The Art of Loving a Vampire

by Jaye Wells

  USA Today Bestseller Jaye Wells is a former magazine editor whose award-winning speculative fiction novels have hit several bestseller lists. She holds an MFA in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University, and is a sought-after speaker on the craft of writing. When she’s not writing or teaching, she loves to travel to exotic locales, experiment in her kitchen like a mad scientist, and try things that scare her so she can write about them in her books. She lives in Texas.

  Find out more about Jaye Wells

  www.jayewells.com

  jaye@jayewells.com

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  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to Liliana Hart for encouraging me to take the plunge. Thank you to Lyndsey Lewellyn for the gorgeous cover. As always, thanks to Z for your unwavering support and for all the laughs..

  If you loved Logan and Sydney’s story in The Art of Loving a Vampire, be sure to check out Raven and Callum’s story in

  The Taming of the Vamp:

  Book 2 of The Murdoch Vampires

  Raven really doesn’t see what all the fuss is about. All she did was kidnap a mortal and try to sabotage one of the most important developments in the history of the vampire race. For some reason, though, her father, who is the leader of the vampire race, is seriously pissed. He gives her an ultimatum: Spend 200 years in exile or submit to a last ditch crash-course in vampire etiquette.

  As the poster boy for upstanding, modern vampires, Callum Murdoch stands for everything the rebellious Raven loathes. He’s also the brother of the man Raven recently targeted. But this very odd couple is about to find out that opposites don’t just attract— they smolder.

  See next page for a sneak peek!

  The Taming of the Vamp

  Chapter One

  You kidnap one lousy mortal, and everyone freaks out.

  That’s what I was thinking as my “escorts”—four muscle-bound guards—led me into the office. My boots sunk into the thick Persian rug underfoot. Cocking my hip—both for effect and to take the weight off one of my feet for a blessed second—I thanked the goddess I’d worn my favorite boots.

  Here’s the thing: Most women can’t pull off a red, stiletto-heeled boot.

  But I am not most women.

  Boots like those required a certain presence—an elusive combination of confidence and a devil-may-care attitude. Oh, and a high tolerance for pain.

  The damned things pinched in awful places, and the pointy tips made my toes go numb. But I looked kick-ass, which counted for a lot. The confidence boost was necessary if I was going to get through the coming confrontation.

  High Councilman Orpheus Coracino was the most powerful vampire in existence. As the head of the Brethren Sect, it was up to him to decide my punishment.

  Oh, yeah, he also happened to be my father.

  The room was as imposing as the man who had yet to acknowledge my presence. To mortal eyes it would probably look like the office of any high-powered CEO with the exception of the lit display cases filled with wicked-looking ancient weaponry. Each piece once used by my dear, very old dad in battle.

  My father dismissed the goons with a wave of his hand, not bothering to look up from the document he was reading. The guards released my arms and left the room, closing the doors behind them. I almost missed the support of their firm grips. Aching feet, stress, hunger, and the impending sunrise wreaked havoc on my stamina as I struggled to look unaffected. My hands shook anyway.

  “What, no hug for the prodigal daughter?” I said into the silence, extending my arms for an embrace I knew would never come.

  Orpheus slowly raised his piercing eyes to look at me. He said nothing, just stared at me with the familiar mixture of disappointment and distaste.

  I dropped my arms, not quite sure what to say next. It had been ten years since our last meeting. Back then, daddy dearest issued an ultimatum: Clean up my act or else. Well, of course I ignored him. But now I was about to find out what “or else” really meant.

  “Gabriella—” he began.

  “Stop right there.” I held up my index finger with its black lacquered nail. “The name is Raven, you know that.”

  “Young lady, your name is Gabriella. I named you myself.”

  His baritone vibrated with authority. It matched his form perfectly. If he’d stood, he would have towered over me. With two black holes for eyes and a jaw so hard and sharp it could cut through metal, the man was a prime example of a civilized predator.

  He looked like a highly paid executive in a pinstriped suit instead of an alpha vampire. But the civilized veneer couldn’t hide the ruthlessness in his eyes. No wonder he had been the leader of the Brethren Sect for more than one hundred years. Only a fool would dare challenge his authority.

  Which made me the fool, I guess.

  “You also know I renamed myself a century ago. If you expect a response, you will refer to me as Raven,” I shot back. I was probably one of the only vampires in existence with enough bravado to talk back to him. However, egging my father on was sort of a hobby for me.

  He ignored the name issue, no doubt considering it not worth his time.

  “Would you like to take this opportunity to explain your actions?”

  I shrugged. “What’s there to explain?”

  “You can start with trying to sabotage the most important development in vampire history and finish with kidnapping the mortal woman,” he said.

  “I am not a member of your precious sect. I don’t owe you an explanation.”

  “You have no excuse for your actions, as usual. Nor do you exhibit one sign of remorse.” His voice was maddeningly calm, in complete opposition to my defensive tone.

  “Why would I show remorse for standing up for what I believe?” This was an old argument, and I was trying not to let it get my hackles up.

  “You could have launched a formal complaint through the proper channels. Instead, you wreaked havoc, as usual.”

  “Again, what good would a formal complaint have done when I am not in good standing with the council?” I countered.

  “Exactly.” He steepled his fingers and pressed them lightly to his lips. “Which brings us back to the issue of why you are not in good standing.”

  Well, shit.

  He reached behind the desk, and I heard the sound of a drawer opening and closing. He sat back up, and a large stack of folders thumped on the desktop.

  “As you can see, your transgressions have been well documented.” He flipped open the top folder and started shuffling through pages. “Here we have the report on the fire alarm you pulled during the council meeting, causing mass panic. Hmmm. And let’s not forget the skunk blood incident of 1886.” He paused to scowl at me when I snorted with laughter. “Then there’s the time you replaced the beds of all the council members with coffins. Shall I go on?” he asked, looking up from the foot-tall pile with fake courtesy.

  I bit back a smile. I was damned proud of everything he listed and more. A lot of work and preparation had gone into those feats. Everything he considered a stunt, I considered civil disobedience for a good cause. I hated everything to do with the council’s goals to make us more like mortals.

  Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t think everything the council did was bad, but give me a break. Vampires are gods. Mortals are our food. You don’t see humans going around eating grass and mooing all the time. And why not? Because mortals understand they are superior to cows.

  “Come on,” I said. “Nothing you mentioned there was all that bad. No one was hurt. Besides, last time I checked, the council didn’t ban freedom of speech or expression. Or is that next on your totalitarian agenda?”

  “As the leader of the council, it is my
goal to create a democratic life for all of my constituents. I even encourage debate on topics of import. However, your pranks have nothing to do with taking a stand and everything to do with getting attention.”

  My mouth dropped open. Of all the freakin’ nerve! I forgot all about the throbbing in my feet and the hunger pains clenching my stomach as centuries-old resentments bubbled up in me like a volcano.

  “You’re wrong. You just can’t stand the idea that your daughter hasn’t toed the line of your administration.”

  “What I can’t stand is the idea that my daughter turned out to be nothing more than a spoiled brat who has not one ounce of self-respect.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Look at yourself. You’re all tarted up like an extra from one of those horrible vampire movies.” His eyes raked me with a distasteful glare.

  “Excuse me? These clothes are the height of fashion!” No one, but no one, insulted my clothes. The black leather miniskirt and red corset were two of my favorite pieces. He obviously was stuck in the Dark Ages when it came to fashion.

  “Where? The Best Little Whorehouse in Transylvania?”

  I opened my mouth to rebut, but his words cut so deep I couldn’t think of a response. My own father had just called me a whore. Nice.

  I took a deep breath to calm the fire in my belly. “My fashion choices have nothing to do with why I am here.”

  “You’re correct.” He leaned back in his leather executive chair. “Your behavior is the issue at hand. If I recall, the last time you were in this room I warned you that further disobedience would not be tolerated.”

  “Disobedience?” I repeated, struggling to keep my voice level. “I am four hundred years old. I will not be treated like an ill-tempered child.”

  “Then perhaps you should stop acting like one,” he said quietly, leaning forward with a clear warning in his cold eyes.

  I bit my tongue, hating him for being right. And I was annoyed with myself for taking his bait.

  He regarded my silence for a moment. “The council is recommending banishment,” he said as if casually commenting on the weather.

  My gasp sounded before I could stop myself. He took me completely off guard. My heartbeat kicked up about twenty notches.

  “That’s insane!” I said.

  “Is it?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Time and again you have demonstrated your lack of respect for the council. We have threatened, we have cajoled, we have bribed. None of it has worked. You crossed over the line this time.”

  I stood in sullen silence. My anger and resentment felt like a poison vine in my belly.

  “What were you thinking?” he continued. “The Murdoch family is one of the oldest and most respected among the Brethren.” He shook his head with disgust. “I don’t have to remind you how important Logan Murdoch’s work is. The Lifeblood formula he’s creating will make all of our lives better.

  “And how is he rewarded? My own daughter tries to cast a spell to gain control of his mind. And if that isn’t enough, you kidnapped the mortal woman who may be Logan’s soul mate. It’s unconscionable.”

  “Are you more upset by my actions or by how they make you look?” I asked, keeping my voice calm.

  “Both.” His clipped tone felt like a slap.

  “And for that you are ready to throw me to the wolves and let the council use me as an example for all the other naughty vamps? You’re going to sacrifice your own daughter?”

  “Your actions are a threat to our entire way of life. You bring dangerous attention to all of us with your antics. We, the council, believe you must be rehabilitated by any means necessary.”

  “So you’re going to ship me off to a remote area where you know I will have no source of food? Well, I guess death is the ultimate form of rehabilitation,” I said with a bitter laugh.

  “Don’t be melodramatic. We would provide you with synthetic blood as sustenance. Logan is almost ready to release it to the public, despite your efforts to the contrary. You will be one of the first to use it.”

  I narrowed my eyes and leaned forward. “A little poetic justice, huh? I tried to stop his efforts to develop Lifeblood, so now I am doomed to depend on it for survival.”

  I laughed again, the sound hollow. “You know I won’t do that. You might as well stake me now.”

  My words hung in the air for a second. I just knew I had him. He would have no choice but to come up with an alternate punishment.

  He laughed instead.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Your tantrums don’t impress me,” he said between chuckles.

  If anyone could spontaneously combust, it would be me.

  “You’re an asshole!” I seethed. “I am sure you would love it if I was dead. Then you wouldn’t have that inconvenience of being embarrassed by my every word and action.”

  “Grow up, Gabriella.”

  “Raven!” I knew I sounded like a fledgling, but I couldn’t help myself. He had me cornered. Like a wild animal I struggled to think of a way, any way, to free myself from this trap of my own making.

  “Calm down,” he commanded, his voice hard with warning. “I am sure if you look at this rationally you will see it is best for everyone. You get two hundred years to think about what you’ve done—”

  “Two hundred years? Fuck that!”

  “Charming language,” he admonished. “Yes, two hundred. You must pay for your crimes and have sufficient time to learn your lesson. At least for you, the banishment isn’t permanent like it is for some of our more notorious criminals. In fact, it’s not really banishment, so much as a period of exile.”

  Yeah, that made me feel tons better.

  “Vampires are banished for murdering other vamps or mortals in cold blood. I kidnapped one measly person and didn’t hurt a hair on her head!” I said, trying to make him see reason.

  He continued as if I had not spoken. “Now, in addition to exile for the next two hundred years, you must also apologize to the Murdoch family. Since you will be leaving for Norway—”

  “Norway? Norway! As in the ‘Land of the Midnight Sun?’”

  “Yes, that Norway. As I was saying, since you ship out tomorrow, there is no time for you to go back to Raleigh to make a formal apology to the whole Murdoch family. Thus, I have decided an apology to Callum is sufficient until such time as you return from your exile.”

  “And the hits keep on coming,” I grumbled.

  Not only was I going to the fucking frozen tundra—where I’d have to deal with two solid months of sunlight a year for two hundred freakin’ years—but now I had to apologize to that arrogant asshole, Callum Murdoch, Logan’s younger brother.

  When the family busted in on my lair to rescue the chick I kidnapped, Callum had volunteered to take me into custody and deliver me home to dear old dad. I couldn’t stand the guy. In addition to being the Brethren Golden Boy, Callum ran a company that produced all the products that helped vampires blend into mortal society.

  “Do you have any questions?” my father asked.

  “Were you born without a heart, or did it dissolve from lack of use?”

  He ignored my comment as he pushed the intercom button. As he told Callum to come into the office, I tried to compose myself. Not exactly an easy feat since my entire world had collapsed.

  The thought of apologizing to Callum made me want to puke. I never, ever begged anyone for anything, least of all forgiveness. Desperation was a novel and unwelcomed sensation.

  The doors opened, and Callum strolled in as confident as you please. Seeing him with the bright light from the reception area framing him in a golden aura was overwhelming. I guess it had something to do with the fact he seemed so . . . capable, while I felt so trapped.

  The thought of apologizing to that man made me dizzy and short of breath. I know it probably had more to do with my empty stomach than my pride, but it was there nonetheless.

  Finally, I did something I have never done in my four hundred and eleven yea
rs on this earth.

  I fainted.