Her Vampire Hero (Midnight Doms Book 4)

by Nicolina Martin

  “He is fair. He is also curious about you, an ancient he’s never met before. You live long, you live lonely, am I right?”

  The room is painted black in its entirety, the floor a dark, hard wood. It’s small and consists of a large four-poster bed with red silky bed linen, and a desk to the side. A door next to it stands ajar and reveals an ensuite bathroom.

  I bow my head, acknowledging her statement.

  “Let me know if you need anything. The walls are soundproof.” She winks. “I hope you are what you seem to be,” she adds, then she disappears down the corridor, faster than her youth should allow. Her shifter genes paired with the vampire virus has made her a strong, magnificent creature. Lucius Frangelico is a lucky man.

  I’ve had a long night, and a rough last few days. I’ll shower and sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll find out everything there is to know about the doctor.

  The day pulls me under, and as soon as sleep claims me she appears, lying naked on my bed, this bed, bleeding, in rapture, deliciously vulnerable, and all mine.

  I have never dreamt before. Not in all my years. Not before meeting her.

  But tonight, I do.

  Kat

  I wake with a jerk and tear off the comforter, feeling along my chest, hips, thighs. Oh my God. I dreamt again. I dream of him every night. Every night he appears in my bedroom, seduces me, drinks from me. Tonight, more than ever before, I wanted it to be real, but it was a dream after all. I have my pajamas on, and when I pull down my pants to look at my groin, the skin is unmarred. I’m sweaty and tingly and a mess.

  Nothing feels like it should. It’s as if the sounds around me are harsher, as if the lights sting my eyes. There are people everywhere. My senses are heightened and still somehow dulled at the same time. The only thing I can hold on to is the fact that there is a journal entry at the hospital, and that the window on the third floor is still covered by a board. I haven’t been imagining it.

  I don’t know how I make it through the day. Routine kicks in. It’s as if I haven’t slept at all and I’m near delirious with exhaustion when my shift ends, still I can’t make myself go home.

  I pace the alley back and forth, hoping against all hope that he’ll appear again, then I wander the streets aimlessly until I slide into a bar where I treat myself with a glass of wine.

  Red.

  As blood.

  I’m obsessing over him, but how can I not? The dream, his imagined touch, his real touch, the possessive look in his eyes, hungry for me.

  Outside the day is coming to an end and the sun sets. The traffic slows down from the dense intensity of the commuters rushing home to their loved ones. I have no one. I should go home too. I should prepare dinner, take a shower, read the science articles I have piled on my dining room table, watch some silly talk shows and then sleep. I shouldn’t hope to meet my death in my dreams but it’s as if a fever runs through my body, muddling my mind, and it’s all I can think about. I have never felt anything so intense as when he pulled those last drops of blood, when I orgasmed so hard that I blacked out.

  Le petite mort, they call it—the French. The little death.

  I smile and drain the glass, gesturing for the waiter to give me a second one. I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to be alone. I want to find him. He’s out there, I know it. I sense him, and maybe he senses me too?

  The bar gradually fills with people and the noise level increases. On the street, the business people have been replaced by club goers with tight dresses and fancy suits. My second glass of wine has made it down my throat and I’m nurturing the last few drops of whiskey that I got to replace the wine. I’m blessedly numb, fighting to keep the longing and the increasing loneliness at bay. Across the street, a line begins to form before an unremarkable door but with two remarkably gigantic bouncers herding the queue. I can’t help that my eyes are inadvertently drawn to the group of people. Some glide past the line and are allowed inside with a quick nod to the bouncers, most remain in line, waiting forever it seems. I frown as I begin to see a pattern of sorts. There’s something about the VIPs that is familiar. Their posture, their air of self confidence, their somber faces with a hint of danger. I sit up straighter as my heart pounds harder.

  Like him.

  If he is something else, then there must be more of his kind. Why have I never seen this before? Fiddling with my wallet, my hands shaking, I drop some bills on the table, nod to the waiter and dash out of the establishment. I don’t have a plan, I just need to see this up close, see if the similarities are there or if I’m imagining things.

  Everyone eyes me as I pass them in line. I feel uncomfortably casual in my proper knee-length dress and practical pumps. There’s black and red latex, leather, and lace. Some wear collars around their necks with leashes hanging down their fronts. Some have masks covering their faces. There’s a restless energy in the air, excitement mixed with trepidation. The mood is unlike anything I’ve felt outside any club I’ve ever visited.

  And that’s only the queue.

  The men and women by the door are something else entirely. They ooze of threat, and of depraved hunger and I feel their eyes on me as an almost physical sensation, scorching my skin. Am I the only one who sees this? They’re all unearthly beautiful, regal in their postures, too unmoving. They have to start breathing if they’re ever going to pass as humans. Or maybe they don’t care? I keep walking, bowing my head, letting my hair cover the sides of my face, feeling their gazes on my back. Throwing a glance over my shoulder, I take in the people again, the ones who wait in line. Do they know? Or are they being led like lambs to slaughter?

  I pick up the pace, and the last few steps before I reach the corner of the building I almost run, my backside burning.

  I fall back against the rough brick wall a few feet into a dark alley. My mind spins. There’s no doubt in my mind that there’s a whole world out there that I never knew.

  “Hello, beautiful.”

  A smooth, grave voice to my left makes me spin around. Leaning against the wall is a tall, bald man with a neatly trimmed dark beard. He’s dressed in a black leather duster. Very cliché, but also very dramatic and on point. I push the hair out of my face and attempt a smile.

  “Hi. I was just—” I gesture toward the street and take a step away from the man. Not man, I realize with a bone-deep chill. Something else. My every cell screams danger, get away from here!

  He steps forward, his lower body lit up by the street lights, his face still shadowed. His eyes burn hot as they bore into mine. “You look lonely. May I ask your name?”

  I chew on my lower lip, my gaze darting between him and the street. I gasp as he suddenly blocks my sight, putting a hand on the wall next to my head, blocking me from leaving.

  “Forget about the street,” he says. “Forget about everything. You were so curious about the club, little one, about us. So many questions in your eyes. I have all your answers.”

  My heart slams an unhealthy staccato in my chest as he leans in and pushes the hair off my neck.

  “Please,” I whisper. “I was just going home.”

  He sniffs my throat, his lips featherlight as they trace a path along my skin. “Delicious.”

  “No!”

  He slams a palm over my mouth, muffling my scream. I stare at him, raw terror clawing my insides. Holding my gaze, he grins as his canines elongate into sharp tips, into lethal weapons. I cry again and he smirks. There’s no compassion in his eyes. No humanity.

  “Yes,” he says. “Fight me. Fear me. All the sweeter, Ms Donovan.” Then he leans in and tears open the side of my neck. I scream mindlessly into his hand, thrash and try to break free, but his hold on me is vise-like and when that strange deep pulling begins I know I’ve lost. I will die here in a dirty alley, three feet from the busy main street, and no one will ever be the wiser. I will never see my stranger again.

  Chapter 5

  Lou

  I’ve been everywhere. Looking through the windows, I’ve conclud
ed that her apartment is empty and there is no sign that she has been there since this morning. She’s not at her workplace. I have followed her scent, faint through the dank smells of the city. It led me to the Mercado district and that doesn't sit right with me. This is not a place she should set foot in. At this hour it’s filled with danger and depraved creatures, with predators in both human shape as well as the likes of me.

  I crouch on the edge of a rooftop, high above the main street, looking down at the busy humans. The world has changed so much the last couple of hundred years, more than these young souls can fathom. I adapt with ease. I always have. Not everyone does and I have met plenty of vampires over the years who have fought for everything to remain the same, their resentment for the ever-developing humans growing into hate, into violence, and eventually into their own demise. Maybe it helps that I only remember fragments of my first life? I can’t hold on to what I knew, because it’s simply not there. I was reborn into vampiredom as a blank slate.

  A scent wafts by and I turn my head toward the light night breeze, inhaling deeply. I’m on my feet, already moving.

  It’s her. She’s close.

  I dart from rooftop to rooftop, high above the ground, a mere blur that the human eye could never catch. Her scent increases, blooms, changes from the delightful flowery undertones to the sharp, sweet smell of fear before it explodes into a furnace of blood. I’m on the ground in the next moment, throwing myself after her attacker who slips out of my grip before I can even get a good look. I have half a mind to run after him, but seeing all the blood, I realize I have more immediate issues.

  The young doctor holds a hand against her profusely bleeding neck and sags along the wall, her eyes unfocused, wide and frightened. She’s too pale and it’s obvious she has lost a lot of blood.

  Fuck! Is it too late? The devil in me thinks I should just finish the job.

  No.

  I’m overcome by a fiercely protective instinct. I didn’t spare her so that someone else could claim her life. She is mine.

  I catch her before she hits the ground, following her down until she sits, resting against my arm. I bite down on my wrist and push it against her lips, tainting them dark red with my blood.

  “Drink. It will help you heal.”

  The doctor moans and her head lolls to the side but her tongue darts out and catches a few drops. I lean in and lick her wound, fighting down the monster who still roars inside, wanting more, wanting to drain her. I need to assess the damage and a growl escapes me when I see the torn skin, the deep gash. He never meant for her to live. I bite down on my wrist again, smearing my blood over the gaping hole, watching the ragged edges begin to grow back, narrowing the slit until it is no more. The healing properties of vampire blood is nothing short of a miracle. It’s nature’s way of paying back for the atrocities of our race.

  Her gaze is feverish, her eyes glossy, as she takes me in. “You?” she mouths.

  I caress her head, then I lift her, scooping her up in my arms. “You’re safe. Rest.”

  She shivers violently. “I’ve lost too much blood. I need to go to…” She inhales deeply and exhales on an erratic shudder, “the hospital.”

  “I can’t take you to the hospital, little one.” The harsh truth is that she knows too much. Way too much. I can’t let her go. I need to wipe her brilliant young mind or… keep her.

  “Please.”

  “You will be all right.” I cradle her to my chest as I carry her around the corner, my feet moving at supernatural speed. The entrance to Club Toxic is busy but every vampire’s head snaps in my direction when they smell the blood, eyes lighting up with hunger. The two giant bouncers know who I am. Maximus pushes people out of the way and slams open the door. Augustus darts ahead of me, creating a path through the throng of people like Moses divided the sea.

  “In a room full of vampires? Covered in blood?” she whispers.

  I glance down at my pale little captive. “I will behead anyone who lays a hand on you.”

  She licks her lips and tries to raise her head to look around but her eyes roll back and she gives up her feeble attempts. “You found me.”

  “Shh. Rest.”

  Augustus holds open the door to my room and I dash to the bed, laying the little human on it.

  “Give her lots to drink. I’ll make sure no one bothers you,” says Augustus in his deep baritone.

  I nod and when he closes the door behind him, I dart up, locking it, before I return to the doctor, looking her over. She’s pale, too pale, and shivers violently, her teeth chattering violently. Reaching for the comforter, I pull it over her and tuck her in, giving her a light kiss on the forehead.

  “I don’t feel too well,” she whimpers.

  “Sleep. You just need to rest.” I shoot across the room, to the bathroom, and fill a glass with water, putting it to her lips.

  She drinks greedily and then curls up, clutching the edge of the comforter, her gaze darting to mine. “I’m afraid.”

  “I know.”

  “I—”

  I put a finger to her soft, pale lips. “Talk later. Don’t force me to make you sleep. Close your eyes and be quiet. I will be here when you wake.”

  Kat

  At first I am nothing but consciousness twitching back to life. It’s dark. I don’t feel my body. I have no idea where I am. I’m heavy and light at the same time and I’m wrapped in a painfully well-known scent of warm cinnamon. I jerk and open my eyes, choking down a gasp. The room is pitch black. I don’t hear anything, but I still sense a presence behind my back.

  “You’re awake,” says a disembodied voice that I know oh so well.

  My heart skips a beat and I spin around, moaning as I’m overcome by dizziness. I’m about to ask what happened, and where I am, but before I can open my mouth, the memories hit me like a freight train and I clutch my neck as phantom pains stab me where I was bit.

  “Are you in pain?”

  I shake my head, but I don’t know if he sees it. I can’t see anything. “No.”

  A click is heard and then a soft light illuminates the headboard, the lamp shade as black as the walls and the ceiling. I lower my gaze until it rests on him. It’s him. My dead patient, dead with a heartbeat. My savior, and now… my captor?

  “Tell me your name,” he says.

  “I’m Kat.” I exhale shakily. “Donovan. But you knew that.”

  “Kat,” he purrs. “Is it short for something?”

  “Katarina. My mom is Swedish. It’s a common name there.”

  “I would have guessed Russian, or maybe Hungarian. But somehow I wasn’t too far off anyway. Same region on the grander scale. Lots of common history.”

  I frown.

  “A long time ago,” he adds.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Lou.”

  “Hi… Lou,” I say, suddenly shy.

  “You have been nothing but trouble, young Katarina.”

  “You’re the one who landed yourself in my ER.”

  He bows his head in acknowledgement. “True.”

  “What… What are you?”

  “I think you know this by now. You even said as much when I carried you here.”

  I did? I don’t remember. I do remember his arms around me and the feeling of safety. “You’re not human?”

  He shakes his head.

  “How can you exist? Things like you don’t exist!”

  “Things?”

  I gesture toward him, unable to say the word. If I say it, it will become real, and I’m not ready for that.

  “Kat. What am I?”

  Vampire.

  My chest tightens, making it harder to breathe as raw fear sends ice cold tendrils through my every cell and my gaze darts to the closed door. I scream when he grabs my chin and forces me to look at him again.

  “The door is locked. Don’t even think about it. You won’t even make it off the bed unless I allow it.”

  Vampire!

  “Are you going
to kill me?”

  He huffs. “Now why would I want to kill you when I’ve gone through such measures to keep you alive?”

  “I don’t know? Why am I here?”

  “I couldn’t leave you bleeding out on the street.”

  “Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?”

  A smile pulls on his lips. “You’re too clever for your own good.”

  “So… what now?”

  “You need to heal.”

  I touch my neck again, the skin unbroken, and when I look at my hand I realize it’s covered in dried blood. My blood. ”And… what then?”

  “There will be plenty of time for questions later. For now you need to replenish your blood volume.”

  He admonishes me as if I didn’t know that, as if I’m a child and not a grown, educated woman.

  “I think I need to clean up.” I hold up my bloodied hands before him. I’m acutely aware that he avoided my question, but I have a strong feeling I’ll have my answer sooner or later anyway.

  His eyes dart between my hands, hunger flashing in his eyes, making me shrink back. Then he exhales and nods. “Come.” He blurs and in the next moment he stands by my side, his arms sneaking in under my back and knees and I’m lifted.

  “Hey! I can walk.”

  “Katarina, let me take care of you.” He cradles me to his chest as we move toward a door and into a slightly warmer room. When he turns on soft spotlights in the ceiling, the surroundings materialize into a beautiful bathroom. The walls are a mosaic of deep brown shades with specks of gold and the floor is the same hardwood as in the bedroom. He sits me down on the edge of an oversized jacuzzi tub.

  As soon as I’m upright, my blood pressure plummets and my vision wavers. “Whoa!” I slam a hand against the wall, trying to stay upright.

  He catches me immediately, producing a glass of water, seemingly out of nowhere. “Drink. I’ve got you.”