Although I hadn’t taken supernatural biology in high school—which I would have, had I stayed at Harmswood—I was an avid fan of Secret Shadows, so I knew a thing or two about the making of vampires. The first bite on the first night did nothing. The second bite on the second night turned you rook, where you could still go out in the daylight, but you had the gift of immortality. And the third bite on the third night turned you fully into a vampire.
“So, the third night hasn’t passed yet?”
“No, that’s tonight.” He reached for the door handle. “I’d stay, but it’s not a good idea for me to be here. I’ll leave you now and come back—”
“I want you to turn me.”
He hesitated. “You…you do?”
Normally a very confident, self-assured man, this sudden tentativeness was incredibly endearing.
“Yes, I do.”
“It’s too risky,” he said, shaking his head vehemently. “You could die. I might not be able to control my bloodlust and kill you.”
I waved his words away. “You won’t.”
He frowned. “How can you be so sure about that? Many have died during the turning process.”
“Remember our first date at Guillermo’s, when that old couple serenaded us?”
“What does that have to do with—?”
“You didn’t notice the old woman’s pendant, did you?”
He shook his head.
Men. They could be so unobservant sometimes. “She wore an oracle’s charm around her neck. A yellow stone set in silver. Do you remember what she said to us?”
He scratched his beard thoughtfully. “That we will have many more dates?”
“And…”
His eyes met mine as the realization hit him. “And we will make beautiful babies together.”
The only way that was possible was if I became a vampire.
I smiled at him. “I’m not going to die, Luka. So unless you want to go against fate and destiny, I think you should bite me tonight.”
16
Three months later
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Luka
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We stood together at twilight on a windy hillside overlooking a small, rock-strewn valley. Light shone in the nearby stone cottage where we were staying.
I brought the back of Penelope's hand to my lips and kissed it, her wedding ring glinting in the moonlight. She smiled up at me, dazzling my undead heart.
A few days after she became a full-blooded vampire, the Others had come for the scarab. We were both glad to have it gone. At dinner that night, I’d asked her to marry me.
On our honeymoon, I’d shown her the Regent diamond at the Louvre and the Bayeux Tapestry at the Musée de la Tapisserie de Bayeux. We’d walked the Tower Bridge in London, toured the Bone Church outside Prague, and now, here we were, on a lush green hillside in Ireland.
I pointed to the valley below. “Do you know what those are?”
“Sheep?”
“Yes, but what kind of sheep?”
She made a funny face. “I’m not well-versed in livestock.”
I chuckled. “They're charmed sheep, descended from the same ones whose wool was used in the tapestry at home.”
Her eyes brightened. “Are you serious? I'd love to see what their wool feels like. Maybe watch a spinning demonstration.”
“I think that can be arranged.”
“I wonder if they sell the yarn,” she said excitedly. “What I wouldn't do to get my hands on a skein and work it myself.”
“I can do better than that.”
She looked at me quizzically, which made me laugh. “The owner owed me a favor and agreed to sell a few of them to me.”
“A few skeins?”
“No, a few sheep.”
She lifted a brow. “You’re buying some sheep?”
“I’ve already talked to the woman in Nocturne Falls who made Charming Yarns’ signature yarn for Yarnapalooza. She agreed to keep the sheep for you and spin their wool into yarn.”
Penelope's eyes widened. “Charmed yarn from charmed sheep to sell at Charming Yarns?”
I nodded.
“Once word gets out, we’ll be even busier. Everyone will want to buy a skein.” She jumped into my arms and covered my face with kisses. “Oh Luka, that's the best wedding present ever. Thank you.”
Nuzzling her neck, I rubbed the small swell of her belly. “I’m afraid I disagree.”
Thank you for reading Luka and Penelope’s story! I hope you enjoyed it. And thank you to Kristen Painter for inviting me to write in the Nocturne Falls Universe. I had such fun writing in her world.
To stay up to date on new releases, including a new humorous paranormal series that I’ll be launching fairly soon, please sign up for my mailing list. You’ll receive an exclusive Iron Portal coloring page designed by my talented cover artist.
http://laurielondonbooks.com/mailing-list-sign-up/
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You can find a list of all my books here:
http://laurielondonbooks.com/nfu-readers
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In the mood for some sexy paranormal romance? Keep scrolling to read an excerpt from ASSASSIN’S TOUCH, book 1 of the Iron Portal series. It’s available at your favorite e-bookstore for only 99¢
Excerpt from ASSASSIN’S TOUCH
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“Agent Trihorn!”
Neyla jumped to her feet, stashing the book on the seat behind her. With her heart pounding in her chest, she steeled her shoulders and saluted.
Where had Captain Gravich come from? Last she knew, he was two railcars away lecturing the recruits fresh from boot camp about the origins of the current conflict. Having endured that talk before, she assumed he’d be busy until they arrived at the station. She was such a fool for sneaking out her paperback.
He stormed down the aisle, his irritation souring the already stale air like pungent body odor. The other soldiers in the car subtly moved away from her. She couldn’t blame them. No doubt they were thinking it was better that she took the brunt of their captain’s ire, not them.
Sweat formed on her upper lip as he stopped just to her left, but she didn’t dare wipe it off. With eyes forward, she stood at attention, preparing for the onslaught.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He leaned in much too close—he’d had onions for breakfast. “We’re pulling into the Crystal Peak station in three minutes, but you’re obviously distracted and not ready. Where’s your damn head, Trihorn?”
They were that close? The book had totally sucked her in, whisking her to a fictional world very different from her own. Although it did a good job of keeping her mind off things she didn’t want to think about, she was mad at herself for not being able to multitask a little better. She should’ve been paying attention to what was going on around her.
“I’m sorry, sir. I won’t let it happen again.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him tap a meaty finger to his temple. “If I didn’t know you better, Trihorn, I’d think your heart wasn’t in this mission.”
“It is, sir.”
“I’m not so sure. You’re obviously unfocused and easily distracted. To be successful, you’ve got to feel it here.” He pounded a fist against his barrel chest, reminding her of a plump, preening bird. “You need to be passionate about what you do. Live it, breathe it. Focus on it at all times rather than on this—” He picked up her book and scowled. “—drivel. Otherwise, defeat and failure will follow you everywhere.”
“Amen.”
“Bravo.”
She tried to ignore the bootlickers. “It’s just that...”
But she couldn’t tell him why—especially not in front of everyone. Her fellow soldiers zeroed in on any sign of weakness like a pack of feral dogs, even one of their own. Plus, the fact that she’d received a direct commission as an officer and skipped the rigorous basic training hadn’t sat well with a few of them. She didn’t need to give them more fodder.
&nbs
p; “I am ready, sir.” Just then, the rail car jerked and she almost choked. Through some miracle, she managed to keep her balance without clutching at the overhead handle like a terrified idiot.
Rather than tossing the book aside, Captain Gravich began to thumb through the pages. She kicked herself for daring to read a physical book. If she’d been reading an electronic version on her handheld, he’d have assumed she was working.
“Well, look at this. An I-love-you-truly book.”
Someone laughed.
Oh great. This wasn’t going to be pleasant. If only she could melt into the seat behind her. She hated confrontation and had never been good at thinking on her feet anyway. The perfect thing to say always came five minutes or an hour after the fact, when she’d had plenty of time to mull things over.
“Yes, sir,” she said simply. She didn’t need to justify her reading choices to him. If she did say something, it’d probably sound stupid and defensive.
“Does it help you concentrate, Agent Trihorn?” The derision in his tone was obvious.
She heard another snicker. What really made her cringe, though, was seeing Captain Gravich creasing the cover. She wanted to grab it out of his hands as if he were a child touching something he shouldn’t. She never bent her books that way. When she finished reading them, they still looked brand new.
“Does it get you into the right frame of mind for this mission?”
Guess reading a book filled with serial killers, heads on spikes, or unhappy people searching for inner peace would be more acceptable.
Hoping this public humiliation would be over soon, she sucked up her pride. “I…I enjoy reading on the train, sir. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
His onion breath flitted across her cheek once. Twice.
She stood her ground, looking straight ahead. How could she tell him that ever since the wreck last year—the one that had changed everything—she was terrified of anything that remotely reminded her of the inside of a train? When forced to ride in one, she did whatever she could to keep her mind elsewhere. Reading, doing crossword puzzles, using her favorite sketching app on her handheld. She used to listen to music, but given what had happened the last time she’d had earbuds in, she’d vowed not to make that mistake again.
“Well, then, step lively,” he said finally, tossing the book down. “Our latest intel shows the portal might be closer than we thought. No doubt their men are guarding it carefully and will be waiting for us. We need your abilities as a Talent more than ever to have any hope of finding it and defeating the barbarians. They bombed another nightclub in New Seattle last night. Did you know that?”
She tried not to appear too relieved that his interrogation was over. “Yes, sir. That’s terrible, sir.”
It was all over the army news blogs. She’d seen the photos and videos of the destruction when she’d logged in this morning. Heaps of dusty red bricks littered the sidewalks, and blown-out windows gaped as dark as a devil’s mouth.
One image, that of a young woman in tattered clothes and clutching a high-heeled shoe, stuck with her. Except for the brown hair, it could have easily been her last year. Confused. Scared. Not sure why she was alive when so many others hadn’t been so lucky. She’d spent hours in the small hospital bathroom, trying to get the scent of burning flesh off her skin and out of her hair. As the days turned into months, she kept expecting the nightmares to fade, but so far, they hadn’t. Her memories were as vivid as ever.
Neyla shivered and gave in to her need to fidget. Trying not to be too obvious, she bit the inside of her cheek and tapped her toes inside her boot. At least the Captain valued her as a Talent. That should count for something.
“We’re going to find the bastards and bring them to justice.” With a grunt of dismissal, he finally stomped down the aisle.
Thank God. He could make her life unbearable if he wanted to. From now on, she needed to do a better job of keeping her head in the game so crap like this wouldn’t happen. She tucked the book into her duffel, and when the doors of the train slid open, she shuffled onto the platform along with the other members of her unit.
“If you slow us down on this mission like you did before, Trihorn, I’ll make sure it’s your last.” Although the voice hissed from behind, she knew it was Corporal Smythe. His buddies called him The Snake. Very fitting, if you asked her. She hated reptiles.
“Promise?” She tried to disguise the word with a cough. In the time she’d been with the Special Tactics and Response Team, she’d grown tired of violence junkies like Smythe. Even if they did fight against vicious warriors from the Barrowlands, it didn’t make the situation any easier. Before her special abilities were discovered, the closest she’d come to warfare was sitting in front of her flat screen playing online video games with her brother.
The Captain’s lecture about passion still echoed in her head, serving as a painful reminder of everything she’d lost.
When the army ordered her to join the ranks as a Talent—though they preferred to call it an invitation—she was forced to sell her costume design boutique. She had nothing to return to now. Her customers had moved on. Her cute little shop, with its shabby chic décor, was now a coffee house. It was as if her former self had never existed.
For the thousandth time, she cursed those warmongering barbarians for putting her in this situation in the first place. If they hadn’t slipped through their secret portals to bring death and destruction to her world, she wouldn’t be here.
At least her father had been proud of her before he’d passed away, and for that she was grateful. He’d said he always knew she had a Talent in her. That she was finally doing something worthwhile instead of wasting time making silly clothes for rich people to play dress-up.
To find out more about ASSASSIN’S TOUCH and the entire Iron Portal series, click here:
http://laurielondonbooks.com/allbooks/iron-portal-series/
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If vampires are more your thing, check out the books in the Sweetblood series here:
http://laurielondonbooks.com/allbooks/sweetblood-vampire-series/
About the Author
Laurie London is the NY Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Sweetblood and Iron Portal series—dark, sexy paranormal romance, set primarily in the Pacific Northwest. Publisher’s Weekly calls her work “sexy” and “sizzling.”
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She lives outside of Seattle with her husband, two children and a variety of animals.
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When not writing, she can be found running, reading, crocheting, or riding her horse. Someday she hopes to qualify for the Quarter Horse World Show – that is, if her horse doesn’t get hurt again.
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Where to find Laurie online:
www.LaurieLondonBooks.com
www.twitter.com/LaurieBLondon
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