about the book you want to share with me personally, please contact me at https://jennabarwin.com/contact.

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  Acknowledgements and Dedications

  To my husband Eric—thank you for your support and all you do to make my life as a writer easier.

  To my early beta readers—Kay, Marie, Patty and Luanne—thank you for putting up with my learning curve, and for your gentle suggestions and re-directions.

  To my editing team—it takes a team to polish a story and ready it for readers. Katrina, Katie, Arran, and Trenda—you all were fantastic! Any errors in grammar, clarity or plot are mine, not theirs. Their full names and/or business names are:

  • Katrina Diaz

  • Katie McCoach, KM Editorial

  • Arran McNicol

  • It’s Your Story Content Editing

  And my book cover designer, Momir Borocki, did an outstanding job on the cover design.

  There are many other wonderful people who have helped me improve my writing, and also helped me tackle the business of being a writer. The generosity of other writers, who have freely shared their expertise, is greatly appreciated. Thank you everyone, for your support and help!