“I think I loved ye from the moment I first kissed ye under the kissin’ bough,” he told her. That caused her to feel special. She loved her new life with Ross and would do her best to raise her nephews to make Gabrielle proud.
Annalyse felt free now, feeling no more pain from her sister. It was as if a veil had been lifted and she felt the joy in Gabrielle’s heart as she looked at her three new sons. Her sister would always be watching over her children and Annalyse would do her best to keep her promise to her sister to raise the boys as her own and never tell them who sired them. It was better if they didn’t know King Edward was their father and wanted them dead. But a part of Annalyse would be sad forever if she couldn’t someday tell the boys about their mother.
“I think I’m in love with you, too, Ross. And I’m glad I didn’t reject your kiss under the kissing bough or I might have never gotten married.”
“Aye,” answered Ross. “That kissin’ bough does seem to hold a wee bit of magic and I’m glad it brought us together. It was a destined fate, I guess ye could say. Now what do I have to do to get a kiss from my wife?” asked Ross, staring down at her mouth.
“Just ask,” she said with a giggle.
“I have a better idea.” He shifted both babies to one arm and dug in his sporran and pulled out a sprig of mistletoe and held it up high over her head.
“What are you doing?” she asked, laughing, looking up at the greenery in his hand.
“I’m creatin’ that first magical moment again,” he said, leaning over and kissing her passionately.
“I love it,” she said reaching up and taking the mistletoe from him, twirling it in her fingers. “I never knew when I kissed you under the kissing bough that I’d someday be your wife.”
“Aye,” he answered. “One kiss under the kissin’ bough planned our entire future. I guess ye could say it was Destiny’s Kiss!”
NOTE FROM ELIZABETH ROSE
I hope you enjoyed Annalyse and Ross’ story. I incorporated legends, superstitions, and traditions of the time into the story to bring history to my readers. I found the times fascinating, as well as the legends of the kissing bough. Bringing ivy indoors meant death and if one made a wish when they ate mince pie at Christmas, their wish would come true. The customs and superstitions of the Feast Day of the Holy Innocents were taken from history and woven into my story to make it more authentic.
Back in medieval times, the second-born twin was considered cursed and people thought this was the work of the devil. Just think what would have happened if they saw triplets!
This is the prequel to my Legendary Bastards of the Crown Series and leads into the trilogy about the triplet brothers.
You can read Rowen’s story now in Restless Sea Lord – Book 1. It will be followed by Rook’s story, Ruthless Knight – Book 2, and Reed’s story, Reckless Highlander – Book 3, starting the beginning of 2017. At the end of Book 3 the follow-up to Annalyse and Ross’ story will be told as well.
I usually overlap characters from my series, such as Storm MacKeefe who makes an appearance in Restless Sea Lord. You can read his story in Lady Renegade – Book 2 of my Legacy of the Blade Series.
Please visit my website at http://elizabethrosenovels.com to find out more about my books. You can also follow me on Twitter @ElizRoseNovels, or Facebook, Elizabeth Rose – Author, (don’t forget the dash.)
Elizabeth Rose
ABOUT ELIZABETH ROSE
Elizabeth Rose is the bestselling author of over 55 books. She is an amazon all-star and consistently in the top 100 of amazon’s most popular, bestselling historical romance authors. She writes medieval, small town contemporary, western, and paranormal romance, and is known for her many series of books.
Some of her series are:
Legacy of the Blade Series
Daughters of the Dagger Series
MadMan MacKeefe Series
Barons of the Cinque Ports Series
Legendary Bastards of the Crown Series
Elemental Series
Greek Myth Fantasy Series
Cowboys of the Old West Series
Tangled Tales Series
Tarnished Saints Series
HER VAMPIRE PROTECTOR
A ROMANCE IN CENTRAL CITY, NOVELLA SEVEN
JORDAN K. ROSE
HER VAMPIRE PROTECTOR
CHAPTER ONE
A horn blared.
“Five more coming in.”
The silver lined steel door banged open, hinges squealing as though they were being forced to open against rusted glides.
“We really should oil those,” Garrison said, sticking his finger in his ear and wiggling it.
“If you ask me, I think the brothers like the way it adds to the ambience of the place,” Oz said, adjusting the sabre strapped to his back so the strip of ammunition hanging over his shoulder didn’t hinder its removal, should the need arise.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Rafe and Gabe would get off on turning this place into a torture chamber.” Garrison looked around. His spiky hair was jet black tonight. The change from his typical shocking yellow-white might have helped to make him appear edgy if he wasn’t so obviously trembling.
“Easy there, cowboy. Don’t want you to rattle yourself out of those red boots,” Oz said, getting a kick out of the way the spikes of hair on Garrison’s head wiggled in the dim light.
An overhead light flickered, then one down the hall went completely dark, making it appear more like a medieval dungeon than a high-tech fortress designed to house revenant vampires as well as any potential rogues.
Another light blinked and went dark. “Yeah, well, you’d think they could at least pay the electric bill.” Garrison knocked on the unlit cover of the lamp attached to the wall to his right.
“Again, I think it’s supposed to set the mood.” Standing beside Garrison, wearing his favorite shades and holding a specially designed rifle, Oz watched the five new arrivals crowd together, some clinging to each other while others hissed and clawed at the guards prodding from behind.
He adjusted the strap of silver iodized bullets slung across this chest. The itch to try out his new toy was tough not to scratch, but he had promised to get the revenants into the cells alive, or as alive as he could.
At six feet, six inches he stood taller than most every other member of The Guard, which was saying something given the impressive stature of most of the men. But standing beside scrawny Garrison, Oz was certain he looked like an absolute monster.
He raised his gun, taking aim at the spot between the eyes of the first revenant. A red dot appeared.
Garrison flinched beside him, nearly dropping his own weapon. The red laser of his gun bounced along the walls, up at the ceiling, and finally landed in the eye of a revenant.
Oz cringed at the ear-splitting sound that followed. With impressive speed, yet disorganized movement, the revenant turned on the person to his left. It took mere seconds before all five captives were screaming and clawing at each other.
“Garrison.” Oz grabbed the gun and aimed it up at the ceiling. “If you can’t do this, go back into the safe box.”
“No. I, I, I got it. I can handle th, thi, this.” His body trembled with such force his teeth rattled.
“Okay, what about this is scary? The five idiots trying to kill each other in the corner or are you afraid of the dark?” Oz backed Garrison up, placing several more feet between them and the revenants, who appeared to have forgotten all about the fact they were captive prisoners being hauled into an impenetrable prison where, unbeknownst to them, they’d be used in experiments to try to figure out how they’d become what they were.
Garrison’s eyes darted to their guns, both of which Oz held between them.
“Are you afraid of guns?”
Having known Garrison since before he was a vampire, Oz was very familiar with his peculiar personality, including his bizarre penchant for pictures, non-stop chattering at all the wrong times, and his reputation as the company g
ossip.
This new feature, his anxious tendencies, was the most disturbing of them all. How he was ever going to be successful in The Guard when he shook like the cowardly lion every time anything happened around him, was beyond Oz.
“No. It’s not the gun,” Garrison said, sidestepping Oz to place a good foot between them. “It’s the silver iodide. You have no idea how powerful that stuff is.”
“Oh, right.” Oz nodded, and stepped back an arm’s length. “I forgot.”
It hadn’t been long ago that Garrison and Rafe tripped the base’s security system and were given a first-hand taste of what these revenants were experiencing.
Breaching the first entrance of the base left every intruder bathed in a skin-melting shower of silver iodide. Vampires, at least sane vampires, required a recuperation period that involved large quantities of life-repairing blood.
Revenants didn’t seem to notice their skin melting off once they were no longer standing in the shower. Instead they continued lurching forward looking for food.
Unfortunately, a vampire was generally sane so the memory of the experience didn’t fade quite so easily.
“Just don’t aim it in anyone’s eye and—” As Oz let go of the gun, pointing it toward the wall, Garrison’s arms shook. “Here, give me that. You just hold the knives.”
Slinging Garrison’s gun and ammo over his shoulder, Oz traded weapons, giving Garrison two long, silver-bladed swords. “Try not to cut your arms off.”
“Right. Why would I cut my arms off?” Garrison shrugged his shoulders and held the blades in front of him in much the same way a starving man holds a fork and knife.
“Well, let’s try this before you put your own eyes out.” Oz repositioned the swords in Garrison’s hands, moved him a few feet further away and slightly forward of himself, thus keeping an eye on him from a distance. “Remember, if you get nervous, you can go back in the box.”
“I’m not nervous. I’m fine. I can handle a sword.” He swung the larger of the two blades around, making the metal cut the air in a whoosh. The display of ineptitude ended in a clatter against the wall that echoed down the hall and came back in a loud reverberating clang.
Garrison screamed. The revenants howled and continued beating the hell out of each other.
“Okay. Off you go.” Oz took the blades, spun Garrison toward the door at the far end of the hall, and motioned to the viewing box above to let him in.
Serge nodded, and a click sounded at the end of the hall.
“I can do it. If you need me to stay, I can do it.” Garrison backed toward the door, quickening his pace with each step.
“No. I don’t need you, but I appreciate the offer. Go on.” Oz nodded and grinned.
Poor Garrison. Mostly harmless, completely useless in a fight, and desperately trying to fit in. Left on his own to prove himself, he’d never make it in The Vampire Guard. If their leader, Serge, hadn’t turned him, there was no doubt in Oz’s mind that Garrison would already be dead—most likely at the hand of another member of The Guard.
At his back Oz heard snarling moving closer. He turned to find three of the five crowded around a fourth, who no longer moved, but lay crumpled on the floor. The last one lumbered toward him with wide red eyes. Its open mouth displayed fangs and blood ran down its chin.
By the makeup smearing down its face and jewelry still hanging around the neck it was easy to tell it had once been a female. Oz surmised she hadn’t been bad looking before the transformation. She wasn’t tall, nor particularly short, and wore jeans and a full open rain slicker with one galosh. Her hair and head were covered by the hood of the coat, and she dragged her left leg.
Groaning and reaching for the wall.
“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.” The silver lined walls would burn just as much as the silver iodide.
The revenant growled and lunged, losing its balance and toppling sideways against the silver. The shrill screams drew the attention of the others, two of whom ran toward their wounded brethren, only they didn’t try to help.
Their mouths were open, tongues wagging before they were within reach of the fallen revenant.
“Uh, Oz, we need them alive to do the experiments. They’ve already eaten one of their own. Let’s try to reserve the others,” a pretty voice came over the loud speaker.
Oz glanced up to see Lawrie Tyrone, daughter of slain scientist and Guard friend, Lawrence Tyrone, standing between Serge and Garrison.
“Got it.”
Squeezing the trigger of the gun twice sent a couple rounds of silver iodide at the two revenants, making them scream and back away from the fallen one. They snarled at Oz, then shuffled toward him.
“Well, hello.” He smiled what he knew was his most terrifyingly charming smile. “So nice of you to come by.” He squeezed the trigger again, aiming for the raw, oozing flesh near their necks.
Thud. Thud. The two quick pops found their marks, landing perfectly in the openings at their collarbones. Loud howling screams accompanied by wildly thrashing arms stopped the revenants from taking another step.
“Uh.” Oz curled up his lip. “Don’t dig at it. What are you thinking?”
He’d seen many, many disturbing things over his three hundred and twelve years on this planet. But watching anything dig holes into its own flesh with its bare hands might take the cake.
“Aw, come on.” He raced forward and cuffed the arms of each revenant behind its back before they managed to decapitate themselves.
Dumping them each on the floor he pulled the woman off the wall and cuffed her too before dropping her onto the pile.
“Okay, you.” He turned to face the last live revenant, who turned from feasting on the poor guy Garrison had blinded with the rifle laser. “Come here.”
It turned to look at him, mouth open, not a fang to be seen, though, it was a challenge to see inside its mouth with the bloody flesh hanging out.
“Nice. Is that how you treat all your friends?”
Dropping the body of the dead revenant to the floor it stood as straight as Oz imagined it could. Maintaining a hunched stance, it rocked back and forth, eyes staring into Oz’s. Its mouth twitched to the left, and the oddest grin Oz had ever seen appeared along with one stumpy fang.
“Ah. There it is. A fanglet.” Nodding, Oz smiled. “Mine are bigger. And I have two.” With his lip curled up he let his fangs drop down and watched the revenant’s grin fade away.
Oz was not simply known for his fighting skills, or for being a lady-charmer, though he’d have been an absolute liar to try to deny either. He was well-known for the size of his fangs. Thick and long, and like the rest of his smile, gleaming white, his fangs were the envy of many a vampire. They were also the terror of many an enemy.
“How are we going to do this? The easy way? Or my preferred way, me kicking your ass all over this room?”
Another click sounded. “Um, Oz. Again, I need them alive,” Lawrie said.
“Well, that doesn’t mean I can’t kick his ass.” Oz wiggled his eyebrows at the revenant and in return got a grunt, followed by a clumsy, yet interestingly fast lunge forward.
Stepping to the side, Oz yelled, “Ole!”
The revenant tumbled to the floor, but before Oz bothered to grab him, the guy was up and rushing him again.
Once more Oz waited until the last moment, then darted to the side and yelled, “Ole.” This went on four or five more times.
The next click was not followed by a lovely voice. Instead it was Serge’s deep, ominous voice. “Oz.”
“Fine. You take the fun out of everything.” He moseyed up to the revenant, grabbed his wrist, spun him around and knocked his feet out from under him. Before planting him face first onto the floor, Oz had already cuffed his elbows together. “Done. What was my time on that one?”
“You’ve done better. That one took two-point-six seconds,” Lawrie said.
“Shouldn’t fool around so much. You’ll ruin your reputation,” Garrison said
as the flash from the camera on his phone lit.
Four doors opened, and Oz tossed a revenant into each one, but not before checking everyone’s mouth.
“Not one of them has a full set of fangs. In fact, this one has no teeth, though with this breath I’m not sure if the teeth rotted out before or after the transformation. Good God.” He hit the button to close the door on the revenant. “If we can’t stop Panthera from changing these people, we should consider inventing mouthwash for them.”
“How many had any fangs,” Serge asked.
“Two. Of the other two, one had a full set of human teeth and the other had no teeth at all.” Oz looked up at the viewing box. “And the one with no teeth was the one that kept coming at me. She must have been starving, poor stinky girl.”
“What the hell is Tyrone up to? Vampires with no teeth?” Serge shook his head.
“Maybe the lack of teeth is a side effect to the experiment gone wrong,” Oz said.
“Or, maybe the lack of teeth is an attempt to control them,” Lawrie said. “How powerful is a vampire who can’t feed itself?”
All three vampires looked at her, and she shrugged. “I’m just saying I wouldn’t put it past my uncle. Remember, he wants to build an army he controls. If the only way they can get food is from him, doesn’t that make him very powerful?”
Oz, like every other member of The Guard, had known Raymond Tyrone was a sick and twisted fuck, but this just kicked it up a notch.
HER VAMPIRE PROTECTOR
CHAPTER TWO
Clicking away at her keyboard and desperately trying to keep her eyes from checking the time in the corner of the screen, Selene Kittery silently repeated her new mantra over and over.
No one needs a lover for Christmas. No one needs a lover for Christmas. No needs a luller for Christmas.
Under The Kissing Bough: 15 Romantic Holiday Novellas Page 98