Heart of a Vampire, Book Bundle (Books 1-3)

by Amber Kallyn

  The red wolf growled louder. Then in a garbled voice she could barely understand—and couldn’t believe she was hearing—it said, “You. Prey.”

  “Wolf killer,” the other one said.

  Her mind went blank for a long moment as she stood, stunned. Werewolves?

  She gripped the branch as her hands shook. Keeping her gaze on both wolves, she backed away. They matched her every step.

  “I’m not a wolf killer.” She bumped against another tree. “I don’t want any trouble.”

  The wolves leapt at the same time. Two large, shaggy bodies crashed into her. They fell to the ground in a tangle of fur and claws and teeth.

  She struck out, trying to shove them away. Teeth clamped on the branch. It cracked in two and the tiny piece in her hand was ripped away, leaving only splinters.

  Fangs sank into her arm and she screamed as jagged agony tore through her. The wolf yanked her to the right and something in her shoulder popped with a flood of pain.

  “Get off.” She punched the wolf’s nose. It whimpered, biting harder.

  The pressure built. Her arm would snap anytime now.

  The white wolf snapped its teeth in front of her face and she welcomed the distraction from the pain. She used her free arm to shove at its throat, keeping its muzzle away.

  The red one jerked again, dragging her deeper into the forest. She kicked and clawed, but it was like she was some weak fly, not even irritating them. Her arm throbbed with agony. Fire raked her thighs and belly as claws sliced at her again and again. Her head pounded as panic flooded her.

  A haze of pain covered her and heat rushed through her body. Her teeth lengthened and her vision grew sharper. She kicked at the white wolf.

  It squealed in pain when she somehow managed to push it off. Screaming, she scratched at the red wolf’s eyes.

  The beast howled, spitting her mangled arm from its jaws. With a fierce growl, it pounced again. Long, sharp teeth sank deep into her calf. She kicked at its head with her free leg. The animal let go, stumbling back and whimpering.

  A loud cry filled the forest.

  Previously silent birds squawked and took flight, raining leaves down on her and the wolves.

  The beasts growled. Their movements were frenzied as they continued their attack. Teeth and claws shredded clothes and skin. The red one grabbed her injured arm between its dagger teeth again.

  It yanked her over rough ground. Dalia screamed.

  The loud yell came again, turning into a roar of fury. Jordan dropped from a high tree branch and landed beside her.

  His eyes blazed pure red. He bared long, glinting fangs. Nearly faster than she could follow, he swung a knife, plunging it into the white wolf’s side.

  It yelped, flying through the air then slammed into a tree with a loud crack. The wolf crumpled to the ground, blood soaking its fur.

  Jordan turned to the red one. It growled, letting her arm go and backing to the white wolf, who was struggling to stand. Dalia blinked and they both disappeared into the forest.

  Behind Jordan, a giant of a man crashed into view. He glanced from Jordan to her, then in the direction the wolves had taken.

  “After them?” he asked, his accent thick, but different from Jordan’s Scottish brogue.

  Jordan nodded. “To the edge of the property.” He leaned over her, checking her wounds. His hands were gentle as he lifted her into his arms, but a wave of agony crashed into her. She screamed. Her shoulder was a roiling mass of torture.

  The tall blond rushed to their side, and laid a massive hand on her shoulder. “Take a deep breath.” Before she could, he whipped her arm upwards.

  Something popped and the fire in her shoulder lessened a little. Then he raced into the shadows, chasing the wolves.

  Jordan cupped the back of her head, pressing her mouth close to his neck. “Drink. You need to heal.”

  She wanted to turn away, but was too weak to resist the call of blood just beneath his skin. She bit into his heated neck and drank. Everything slowed to a stop as his blood filled her. Some of the pain grew manageable. He tugged her head back, and stared into her eyes.

  “Aye. That’ll do for the moment.” He cradled her to his chest and raced towards the castle, going so fast the trees blurred.

  The haze of misery fogged her mind and all she could do was press against him, craving the heat radiating from his skin. It made her feel a tiny bit better, and strangely, safe.

  He headed into the castle and rushed up the staircase, then slammed open a door. Hurrying through the room, he slid a hidden door on the far wall open, strode through a bedroom, then into a bathroom.

  The sight in the mirror made her shake. Tufts of pink and blonde hair stuck out all over the place, some stained a dark red. From head to toe, she was covered in mud and blood. Her clothes were shredded tatters.

  Jordan sat her on a white marble counter spanning the length of the wall. Her head swam, her stomach churned. She wanted more blood.

  He reached into the large shower and turned on the spray, then grabbed a few fluffy black towels from a cupboard.

  Dalia tried not to move, everything hurt so badly. But, she realized, not nearly as much anymore. She could almost imagine feeling some of the cuts and bites beginning to heal.

  He looked her over, his eyes blazing so bright she flinched. His teeth ground together audibly. Fear ran through her as his fury flowed into the air.

  “I’m sorry for running,” she whispered. Not really, but she wanted to rid his face of that blasting anger.

  He growled and she shivered. He closed the distance between them in a blink and slammed his fist against the marble counter. “Do not apologize. It is my responsibility to protect you, keep you from harm.”

  The red hue in his eyes slowly faded, though his jaw still bulged. He wasn’t mad at her, she realized, but at the wolves.

  Hesitantly, she reached out and laid her hand on his. Blood oozed from his knuckles.

  “Our forest should be safe, so I didn’t follow you.” He shook his head and stepped back, then jerked open a drawer and grabbed a pair of scissors.

  Before she could stop him, he cut the remains of her shirt and threw it to the floor, leaving her feeling exposed in just her bra. “Hey!”

  He scooped her up and set her on her feet. Giving her the barest second to make sure she wouldn’t fall over, he dropped to his knees and cut off the remains of her jeans.

  She shivered, standing in front of him in only a bra and panties. She didn’t know whether to cover herself or slap him.

  Rising to his feet, he checked the worst scratches, then circled around to look over her back. His fingers drifted over the three roses tattooed on her left shoulder, down her mangled arm.

  * * *

  “Good, you’re healing. But not fast enough.” Jordan studied her wounds, trying to suppress his rage at the cuts and bites. He’d scared her with his earlier loss of control. It wouldn’t happen again.

  He scooped her into his arms, ignoring her weak protests as he stepped into the shower. She gasped as the hot water hit.

  “It will feel better in a moment.” He let the water flow around them, pushing down his lingering panic from hearing her first screams.

  Dalia squeaked and he loosened his grip. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  “You can leave now,” she said. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes closed tight.

  Clenching his jaw, he set her on her feet, keeping a good hold so she wouldn’t fall. Carefully, he washed the blood and dirt from her delicate skin. She was recovering, but not as fast as he liked. He’d hoped seeing her healing would calm his racing heartbeat.

  Instead, as more of her creamy skin was revealed from beneath the mud and blood, his anger changed, turning into a fiercely burning need.

  Ignoring the desire making him hard, he rasped, “Let me see your arm.”

  She turned and he checked the bites. “You need more blood, then some food, to finish healing.”

  She opened
her eyes. This time they were more blue than green, though a thick outer circle of red bled over the color. “Get out.”

  He fisted his hands as her nipples tightened beneath the scrap of lace. The sight of her high, full breasts made his mouth go dry. His groin tightened with a throbbing ache of desire.

  Her narrow waist tapered to slim hips. The matching lace panties didn’t hide a thing from his imagination.

  His power flared, filling the air. He wanted this woman. Now.

  He swallowed dryly. “I—”

  “Am leaving.”

  Doing his damndest to ignore the igniting heat, he replied huskily, “Not until you drink.”

  She shook her head and replied almost tonelessly. “I’m naked.”

  Jordan closed his eyes, breathing deep, struggling for control. It didn’t help. Her sweet scent filled him. He grew rock hard. “Only partly,” he finally ground out.

  “Get out of my shower.” Her voice was tinged with huskiness and the scent of her own arousal blasted into him.

  A picture of her long, shapely legs wrapped around his hips as she rode him flashed in his mind. He snapped open his eyes, trying not to groan.

  He was losing his mind.

  “I’m not here to ravish you.” Regardless of what was going on in his head. “Drink and I’ll believe you won’t pass out if I leave.”

  “Fine.”

  Rather than offering his wrist, he traced a finger gently down her jaw, pleased when her eyelashes fluttered and her lips parted.

  Holding the back of her head, he drew her mouth to his neck. He was perverse and he knew it.

  She tensed for an excruciating long moment before sinking her teeth into his skin.

  Fire whipped through his blood and he strained against the tightness of his pants. He held himself perfectly still before he lost it and pushed her against the tile wall. It would only take a couple quick movements to strip her remaining clothing, then fill her, hard and fast.

  As she drank from him, her body softened, becoming pliant as she wrapped her arms around his waist. He couldn’t contain a groan of pleasure as she took his blood. She was so soft, so close.

  Her soft mewl jerked him from the trance and he grasped for control. He wouldn’t pounce on her like some deranged maniac. He wouldn’t give in to desire like some love swept male. Besides, he was a bloody King, he could damn well control such useless baser urges.

  Chapter Four

  Strength and power filled Dalia as she drank more of Jordan’s blood. Instinct drove her, making her captive of the overwhelming feelings inside.

  His taste, his scent, the feel of his body against hers, took her to a place where she couldn’t think, only experience. He tugged her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze.

  Desire ruled as he pressed between her thighs. He groaned, bending close to capture her mouth. His tongue delved between her lips, sweeping inside her mouth.

  The air filled with an electric charge which had her shivering with a delicious need.

  He kissed her with passion, demanding a response. She met his movements with urgency, wanting, needing more.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice whispered she shouldn’t do this. But she didn’t care. This man consumed her, had affected her since she’d woken. He confused her, but he was the only real thing in her life and right now, she wanted him to show her she was still alive. Not a monster, but a woman.

  She nipped his tongue between her teeth. He moaned, fisting his hand in her hair and tipping her head back to trace his lips over her jaw. Then he devoured her mouth once more.

  Shuffling her backward, he pinned her to the wall.

  She scraped her nails over the wet material of his shirt, down his butt and along his hips. He rubbed his groin between her thighs and she eased her legs apart, wanting to feel more.

  God, this man set her on fire. She grabbed his hips, yanking him closer as he plundered her mouth. He was heat and spice and desire.

  She wrestled his shirt from the waistband and slid her hands beneath the wet cloth, entranced by the feel of his bare skin.

  His muscles flexed beneath her fingers, his stomach tight, his chest rising and falling with panted breaths.

  The knowledge that he burned with as much desire as she did made her want him even more. The power of such a feeling was intoxicating.

  He tilted her head back, licking down her throat. His teeth scraped over her skin and she shuddered as fire blazed where he touched. He trailed his hands up her sides and cupped her breasts.

  She inhaled sharply as he covered them, her nipples tingling with the need to be free from the bra. He flicked a thumb over one and she moaned, arching into his touch.

  A loud, insistent pounding hammered at the door.

  They jumped apart, staring at each other. Jordan’s reddened eyes were glazed with need. She stared at him, trying to think.

  She wanted to ignore the knocking, to have him embrace her once more, but as the haze of desire slipped away, she realized what had almost happened.

  Though she still wanted him with every ounce of her being, she refused to give in to mere sexual desires.

  The knock came again. “Jordan?” a woman called.

  He backed away, hands shaking as he stepped from Dalia. “Finish your shower, then we’ll tend your remaining wounds.”

  He walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  She didn’t move from the spray of the water. He’d made her completely lose control. So much for refusing to be his play toy. Damn man.

  She didn’t even know him, but her body didn’t seem to care. The hot water thundered over her skin, but she only felt cold, and so very alone.

  * * *

  Jordan strode into his bedroom, soaking wet and with a raging need left unfulfilled.

  Fionah leaned against one of the bed posts, her eyes emotionless and unreadable. “You smell of lust.” She titled her head, studying him. “You lost control.”

  It wasn’t a question, so he didn’t feel the need to answer, to admit out loud the woman in the other room could do such a thing to him.

  “Fate,” Fionah whispered.

  He jerked his head up, staring into her eyes. They were flushed completely red, her pupils contracted to small pinpricks. She was inside a vision. A dark sense of foreboding slithered along the back of his neck.

  He took her hand. She blinked, then met his gaze, back in the present once more.

  “Brothair?” Her voice was small, nearly silent.

  “I’ll meet you in the outer chamber. Let me change.”

  As if dazed from whatever she’d seen in her vision, she nodded as she slowly left the bedroom.

  He gripped the wooden bed post. Closing his eyes, he sighed. Must he hear it a second time to realize just how dangerous Dalia was to his peace of mind?

  He had too many depending on him for their safety. His desires would not rule him, no matter the Fates had decided to turn their attention to his destiny.

  He slammed open the wardrobe, ripping a pair of black slacks off the hanger. The wood snapped and spun across the room.

  He’d been so concerned about Dalia’s wounds, his only thought had been to see how much damage the wolves inflicted. Yet, once she was nearly naked in his shower, his needs had ricocheted, flashing to unavoidable desire.

  He hungered for the woman like no other.

  He might not be able to deny what fate wanted of him, but he would be damned before he gave into it. He would not be played by their whims.

  He threw his wet clothes in a basket and jerked on the dry ones. He didn’t know how to stop this lust between them, wasn’t sure if it was even possible.

  Until he figured it out, he would be wary. Watchful.

  Stepping into the outer chamber, he found Fionah standing in front of the roaring fireplace, staring into the flames, her hands gripped tightly behind her back.

  He stayed silent as he reached her side.

  She glanced at him, her eye
s showing a hint of blue. “My dreams have come.”

  He waved to the chairs in front of the fireplace, waited for her to adjust her long skirts and sit, then took the chair opposite.

  “I saw the woman in my dream,” she said, her voice soft.

  “Dalia?”

  “Yes. I tell you, she is not what she seems. You must beware, brothair, not to trust too quickly.” Fionah fisted her hands in her skirt, twisting the material. “She is not a normal fledgling. Does this not concern you?”

  “Aye. But that doesn’t mean she poses a danger.” He bit his tongue, not sure where those words came from. He was defending her?

  Fionah’s eyes flared and her fangs extended past her lips. “She is a great danger. If you don’t heed my words, we may all fall.”

  “Tell me how.” His gut tightened at the finality in his sister’s tone.

  She shook her head, blonde hair falling over her face and hiding her expression. “You know I can’t always see everything. This is all I know. Beware her, or lose it all.”

  He leaned back in his seat, mulling her words. “I can’t turn her out. Not without cause.”

  His sister’s visions always came true, though not necessarily in the ways she interpreted them. He wouldn’t put his clan on the line.

  Fionah’s pale face set off her dark, blood-red eyes. He couldn’t read her, only sense her hunger and anger.

  “You know I will watch her. But I won’t make a decision without more information.”

  She flinched as if hurt. “Make sure it’s not too closely.” She stood, sweeping out of the room.

  Jordan didn’t move, his thoughts whirling as he considered her words.

  Yet, he also couldn’t stop thinking about how Dalia made him react.

  He couldn’t afford to lose control. To trust someone he wasn’t certain of. The door swung open, and his twin Viking guards strode inside, giving Jordan a reprieve from the confusion and uncertainty he despised. He glanced up, just in time to see Eric stick his foot out and try to trip his brother.

  Brandon neatly hopped over Eric’s boot, used to his tricks.

  “Sire,” Brandon said, bowing his head.

  “Hey, Jordan.” Eric plopped on the sofa, kicking a leg over the armrest.