Voracious Vixens, 13 Novels of Sexy Horror and Hot Paranormal Romance

by Travis Luedke

  I am a dhampyre—born of a human mother to a vampire father. My parents did their best to raise me as any normal child, but hey, when your dad survives by drinking the blood of other people, something like that is always going to play on a girl’s mind. Being half vampire is something I’ve just always known—I imagine it must be a bit like growing up always knowing you’re adopted. I don’t remember my parents ever sitting me down and breaking the news that I was a dhampyre to me. Boy, what a conversation that would have been!

  I do, however, remember serious conversations about never being able to mention what my father was to anyone. I’d been warned that either he would be taken away or I would be taken away; neither good results in my child’s mind. Oh, I’d wanted to tell people on many occasions, especially as my dad’s supposed condition of extreme light sensitivity made ‘vampire’ the obvious taunt for kids in the schoolyard. I’d wanted them to know how close to the truth they were, for him to come and show them his speed and strength, just to shut them up, but of course that could never happen.

  My existence had caused some troubles when I was younger—problems I only had a vague memory of now—and so it wasn’t exactly something I wanted to broadcast. I’d even Googled ‘dhampyre’, hoping to get some answers, but I’d only been able to pull up fictional pages. It wasn’t like a dhampyre convention occurred once a year where I could go and talk to other, like-minded, half-vampires.

  In truth, the vampire side was less troublesome than whatever weird genetic screw allowed me to see things about people that hadn’t happened yet. When I was younger, I struggled to tell the difference between what I actually knew about someone and what I’d picked out of mid-air. This made for some uncomfortable conversations, especially when what I’d told them came true. But lately I’d been developing an unnerving craving, one I didn’t want to admit to, even to myself. If I’d admitted to either of my parents that I was craving the taste of blood whenever I became angry or upset, I was convinced they wouldn’t let me move away. They’d have wanted to keep me close to keep an eye on me, and bang, there’d go my new independent life.

  All around me, excited or nervous new students unloaded their belongings from their parents’ cars. I could tell the parents were trying to hold it together, not wanting to cause a scene in front of their offspring’s potential new friends. I recognized the tight-lipped smiles, the shiny eyes on the verge of tears, and strained expressions from the ones that had been plastered on my own parents’ faces just before dawn one morning, a few days ago.

  I’d made the three day drive alone. My parents had wanted to bring me, but unless we’d only traveled at night my dad couldn’t come. My mom wanted to come alone, in fact, she’d begged me to let her drive up with me and fly back, but I was perfectly aware of how my mom looked. Something happened in her past which meant she regularly took drops of my dad’s blood to keep her well. The result was my mother looking like a seriously hot twenty-five year old. I had no intention of watching all the guys at college noticing her before me. Beside her, I disappeared into the background.

  People told me I looked like my mother, but when I stood in front of the mirror, I only saw my father staring back at me. I was blessed with my father’s shock of unruly dark hair, and as for my skin, I was definitely not one to tan. Minutes in strong sunshine caused me to burn. Ironically, my dad used the excuse of xeroderma pigmentosum—a genetic disorder which made him susceptible to sunlight—to pass as a regular human. My condition wasn’t so extreme, but I couldn’t hang out at the beach without some serious cover-up.

  People rushed past me, giving me only sideways glances as I still stood staring up at my new home. My earlier experience had left me rattled, so now nerves roiled inside my stomach, though I wasn’t going to show it. The only way I dealt with being me was by toughing it out, acting as though I didn’t need anyone else, as if I were fine on my own. I couldn’t get too close to other people. I either saw something in their future that meant I couldn’t bear to look them in the face, or I touched them and got a flash of their present. Either way, I struggled to maintain long term friendships. As for relationships with guys, well, let’s just say getting physically involved with someone like me wasn’t a good thing.

  First thing I needed to do was register, and have my dorm and key allocated to me. Leaving my belongings in my replacement vehicle, I headed up the main path and entered the campus building. The red-brick Victorian structure managed to be both beautiful and imposing. Turrets rose from a number of points on the roof. High ceilings created a cathedral-like space. Tall, arched windows allowed the late afternoon light to filter through in beams, highlighting dust motes which spiraled lazily in the shafts.

  I went to the administration office, clutching my paperwork to my chest. The door was open. A girl stood with her back to me, talking animatedly to the small woman with short gray hair who sat behind the desk, peering at the computer.

  I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation.

  “No, Mrs. McCarthy,” the girl said in curt tones. “You do know I am on the system because I have lived in Sage Springs my whole life, and you babysat me for half of that. You know I would not leave, which is also why you know I am on that computer somewhere!”

  The poor woman behind the desk fidgeted, chewed her thumbnail, and then hit a few more keys on her computer. “I am sorry, Laurel. You’re just not coming up.”

  The girl—Laurel—gave a sigh of exasperation, rounded the desk, and stood behind the older woman. “Up you get, Mrs. McCarthy. Time to let me have a go.”

  “Oh, I really don’t think that’s ...”

  “It’ll be fine. No one will know.”

  Both their gazes settled on me loitering in the open doorway as I gawped at the gall of the new student. The girl had astonishingly blue eyes behind her glasses, her mousy blonde hair pulled up into a high ponytail. She wore an old fashioned white blouse buttoned up to the neck and teamed with jeans. Around her neck, on a chain, hung a tiny silver birdcage with a minuscule silver bird perched inside.

  “She won’t say anything, will you ...?”

  She lifted her eyebrows for me to fill in the gap.

  “Elizabeth,” I supplied.

  “There you go,” said Laurel. “Elizabeth. A nice, trustworthy name.”

  She gave me a wink, and I couldn't help but grin back.

  “Now let me at those files.” She settled in front of the computer, leaning across the administrator as she hit a number of keys, her eyes glued on the screen.

  She grinned. “There you go. Told you I’d find it.”

  Mrs. McCarthy blinked at the screen. “But that’s not the right major.”

  “Sure it is. I’m majoring in journalism.”

  “Well, no wonder I couldn’t find you. I thought you were doing law to follow in your daddy’s footsteps. What are your parents going to say?”

  “I’m eighteen years old. They don’t have to say anything.”

  She bristled. “I’m sure the money to pay for college has come from somewhere.”

  Laurel scowled. “And I’m sure that’s none of your business.”

  Secretly, I was delighted. If this spiky girl was doing journalism, our paths would cross, either in class or on the college newspaper. I didn’t know what it was, but something about her seemed different. She seemed like the type of person I could be myself around. Okay, maybe not totally myself, but the human version, at least.

  The administrator printed off Laurel’s schedule and handed it to her, her face taut with disapproval. I couldn’t help but wonder who her parents were, if they were some kind of bigwigs in town.

  Finally, Mrs. McCarthy turned her attention to me. Feeling somewhat shy about the intrusion and the tension remaining in the room, I sidled forward and pushed my own paperwork across the desk. I could only assume Laurel had arrived without any for the administrator to struggle to find her.

  My details were typed in, and within a minute the printer spurted out my sch
edule. The older woman’s warmth hadn’t improved as she handed me my schedule as well, as if I’d played a part in the confrontation deliberately and hadn’t simply been an accidental addition.

  I smiled my thanks to her, but she’d already looked away, busying herself with something else. I mentally bookmarked her as someone I should try to avoid.

  Turning from the desk, I discovered Laurel hadn’t gone anywhere, but instead waited for me in the doorway.

  She grinned at me and linked her arm in mine, pulling me down the corridor with her as though we’d known each other for years. I braced myself, waiting for the onslaught of images I knew would come.

  Nothing happened.

  “What?” she said, slowing to a halt.

  I realized I was staring at her and forced my eyes away, turning my lips into a grimace of a smile. I prayed she wouldn’t think I was a total weirdo. “Oh, nothing. I just thought I recognized you for a second.”

  She smiled. “Nope, don’t think so. Not unless you’ve spent much time in town. I’ve never left.”

  “Perhaps it was during orientation.”

  She shrugged and started to walk again, though I noticed her arm slip out of mine. “Yeah, maybe. So what major did you say you were doing?”

  I relaxed slightly, thankful to move onto something else. “I didn’t, but it’s English Lit.”

  “Oh, cool. We’ll have some classes together then!”

  “Yeah, I guess we will.”

  We grinned at each other, and the awkward moment melted away.

  Just because I wanted to work on the newspaper didn’t mean I wanted to be a journalist. I wanted to write, and I’d write anything, including factual stories. I’d already gotten in contact with the editor of the school paper, The Sage Gazette, and I reminded myself to drop in on her and introduce myself. Writing on the paper was also another way for me to fit in, to create my own niche at school. In Los Angeles, I’d always been an outsider, despite living in the city all my life. My tendency to burn instead of tan, our big, gated house in the hills, and the secretive father no one ever really saw only made me stand out as someone different. In L.A., it wasn’t good to be different. This move to Sage Springs made me the outsider, but I hoped this new start would give me the opportunity to be the person I never got the chance to be back home. No one needed to know anything about my family, and the cloudier climate here meant I didn’t need to slather myself in sun lotion twenty-four-seven, or make constant excuses about why I couldn’t go to the beach. When I did go to the beach, I sat in a giant brimmed hat and under a couple of layers of throw overs while the other girls spread themselves out on the sand in the smallest bikinis they could find.

  “You’re not staying on campus then?” I asked, realizing Laurel had not been given a room key like me.

  She shook her head. “No need. My folks live in town. It would be a bit weird if I decided to stay on campus when they are only around the corner. I’m hoping next year I’ll be able to get an apartment with a couple of friends, but I’ll have to see. I haven’t mentioned my plans to my parents yet.”

  “How come?”

  “They can be a little ... overprotective.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Yours too, huh?”

  I nodded.

  “But they let you come here by yourself?” The question was in her tone.

  “I told them I’d disown them if they didn’t.” I could hardly tell her the truth—that my father was only capable of being protective in the night time. His attempt to be protective in the day had once almost killed him.

  I was disappointed Laurel wouldn’t be staying on campus, but figured we’d see each other around. I hoped my roommate, whoever that may be, was equally cool.

  With my new room key clutched in my hand, I headed back out to my car to get my belongings and find my new home.

  Chapter

  3

  Bending down, I heaved my huge backpack onto my back and then picked up the box containing a few of my personal items—my pillow from home, my bedside lamp, and a couple of framed photographs from my childhood. As much as I’d been desperate to get away from home, I knew I’d miss my family. But I’d spent my whole life immersed in all the fakery of the Hollywood Hills, and I’d picked this place precisely because it was so different. Sage Springs survived purely because of the college. Without the influx of students, the place would probably die away, but with the fresh injection of new blood each semester, bringing money and part time workers, the town remained vital.

  I balanced the box on one arm and stooped for a third time to snatch up my laptop bag. I didn’t plan on going anywhere without my baby. English Literature was my major, and my laptop was my life. If I didn’t have something to write on, I’d lose my mind.

  With my possessions precariously balanced, I got my feet moving and headed across campus.

  My half-vampire genetics made me stronger and more agile than most five-foot-six, hundred and fifteen pound, eighteen year olds, so I strode across the lawn toward the building, not noticing the weight dragging down on my shoulders.

  From the tour I’d taken earlier in the year, I knew classrooms and lecture halls filled the main building where I’d registered. The two separate buildings to the left were the boys’ dorms, and the two to the right made up the girls’ rooms. Each building housing the students had been named after a type of herb—I was staying in the one called Caraway. The sister building was named Loveage, while the two boys’ dorms were Yarrow and Tarragon. I imagined the ‘Loveage’ name probably caused a few smirks and elbows jabbed in ribs for the girls who stayed there.

  Of course, not everyone stayed on campus. Some lived close enough to stay home and travel in, while a few super independent types rented apartments. I wasn’t anywhere close to that stage yet. Just coming here set my teeth on edge. I wanted to appear mature and brave, but my heart hammered inside my chest, and my legs felt like jelly.

  Taking deep breaths, I took the path that separated a grassy knoll up to the main building and then headed right. My new building was the first. Some thoughtful person had wedged open the front doors, so I didn’t need to fight with my belongings to get in. A couple of new students hung out with their parents by the elevator, and they both shot me nervous smiles. I debated waiting with them for only the briefest of seconds. I didn’t want to be squished into a cramped, awkward space, and besides, I didn’t tire easily, and I was only on the second floor.

  Decision made, I tramped up the stairs. The door to the second floor hadn’t been so conveniently propped open, so I turned around and used a combination of my elbow and back to barge through. Like a hotel, the numbers of the rooms had been engraved on a plaque on the wall. My room was number sixty-three, so I followed the brass arrows pointing me in the right direction.

  I paused outside the door, which held the number correlating to the one on the key tag I now held in my hand. On instinct, I tried the handle before bothering to struggle with the key, and the door swung open.

  I walked into the room to discover I wasn’t alone.

  “Hey!” A perfectly made-up blonde spun to meet me. A million-watt smile was plastered on her face, but I watched it falter for the briefest of seconds before she dragged herself back to little miss perfect again.

  “Hey,” she said again, reining in her apparent disappointment at the scruff-bag who had just imposed on her immaculate world. “I’m Brooke.”

  I force my own smile. “Elizabeth.”

  The smile remained fixed, though her eyes dropped down my body, taking in my tee and sweats. “Oh my God, that’s so pretty. I just love those old-fashioned names.”

  Ouch, I knew it was coming. A jab in the ribs with a verbal knife.

  My grin felt frozen. “Thanks.” An idea suddenly occurred to me and burst from my mouth before I could stop it. “But everyone calls me Beth.”

  “Beth ... sure,” she said. “Here, let me help you with that.�
��

  “Oh, no,” I shook my head. “I’m fine, really.”

  “Don’t be silly.” She reached out and grasped the sides of the box still circled in one arm. “I’ve got it.”

  Her hand brushed against mine. I got a flash of her sitting on a double bed, the coverlet beneath her covered in tiny embroidered pink roses. Her knees were pulled up to her chest as she cried into a pink stuffed rabbit—the same one, I noted, which now sat on her pillow.

  I shook my head, trying to dispel the unintended invasion of her privacy. I couldn’t be sure if what I’d seen came from her past or future. I wasn’t sure which option I even preferred.

  Unaware of my visions, Brooke took the box from me with two hands and staggered under the weight. “Jeez, what the hell have you got in here?”

  Oh yeah, books. I’d forgotten about the books.

  I grinned and took the box back, lifting it easily. I deposited it on the desk on the side of the room my new roommate hadn’t yet occupied. Glancing over to her side, I realized she’d unpacked already. Tubes and pots of hair products, makeup and body lotions all teetered on the surface where her school work was supposed to go. A laptop with a pink cover sat unopened beside them.

  “Your folks leave already?” I asked.

  “Oh,” she gave a shrug, her silky blonde hair sliding over her shoulders. “They didn’t bother coming. They hate goodbyes and figured if I’m old enough to come to college, I’m old enough to drive myself as well.”

  “Yeah, me too. Welcome to our independent lives.”

  She offered me what I felt was her first genuine smile.

  I shrugged my backpack off my shoulders and set it beside the single bed that was now mine. “So have you come far?”

  “Not really. My family actually live just outside of town. They own a few thousand acres of the forests and lands west of Sage Springs.”

  “Oh, right,” I tried to hide my surprise. She was close enough to be living at home and traveling in to school daily. “A few thousand acres? That’s a lot of land.”