Paranormal Vampire Romance: Fatal Allure Box Set (Books 1-3) (Vampire, Alphas, Werewolves & Shifters, Detectives, Mysteries Romance)

by Woods, Martha

  “The Sisters have gotten to your hunter,” he says, inches from my throat. I swallow.

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “And you want that hunter back in your arms,” he says.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re a fool.” He slides off of me and sits up again.

  I’m catching my breath and he isn’t looking at me. I feel my face flush as I sit there.

  “I can’t very well live a normal life anymore, and at least when I was with Damon, I felt safe and happy,” I snap. Good, I feel my anger rising to the surface. I dig deeper and hold onto that familiar feeling in my gut. It’s better than being sad and lonely. Or scared.

  “You can’t do anything against them, you’re human, with little training, and I can’t help you. I can take you to the Sisters, but that’s it,” Vincent says, not looking at me.

  There’s not much I can do. I need some sort of plan. I don’t have one. I’ve been walking through life thinking I had a plan, but really there is nothing. Not for my future, not for fighting the Sisters, not for anything. The hunters apparently know where the Sisters are. What could I really do that they aren’t already planning? But the game of sitting around and waiting isn’t my style. I feel like I have to help Damon, not only because of the feelings that formed the past several months we were together, but because he was there to help me. He was part of saving my life, he was there to keep me sane. I don’t think he left the hospital the entire time I was recovering.

  “I’m not human, not totally, and I can’t just sit here and do nothing. And I can’t keep planning my days around avoiding Damon.”

  “Damon is of little concern to me. I can take you to the Sisters if you wish for your death, but I would prefer not to. I’m in the interest of keeping you alive, which is why I am here tonight,” Vincent says, rolling his shoulders back.

  “What do you mean?”

  “A human that can get inside a vampire’s head poses a problem. You’re not stupid; I’m sure you’ve already thought of this,” Vincent replies, turning to look at me again. I feel my blood chill in my veins.

  “You’re right, though. You’re not quite human. Your blood tastes different.”

  “I’m apparently some sort of un-Awakened witch,” I explain slowly, swallowing after I get the words out.

  “You will be a dead witch unless you come with me tonight and follow my lead,” Vincent says. “You might even get a chance to glimpse the Sisters.”

  “What? Wait, go where? Why?”

  “You’ve come to the attention of…some of my kind. I need to show them that you are not a threat and that I have you firmly under my control,” Vincent says. “Otherwise they might come for you.”

  “So I have to pretend to be your human pet?” I ask.

  “Yes.” Vincent flashes me a smile that doesn’t look particularly friendly. I want to slap that smug look on his face. I pretty sure that hitting Vincent is like hitting a brick wall – more painful to my hand than him.

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you want to stay alive,” Vincent says. “Well, I assume you want to stay alive. You do want to tangle with the Sisters, but I’m hoping to talk you out of that ridiculous stupidity.”

  “Well, if I take care of the Sisters, it’ll be safe to be back in Damon’s life, right?” I ask.

  “Safe,” Vincent scoffs. He ignores all mention of Damon. “The one who made me knows about you. Even worse, she knows that you were in my head. It’s concerning that a vampire cannot easily slide into your mind, but more concerning that you can slide into ours, so either you are useful to us or a threat. We tend to get rid of threats,” Vincent says.

  “But you didn’t get rid of the hunters that went after you,” I counter.

  “That’s because I see the necessity of having hunters; most vampires do not think that logically. Which is why I’m an enforcer. I get rid of those that break the laws of the supernatural,” Vincent says.

  That would explain why Vincent went against Elric in the first place. Elric was killing humans indiscriminately and leaving their bodies for anyone to find. He was capturing souls and breaking supernatural laws. Vincent took more interest when Elric decided I was going to be someone on the dinner table. He and Damon had used my ability to track the shaman down – whatever it was I could do had his dead victims visiting me through nightmares and daydreams. Daymares?

  “You don’t make any sense,” I say.

  “I get that a lot, but it shouldn’t matter to you. You have to choose a side, and the hunters haven’t chosen you.” His words hurt because there is that sting of truth in them.

  “Why do I have to pick sides? Why can’t I just be like you?” I ask.

  “You could, but I would have to turn you. I do think you would make a good vampire,” Vincent says.

  “I enjoy being in the world of the living,” I tell him sharply.

  “Well, tonight you are going to have to attend the world of the undead. I suggest a dress that will show off the claw marks.”

  My hand immediately goes to cover up the marks on my chest. I remember the feel of Elric’s claws tearing into my flesh. I just wish I could forget, although the scars would be there forever to remind me. Vincent stares knowingly, and I glare.

  “At least if I was able to go into your mind, we could accomplish much more,” Vincent says, taking my hand away from my chest. He lightly trails his fingers over the scars visible above the top of my shirt, then up my neck, over his bites, enticing a shiver from my skin. I feel goose bumps rise to the surface but shake my head.

  “If you can’t get into my head you can’t keep me,” I say.

  “I would never want to keep you against your will. I want you to come willingly. I’ve never met a human who could do that,” he says. His lips are so close to mine. All I would have to do is lean in to press mine against his, but then he moves to press a kiss against my forehead.

  “Go get ready. The night is young,” he says. “We have much to do.”

  I get to my feet, fueled by his grim determination. This is the only way, I tell myself, so I go to my closet to find an appropriate dress. Something to show off the puncture wounds and to make me look intimidating. I guess that means black. I find a long-sleeved black dress that exposes my shoulders and some cleavage. I have a pair of black boots that lace up and hit just below my knee. Only a sliver of skin shows between the fabric of the dress and the boots. I like them because the heel isn’t that high. I want to go armed. I’ve got a gun, which doesn’t do a lot of harm to a vampire, but it would slow them down. I also have holy water and a stake that Damon gave me, but I don’t think Vincent would approve of me going with that. I would have to trust him to keep me safe. But do I really believe him? I feel so much uncertainty then that I decide to hide a cross necklace in one of my boots. I slide a silver knife into the other boot. If I do go down, I’m not going to go down without a fight.

  I step out of my bedroom and see that Vincent hasn’t moved. It is like he is there just occupying space and time is flowing around him. He looks perfect, like a Greek sculpture. I wonder just how old he is, what made him a vampire, all these personal questions I’m not sure he would be inclined to answer. Maybe there is a sad story behind that arrogant exterior. Here I am, thinking like one of those girls that wants to fix the bad boy.

  I cough mildly and his head slowly turns to look at me. His eyes slide over my body like he is undressing me. I feel self-conscious under that gaze, made very aware that we both have seen what the other has to offer. I rub my arm and look away from him. He jumps up from the couch and comes to stand beside me suddenly. I don’t think I can ever get used to his unnaturally quick movements.

  He takes my hand and runs his over my sleeves, brings my hand up in the air and makes me do a little twirl. My skirt flies up just a little; it’s not skin tight, easy to move in. It looks great on a dance floor, though.

  “You look fierce,” he s
ays, not taking his hand away from mine. Vincent is holding my hand gently, and I know that I can pull away easily if I choose to. Instead, I let our hands linger together.

  “Thanks,” I say, looking down. It is amazing the range of emotions that Vincent can make me feel. He can piss me off one minute and make me feel like a blushing bride the next. If only he weren’t undead.

  “Let’s go,” he says turning towards the balcony. I grab my coat and slip it on, then look at him questioningly.

  “Why are we going out that way?” I ask.

  “I can’t use the front door. Hunter.”

  “An eight story jump is what people do to try and commit suicide,” I tell him.

  “I am going to carry you,” he says, looking at me in a condescending sort of way. I just glare at him; glaring seems to be the safest thing to do.

  “Do you have a car?” I ask. “Or are you going to run me all the way to this vampire party?”

  “Of course I have a car. In your parking lot. Do you think I’m a savage?” Vincent slips one arm under my legs and picks me up. I let out a squeak before my arms lock around his neck. I feel ridiculously secure in his arms, but not necessarily comfortable. He opens the balcony door and steps outside, and the cold air slaps against my cheek. I don’t have a chance to be scared as he jumps off the edge of the balcony. I don’t feel the landing; it happens in seconds, and then he is releasing me to walk beside him towards the parking lot.

  I’m still afraid. I won’t pretend not to be. And I still don’t entirely understand the danger I’m in. I know that. But I have to do something to help Damon. I have to do something to set things right.

  Vincent drives a sporty red Mazda MX-5 Miata, a two-seater with little trunk space. I guess he doesn’t need a lot of room in his car for groceries. It’s nice to know it’s small enough that a body couldn’t be hidden in it. Another fear I have being around vampires: I have the sinking feeling that a dead body will turn up somewhere. I buckle myself in and close my eyes to see if there are any dead spirits around him. Not that I can actually control this ability I have, but the last time Vincent was in my life, they let me know they were around.

  The car is a convertible, but he keeps the top up as we drive. It’s a chilly night outside, not that Vincent is really dressed for it. I guess the change of weather doesn’t really concern vampires much, since they’re dead and all. Vincent is a safe driver, he follows the road signs and doesn’t go over the speed limit, which seems odd since his car feels like it was made to speed.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “To a gathering. I’m going to show you off as my new meal,” he says as he makes a turn down a street. We seem to be driving out of the city, but we have made enough turns that I could never give a person directions to wherever we are going.

  “I’ve never agreed for the biting thing to become permanent,” I say.

  “I am aware, but I would strongly suggest you play along with it. You have proven useful because you helped stop Elric. You need to keep being useful, or else there is no protection for you,” he says. “Will the hunters come to your aid?”

  I don’t know. Damon was my protection, but I lost that. It hurts my pride a bit to know that I need some sort of protection against the forces of evil. It is apparent they are not just going to leave me alone, though Vincent did offer. He would leave me alone, but I don’t altogether want him to. And I’m not sure who or what would take his place.

  “Try not to be overly shocked by what you see. Squeeze my hand if you would like me to take you to a place to calm your mind. Do not try to stop anyone from doing anything,” he says.

  “Am I going to witness a murder?”

  “You are going to see a world that isn’t human,” he says. He unbuckles his seatbelt and walks around to open my door.

  Chapter 10

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  I take Vincent’s hand and allow him to help me out of his car. There are some other cars parked on the grass lot facing an old Victorian house. I wouldn’t have noticed the house if I was just driving on the highway. I could somehow feel something that made it unnoticeable. It was like holding Vincent’s hand was what brought it into view. Apparently vampires used witches as well – or maybe they had their own magic.

  I feel the compulsion to get back into the car. The house is dark other than flickering lights in the upstairs windows. It looks like something plopped out of a horror film, except there is nothing about it that outwardly screams haunted house. It could just be the night air, a little too cold for my like, or it could be the fact that I know there are a bunch of vampires inside doing nonhuman things. Vincent’s grip on my hand becomes tighter as he starts to walk forward, forcing my feet to follow if I don’t want to get dragged across the grass.

  We walk up a flight of stairs to double doors of white. The porch is large, and I can see a swing swaying in the moonlight doing all it can to look extra creepy. Vincent knocks on the door, which surprises me. I don’t know he knew how to be gentleman and wait to be let in. I hold my breath as a woman opens the door. She is pale, with half her hair dyed white and the other half black. Her face is unremarkable, other than the fact that she has a bit too much make-up on. Her lips are thin and her eyes brown. She is breathing naturally, which lets me know she is human. The girl wears an elegant white dress that falls to the floor and sways around her bare feet.

  “Master Vincent,” she breathes his name. I hope he never expects me to call him that. I look at her neck and can see the puncture wounds there. I have to wonder how fresh they were.

  “Mabel,” he says in greeting. She opens the door wide for him and gives me a look up and down. There isn’t anything friendly about her gaze. So much for trying to make friends with the humans.

  The entryway is dark, but Vincent is maneuvering me towards a formal dining room with a bright chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling. I take in the people – the vampires – who mill about, chatting. My stomach does a little flip of disgust. The dining room is dominated by a long, broad table, upon which lie three people, humans at a guess. They are nude, wearing looks of pure bliss as they stare blankly at the ceiling: drug addicts on some high that I would not be able to break without some heavy intervention. There are two women and one man, all on the heavier side. Perhaps more surface area to bite? All three are beautiful, with strong, striking features. I guess the vampires want their meals to be attractive as well as delicious. The humans are covered in teeth marks. I can see punctures on their inner thighs, wrists, and of course necks. The man even has fang marks around his penis. My cheeks begin to burn red. I don’t like the combination of sex and violence. Vincent had better not expect me to take my clothes off and lie on that table. As if understanding my discomfort, he lets go of my hand to put an arm around me.

  “So you did bring her,” says a woman with an accent I can’t quite place. It is not American. It sounds slightly European, and I wonder how vampires travel from continent to continent given that they can’t be in the sunlight. Private vampire friendly airlines? The woman has natural red hair that compliments her pale skin. The red corset-like dress she wears hugs her curvy figure. When she speaks, I can see her fangs. Vampire, then.

  “Olivia,” Vincent says, inclining his head in a small bow. She returns the gesture. It is old fashioned, but I suppose it probably wasn’t when they were human. “This is Amy.”

  I almost extend my hand in greeting but before I can move, she is right at my neck, breathing in my scent. She lets out a noise as if she is enjoying the taste of a good red wine in her mouth. I move in closer to Vincent and can feel his grip tightening on me.

  “You sure you won’t share?” she asks him.

  “It is against the lady’s wishes to be shared,” Vincent says.

  “I’m not against screaming,” Olivia replies with a cheeky sort of twinkle in her gaze.

  “I am,” I say as firmly as I can muster.

&
nbsp; “Ah, Vincent, you always did have a taste for food with attitude,” Olivia says, moving back away from me. “Though I guess you are a special one,” she adds, and it doesn’t sound like much of a compliment. “Vincent told me of how you slipped into his mind.”

  “Olivia is the one who made me,” Vincent explains. I can tell she isn’t pleased with him having to explain anything. I wish this were a conversation we could have had in the car on the way up to vampire manor. “Since she turned me, we share a special connection. She feels the emotions that I do,” he says.

  “So when I heard a little voice screaming that a human is inside my mind, I got a bit worried,” Olivia says, flashing her fangs again, her eyes sharp.

  “Amy was helpful in bringing down the shaman, Elric. She saved my life. Her abilities are not entirely known to us yet, which is why she in an important source of nourishment,” Vincent tells his maker. He gives my shoulder a tight squeeze as a warning to keep my mouth shut. The way the vampires are talking about me, it’s like I’m some sort of delicacy. I am fuming silently at the conversation, at the practices here, at the way this woman is looking at me, but I bite my tongue and stay quiet.

  “My Vincent has always liked to keep attachments to the human world,” Olivia tells me. “It’s frowned upon by some. It is a good way to attract unwanted attention. I’m proud of him for taking a pet, though, even if you can’t be compelled.”

  She begins to stare into my eyes then. I want to look away, but something is drawing me back. I can feel something brushing my mind, some thought that wants to implant itself, but I shook it away without much effort. I see the same frustrated look come over her face that came over Vincent’s the first time we met. At least she’s not pinning me against a wall, though.

  “What do you think of our dinner?” she asks me, sweeping her arms towards the three humans laid out on the table. I watch a male vampire bite into the open thigh of one of the females, who lets out a long moan, her eyes rolling back and hips thrusting up as if she is being impaled elsewhere. It seems so intimate I want to look away, but I know better than to do so.