A Vampire Bundle: The Real Werewives of Vampire County, When Darkness Comes, Real Vamps Don't Drink O-Neg, & Hunted by the Others

by Alexandra Ivy

  With a dramatic motion, the curtain disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving Shay exposed to the nearly two dozen men and demons.

  Deliberately she lowered her gaze as she heard the gasps echo through the room. It was humiliating enough to smell their rabid hunger. She didn’t need to see it written on their faces.

  “Is this a trick?” a dark voice demanded in disbelief. Hardly surprising. As far as Shay knew, she truly was the last Shalott remaining in the world.

  “No trick, no illusion.”

  “As if I’d take your word for it, troll. I want proof.”

  “Proof? Very well.” There was a momentary pause as Evor searched the crowd. “You there, come forward,” he commanded.

  Shay tensed as she felt the cold chill that warned her it was a vampire approaching. Her blood was more precious than gold to the undead. An aphrodisiac that they would kill to procure.

  With her attention focused on the tall, gaunt vampire, Shay barely noticed when Evor grabbed her arm and used a knife to slice through the skin of her forearm. Hissing softly, the vamp leaned downward to lick the welling blood. His entire body shivered as he lifted his head to regard her with stark hunger.

  “There is human blood, but she is genuine Shalott,” he rasped.

  With a smooth motion, Evor placed his pudgy form between the vamp and Shay, shooing the predator away with a wave of his hand. Reluctantly the undead creature left the stage, no doubt sensing the impending riot if he gave in to his impulse to sink his teeth into her and drain her dry.

  Evor waited until the stage was cleared before moving to stand behind his podium. He grasped his gavel and lifted it over his head. Ridiculous twit.

  “Satisfied? Good.” Evor smacked the gavel onto the podium. “The bidding starts at fifty thousand dollars. Remember, gentlemen, cash only.”

  “Fifty-five thousand.”

  “Sixty thousand.”

  “Sixty-one thousand.”

  Shay’s gaze once again dropped to her feet as the voices called out their bids. Soon enough she would be forced to confront her new master. She didn’t want to watch as they wrangled over her like a pack of dogs slavering over a juicy bone.

  “One hundred thousand dollars,” a shrill voice shouted from the back of the room.

  A sly smile touched Evor’s thin lips. “A most generous bid, my good sir. Anyone else? No? Going once . . . Going twice . . .”

  “Five hundred thousand.”

  A sharp silence filled the room. Without even realizing what she was doing, Shay lifted her head to stare into the crowd jamming the auction floor.

  There was something about that silky dark voice. Something . . . familiar.

  “Step forward,” Evor demanded, his eyes shimmering red. “Step forward and offer your name.”

  There was a stir as the crowd parted. From the back shadows, a tall, elegant form glided forward.

  A hushed whisper spread through the room as the muted light revealed the hauntingly beautiful face and satin curtain of silver hair that fell down his back.

  It took only a glance to realize he was a vampire.

  No human could so closely resemble an angel that had fallen from heaven. And fallen recently. Or move with such liquid grace. Or cause the demons to back away in wary fear.

  Shay’s breath caught in her throat. Not at his stunning beauty or powerful presence or even the flamboyant velvet cloak that shrouded his slender form.

  It was the fact that she knew this vampire.

  He had been at her side when they had battled the coven of witches weeks ago. And more importantly, he had been at her side when she had saved his life.

  And now he was here bidding on her like she was no more than a piece of property.

  Damn his rotten soul to hell.

  Viper had been in the world for centuries. He had witnessed the rise and fall of empires. He had seduced the most beautiful women in the world. He had taken the blood of kings, czars, and pharaohs.

  He had even changed the course of history at times.

  Now he was sated, jaded, and magnificently bored.

  He no longer struggled to broaden his power base. He didn’t involve himself in battles with demons or humans. He didn’t form alliances or interfere in politics.

  His only concern was ensuring the safety of his clan and keeping his business profitable enough to allow him the luxurious lifestyle he had grown accustomed to.

  But somehow the Shalott demon had managed the impossible.

  She had managed to linger in his thoughts long after she had disappeared.

  For weeks she had haunted his memories and even invaded his dreams. She was like a thorn that had lodged beneath his skin and refused to be removed.

  A realization that he wasn’t sure pleased or annoyed him as he had scoured the streets of Chicago in search of the woman.

  Glancing at his latest acquisition, he didn’t have to wonder if Shay was pleased or annoyed. Even in the muted light, it was obvious her glorious golden eyes were flashing with fury.

  Clearly she failed to fully appreciate the honor he was bestowing upon her.

  His lips twitched with amusement before he was returning his attention to the troll standing behind the podium.

  “You may call me Viper,” he informed the lesser demon with cold dislike.

  The red eyes briefly widened. It was a name that inspired fear throughout Chicago. “Of course. Forgive me for not recognizing you, sir. You . . . ah”—he swallowed heavily—“you have the cash upon you?”

  With a motion too swift for most eyes, Viper reached beneath his cloak and tossed a large packet onto the stairs leading to the stage.

  “I do.”

  With a flourish, Evor banged the gavel on the podium. “Sold.”

  There was a low hiss from the Shalott, but before Viper could give her the proper attention, there was the sound of a low cursing and a small, wiry human was pushing his way through the crowd.

  “Wait. The bidding is not yet closed,” the stranger charged.

  Viper narrowed his gaze. He might have laughed at the absurdity of the scrawny man attempting to bull his way through towering demons, but he didn’t miss the scent of sour desperation that clouded about him, or the blackness that darkened his soul.

  This was a man who had been touched by evil.

  The troll, Evor, frowned as he regarded the man, clearly unimpressed by the cheap, baggy suit and secondhand shoes. “You wish to continue?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have the cash upon you?”

  The man swiped a hand over the sweat clinging to his bald head. “Not upon me but I can easily have it to you—”

  “Cash and carry only,” Evor growled, his gavel once again hitting the podium.

  “No. I will get you the money.”

  “The bidding is over.”

  “Wait. You must wait. I—”

  “Get out before I have you thrown out.”

  “No.” Without warning, the man was racing up the stairs with a knife in his hand. “The demon is mine.”

  As quick as the man was, Viper had already moved to place himself between the stranger and his Shalott. The man gave a low growl before turning and stalking toward the troll. Easier prey than a determined vampire. But then again, most things were.

  “Now, now. There is no need to become unreasonable.” Evor hastily gestured toward the hulking bodyguards at the edge of the stage. “You knew the rules when you came.”

  With lumbering motions, the mountain trolls moved forward, their hulking size and skin as thick as tree bark making them near impossible to kill.

  Viper folded his arms over his chest. His attention remained on the demented human, but he couldn’t deny that he was disturbingly aware of the Shalott behind him.

  It was in the sweet scent of her blood. The warmth of her skin. And the shimmering energy that swirled about her.

  His entire body reacted to her proximity. It was as if he had stepped close to a smoldering fire tha
t offered a promise of heat he had long forgotten.

  Unfortunately his attention was forced to remain on the seeming madman waving the knife in a threatening motion. There was something decidedly strange in the human’s determination. A stark panic that was out of place.

  He would be an idiot to underestimate the danger of the sudden standoff.

  “Stay back,” the small man squeaked.

  The trolls continued forward until Viper lifted a slender hand. “I would not come close to the knife. It is hexed.”

  “Hexed?” Evor’s face hardened with fury. “Magical artifacts are forbidden. The punishment is death.”

  “You think a pathetic troll and his goons can frighten me?” The intruder lifted his knife to point it directly at Evor’s face. “I came here for the Shalott, and I’m not leaving without it. I’ll kill you all if I have to.”

  “You may try,” Viper drawled.

  The man spun about to confront him. “I have no fight with you, vampire.”

  “You are attempting to steal my demon.”

  “I’ll pay you. Whatever you want.”

  “Whatever?” Viper flicked a brow upward. “A generous, if rather foolhardy, bargain.”

  “What is your price?”

  Viper pretended to consider a moment. “Nothing you could offer.”

  That sour desperation thickened in the air. “How do you know? My employer is very rich . . . very powerful.”

  Ah. Now they were getting somewhere.

  “Employer. So you are merely an envoy?”

  The man nodded, his eyes burning like coals in their sunken sockets. “Yes.”

  “And your employer will no doubt be quite disappointed to learn you have failed in your task to gain the Shalott?”

  The pale skin became a sickly gray. Viper suspected that the sense of darkness he could detect was directly related to the mysterious employer.

  “He will kill me.”

  “Then you are in quite a quandary, my friend, because I have no intention of allowing you to leave the room with my prize.”

  “What do you care?”

  Viper’s smile was cold. “Surely you must know that Shalott blood is an aphrodisiac for vampires? It is a most rare treat that has been denied us for too long.”

  “You intend to drain her?”

  “That is none of your concern. She is mine. Bought and paid for.”

  He heard a strangled curse from behind him, along with the rattle of chains. His beauty was clearly unhappy with his response and anxious to prove her displeasure by ripping him limb from limb.

  A tiny flicker of excitement raced through him.

  Blood of the saints, but he liked his women dangerous.

  About the Author

  Alexandra Ivy lives with her family in Ewing, Missouri. She is currently working on the second installment of her Guardians of Eternity trilogy, EMBRACE THE DARKNESS. Alexandra loves hearing from readers, and you may write to her c/o Zebra Books. Please include a self-addressed stamped envelope if you wish a response.

  Real Vamps Don’t Drink O-Neg

  Also by Tawny Taylor

  SEX AND THE SINGLE GHOST

  DARK MASTER

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  Real Vamps Don’t Drink O-Neg

  TAWNY TAYLOR

  KENSINGTON BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  To my husband, who handles my crazy schedule, a perpetually messy house, and shortage of home-cooked meals like a champ. And my children, who have heard “Mommy’s trying to work” more times than any kid wants to hear. Thanks for being so patient with me.

  And my editor, Audrey, and agent, Natasha. You’ve helped make my dreams come true. Thank you.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 1

  “I know, I know, I’m a rotten friend—” Sophie Hahn stumbled through her best friend’s front doorway in the hurried, less than graceful gait of a deer that has suffered a near fatal confrontation with a semi truck. “Dao? Where are you?” She rushed through the living room, shouting, “Really, there should be a law against leaving a message that begins with ‘I need you to get over here yesterday,’ and ends with, ‘It’s life or death’ at five A.M. on a Saturday morning. I’ll have you know I ran at least three red lights on the way here, and I think I’ll need a rotate and balance. I’m pretty sure my right tires are shot. Dao? Lisse? Hellooooo!”

  She rounded the corner, heading toward the kitchen at a fast jog; however, the sight of her friend—pale, bedraggled, and slouching against the wall as if he lacked the strength to stand upright—brought her to a screeching halt. “Holy smokes! You weren’t exaggerating. What the heck is wrong with you?” She lunged forward and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. No fever. “You’d better lie down. Is it serious? Darn it! I knew I should’ve come over last week—”

  “No, no. Nothing’s wrong.” Dao Wen Dong knocked her hand away like it was a pesky fly, gave her an unconvincing shake of his head, and practically dragged his limp-looking body across the living room to shut the front door. “I’ve never been better.” He held her in a stiff, cold hug for an instant, then dropped his arms, motioning her toward the kitchen with a tip of his head.

  I’ve had a warmer welcome at the secretary of state’s office. “No offense, but you look like hell,” she said as she leaned back against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Her friend’s responding smile was hollow, his eyes flat as day-old Pepsi, as he poured a cup of coffee. He offered it to her, but, not a coffee drinker, she refused it with a shake of her head. Despite her best effort, she couldn’t help staring at the deep purple shadows hanging under his eyes like bruises. The dark circles contrasted sharply with the wan tone of the rest of his face.

  Had her teetotaling friend gone on a bender?

  “Seriously, you don’t look well at all,” she repeated.

  “Thanks,” Dao grumbled. “It’s good to see you too, not that you look much better.”

  Having forgotten her mad rush to Dao’s house, and the lack of time and attention she’d paid to her hair, clothing, and make-up, Sophie raised a hand to tame her bedhead. “Well, you said it was life or death. Honestly, if you’d wanted me to take the time to get all pretty, you should’ve avoided the words ‘Get over here yesterday.’ So, what’s the big secret? Are you hungover? Did you go on a binge, down a beer or two, lose your head, and do something crazy—like take a midnight road trip to KFC?”

  “You know I don’t drink. And even drunk I wouldn’t touch deep-fried food.”

  “Then are you sure you’re not sick? Maybe you should go see a doctor. Seriously.”

  “Oh. No. I’m quite certain I’m fine. I’m just tired. Been working a lot, between—” He chuckled. “Well, let’s just say I’m not getting much sleep these days. But I’m taking vitamins. Lots of B for fatigue and C to fight off infection. Anyway, I wanted to show you my latest work in progress. It’s sheer genius.” He motioned for her to follow him down the hallway.

  “I bet. I’ve loved every book you’ve written. Brilliant. Absolute genius. I wish I could write like you do. Then I could quit my crappy job, stay at home, and work in my jammies. What a life!” Sophie hurried behind him to his office. Despite the fact that the man had to have lost a good twenty pounds or more the past couple of months and looked like a walking skeleton, he cou
ld move pretty quickly when he wanted to. Must’ve been those B vitamins kicking in. “Speaking of geniuses, where’s your lovely wife?”

  “Er…Lisse had a…late night.” Dao gave Sophie an odd grin and guilty chuckle as he pulled out his desk chair and slouched into it. He added, “She’s sleeping but last night—”

  Sophie waved her hands. “Ah. Too much information there.”

  “You asked.” He motioned toward an empty chair.

  “So, let me get this straight—Lisse doesn’t know I’m here? Even with all my bellowing?” She glanced at the empty chair, then at Dao. “I don’t know. Maybe I should leave. It’s early, Saturday morning, she’s asleep. You’ve only been married a couple of months. I wouldn’t want her to think—”

  “No way. First, Lisse could sleep through a natural disaster. Second, she would never think anything about you and me. I’ve told her over and over again that after being friends for so long, sleeping with you would be plain creepy. Like sleeping with my own sister—if I had one, that is. Besides I doubt she’ll wake up for at least a couple of hours.” Dao scooted his chair up to the desk, swept his cluttered desktop clear with one arm, then fired up the Dell. “If I’d known what an effect marriage would have on my writing, I would’ve married Lisse months ago. I can’t believe how inspired I’ve been lately—”

  “Please,” Sophie interrupted before he went into any details about the subject of his inspiration. She pulled up a chair and sat. “If I agree to stick around for a few minutes, you must promise me, no more talking about your sex life. I can’t remember the last time I had any conjugal—or even nonconjugal—action. I don’t need to be reminded about what I’m missing.”

  Dao laughed, his eyes squinting into the little upside-down smileys she’d adored since the first time she’d met him, on the middle-school playground. “Fair enough.” Those little smiley eyes had always been able to make her feel better, even on her worst days.