The Nasty Vamp

by Gail Koger

  The Nasty Vamp

  Gail Koger

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. This material is meant for mature audiences!

  Early Reviews

  I cannot decide where to start. Do I start with Bunny, the sarcastic and funny woman who finds trouble everywhere she goes? Or do I begin with Ian, the sexy and seductive Highland warrior turned vampire? Ian made me drool from the very beginning. He makes my blood run hot. Bunny is, well, she’s a lot like me. Stubborn and sarcastic, ballsy and funny, her “take no prisoners” attitude made her an absolute delight to read about. Throw in a dragon named Modred who acts like a puppy, and my funny bone was tickled beyond belief. There is action and adventure to be had. Danger is hiding around every corner. There is so much fun to be had within the pages of this story.

  Kimberly

  Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance & More

  “Do you like mazes? Well you found one here. The action keeps you running at full speed throughout the story. A new crisis, pursuer or demon is hiding down each dead end path. Better not blink, Bunny...or you could end up dead. This tongue-in-cheek romp is funny and crazy. Think of all the weird supernaturals you've read about, then let Gail Koger make a caricature out of all of them, whether they belong in her twisted world or not. This is a great book when you need a smile. And try Koger's The Warlord's Comeuppance for another fun ride." - 4 Hearts, Kathy F., The Romance Studio

  Previous Works

  The Ghost Wore Polyester

  Just My Luck

  The Warlord’s Comeuppance

  The Nasty Vamp

  A Whispers Publishing Publication

  June 10, 2011

  Copyright © 2011 Gail Koger

  Cover illustration copyright © Anistasia Rabiyah

  ISBN Not Assigned

  All rights reserved. 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 an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web-without permission in writing from the publisher.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  Published by: Whispers Publishing, P.O. Box 1165, Ladson, SC 29456-1165.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to Dawne and Darcie. Thanks for all your help.

  Prologue

  All I wanted was to be a normal, ordinary girl whose biggest worry was what to wear to her twenty-first birthday party. I needed for a few hours to forget about my mother’s murder and the monsters that inhabit the night. With all my heart I wished for a little romance, for a man who could make me forget the bloodshed and death. I longed for a prince charming who would sweep me off my feet and kiss me under the stars. Then fate kicked me in the teeth and granted my wish.

  My perfect prince charming turned out to be a vampire. If I hadn’t been so blasted drunk I might have noticed his fangs a bit sooner. Not when they were buried in my neck and the supernova of orgasms was tearing through me

  I had given my virginity to Ian McGregor, an eight-hundred year old master vampire with magical abilities, who knew I would become a slayer on my twenty-first birthday. The bastard deliberately crashed the party, lured me to his bed and took my powers. Uncle Fester’s timely intervention saved my life but my slayer powers were gone forever.

  My dreams shattered and in a royal snit I tracked McGregor down and blew up a garage full of his expensive antique automobiles. Big mistake! Who knew a Highland warrior that had been turned way back in 1186 would be so rabid about his cars?

  I certainly didn’t need Uncle Fester’s snarky comment that riling up a master vampire was about as smart as whacking on a hornet’s nest with a stick. You’re gonna get bit, repeatedly.

  Uncle Fester dragged me to a creepy old witch and held me down while the bitch magically welded an Amalfi Medallion to my neck. I was now stuck with a freakin’ silver dog collar complete with spikes and weird carvings. The Amalfi would supposedly protect me from McGregor. What I really needed was something to protect me from Aunt Tessa.

  After a two hour lecture on the stupidity of spreading my legs for a vampire, Aunt Tessa promptly shipped me off to the University of Alfred.

  No. It’s not a school for butlers. Aunt Tessa’s eccentric and very dead husband had been a big Batman fan and he named the highly secretive school after the ever faithful Alfred.

  My Aunt said it was the perfect place for me to put my talent for blowing stuff up to good use and the instructors would teach me some badly needed discipline.

  Since I could no longer be a slayer, it was a good fit. Alfreds are weapons, explosives and surveillance experts.

  My name is Ann Dragos but everyone calls me Bunny. My idiot, dead uncle stuck me with this swell nickname because I’m so itty-bitty, cute, and cuddly. Gag me. At least I wasn’t named after a Disney character like my cousin.

  My psychic abilities are the only reason I’m still breathing. My mom was forced to drink from a vampire when she was pregnant with me and that transfusion has given me some pretty nifty powers.

  Powers the nasty vamp couldn’t take away. I’m telepathic which lets me eavesdrop on all of McGregor’s dirty little plans and stay a step ahead of him. My ace in the hole is I can’t be mesmerized and forced to do their bidding. This allows me to get up close and personal with my Mister Pointy. Another gift is the ability to read auras and sense any supernatural beings within a mile of me.

  Since vampires are freakishly fast, it gives me enough time to set up my booby traps and fry their asses.

  McGregor placed a million dollar bounty on my head and three years later still actively hunts me. I guess I should quit blowing up his cars.

  Chapter One

  The supernatural community considers Las Vegas an all-you-can-eat smorgasbord. It’s stuffed with drunken idiots who truly believe what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Unfortunately, if you party with monsters you can expect to get chomped on. Protecting these morons is a full time job.

  Perched on the rooftop of a parking garage I surveyed the street below me. A broken neon light bathed the bustling sidewalk with bright psychedelic flashes. My mouth tightened in irritation. Oh goody. Tonight the predators outnumbered the prey and once again Bambi was late. Her reason? She couldn’t decide on what color of nail polish to use. I’m In The Mood For Love or Pretty In Pink? Like the monsters gave a crap.

  My jaw dropped when I finally spotted her. Unfreakin’ believable. Bambi, the wannabe fashion queen, strutted down the walkway in a skintight, black leather cat suit. The plunging neckline barely contained her girls. Did I mention that she wears a D cup? Any sudden movement and those puppies were popping out. The vamps would probably enjoy the show right up to the point where they started gnawing on her neck.

  To complete her “slayer” outfit the twit wore neon pink four-inch stilettos that were a perfect match to her Pretty In Pink nail polish. How in the hell did she expect to fight in those? Oh wait. She didn’t.

  My shoes? Steel-toed combat boots. My “slayer” outfit? A black Ninja suit complete with body armor and I was armed to the teeth; but I’d bet my last hundred dollars that Bambi was once again weaponless.

  With my psychic senses I knew where every monster was. Bambi didn’t have a clue. Jamming to her iPod, she was completely oblivious to the two Jay Z wannabe vamps shuffling after her. It was a wonder they could walk at all. Their baggy oversized pants hung h
alf way down their rather hairy butts. Ewww.

  I rubbed my suddenly aching head. Bambi had easy pickin’ stamped on her forehead. Sooner or later the twit was going to get me killed. Just like her last three Alfreds. Poor Hal hadn’t even made it a week before an Elvis impersonator snapped his neck. You’d think that would raise some alarms but oh no. My aunt just shrugged it off.

  Bambi’s excuse? She only wanted his autograph. How was she supposed to know the King of Rock was a master vampire?

  Hello? You’re a vampire slayer.

  Talk about clueless. I mean, c’mon. What kind of slayer repeatedly forgets to bring weapons to a vampire hunt? Or puts rhinestones on her stakes and then whines about how hard they are to hold onto?

  The vamps suddenly jumped Bambi and dragged her down a dark alley. Instead of pulling out a stake and dusting them, the ditzy twit started screaming, “Bunny!”

  For a long moment I considered letting them eat her. Hey, it would make my life a whole lot easier. I might even live to see twenty-five. Okay, there was the whole ethics thing. I had sworn an oath to protect and serve my slayer. The bitch was also my cousin and Aunt Tessa would disown me if I let anything happen to her little princess.

  Another scream sounded from the alley.

  Could I really stand by and watch them kill her? No, dammit, I couldn’t. With a sigh, I gunned my black Ducati Streetfighter motorcycle and rode to the rescue, again.

  I shot across the busy street, dodging cars and cursing pedestrians. I skidded to a stop in the alley and stared in amazement.

  Bambi was shrieking like a demented banshee and waving one broken high heel at her attackers. “They’re Jimmy Choos! Do you morons know how much they cost?”

  Gawking at her wildly bobbing girls, the vampires shook their heads.

  Bambi advanced on them. Step. Hop. Step. Hop. “Eight hundred and ninety-five dollars!”

  I shook my head in disbelief. No matter what the species, show men your tits and they turned into brainless idiots.

  The hip-hop wannabes had failed to notice that their pants were now wadded nicely around their ankles or that I was behind them, with my modified crossbow in hand.

  Her face flushed with fury, my cousin shouted, “Well, what are you waiting for? Shoot them!”

  In a blur of movement, the vamps spun around, tripped over their pants and smashed face first into the grimy pavement.

  Ouch! That had to hurt.

  “Shoot them,” Bambi shrieked again.

  Fangs extended, the vamps leapt at me. I quickly nailed them in the chest and watched as they disintegrated into dust. Nothing quite like arrows soaked in holy water to get the job done.

  Bambi snarled, “What took you so long?”

  My temper soaring, I countered with, “Where are your weapons?”

  “In the car. They didn’t match my outfit.”

  “Are you truly that stupid or do you have a death wish?”

  Bambi tucked her girls away and huffed, “You’re just jealous because I look hot.”

  “The vamps don’t give a rat’s ass about your outfit. They want to kill you.”

  “They haven’t succeeded now have they? Because I’m the best of the best and no one can beat my kill ratio. Mom thinks I’ll make champion status.”

  “Champion status? Get serious. What kill ratio are you talking about? You’ve killed one freakin’ vampire and a fledgling at that. The other kills are mine. Not yours.”

  “Ha! Alfreds can’t claim kills. So, they’re mine.”

  My right hand balled into a fist. Leave it to Bambi to flaunt my aunt’s incredibly stupid rules. God, I wanted to pop her one. “Talking about kills, let’s not forget in the last year you’ve gotten three of your Alfred’s killed. I’m not going to be the fourth. The next time you leave your weapons behind, you’re on your own. Do you hear me?”

  “You can’t do that!”

  “Watch me.”

  “I’m telling mom.”

  “You do that.”

  My senses screamed a warning. I shoved a stake into Bambi’s hand, spun and fired my crossbow.

  The vampire caught the bolt easily.

  Oh hell, not good.

  With a terrifying smile, the vampire hurled my bolt back.

  Wham! The arrow slammed into my chest and the next thing I knew I was crashing into a wall. The wind knocked out of me, I struggled to pull the bolt from my armored vest.

  Bambi squealed, “Bunny!”

  I glanced over and gaped in surprise. She was actually fighting the vamp. Of course, her cat suit severely limited her movements and with only one shoe, her footwork consisted of hop, kick.

  The vampire looked scarily like Michael Jackson. Maybe he wasn’t buried in that Forest Lawn mausoleum after all. He swung one gloved fist at Bambi.

  The heel on her remaining shoe snapped. Staggering off balance, Bambi threw her arm out and bam! She nailed that sucker dead center. A cloud of black dust sprayed the alley.

  Unfreakin’ believable.

  Bambi jumped up and down in excitement. “Did you see that? Did you see that? I dusted a master vamp!”

  “Color me surprised.” I yanked at the arrow again.

  Bambi reached over, jerked it free and tugged me to my feet. “Mom’s gonna be so proud.”

  “Maybe she’ll throw you a party.”

  “Ya think?” Bambi squealed again in excitement and held out her hand. “Let me have your cell phone.”

  My sarcasm was totally lost on the twit. “Sure. Why not?” I handed it to her.

  Bambi let out an anguished wail. “I broke a nail and I have a date in an hour.”

  “Date?” My temper roared to life. “You have a date?”

  “Yeah. With this dreamy English guy I met last night at the Cathouse. Great dancer and I just love his accent.”

  “You bugged out on me last night to go clubbing?”

  “Well, yeah. A girl’s entitled to a little fun.”

  “I was getting my ass kicked while you were out having a little fun!”

  “God, you’re such a party pooper.”

  I will not kill her. I will not kill her today but tomorrow, maybe. I took a deep, calming breath and asked, “Did you know that the Cathouse is a vampire club?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “You’re a slayer. You’re supposed to kill vamps not dance with them.”

  Bambi rolled her eyes in disgust and clutched my cell phone to her ear. “Mom! I just dusted a master vampire. Yeah. Isn’t that great? Un huh.”

  I followed my cousin down the alley as she chatted happily about her three kills. How easy it had been to lure them into the alley and dust them. I fingered the butt of my gun. It’d be so easy to shoot her and drop her down a mine shaft. No one would ever know.

  “Bye, bye. Luv you mom.”

  I snatched my cell phone back. “Tell me about this Englishman you have a date with? His name wouldn’t happen to be Ian McGregor, would it?”

  “Get that in a psychic flash?”

  I resisted the urge to bang my head against the wall. “Remember my twenty-first birthday?”

  “Yeah, you screwed a vampire and lost your powers.”

  “Do you remember his name?”

  “Wasn’t it McGregor?”

  “And what’s the name of the guy you’re dating?”

  Anger flashed in her eyes. “It’s not the same McGregor.”

  “Really? Is your Ian six foot six, long black hair, pale blue eyes and built like a linebacker?”

  “Yeah, but he said he was from England and in real estate.”

  “Vampires lie!” I shouted in exasperation.

  “He’s not a vampire! I would know.”