The Last Vampire- Complete series Box Set

by R. A. Steffan

  “I don’t buy the idea that he betrayed us,” I said staunchly. “The circumstances just don’t make sense.”

  “There’s no way of knowing whether he gave us up willingly, or whether the Unseelie had him under magical surveillance without his knowledge,” Rans allowed. “Either way, I’m in no hurry to go running back into his arms.”

  “So we’re... what?” I asked. “Going to hide in a posh rental villa on a Caribbean island until someone successfully tracks us down?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “It’s not the least appealing option in the world.”

  Guthrie snorted. “It’s also not the most appealing. I’m sorry, Rans, but I’m not throwing in the towel and becoming a beach bum. I wasn’t joking before. I’ll be happy to set you two up with access to that account in St. John’s. But then I’m going home. Let the supernatural fuckers fight it out and do whatever they’re going to do to me. I’m not playing fugitive for the rest of my life.”

  My stomach sank. “But, Guthrie...”

  He only shook his head, though. “It’s different for you two. You’re not trapped in a demon-bond. I keep trying to tell you—I can’t hide from that. Rans, I got those phone numbers you told me about from Zorah’s phone. I’ll... consider my options, such as they are. But I’d rather consider those options from my own home. I’m pretty much done with trying to run from the past.”

  He and Rans locked gazes for several seconds, neither moving so much as a muscle. Eventually, Rans gave a reluctant nod. “All right, mate. It’s your life to live.”

  Guthrie mirrored the gesture, nodding back. “And I got a bit more of that life than I would have otherwise, thanks to you. Including the part where I have a granddaughter.”

  His dark eyes cut to me. I met them, tears gathering. I had a feeling that anything I tried to say aloud was either going to end up as humiliating pleas for him not to leave, or as ugly sobbing. So I kept my mouth shut and tried to say everything with my expression, instead.

  Guthrie swallowed and sighed, looking away. “Okay. Goodnight, you two. I’m going out in search of some distraction. We can get the account transfer done first thing Monday morning—I’ll be back well before then. Zorah... try to get some rest, all right? Don’t overdo things during the daytime, and, uh, make sure to use plenty of sunscreen. See? I can totally do this grandfather gig.”

  I hugged him again, harder this time, and tried not to think of my father languishing in Hell... or of Guthrie potentially ending up a prisoner there, too.

  Once Guthrie had left in pursuit of whatever distraction he was after, Rans gathered me into his arms, resting his chin on my head. I leaned against him gratefully, glad of the support.

  “How long do you think we can stay under the radar out here?” I muttered into his chest.

  “Until we can’t,” he said. “But in the meantime, we might as well make the most of our vacation, right?”

  “Yeah,” I whispered. “Might as well.”

  Inside, though, I was filled with the certainty that our safety here was fleeting at best. An endgame of sorts was coming—pieces closing in from all sides of the board, moving from square to square with us at the center. A war wasn’t a war without some kind of final battle. I just wasn’t at all sure I was ready to face what would happen when the game pieces started falling, one by one.

  End of Book Five

  The Last Vampire: Book Six

  By R. A. Steffan & Jaelynn Woolf

  ONE

  “THIS ISN’T GOING to work, Rans.” I stared down at my body, plucking at the front of the loose caftan I was wearing over my red bikini. “I mean, what if I can’t figure out how to bring my clothing with me when I change back from mist?”

  Ransley Thorpe, centuries-old vampire and current pain in my ass, raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Then you’ll be naked, presumably. And what a tragedy that would be.”

  I glared at him from behind a pair of Ray-Bans. In many ways, this whole ‘being a vampire’ thing was taking some serious adjustment on my part. The sun hanging low over the ocean in the west felt like it was sapping the strength straight out of my muscles, and I was already experiencing the faint stirring of a blood craving —despite the fact that I’d tapped a tourist’s neck first thing this morning.

  “Ha,” I said, not amused. “Seriously, though. What happens to the clothes if I lose them mid-transformation? Where do they go? Or... what if I mess up and somehow rematerialize with the clothes partway inside my body, instead of outside? I don’t want to end up like the victim of some sort of horrific transporter accident from Star Trek.”

  Rans swallowed a sigh and crossed his arms. “I’ve no idea, and you’re over-thinking things, love. We’re not going back to the villa until you transform at least once, so if you’re that worried about it, go ahead and strip before you try. I’ve certainly no objection.”

  The sand on the private beach south of St. John’s, Antigua was warm between my bare toes, and a gentle breeze moderated the heat of the late afternoon sun. Of course, it did nothing to cut the glare, which stabbed into my brain like a laser beam despite the sunglasses I was wearing.

  This whole ‘Vampire 101’ project probably would have been easier for me if we’d waited until dark, but we had plans to head over to one of the more popular public beaches later so we could both feed. Additionally, Guthrie would be back sometime tonight or tomorrow, and if I were going to lose all my clothing in whatever sideways dimension was involved in vampiric transformation, I’d rather not have my long-lost grandfather around as an audience.

  Honestly, between the two of us, Rans and I had traumatized the poor guy more than enough already.

  “Okay,” I said, trying to mentally regroup. A quick look around confirmed that no one else had intruded on our private cove. And I supposed if they did, I could mesmerize them into forgetting they’d seen us, anyway. Fuck, this whole thing was going to take some getting used to. “Okay, so here’s how we’re gonna do this. I’ll try it first without any clothes. Then, just with the bikini bottoms. If that works, I’ll add the top, and finally the caftan.”

  Rans shrugged agreeably.

  My hunger was growing gradually harder to ignore, but I really wanted to get this over with before I dealt with it. “Next question,” I said, stripping off my clothes and tossing them aside on the beach, a piece at a time. “How do I actually do this? I mean... I have no clue what muscles to flex or what mental images to focus on—”

  He ran his eyes over me appreciatively as I bared my skin to the pricking rays of the sun. “As it turns out, that part is honestly rather straightforward,” he told me. “Are you ready? Come here and stand in front of me.”

  I did, thinking he was maybe going to lead me through some kind of vampiric guided meditation or something. For that reason, it came as a considerable shock when he cocked his right hand into a fist and swung it at my jaw instead. I jerked backward and let out a girly yelp of surprise... which was nothing compared to the surprise that came next, when my body poofed out of existence in the instant before his fist would have connected.

  I floated in shock, vertigo threatening, as senses I barely understood rushed in to orient me in the absence of sight, hearing, touch, smell, and taste. Panic rose, but before I could properly succumb to it, I was corporeal again, crumpled on the beach in a tangle of limbs.

  “What. The fuck,” I said, looking around in confusion.

  Rans looked down at me from a couple of steps away. “Told you that part was straightforward.”

  I snapped my jaw closed with a click and narrowed my eyes at him. “You... son of a...”

  He raised both eyebrows in amusement, silently inviting me to continue.

  “... medieval iron smelter,” I finished, scrambling upright and brushing the sand off my ass. “I can’t believe you took a swing at my head!”

  That earned me a quiet huff of laughter, before he gestured toward my face. “It worked, didn’t it? And you even kept hold of the sunglasses,”
he observed. “Well done.”

  My right hand flew to the Ray-Bans. I’d forgotten all about them. As he’d said, they were still there... still blocking the worst of the glare as the sun sank toward the distant horizon. “Huh. That’s pretty wild.”

  “Now,” he continued, “while it’s still fresh in your mind, concentrate on the jolt you felt right before you transformed. That’s the key. I’m afraid the threat of a punch to the face probably won’t work a second time, and I’d prefer not to have to up the ante any further than that to shock you into the change.”

  “Seconded,” I agreed, poking at my memory of what had just happened. At its most basic, it had been a sudden, urgent need to be elsewhere. Closing my eyes, I brought that feeling to mind as vividly as I could—

  At which point I transformed again.

  This time, I didn’t panic right away. Being an incorporeal cloud of mist was...weird. I couldn’t have said how I was aware of Rans’ presence a few feet away, or of the soft breeze, or the gentle lapping of surf against sand. Only that I was. The intention of movement seemed to be enough to make movement happen, and I floated a short distance down the beach.

  Still, it didn’t take long for the niggling concern about whether I’d be able to change back to take root. This time, I remembered the sunglasses, at which point I also started to worry about losing them. The blasted things had, after all, cost more than my entire seasonal clothing budget during my waitressing days.

  I split my attention between the need to be solid again, and the need to not be responsible for the loss of a hundred-and-fifty-dollar pair of shades. This time, I materialized several inches above the ground—my limbs flailing as I promptly fell to earth. The sunglasses hung from one ear, balanced off-kilter on the end of my nose.

  Craning around, I pinned Rans with a gaze that dared him to comment. “Not. One. Single. Word,” I threatened.

  He gave me a tolerant look and crossed the short distance separating us, reaching a hand down to pull me to my feet.

  “You’re—” he began.

  “Over-thinking, yeah,” I finished, cutting him off. “Got it, thanks. Also, that counted as a word.”

  “Here are three more for you—do it again,” he commanded.

  “Slave driver,” I muttered, before closing my eyes and concentrating once more.

  As the sun touched the edge of the water at the horizon and slowly sank beneath it, I continued to practice with him, gaining more control with each attempt until I could pop in and out with the bikini and caftan intact. Anxiety over the process gradually gave way to intrigue, as the novelty of being able to fly truly set in. By the time full darkness settled over the beach, Rans was joining me, our vaporous forms swirling together as we raced along the shoreline.

  I’d mostly forgotten my hunger, but the need that had been slowly building inside me over the course of the last hour crested sharply at the feeling of his essence tangling with mine. Acting on newly awakened instinct, I reached out and dragged both of us back to human form, our bodies tangling as we rolled into the edge of the surf together. I pinned him beneath me—straddling his hips as I stared down at his glowing blue eyes.

  Waves washed over our legs and hips, soaking his tailored trousers and the back of the silk button-down he was wearing. My hunger surged like a living thing, demanding nourishment. The button and zipper of his fly parted beneath the frantic scrabbling of my fingers. A moment later, I was tugging the material of my bikini bottoms aside, just enough to pierce myself on the hard flesh that was revealed.

  I only paused upon realizing that the strange, high-pitched keening noise splitting through the serene quiet of the beach... had apparently come from me.

  A strong hand steadied my hips, and Rans’ voice held a faintly breathless note as he said, “Fair warning, love—sand gets everywhere during beach sex.”

  “Don’t care,” I said around a gasp, grinding against him as I reached for the swirling trail of his desire. My eyes burned, and sharp points rasped against the tender flesh inside my cheeks. I could smell the blood hiding just beneath the delicate skin of his throat.

  His other hand splayed across my chest, directly over my unbeating heart. It stopped me before I could lunge forward and sink my fangs into that tempting expanse.

  “Zorah,” he said. “Stop. Show me you can control it first.”

  A distraught noise slipped free of my lips as the authority in his voice dragged me back from the brink. I slammed my eyes shut and breathed, even though I didn’t really need to anymore. Forcing down the blood hunger and letting go of my grip on his animus was one of the hardest things I’d ever done... but Rans had asked me to. I had to do it.

  “I... I can control it,” I managed after a few seconds, cautiously opening my eyes and trying not to let myself see how tempting he looked beneath me.

  The hand, which had been holding me back, slid up to cup my cheek instead. “I know you can, love. Just double-checking. You were ignoring the warning signs earlier, weren’t you?”

  I took another slow, unnecessary breath... and another. The feel of his length buried inside me threatened to overwhelm my thoughts again. “I guess so, yeah.”

  “It’s still too soon for you to try to brazen it out like that, tough girl,” he said, and something in my chest twisted at the warmth of understanding behind the words. “But well done on pulling back from the brink, at least. Now... go ahead and ravish me—you’re far too tempting like this. I’ll top up on blood later, when we hit the tourist beach.”

  Warm water washed around us, and he arched his hips into me as the wave pulled back. Just like that, I was gone, folding my body over his with a heartfelt groan of relief and sliding my fangs into his neck. Blood and animus poured into me, exploding along my nerves like fireworks. Rans groaned low and filthy as I rode him into the surf, meeting my frantic movements thrust for thrust. It wasn’t subtle and it wasn’t artful, and in minutes I tipped over the edge, dragging him with me.

  We collapsed together, lying there in a limp tangle for some time—heedless of the incoming tide until a particularly aggressive wave threatened to swamp us completely. Rans made a disgusted noise and spat water as he reluctantly rolled into a sitting position, dragging wet hair back from his face. I followed suit, sitting next to him and looking out across the ocean at night.

  “Bloody Nora,” he said to the beach at large. “What did I say earlier, about doing things that require effort this evening? Maybe I’ll just stay right here and commune with the hermit crabs. You can bring me a nice tourist or two to munch on later.”

  I would have felt guilty about being such a drain on him, if I didn’t know that he appreciated the chance to turn off his brain for a bit, and enjoy the mental quiet that came with complete sexual exhaustion. Granted, I was pushing that concept to new heights since becoming a vampire-succubus hybrid, but I also knew that he hadn’t truly been drained to a dangerous degree.

  I hadn’t been quite that far gone.

  Rather than start stammering apologies, I nudged his shoulder with mine. “Nuh-uh. You’re not getting off that easily. I was promised a beach party with rich assholes to feed from. And you might be rich, but you still don’t count.”

  “Guthrie would probably disagree with that assessment,” he said, clambering inelegantly to his feet and offering me a hand. “Still... if you insist.”

  I took it and let him lever me upright with the effortless strength of the undead.

  “Oh, I do. Let’s get cleaned up, and then we’ll go see how many sexual predators I can flush out tonight.”

  TWO

  ONCE UPON A TIME, I’d shared the common experience of the vast majority of people under the age of forty-five or so who also happened to have boobs. Wolf whistles, creepy comments, observations on how much prettier I’d be if I smiled more, or had more meat on my bones, or had less meat on my bones. Opinions on what I was wearing, or wasn’t wearing. Pushy propositions. Unwanted touching, with various degrees of lewdness.<
br />
  Just some of the many joys of being a waitress—though I had no illusion that my experiences were unique to the profession.

  Recently, though, I’d discovered that I took great enjoyment in finding men prone to those kinds of behaviors and feeding from their animus. Yes, it was petty. No, it probably wasn’t doing much of anything to change the world, or even to change the guys I drained. It did, however, give me a warm, smug sort of satisfaction—shallow though the feeling most certainly was.

  The cruise ship we’d been hiding on before the Fae found us had been fertile hunting ground in that regard. I was willing to bet that a late-night beach party on a Caribbean island populated by rich tourists and twenty-something trust fund babies would also yield its share of people who didn’t understand the concept of taking no for an answer.

  I appreciated the fact that Rans let me wander through the shifting crowd without hovering nearby—though I had no doubt he was keeping an eye on the proceedings to make sure I didn’t vamp out unexpectedly in front of so many witnesses. I was also pretty sure he got a secret kick from my dishing out minor vigilante justice, based on the number of times he’d appeared at exactly the right moment to further freak out some random perv who’d been hitting on me.

  All of that had taken place before I became a vampire, though—back when I was just a lowly succubus hybrid grabbing an animus snack to keep myself powered up. This new undead development in my life opened up further avenues for exploration. I wasn’t gonna lie; the vampiric mesmerism thing was fucking awesome. Frankly, I was going to have to watch myself to make sure I didn’t start crossing lines better left uncrossed, simply because it was so easy.

  My current Douche-of-the-Day had originally caught my attention when I came across him tipping something from a small plastic packet into a drink. Since that was seldom a good sign for the recipient of the drink, I followed him from the bar as he headed toward one of the large bonfires burning merrily along the beach. He approached a pretty girl hanging back at the edge of the crowd—one who honestly looked a few years too young to be drinking, even here on Antigua.