Surrendering: A Regent Vampire Lords Novel, Book #1

by K. L. Kreig

  Goosebumps broke out all over his body. Sarah had a silver horseshoe necklace. She loved horses. It was a high school graduation gift from her parents and they said she never took off. And she did have a tattoo of a cross, in memory of her younger brother who died of leukemia at the tender age of eight. But none of those details had been released to the public.

  As their eyes locked, she whispered, “Sarah’s not the only one missing. I’ve seen others. Held at the same place.”

  Chapter 4

  Mike

  Immediately upon closing the door to the interrogation room where the lovely, but possibly loony, Ms. Martin waited, Mike whipped out his cell phone and dialed Renaldo Hargrave, Lord-fucking-Devon’s half-wit side-kick.

  He hated dealing with bloodsuckers. Loathed them. In the last ten years since he’d discovered their existence, he’d learned many things. About them. About himself. About the lengths he was willing to go for revenge.

  Vampires were the devil incarnate. Devon and Renaldo tried convincing him that most vampires were not evil. Most wanted a peaceful existence alongside humans, albeit their existence unknown to most humans. To live, thrive, find their mates, have a family. They tried convincing him that they would be foolish to kill their life sustaining food source. But he’d witnessed differently. He knew differently. Vampires were indiscriminate killers who could turn on you on a dime. Take your life at will, with no remorse. He knew firsthand. He knew in his gut they were responsible for taking someone very precious to him almost eleven years ago.

  He had failed her. He could barely live with himself most days. But he would avenge her. That was his life’s mission now. After he succeeded, he didn’t care what happened to him. Death was constantly on his doorstep, and after his revenge, he would let that bitch cross.

  Mike didn’t stay alive these past eleven years by not trusting his gut, and based on what Ms. Martin had just told him, his gut was screaming this was the work of vamps. Would this be the one? Could he finally get his revenge? He hoped so, because he was so very weary. Then he would gladly let death take him and spend eternity burning in the pits of hell, where he deserved to be for failing her.

  And it couldn’t be a coincidence that Renaldo had called him on this very case yesterday. A call that he had yet to return. So like it or not, which he most definitely did not, he needed them.

  What Kate Martin told him sat like acid in the pit of his stomach. The police had intentionally kept the necklace and tattoo out of the media. The fact that she knew about them meant she knew more about this case than she was letting on. He wasn’t convinced about the dreams, but she definitely knew something more than what she was saying. That much he could tell.

  When she mentioned that there were others…his blood ran cold. A low curse fell from him lips as a sickening feeling of deja vu swept over him.

  Yes, his gut was wailing loudly now. Something wasn’t right here and he was damned well gonna get to the bottom of it. And hopefully—finally—get his bittersweet revenge.

  ___________

  Kate

  Kate sat in the small, sterile room, alone, waiting for Detective Thatcher to return. The room had a one-way mirror on the wall directly across from her and she couldn’t help the feeling that she was being watched. Or that something monumental was about to happen.

  After she’d told her story, he asked her to wait and hastily exited the room. In relaying her story to the detective, she’d conveniently left out the fangs, vampires and evil sensations, which she knew would get her a one-way ticket to the funny farm. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.

  She’d carefully watched the expression on his face as she told him her story. He had no idea how hard it was for her to step foot into that police station. And how equally hard it was not to.

  He hadn’t believed her, of course. At first he watched her with eagerness and keen interest. As her story progressed, she could see his doubt and disbelief. She wasn’t an idiot. He was clearly placating her so he could get rid of her. He hadn’t even taken one note. She had honestly expected this to happen. She wouldn’t believe her either, if she were he.

  Upon hearing about the necklace and tattoo, however, his face turned dark and grim and he immediately left the room. That had been nearly forty-five minutes ago.

  She should have opted for that bad coffee after all. She hadn’t slept well again last night—surprise, surprise—and she was dragging ass today.

  She still had a half-day of teaching classes ahead of her, plus a long evening of continued research on her paper.

  Kate loved research. Craved it. Lived for it. That was all she’d ever wanted to do for as long as she could remember. Probably explained her minimal social calendar and social skills, truth be told. If she were honest with herself, it probably explained why John felt the need to seek refuge in another woman’s body.

  Enough, Kate. Pity party over. This is exactly why she purposely kept busy all the time. A busy and full day assured she wouldn’t have time to think about the gaping holes and loneliness in her pathetic life.

  That’s it. She’d waited long enough and was leaving. She had done her duty, told the police what she knew. Just as she was rising from the stain-covered gray plastic chair, Detective Thatcher returned.

  At several inches taller than her five-foot-seven frame, he was a classically handsome man. Deep brown eyes, dark brown hair, perfectly straight teeth. Great laugh. Nice ass. But even though she didn’t know the man, she could tell sadness surrounded him like a protective shroud. She could practically see it.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting so long, Ms. Martin…uh, Kate.” He stood still in the open doorway.

  “That’s perfectly fine, Detective.” It wasn’t. ”Am I free to leave now? I have a pretty full day.” She remained standing, grabbed her purse, and threw it over shoulder. She was anxious to leave.

  He shook his head; undeniable regret etched his handsome features. “I’m sorry, not quite yet. I need you to talk to some, uh…special investigators on the case and relay to them what you told me. They’ll be here shortly.”

  “Detective, I genuinely want to help. That’s why I’m here, but I don’t see how telling the same story to somebody else is going to make a difference. I’ve already told you all I know and I really do need to get going. I’ve got a class to teach in a few hours that I still need to prepare for. I can come back later if necessary.” She started walking toward him, intending to push her way out. He held up his hand in a stop gesture, which she grudgingly complied with. It was an effort not to roll her eyes.

  “These are special investigators, Kate. We really need to review everything again and I know you want to help. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. Please. We just don’t have time to waste. I’m sorry, but I need you to stay and talk to them.” He gestured for her to sit back down. “I’m sure we can get you out of here in plenty of time for your class.”

  She stared at him and sighed with a slight shake of her head. ”Fine. Yes, of course. Anything I can do to help.” She took a seat and waited for these ‘special investigators’ to arrive.

  Chapter 5

  Dev

  As Dev and Ren entered the Milwaukee Police Department, Dev decided they should observe Kate Martin behind the anonymity of the one-way mirror for a few minutes first before questioning her. According to the phone call Ren took from the detective earlier, he suspected Kate Martin was a dreamwalker and dreamwalkers were very rare. He was only aware of a handful that still lived. He needed to determine how to best to deal with her. How to get her cooperation; gain her trust. That would be much easier and preferable than using alternative methods.

  No matter, really. He would use whatever means necessary to find Xavier and destroy his vile soul. And after what Ren told him, his gut was screaming in hopes this woman would be a means to that end.

  Xavier was an ancient rogue vampire who’d wreaked havoc on the human and vampire worlds for centuries. He’d become increasingly dang
erous and deranged and his actions threatened to expose their entire race to the human population.

  In his quest to rule both the entire vampire and human races, Xavier had nearly succeeded at doing just that several decades ago. It took months to clean up from that fucking debacle. They thought Xavier had perished in the explosion that took out his underground compound, but later found he’d escaped. Dev still could not fathom how. He only hoped Xavier had suffered significant losses of his rogues during the explosion.

  Dev had talked to Romaric and Damian and both were seeing similar patterns of abductions in their Regents. It was clear Xavier was experimenting again. Trying to procreate using human females. It couldn’t be done. Only human females who were bonded to vampires could bear vampire children, but that didn’t stop the evil rogue from slaughtering young, innocent women in his quest to try.

  He must be stopped. They were out of time. Devon would make sure he killed the demented vampire himself this time.

  The vampire he once called “brother.”

  If Ms. Martin was truly a dreamwalker, her world was about to change. Drastically. Forever.

  Not his problem, though. He would delegate her care to his staff. He had to make difficult decisions every day in the best interest of his Regent and all of the vampires under his care who relied upon him.

  So as Dev stepped into the closet-sized observation room, he had no qualms, no compunction whatsoever, about using Ms. Kate Martin as a means to his selfish end.

  Until he laid eyes on her.

  He froze. “Jesus H. Christ.”

  She was The One. The woman he’d been looking for.

  His Moira.

  His Destiny.

  He stood frozen, drinking in her every perfect, exquisite feature from head to toe. Wearing her dark, glossy hair in a twisted, messy bun atop her head and dressed in incredible curve-hugging, dark jeans with a fitted ivory sweater that bared just the top swell of her luscious breasts, she was simply…breathtaking. Her striking green eyes shone like emeralds. She was the most exquisite, desirable creature he had ever laid eyes on in his very, very long existence.

  And. She. Was. His.

  The desire, the possessiveness pulsing through his body and soul was so fierce, so intense, he nearly crashed through the flimsy barrier that stood between him and his Moira. His cock was hard as granite. His fangs had burst through his gums. He only had a single-minded intention of getting inside that sweet, hot body. Now. The savage need to mark her as his was all consuming and unlike anything he’d ever felt. It took every ounce of his stalwart control to stand there, taking no action.

  Fuck. This changed everything.

  Chapter 6

  Xavier

  Xavier relaxed with a tumbler of fifty-year-old Dalamore Scotch in his hands. He lounged in his overstuffed black leather club chair, made from the finest available Italian leather in a dark maple frame. His one luxury piece of furniture in this hellhole he called home these days. At least he could have a good Scotch.

  Rage always seethed just beneath the surface. Vampires were meant to rule the world, were the superior species on this planet, yet he spent his days in hiding, like vermin. His plans constantly thwarted by his former brethren, who dubbed themselves Lords. They were why he was in this hellhole, cowering like a petulant child. They’d completely destroyed his last compound. He was lucky to escape with his life. Lesson learned.

  He fingered the ragged scars marring the left side of his previously perfect face, courtesy of his last encounter with the Lords. A sinister smile played across his thin evil lips as he reflected on his current plans in motion. Plans that would come to fruition. Devon and the rest of the insolent Lords may have won the last few battles, but he would be victorious in the war and that was all that mattered in the end. They had no idea how close he was. A low, harsh laugh escaped.

  Successful procreation of the vampire race was something he’d been working on for over five hundred years. That, and the diametrically opposed views he had with Devon and the others regarding the superiority of their race, had led him to where he was today. When he’d parted ways with Devon, he’d gone into hiding and needed an army of his own making if he was going to fulfill his ultimate plan. An army born of his own ideals, dedicated to serving him. Dedicated to his objective of world domination. Doing what he alone commanded. And while he was making progress, it wasn’t fast enough. It was difficult to have world domination without enough vampires.

  For vampires to reproduce, however, they had to be bonded with their Moira’s, their destined mate. And finding one’s Moira was not an easy task, so he’d had to use other means to build his army.

  The doctors in his employ had made progress in creating a therapy allowing for any human female to conceive and carry a vampire babe, not just a vampire’s Moira. So far, the concoction only had a five percent success rate, but that was a vast improvement over the tenth of a percent they had just a few short years ago.

  Unfortunately, that also meant they went through a lot of females. He made sure to get them young, while they were in prime childbearing years. If they couldn’t conceive after three years, they were disposed of. After they were thoroughly used, of course. They were only a means to an end. Nothing else. When their usefulness ended, so did they.

  He’d been very careful over the last decade to keep a low profile, taking only the minimum necessary women for his experiments and keeping the kidnappings spread out, so as not to draw attention to himself. He’d managed to stay under the radar while still continuing his work. But his patience was at an end, so at the risk of being discovered lately he’d taken more women than usual.

  About a decade ago, in a lucky grab, he discovered something he thought was long extinct. A dreamwalker. And he was desperate to find more.

  Dreamwalkers possessed invaluable skills. They upped the ante to help him find and destroy his enemies. With them, and the loyal army he’d spent centuries creating, he would be unstoppable.

  His strategy in locating potential dreamwalkers was brilliant and had yielded him several new recruits over the last ten years. He was partnering with many psychology professors across the country, whom he’d convinced to start very particular dream studies within their universities, sharing the results with him. Xavier’s team monitored the study participants, inviting those who met certain qualifications to join him. Most hadn’t come willingly. Well…none had. No matter.

  Yes, his plan was well in motion. Soon. Very soon his army would be big enough and strong enough to move his plan into its final stages. Then all the world, vampires and humans alike, would bow to him.

  Beg for mercy.

  Wish for death.

  Chapter 7

  Kate

  Detective Thatcher stepped fully into the room, and she heard footsteps approach behind him. The special investigators must be here. The detective looked a little angry, his jaw was clenched tight and his lips were drawn in a tight, thin line.

  Her gaze swung to the man walking through the door behind him. The first thing she noticed was how very tall and muscled he was. The second thing she noticed was how amazingly gorgeous he was. Like, GQ gorgeous. This guy was some sort of detective? What a waste!! He should grace the cover of magazines…preferably Playgirl. Yum.

  “Hi, I’m Renaldo Hargrave, but please call me Ren,” he said, extending his hand. She was mesmerized. She couldn’t look away from his eyes long enough to grab his hand, which she noticed in her peripheral vision was waiting for hers.

  He ended her embarrassment, taking her hand in his.

  “H-Hi. Uh…Kate. I mean, I’m Kate. Kate Martin.” She gave her muddled head a brief shake. Crap. She was a blathering idiot.

  He laughed and it was one of the most sensuous sounds she had ever heard.

  Until she heard the man behind him speak. He’d shoved Ren out of the way to introduce himself, causing Ren to stumble several steps to the left.

  She tore her gaze from Ren to look at the man pushing hi
s way into the room.

  Holy. Mother. Of. Pearls.

  She felt the blood drain from her face. She was suddenly light-headed and her knees almost buckled, forcing her to take a step back, steadying herself against the table. She knew her mouth hung open, but couldn’t force it closed.

  It was him…her dream lover. Or his doppelganger. Desire pooled in her belly, flowing through her veins, engorging her in all the right places. Her panties became most uncomfortable in their dampened state.

  “And I’m Devon Fallinsworth. But you can call me Dev.” His nostrils flared slightly as he watched her intensely.

  She continued to stare at him…unable to believe her eyes, unable to move, unable to catch her breath. He was absolutely everything she had dreamed, and more. Much, much, much more.

  Tall.

  Dark.

  Handsome.

  No…handsome was too bland of an adjective. He was devastatingly sensuous. Mind-blowingly sexy. His black suit, which looked custom made, draped his perfectly formed, muscular body like a glove. A crisp white dress shirt was unbuttoned just enough that she could see a dark thatch of hair adorning his perfectly tanned chest. Yowza. He was edible.

  His dark eyes held her gaze and the room narrowed until it was just the two of them.

  He moved toward her until he was standing so close she could feel his body heat radiating into her skin. His masculine scent enveloped her and caressed her like a lover. He smelled like spices, mint, and sex god. She never wanted to look away. She could literally drown in his black, liquid eyes and it would be a happy, welcome death.

  “Pleased to meet you, Kate.” His voice wrapped around her like a soft, silky blanket. She wanted to cuddle under it next to his warm naked body. She hadn’t realized he held her hand until she felt him rubbing small circles on the webbing of her thumb. He held on longer than she thought appropriate, but shorter than she wanted. His penetrating eyes never broke with hers.