Blood Stone
by
Tracy Cooper-Posey
Nial orders Calum Garrett to get close to Hollywood producer Kate Lindenstream. Garrett reluctantly complies for he has held himself apart from humans for centuries. Kate doesn’t fall into Garrett’s arms, either. She already has someone for that. Roman Xerus – whom Kate knows as Adrian -- and Garrett go way back to the sixteenth century Scottish highlands, but they parted bitterly two hundred years ago.
With Roman’s support, Kate battles Garrett in wills and business as he methodically forces himself into her life. However, on the closed-in movie set in the Californian desert, Garrett’s calm, orderly world crumbles for Garrett is drawn to Kate. He has begins to experience real, human feelings.
Kate doesn’t cooperate in the chess game Nial orchestrates, despite being unaware of the strategies swirling around her film set. Demanding and expecting only the best for her movie, Kate’s agenda forces Roman and Garrett to work together to protect her and keep the humans around her ignorant of the Pro Libertatus, the anonymous and all-powerful vampire group who nearly killed Nial, Sebastian and Winter, and shield Kate from the excesses of the League for Humanity. But could Roman really be with the Pro Libertatus?
There’s hidden intentions everywhere, and centuries of repressed feelings, along with at least two different groups that mean them harm. Then there’s the rumours that Kate has found the mythical Blood Stone, the key to unlocking vampire history and lifting their curse. Who is Kate, really? Because once Garrett begins to notice, things about Kate don’t quite add up, either...
Praise for Blood Stone
Blood Stone is filled with a perfect balance of sex, seduction, emotional struggles, and suspense that will leave any urban fantasy, erotic, or paranormal romance reader completely satisfied and begging for more.
—Rhonda for Vampire Romance Books.com
Blood Stone is another great MMF romance from Tracy Cooper-Posey. The world building is great, the romance super sexy and the plot action packed.
—J9 for The Romance Reviews.com
You think you know menage romance - think again, Cooper-Posey's novel is deliciously forbidden.
—Sandra for LoveRomancePassion.com
Blood Stone
by
Tracy Cooper-Posey
A Stories Rule Publication
STORIES RULE PUBLICATIONS
A sole proprietorship owned and operated
by Tracy Cooper-Posey
This is an original publication of Tracy Cooper-Posey
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.
Copyright © 2012 by Tracy Cooper-Posey
Text design by Tracy Cooper-Posey
Cover design by Dar Albert
Wicked Smart Designs
http://wickedsmartdesigns.com
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
FIRST EDITION: September 2012
ISBN: 9781927423110 (Amazon Edition)
Cooper-Posey, Tracy
Blood Stone/Tracy Cooper-Posey—1st Ed.
Romance—Fiction
Paranormal – Fiction
Vampires - Fiction
Chapter One
After eight years as a Hollywood producer/director, with one B-grade forgettable, three solidly respectable money-earners and four great movies to her name, Kate figured she’d seen it all. She was utterly cured and would never be star-struck again — until she stood six inches from the great Calum Micheil Garrett himself, he looked down into her soul with his sharp, crystal blue eyes, smiled his famous smile...and she was in star-struck fan mode with a vengeance.
Kate disguised her high-school-girl reaction with cool professionalism. She stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Garrett. I don’t know how I can help a global industrial entrepreneur like yourself. Our worlds don’t exactly cross.” She glanced around the bustling main lounge of The Standard. This was a thriving network hot spot for Hollywood types. What was Garrett doing here? He lived on the east coast, and mixed it with politicians and power-hungry New York business types. This wasn’t his scene at all.
At the same time, she was cautiously pleased that half-a-dozen A-List names were watching her shake hands and chat with Calum Garrett. Her reputation would definitely rise after this.
Garrett gave another brief smile that made his eyes dance. “Just Garrett will do. You’d be surprised how far my business interests spread, Ms. Lindenstream.” His voice was even better in person than on television. Up close she could hear the timbre of his voice. It reverberated in his chest in a way that made her want to keep on listening.
“Just Kate, please. Try me.” She waved a hand at the table behind her. “Would you like to sit down?”
“You’re not expecting company?” He glanced around the bar casually, taking in everyone with a single sweep of his gaze. The movement made the groomed and burnished copper highlights in his hair gleam.
“I am,” she replied, “but his plane was late landing at L.A.X., so I have a moment.”
Garrett weighed the matter seriously, then appeared to agree by settling himself not on the buffet seating behind the art deco table where Kate was sitting, but on one of the chic but uncomfortable chairs crouched opposite. He unbuttoned the jacket of his business suit that gleamed with the dull glint of expense, and crossed his legs. Then he settled back like he was sitting in a two thousand dollar business chair. “Can I buy you a drink, Kate?”
“Are you trying to soften me up for a business proposition, or hit me up for a date, Mr. Garrett?” The words were out before she had time to edit them. They were an instinctive response to the question. People were always looking for something in Hollywood. So she kept her gaze steady, refusing to apologize for the reaction.
Garrett had been looking for a waiter to order her a drink. Now he turned to study her, his eyes narrowing. “Do you have a preference?”
Ooohhh, she thought. Now there was a take-down. Ball smashed straight back at her, for her to deal with. And Kate deserved the comeback for her direct parry.
But Garrett was smiling, the corner of his mouth lifted. Even he agreed it was a fair trade. Yet there was a light in his eyes that said he was genuinely interested in her answer, if she chose to give it.
And for a moment Kate wondered what her answer might be. She picked up her virgin daiquiri. “I already have a drink, thank you.”
“Ah.” Garrett swivelled to face her, the waiter forgotten. His gaze travelled over her face once more. “May I be frank?”
“My time is short, Mr. Garrett. This isn’t a board meeting. Frank is all you can afford.”
Again, the small smile. His head tilted to one side. He was measuring her. “You’re defensive, yet I haven’t said a word that could be considered anything but good mannered. You can hardly object to my notoriety when your own fame is just as well reported. Our names appear on different mastheads, but yours shows up as frequently as mine. Is it my money you object to, then?”
Kate bit her lip. Damn. She had overcompensated. Time to come clean. She took a deep breath and could feel her cheeks heating. “Can I be frank, then?”
Garrett lifted a single brow. “You have been, so far.”
> Ouch. She spread her hands on the cool top of the table. “I really hate babbling star-stuck fans, Mr. Garrett. I—”
“Don’t fans come built into your line of work?” Garrett interrupted.
“Yes, and when I know I’m going to meet them, I’m fine. You know, rope lines and public stuff, when I’m braced for it.”
Garrett’s eyes narrowed. Not with suspicion, she realized, but deep thought. He was actually listening to her, thinking it through. Wow.
“Braced? That’s an interesting choice of words.” He crossed his arms. “I presume, then, the opposite applies. You dislike being caught flat-footed by fans, especially when you’re not braced, not dressed in your public figure clothes, with your hair and make-up precisely arranged the way you feel the famous Ms. Kathrine Lindenstream should appear in front of fans.”
Kate nodded. “Exactly.” She leaned forward to make her point. “I presumed you would feel the same way.”
Garrett’s folded arms loosened. His gaze seemed to sharpen even more, which she would have said was impossible. His eyes were pinning her down where she sat, making her feel like she couldn’t move. It was uncanny.
Slowly, he turned around on the seat so that he was facing her squarely. He rested one arm on the table and a cufflink clinked softly. That put them almost exactly eye to eye.
“You’re...a fan? Of me?” He spoke the words with what sounded like genuine shock.
Kate’s cheeks were blazing now. She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to make a Federal case out of it, Garrett,” she hissed quietly, so the people at the next table couldn’t hear her. The last thing she wanted was for this to be repeated and passed on! “I have lots of interests that have nothing to do with film. High finance happens to be one of them, and I follow your career. A little.”
The corner of Garrett’s mouth lifted in the same small quirk as before. “If it was such a small interest, Kate, why do you blush so prettily?” There was a lilt to his voice that hinted at the Scottish roots his family tree claimed.
Kate closed her eyes. “Fuck...” she breathed. There was no way she was going to confess to Garrett how much she admired him, and his business acumen. That she had read all three of his biographies, both official and muck-raking. She knew every major career step he had taken, analysed every major public business decision he had ever made. She owned shares in his umbrella corporation.
The world rated Garrett to be one of the top ten most successful business men of the decade. Kate considered Calum Garrett to be one of the top five business strategists of all times. These days, when she was trying to think through a financial problem with one of her movies, subconsciously she had developed the habit of asking herself “What would Garrett do?” More often than not, a solution to her immediate problem would occur to her.
There was no way she was going to tell Garrett any of that. Not now.
“Kate,” Garrett said softly.
She opened her eyes again.
Garrett shook his head a little. “I think I can save you some embarrassment here.” He was reaching inside his jacket as he spoke. Straightening up. It felt like she had been let off the hook.
Kate sighed. “I doubt it. I’ve pretty much beggared myself.”
Garrett smiled, showing white, even teeth. He pulled out a perfectly ordinary business card and a gold pen. “I know that you’re interested in etymology. It shows in your movies. Do you know what my full name is?”
“Everyone does,” she said dryly.
Garrett smiled. It didn’t seem to bother him that everyone knew his second name, while he had no idea who was approaching him across the street. But then, he could afford millions in Presidential-style security. While she had to stay “accessible” and “ordinary.”
“You’ve probably figured out, then,” he told her, “that with a name like Calum Micheil Garrett, I’ve got some Scots blood in me, somewhere back in my family tree.”
Kate held up her phone. “Two minutes.”
He shook his head. “It’s still fashionable to be late, in Hollywood. The one who shows up last thinks they’re the one holding the power card.” He grimaced. “Childish idiocy, but it gives me at least nine more minutes with you.”
Kate forced herself to not sigh even mentally, or otherwise react, in case it showed on the surface. She didn’t like that she agreed with him on the stupidity of the biggest star or executive arriving last. So many meetings and business events got delayed and postponed because actors and executives tried to outwait each other to prove who was the biggest and the best.
Ten minutes ago, she would have agreed with Garrett wholeheartedly and out loud. Now, with her pride blown to hell, she had to cling to something. Garrett was not playing by Hollywood rules, or any rules she understood. She had to use her own rules, then.
“Wrong,” she said flatly. “You have two minutes. Then I’m getting up and walking out of here.”
“Why two?” he asked curiously, his pen paused over the card. “If you’re so worried, why not just walk away now? Why aren’t you calling for security and telling them I’m bothering you?”
“You get the two because of your name, and...” She bit her lip. “Never mind.”
She was bathed in the full wattage of his gaze as he sized her up. “It can only be something I did,” he murmured. “But we’ve never met in person until just now. A public appearance then.” He smiled a little. “Did I do something you liked, Kate?”
Wow. Kate shook her head. “Serves me right for thinking too loud around you.”
His smile broadened. “Flattering, but inaccurate.” He studied her. “You’re not going to give it up because you think it makes you vulnerable. Very well. I’ll trade you vulnerability for vulnerability.” He leaned forward. “I saw Slave Hunt nine times at the cinema. It’s what first got me interested in your mind.” He sat back, watching her.
Measuring her reaction.
Kate barely overrode the need to lick her lips in tell-tale nervousness. Did she have a stalker on her hands? A very rich, very powerful stalker?
“You...you’ve been following me?” she asked.
Garrett’s laugh sounded relaxed and showed even, white teeth. “I’m not stalking you. Relax. I’ve been following your work since Slave Hunt, and anything else the media have reported about you. The more I learnt, the more intrigued I became. You interest me, Kate.” He picked up the gold pen again. “Etymology, for example. Off the top of your head, do you know what ‘Calum’ means?”
She reached for her drink as a way to calm her screeching nerves. She sipped and shook her head. “It’s Gaelic. Because of the movies I’ve made, I’ve ended up studying ancient Persian and Latin, Greek and more, but Gaelic wasn’t one of them.”
Garrett nodded. He didn’t seem disappointed. “I guarantee you know the originals of ‘Micheil’ - even the way my ancestors spell it.”
“The original archangel?” Kate hazarded.
Garret nodded, scribbling on the back of the card. He turned it around to face her. “Bet you can tell me what Calum means now.”
He pushed the card toward her.
The writing was perfectly clear.
@ angel
“Dove,” she whispered. Her heart was thundering in her ears. Her breath whistling in and out of her.
Garrett was DoveAngel. Jesus Christ on a pony.
She looked up at him, trying to fit it together in her mind. She had been talking to Garrett all this time on Twitter and hadn’t known it.
“It was you,” she said. “Even last night.”
“Yes.”
She pulled her scattered wits together. “They’re public conversations on Twitter. Prove you’re really DoveAngel.”
“The entomology doesn’t do it for you?” Garrett replied. “I suppose I would be suspicious, too.” He wrote something else on the card and flipped it around for her to read. “That would have been how I would have ended our private chat last night, except that I had to catch a very early pla
ne for Los Angeles.”
She dropped her gaze to the card.
@Lind’stream #Warlord. I can get you Sauvage.
The hand she was using to hold her drink jerked, spilling icy drops of fake tequila and lime over her wrist. She barely noticed. She looked up into Garrett’s eyes. “You son of a bitch,” she breathed.
Kate had been chatting with DoveAngel on and off for nearly a year. There were a huge number of people who followed her tweets on Twitter. Thousands of them. Most of them were fans and industry followers. Huge numbers of them talked back to her, returning her Tweets, and sending their own. Most of them Kate was forced to ignore because the sheer volume meant she couldn’t personally answer everyone who twitted at her.
DoveAngel had started in that category. He had been a voice among the thousands. But she had noticed one of his comments, which had been particularly astute. She had replied publicly and promptly forgotten about him. That had been it for a few weeks until she had seen another of his comments go through — another insightful zinger. She had replied again, still publicly.
Gradually, she had started to look for his comments and found she enjoyed it when he clearly approved of something she had done.
Kate couldn’t remember when the first private exchange had taken place. But it had been low key and non-threatening. And the next one hadn’t happened for weeks after that.
But soon they had begun to exchange private notes more and more frequently. DoveAngel became a convenient sounding board and sometimes a wailing wall on Kate’s bleaker days.
There had never been any hint of expectation from DoveAngel beyond those quick chats. No demands. She had never been entirely sure what sex they were — except in her mind she had decided long ago DoveAngel was male despite the moniker. There was just something in the direct, no quarters given comments that told her he was a guy.
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