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

by Amber Kallyn

  Brandon smacked the back of Eric’s head, but his brother only grinned.

  Jordan hid his smile at their antics. They’d brought joy to him ever since he’d found them, both newly turned. They were two of less than a handful of villagers still alive—or undead as it were—after the attack. He’d taken them in, and they served him loyally.

  Eric grinned. “Heard you took quite an interesting shower.”

  Jordan growled.

  “Hey, man. It’s about time.”

  Brandon reached his brother’s side and punched his arm. “Not your business.”

  Eric only laughed.

  “Wolves,” Jordan said, trying to ignore the lingering heat from Dalia’s lithe body and the worry his sister’s words caused. He had a job to do.

  Eric sat up, suddenly all business. “They weren’t local pack. I don’t know how they got on our land without being spotted. I checked the cameras, we have some links down.”

  “So they know our security system?” Jordan demanded, frustration rising. “How?”

  Brandon replied, “We’ll find out.”

  “I want you to ask around. Did they attack Dalia because she’s a vampire, or some other reason?.”

  “Does it matter?” Brandon asked, his gaze unreadable.

  “No. But it would be interesting to know.”

  Eric jumped to his feet and paced in front of the couch. “The threat of war is building, sire.”

  “Yes.” Jordan had seen it coming for some time now. He had relished fighting centuries ago. He was a warrior after all, and it had been long since his last battle. Everything now was so... civilized.

  No one needed saving, or killing.

  In the other room, the shower shut off. Jordan tensed. He tried to hide his reaction, but from Eric’s smug grin, he hadn’t succeeded.

  “Eric, get the cameras fixed.”

  “Yup.”

  “Brandon?”

  The Viking glanced over.

  “Tonight we hunt. Get ready.”

  Brandon bared his teeth humorlessly.

  The twins left the room and Jordan strode to the window, staring out over the forest. He would not allow such a transgression as wolves attacking his people on his own land to go unpunished.

  He could not.

  He’d actively tried to prevent a war between his clan and the local shifter pack. Only, the wolves weren’t cooperating any longer.

  This might be the final straw.

  So be it. He would be prepared for whatever they might bring forth, and it would be the vampires who triumphed.

  * * *

  Dalia stepped out of the steamy shower. Grabbing a towel, she dried off while looking herself over in the mirror. Scratches still covered her skin, as did small punctures from the wolf bites, but most were well on their way to being healed.

  It was amazing.

  On her collarbone was a small patch of red, not from the wolves, but from Jordan. He’d marked her in their frenzied... what? Kiss?

  She wasn’t quite sure what had happened. It had been like the ability to think stopped and all she could do was respond to the feelings raging inside. As if she’d been someone else.

  Was this what being a vampire meant? Hungering for blood and sex?

  God, wasn’t that supposed to be some sort of demon? A succubus?

  She snorted. She wouldn’t be surprised if those existed too.

  First thing first, she needed to talk to Jordan. Find out more about what being a vampire meant besides insatiable hunger for blood, food and sex. She certainly wouldn’t bring up having sex with him, even if she could remember exactly how big and hard he’d been. Even if she did still burn with need.

  She reached for her clothes, then stopped. They were bloodstained and muddy and shredded beyond repair. Gripping the towel around her, she inched open the bathroom door.

  The bedroom was empty. Thankfully. She crept out and glanced around. The place was masculine and spartan. On the mantle above the fireplace hung an array of swords and knives. There were no homey touches. On the far wall stood a huge armoire. She opened it and gasped. Everything was high class. In fact, she didn’t see a single T-shirt or pair of jeans anywhere.

  Hesitantly, she pulled out a dark-blue silk shirt and slipped it on over the towel. It fell to mid-thigh. She wasn’t really that much shorter then Jordan, was she?

  Heading for the door, she fluffed at her hair, then froze with her arms in the air. She was so not trying to look good for him, was she?

  She stepped into an outer room, only to stop short at finding it empty. Great. Now what?

  Shivering in the cool air, she moved to the warmth of the roaring fire. Glancing around, she was unsurprised at the luxury everywhere. The drapes and furniture were dark maroons and blues. The wood floor looked old, yet it gleamed from polish. In fact, everything looked old yet well cared for.

  The outer door opened and Jordan strode inside, stopping when he saw her. His eyes flashed bright with his earlier desire. He blinked, and his face became nothing more than a polite mask.

  He strode to her side, holding out a bag. “Here.”

  She glanced in the bag, grateful to see clothes. “Thank you.”

  Heading back into the bedroom, she looked over his taste in clothing. She laid the simple jean shorts and white tank-top on the bed. Another smaller bag held a new bra and panties in a creamy pink which matched the streaks in her hair. Heat crawled up her cheeks at the thought of him picking out such delicate, lacy underthings.

  When she came back out, Jordan sat in a chair by the fire. He pointed her to the one opposite him.

  Slowly, she sat down.

  “How are you?” His voice was thicker than usual with his Scottish brogue.

  “Better.”

  Silence crept over them, thick and itching. Finally, she asked, “Those were werewolves?”

  “Aye.”

  “Why’d they attack me? They called me a wolf killer.”

  He raised a brow. “Wolf killer?”

  “Yeah.”

  He rubbed his jaw with the back of his knuckles, thinking so hard she could almost hear it.

  “So. What happens now?” she asked.

  “You will be trained. There’s much you need to know about us and the world.”

  Dalia snorted. “Got that right.”

  “You must remain inside for now. There are... issues with the wolves which will be taken care of shortly, but until then, it’s not safe.”

  She nodded. No problem. For now. But if he truly thought he could keep her prisoner, he had another thing coming.

  “I must leave. I will have someone bring food to your room.” He stood and headed for the door. Giving her one last look, he said, “It’s not as bad as it seems. We’re not the monsters you believe.”

  Then he was gone.

  She cringed. Usually she had more tact. At least she did when she wasn’t confused... or afraid. Dalia left the room and headed down the hall, trying not to think about the fact his rooms were so close to hers. When she reached her room, her gaze fell on the bed and she froze. Mounds of folded clothes lay across the bedspread.

  They were beautiful, ranging from hues of purple to green and blue. Shirts, jeans, slacks, dresses. Even more bras and panties. All in skimpy lace.

  The only things missing were pajamas.

  She started putting the clothes away in the huge dresser and matching upright closet.

  Awhile later, a hesitant knock came at her door. Dalia opened it. A young boy stood on the other side, carrying a huge tray piled with food.

  “Hi.” His smile was bright and fangy.

  Warily, she watched him lope inside, his height that of a gangly teen growing into his size. The tray wobbled, but didn’t drop.

  “I’m Robby. Got your dinner.” He set the tray on the bed.

  “All right.” A kid? How could Jordan have made a young boy a vampire?

  “This place rocks, huh?” Robby asked.

  “Sure.
” She couldn’t share his enthusiasm.

  He draped over the foot of her bed, propped his hands under his chin, and stared at her.

  “What?”

  “You don’t remember me, huh? Everyone says you lost your memory. Got am-am...”

  “Amnesia?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So we know each other?”

  A shadow crossed his face and she realized he wasn’t exactly the happy boy he’d first appeared. “We were both held by the same bad guy.” His eyes lightened. “But you helped kill Thomas, so you’re cool.”

  So Jordan hadn’t made this kid a vampire? She sat on the edge of the bed. “Tell me about Thomas.”

  How she hated not being able to remember. It wasn’t even like she felt anything missing, more like it had never happened. A whole year, gone.

  Robby shivered, smiling thinly. “There’s not much to tell. He’s dead.”

  “How did I help kill him?”

  He shrugged. “From what I heard, Niki—she’s a cool vamp—was trying to kill him. You let her drink your blood and it gave her enough strength to help the sheriff cut off Thomas’ head. Awesome, huh?”

  Dalia shuddered. “Is that how you kill a vampire?”

  Robby finally brightened. “Yup. Most of it’s not like you see in the movies. We can even go out in the sun.”

  She hadn’t thought of any of that. Her stomach growled, and she found herself eyeing the kid’s neck.

  He laughed, like nothing was wrong.

  All she could see was his pulse. The vein was blue-green beneath his pale skin. It throbbed in time to his heart beat.

  She jerked her gaze away, looking at the tray. Easing to the side of the bed—as far from the boy as she could get—she picked up a piece of roast beef. Hesitantly, she nibbled. It was as good—and irresistible—as her earlier meal. She barely resisted cramming it in her mouth. Chewing furiously, she reached for another piece.

  Robby laughed. Heat crawled up her face, but her hunger was growing and she had the driving need to eat.

  “I had the same reaction first few times I ate food after turning. All our senses are enhanced, even tasting food. Good huh?”

  She nodded, gnawing on a hunk of cheese. Robby jumped from the bed and wandered the room, picking things up, looking them over, then putting them back, as she continued to eat.

  It was a struggle not to shovel everything in her mouth now that he wasn’t watching, but she restrained herself. Barely.

  Soon the tray was completely empty. Amazed she’d managed to eat it all by herself, she sat back, hand on her calmer stomach.

  He sat beside her. “I can get you more if you want.”

  “No.” She sighed. “Thank you, though.”

  “I guess you’re probably tired. You just woke up and everything, then had to fight some mangy wolves.” He picked up the tray and headed for the door. “You want me to bring you breakfast in the morning? We have bagged blood and it’s really good. Maybe we can talk some more.” His voice was so hopeful, she couldn’t refuse.

  He smiled as he slipped out of the room.

  Dalia lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. How could a boy so young be okay with all of this? His life had been stopped short, yet he was... happy, cheerful. Would she ever feel that way?

  Chapter Five

  Jordan paced his chamber, moving around his men gathered around the central table. For hours they’d tracked the wolves’ scent, only to have it stop cold near town.

  Brandon hovered over the map spread on the table, marking their chase.

  Jordan stared at the four large black dots scattered over the map. Those were the only hiding places they knew Thomas had used when alive. These wolves hadn’t been pack, which meant they were probably rogues left over from Thomas’ bid for control of Moss Creek.

  He glanced at Eric. “Take five men and double check everywhere we know Thomas used.” To Brandon, he said, “Retrace the scent starting from where they attacked Dalia. See if you can find anything we missed.”

  If they found nothing, Jordan would lead another search, of both the town and surrounding wilderness. Now, he had duties to attend to.

  He strode through the castle, heading for the Judgment Hall. Downstairs, he passed Robby.

  “Hey.” The lad sped up to match Jordan’s pace.

  “How are you?” Jordan asked, slightly uncomfortable with the young boy. He was always so... cheerful. It was disconcerting to have a vampire who was still so much a child in his clan.

  “Good.” He breathed harder as he kept up with Jordan. “I saw Dalia. She really doesn’t remember anything, huh?”

  “No. Why?” Fionah’s warning echoed in his mind.

  “I just wanted to thank her, cause, you know, when we were prisoners, sometimes she brought food to us. She never teased us or was mean like some of the others.”

  “Give her time to adjust. Do you remember when you first woke as a vampire?” Jordan only recalled coming out of the fog, long after his turning.

  Robby panted, nearly running to keep up. “Nah. It was like months before I could really think.” He took a breath. “How come she’s not like that?”

  Jordan stopped in front of the door to the reviving chamber. “Everyone’s different.”

  “Oh.” But the lad didn’t look like he was buying it. “We have court today?”

  “Aye.”

  “Cool. Can I bring Dalia down?”

  Jordan held in a sigh. “If she wants. But she’s probably very tired.”

  “Yeah.” Robby’s eyes brightened. “But I’ll ask anyway. Plus, she might be hungry.”

  Jordan entered the hall to take care of any issues his people had with one another. When he’d been in line for Laird of his family’s Scottish clan, they held these judgments once a month. He carried on the tradition. Some of the vampires in his clan had tempers. There were always struggles and power plays. Jordan was the one they looked to solve it all.

  Jordan walked down the center isle between the rows of benches. The vampires in the seats quieted.

  They saw him as their King, unapproachable, hard. It suited him fine.

  Taking his seat at the throne, he began to listen to the cases, trying not to think of Dalia, or the wolves who’d escaped his justice.

  * * *

  Dalia let Robby lead her to the kitchen. She hesitated at drinking the mug of warm blood, but the attraction of the kid’s beating pulse finally forced her take a breath and down the drink. It was ambrosia on her tongue, and yet, knowing it was blood still made her feel a bit nauseous. Would that ever pass?

  When she followed him into a huge room dominated by Jordan sitting in an actual throne at the front. Reality thundered in and her knees weakened. She slumped into a bench at the back of the room.

  Static filled the air in the room, making her itch. Reddened eyes turned her way and she glimpsed more than one set of fangs.

  They were all vampires.

  Every one of them.

  She should be running away screaming, at them, and herself, but sometime during the night a strange calmness had fallen over her. She wasn’t dead. That was the thing. She could have been. And she’d realized that maybe, rather than anger, she might owe Jordan a thank-you.

  Dalia had never been the maudlin sort. She loved life. So she had to drink blood now. Obviously, vampires had found ways not to kill humans. They stocked up from blood banks. There wasn’t harm in that.

  Robby reached the front before realizing she wasn’t with him. He turned back for her. “Come on. All us newbies sit up front.”

  He tugged her hand. As she walked up the rows of benches, gazes burned into her back. Whispers broke out in a hiss.

  She fidgeted as she sat down, staring at her hands clenched in her lap. Robby sat down and nudged her.

  She glanced up. The guards behind Jordan were twins. Both had their long blonde hair loose, and it hung to their waistbands. They wore matching pants, some sort of leather. Bare chested, they wore lea
ther straps from one shoulder to waist.

  The one on the left glared at her, the one on the right winked.

  Startled, she met Jordan’s impersonal gaze. Something flashed behind his unemotional mask, a heat that her body recognized.

  She shivered as goosebumps crawled over her skin, remembering the forcefulness of his presence, the dominating—almost overbearing—way he’d tried commanding her about.

  And she realized last night had been no aberration.

  She leaned back, watching as he commanded men and women, leaving most if not completely happy, at least satisfied with his judgments.

  It was almost like a court, but with only a judge, no jury.

  Interesting.

  * * *

  The last dispute—an argument over work not paid for—finally over, Jordan left the room to head to the kitchen for some much needed sustenance. Leo stood in the hall.

  “Sire,” the vampire said with a low bow. “The sheriff has arrived.”

  Jordan raised a brow. Shane wasn’t just the town sheriff, but also a Keeper of the Peace between the Arcaine races. Namely Jordan’s clan and the wolf pack. The man was also a friend.

  “Took him long enough,” Jordan grumbled. “Show him in.”

  A few minutes later, Shane entered. Jordan nodded to the man and gave the woman next to Shane a second glance. Niki DeVeraux was a two hundred year old vampire and like Robby, another recent addition to Jordan’s clan.

  Even if she liked to pretend otherwise.

  He hadn’t expected her to come with Shane.

  The two sat side-by-side on a short sofa near the fireplace. Jordan added another log to the fire. Flames blazed from thick oak, filling the air with a smoky aroma.

  Jordan took his seat near the fire, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at Niki.

  She grinned, flashing the tips of her canines. With her pale complexion set off by long, black hair, and an eerie luminance in her green eyes, she was a poster child for a movie vampire.

  If he hadn’t had so much pressing on his mind, he might’ve laughed at the thought.

  Shane cleared his throat.

  Jordan winked at Niki before turning his attention to the business at hand. “I have vampires going missing. Still.”