Vampire Legacy: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (Vampire Game Book 3)

by Leigh Kelsey

  She had that look on her face, and I knew I wouldn’t get a straight answer from her. Instead I pinned a no-nonsense look on Sinclair.

  “Oh, that’s not good,” Allen whispered, looking at me with eyes popping out of his head.

  “What?” Finn asked. Allen just shook his head, glancing between me and Sinclair.

  “How long have you been dating my mother?” I asked Sinclair, my mouth pressing into a thin line and my eyes narrowing.

  “Ah,” Sinclair replied, brushing creases out of his coat in a way that looked almost nervous. “Do you want a general number or a specific one?”

  “Specific,” I grated out. Because I didn’t like the ease they had around each other, or the way they kept glancing secretly at each other, or the way Sinclair kept pinning his eyes on me. Or the gut feeling twisting my stomach until I felt queasy.

  “Twenty-one years, seven months, and three days,” Sinclair replied, confirming my gut feeling. “I could guess at the hours, minutes, and seconds,” he added, “but I’m afraid it might not be accurate.”

  I just nodded. Okay. This was fine. He was definitely probably my father but it was fine. Probably.

  “I wanted to tell you,” Mum said quietly. “But you were in the dark about this world and it was never the right time. And since you were turned … you’ve had a lot to deal with. But I wanted to introduce you.”

  “Introduce me,” I echoed, waiting for the words.

  “To your father,” she finished.

  “Shit,” Finn swore.

  Allen just nodded, like he’d already figured it out.

  Scarlett whipped her head between me and Sinclair, then began backing towards Janna like she’d make a run for it. She always did this when she was scared—turn into a raging bitch or run—and it pissed me off. I held onto the anger, let it strengthen me as I looked at Sinclair.

  “We’ll now we’ve met,” I said. “But the coffins are probably more important than this.” I pushed it away—I’d deal with it later. Oisìn’s hand rubbed soothing circles on my belly, his body still pressed against me from behind. I looked to Finn. “We should find them, right? The vampires who got out of the coffins.”

  “Yes,” Finn replied, shaking off the last few minutes too. He glanced at Sinclair once more, and I wondered … had the two of them ever… Judging by the discomfort on his face—one I knew keenly—I’d say yes. It was supremely weird to have slept with both the son and father. “Sinclair, do you already have people out looking?”

  “Twelve of them,” Sinclair replied smoothly. “But the chance of them coming across any of the rogue vampires is unlikely. We’d be better off buying the services of the witches.”

  “I can help with that,” Allen suggested. “Do you know my sister? Rita? She might be able to get her coven to help. Maybe. She’ll help us, at least.”

  “And what about Old Jacqui?” I asked, meeting Finn’s eyes. “I have a couple pieces of jet jewellery to trade.”

  “Good idea,” he praised. “Oisìn, Elara, you should go see her. Allen and I will go visit the coven.”

  “And us?” Scarlett asked in a small voice. I realised for the first time that Janna hadn’t spoken. Did it drain her energy? I didn’t know anything about wraiths. “Go around the supernatural pubs, and your own network. See if anyone knows anything. Don’t intimidate—buy them drinks instead.”

  Scarlett nodded, looking relieved to have been included. She turned to leave but I said, “Wait.” She paused, looking back with pained eyes. “Thank you for coming to warn us.”

  She smiled weakly, and the two of them left.

  I sighed and faced my mum. “How about I don’t get mad about your choice of boyfriend and you don’t get mad about mine?”

  “Deal,” she agreed.

  Sinclair made an outraged sound. “Boyfriend? I would never live in sin with the woman I love.” I watched my mum melt, and I was so glad to see her so happy, until his words hit.

  “Wait,” I said, glancing between them. I looked at Sinclair’s hand. Yep. Wedding band. I shook my head. Later—not now. It hurt a lot that my mum had kept such a huge, important secret—three really: vampires being real, her having a husband, and my father being Sinclair—but if we didn’t deal with the exposure of vampires, that would be a much bigger problem than these secrets.

  We’d be lucky if we lived long enough to deal with ordinary family problems like these. So I just gave my mum a look and said, “Later.”

  She nodded, looking at least a bit worried.

  Good. She shouldn’t have kept so many secrets. And I remembered another—gran was Mina Harker—so that made four life-changing, mammoth secrets.

  “Um,” I said, looking back to Sinclair. “Nice to meet you.”

  “And it is an honour to meet you,” he said, without a hint of falseness in his voice, bowing. The smile he gave me … okay, he really was happy to meet me. I wondered how long he’d wanted to see me? My whole life? Why then had he stayed away? They could have pretended he was human—as a kid, I wouldn’t have known any better.

  Coffins, I told myself. Vampire attacks. Exposure.

  “Here,” Finn said before I could leave, opening a wooden box and pulling out a cloth bundle. I accepted it from him, unrolling it to find a thin, wicked-sharp dagger. And a holster to strap it to my thigh. “Stay safe,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead before turning to Oisìn. “I assume you’re armed.”

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “Wait, what?” I looked up at Oisìn. “But you were—we were—”

  His eyes glinted with amusement even if his grave features didn’t change. “I’m always prepared, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Nothing will catch me off guard again.”

  I sighed, and knew with that one sentence that he blamed himself for Scarlett’s betrayal, probably for the lump I had on the back of my head from where she’d hit me with a candelabra. “Come on,” I said, reaching for his hand. “I need to get some jet, get dressed, then we have a psychic to talk to.”

  CORNERED

  Whitby town centre was madness. Camera crews occupied the roads beside the bay and river, and both tourists and locals streamed everywhere, either desperate for a glimpse of the coffins or trying to get away from them. Wooden shards of broken coffins littered the roads more and more as we got closer to the heart of the town. I held tight to Oisìn’s hand, letting his nearness reassure me as we pushed through the crowds near the bay towards the shops and amusements further down the river.

  Shops had been shut up, signs of the attack in specks of blood on the pavement and police cordons, but other businesses were taking full advantage of the chaos. I tried not to judge them—they were just making a living—but it was hard with blood on the ground and that scent screaming at me. My heart thumped fast, even though earlier Oisìn had stopped me outside the Fair House and offered me his throat. Without Rita’s necklace to dampen my hunger … this was going to be impossible.

  I stopped dead on the edge of a crowd, my lips pulling back from my teeth, and I moved—into a wall of unyielding flesh. Oisìn gripped my arms, squeezed hard enough that the pain penetrated the blazing hunger, the mouth-watering scent. I shook hard, fighting the hunger. “I can’t be here,” I rasped.

  But I needed to push through the people. Old Jacqui’s tent was on the other side of them. And if she knew something about the coffins, the vampires in them…

  Oisìn’s hands tightened on my arms and I looked at him, deep into his gentle green eyes, and tried to block out the rest of the town. But then someone brushed up against me and I jerked towards them, a second away from burying my fangs in their fragile, human skin. The man didn’t even notice; he was too focussed on the crowd ahead.

  “Shh,” Oisìn breathed, pulling me against him and brushing my face with his lips. I realised I was crying, and then the floodgates opened. I buried my face in his slate grey jumper and sobbed, my chest jumping hard as he secured me against him with an arm around my waist and a ha
nd on the back of my head. “It gets easier,” he said quietly. “I promise, it does.”

  I couldn’t imagine it. My mouth was full of saliva, drooling at the scent of so much hot, pumping blood around me. I smelled chocolate and rich wine, sticky toffee pudding and chicken casserole, clean forest scents and woodsy musk, light florals and tangy fruits. And every one of those scents was painfully delicious, and I needed them. Needed them so much it hurt, so much my fangs throbbed with pain and my stomach cramped hard. My knees weakened and I folded over, leaning against Oisìn as pain ravaged my body.

  “Enough,” Oisìn gasped, sounding as breathless as I felt. He pulled me into an alley created by two B&Bs, gripping my hip hard as he tore his forearm open with elongated fangs. “Take as much as you need.”

  I shuddered and fell upon his bleeding arm, pulling blessed relief down my throat even as I sobbed. “Take it all,” he breathed, “I don’t mind.”

  I did.

  Fierce anger and protectiveness raged then, and I was so relieved to feel anything other than the hunger that I bit down harder, my teeth slicing through his pale skin. I retracted them immediately, my eyes wide as I saw the damage I’d wrought. To Oisìn—my Oisìn.

  My stomach hollowed out.

  “It’s okay,” he said gently, running a hand through my dark hair.

  “It’s not okay.” I glared at him before looking back at the mangled flesh that had been his forearm. I swept my thumb over his pulse point, needing to comfort him but not sure how to do it, and I swiped my tongue over the ribbons of pale, bloody skin, hoping the toxins in my saliva would heal him even though I knew it only healed puncture wounds and slight cuts. This…

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice nasally. My nose was still blocked from crying before, my throat so tight. “I’m not supposed to hurt you,” I whispered and felt the rightness of it. “I’m never meant to hurt you.”

  Oisìn’s warm finger caught my chin, tipped up my face so I met his eyes. “I know,” he said simply, and the knot in my chest unwound.

  I shuddered out a breath, unable to look away from his eyes, so open and forgiving. Well. He’d savaged my neck when he turned me. I guess this made us even. I laughed bitterly at the thought.

  “Elara,” Oisìn said, running his uninjured hand over my head. Fuck. The comfort was so intense my knees wobbled. “Watch.”

  He lifted his bleeding arm and I watched, transfixed, as the flesh beneath the blood shifted. Muscle moved, forming back together, and then, slowly, the skin around it reformed, whole. It took a full minute, and I felt the heat pouring off him from his faerie magic, but then he was healed and I was throwing my arms around him and hugging him tight enough to cut off his circulation.

  “That was nothing,” he said with a little laugh.

  “I know,” I replied, not laughing, thinking of Finn cut to ribbons and poisoned, dying, and knowing Oisìn had suffered that over a hundred times. I put space between us so I could reach up and cup his cheek, and then rose onto my tiptoes and kissed him with every ounce of feeling in me. I wanted to stay here forever, safe in this little alley, but more coffins could wash into the bay, bringing more vampires. More certainty that we’d be exposed. I couldn’t risk Finn or Allen or Oisìn being hurt because of that. I wouldn’t even risk Scarlett.

  “Elara,” Oisìn began, uncertain. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  “There is?” My stomach did a little flip. This sounded serious.

  “Oisìn, my boy!” boomed a loud voice from the mouth of the alley.

  I flinched, turning to face the threat and hissing, already trying to push Oisìn behind me. I lost that fight; he was older and stronger and judging by the green fire in his eyes, furious. He scanned the exits—both blocked by unfamiliar vampires—and straightened to his full height.

  I tried to see around him to the man who’d spoken, a portly vampire who looked to have been changed at middle aged, wearing a bright yellow waistcoat and pocket watch, but the man behind me moved. I recoiled, hissing and turning to face him, my back pressed to Oisìn’s as I reached for the knife holstered at my thigh. The man, a typical vampire with long dark hair and a thin face, laughed at the sight of it. Yeah, well he wouldn’t be laughing when I killed him with my paltry knife. And if he took even one step towards us, made one move to hurt Oisìn, I wouldn’t stop fighting until he was dead.

  “How long has it been, Oisìn?” the loud man asked, his voice reminding me of overbearing uncles. “One decade? Three?”

  “What can I help you with, Glen?” Oisìn asked smoothly, though I didn’t miss the way his fingers drifted over his waist where a knife was hidden.

  “That pretty little thing behind you,” Glen replied, and my stomach turned over. “I’m taking her to our master.”

  “You’re taking her nowhere.” Oisìn’s reply was cold and deadly, and even I shuddered at the sound of it. I didn’t take my eyes off the dark-haired man at the end of the alley before me. He had a stake in hand but it didn’t feel evil the way my gran’s stake had felt. It didn’t feel old and hungry. I didn’t think these two men were hunters, but would Fear Doirche send two ordinary vampires to hurt us? I dragged my attention from the vampire sidling closer and scanned the buildings around us, the end of the alley, the rooftops.

  Nothing. Which meant these two, though not hunters, were still deadly. I shivered, waiting for the vampires to advance, but Glen seemed to enjoy taunting Oisìn. I drowned him out, blocked out his gloating words and the taunts Oisìn refused to rise to, and—I knew I had to act. If I just stood here waiting, it would be like waiting to die.

  I tightened my grip on the dagger and launched myself across the cobbles between me and the vampire. Shock crossed his features, startling him enough that he didn’t instantly lift the stake. I slashed my knife at his wrist, knocking the weapon out of his grip, and exhaled in relief. It had worked. I didn’t have long to feel victorious because this man was stronger and older than me. He gripped my forearm, twisting, and my hand flexed without my consent, my knife clattering to the cobbles.

  Behind me came the sounds of a fight, and my heart clenched tight, needing to turn and see Oisìn was okay, but I didn’t have time. The vampire ground his fingers deeper into my arm, trying to haul me out of the alley, but I dug my feet in and wrenched with my whole body.

  I ripped out of his grasp, thumping into the ground so hard a cry escaped my mouth. God, that hurt. My shoulder—it felt wrong, misaligned. The bastard laughed. And it flipped a switch in me. And Oisìn, apparently. The sounds behind us were frenzied, livid, as I scrambled towards a wall and used it to help myself back up. My shoulder screamed and my heart raced so hard I could feel it but I kept going until I was back on my feet. I wanted to lay down and take a break but a shadow fell over me. I bit the inside of my lip against the pain as I bent back down and retrieved my dagger.

  My hand shook with fear, my lungs so, so tight. The vampire was on me before I could prepare to use the weapon, his hands curling into my shoulders and wrenching me away. I shook harder, panic drowning out every thought except one: he wasn’t trying to kill me—he was kidnapping me. Forcing me to go to Fear Doirche.

  Pain hit me so hard the world went black for a second as the vampire pulled me around, my back to his chest in a vile parody of an embrace.

  “Do you know what our master is going to do to her?” Glen laughed, closer to me than I’d expected. I flinched, my head twisting to look at him and Oisìn—grappling with swords and stakes so quickly the movements blurred—and the vampire gripping me used my distraction to haul me into the mouth of the alley. No. Nonono, I wasn’t going with them. I wasn’t. And I couldn’t leave Oisìn here to fight by himself, not like I’d left Finn at the abbey.

  I dragged my feet, pressing my thumb into the sigil etched into the grip of the dagger, and with strength born of desperation, I wrenched it up into the vampire’s throat. Blood poured over me, and I shuddered—not in horror, but because it felt so good. The
vampire gurgled, his grip on me weakening until I was free, but he didn’t drop. He didn’t die. Why? What else did I need to do than stab him in the throat? I panicked, retreating a step—and bumped into someone else.

  I knew when the arms closed around me that it wasn’t Oisìn. I didn’t feel comfort rushing into the void of my soul, didn’t feel safety and tenderness. No, the arms were a barricade, and the scent around me was of amber and sweat. A sob tumbled from my mouth. Helpless. Utterly helpless.

  “What do you want.” Flat words from Oisìn. I’d never heard him sound like that before, and when Glen spun to face him, the devastation written across Oisìn’s face killed me. Tears flowed and blurred my vision and I felt … hopeless. If I’d learned how to defend myself, if I’d taken even one lesson from Oisìn or Finn, I might not be here right now. We might have won this fight and got away.

  “Back slowly out of this alley,” Glen instructed, a smile in his voice. “And leave. If you run, we won’t kill her. Well. We will—but we’ll do it quick. If not … we’ll keep her alive for the next hundred years until our master gets what he wants from her.”

  I shook. My breathing turned ragged and wrecked. I blinked until I could see Oisìn’s face. “Please,” I sobbed, and I wasn’t sure if I was asking him to save me or pleading for him to run.

  His face hardened, every trace of human emotion gone until his eyes were cold and his mouth pressed into a line. I didn’t recognise the man he’d become, and that hurt. A lot. But not as badly as Glen’s arms as they tightened around me, wrenching my injured shoulder tight to my body. I screamed.

  “Alright!” Oisìn shouted. “Alright, I’ll leave.”

  I exhaled raggedly. He was leaving me? “No,” I gasped.

  “I will find you,” he said through gritted teeth. “I will get you back.”

  I shook my head, pain arcing through my shoulder and down my arm at the movement. Black spots crowded into my vision and I shut my eyes. But I couldn’t keep them shut; I needed to see him, one last time. Even if he was leaving me. My heart cracked open, but I made myself watch. He backed away one step at a time, his eyes fixed on me and his face still set in that empty mask. I didn’t see the dark shape behind him until it was too late. His eyes flew wide, his mouth hanging open, and I wrenched against Glen’s grip, bucking wildly as I saw the tip of a wooden stake protrude from Oisìn’s chest.