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

by Amber Kallyn

  Connor stayed on his side of the street, matching the demon’s pace. Minutes passed. Then the demon stopped, pulling a cell phone out of his pocket and answering a call.

  If he’d been closer, or the traffic—human and vehicle—lighter, Connor could have listened in as he wanted. Instead, he had to resort to trying to read the demon’s lips, something he’d never quite mastered. Saying to hell with it, he watched a small opening in the traffic draw closer.

  Just as he was ready to make a dash for it, he saw her.

  She stood just beyond the demon, her red hair up in a chignon. Strands curled down around her heart-shaped face, like he remembered. She glanced his way, though he could tell she didn’t see him.

  His heart screamed she must be Ashlyn. From her high cheekbones, small nose, and wide, startling green eyes, to the lush body he’d once known intimately, unhidden by the sleeveless blouse or the slim ankle-length skirt, she looked exactly the same.

  But she couldn’t be the woman of his memories.

  The sounds of the city faded, replaced by the past.

  Scottish war cries echoed in the dark of the night as coming ships roused the clan. They blocked off the cliff stairs that led down a hundred feet to the beach, confident they could repel the invaders. Until they looked down, only to see red-eyed beasts scaling the rock itself.

  His last glance of Ashlyn had been her fear-laden eyes, watching him as she shepherded the children through the hidden door at the base of the clan’s castle.

  All had died that night, but for Connor and two of his cousins. When they woke, it was as raving beasts.

  Vampires.

  Ashlyn had not survived.

  Connor shook the memories away, staring at the woman whose image, after a thousand years, still haunted his dreams every night.

  The demon approached her. She held out her hand, and the hell-spawn touched her soft, creamy skin, then bent closer to say something in her ear.

  Connor dodged into the street, ignoring the blaring of horns as he raced for her. Ashlyn or not, she must be saved.

  At the commotion, she looked up, and met his gaze. Her eyes widened. She gasped, bringing her free hand up to cover her heart.

  “Ashlyn!”

  Her lips began to curl in the shy smile he remembered so well.

  Chills raced over his skin. His lungs emptied on an explosive breath. His stomach clenched as if a car had slammed into him.

  Memories jerked him in a vortex of confusion.

  It couldn’t be Ashlyn... could it?

  His heart skipped a beat, then drummed into a gallop. Hot emotion thrummed through him.

  She glanced at the demon by her side. The smile disappeared, replaced by haunting fear.

  She grabbed the demon’s arm and together they raced down the street.

  * * *

  Ashlyn MacDougal ran as fast as she could. Beside her, Sean kept pace. Her heart raced, she could feel each beat. Her thoughts whirled, unable to settle on any single emotion.

  Dread. Terror.

  But underlying those were remembered emotions from so long ago. She’d thought such things dead and buried.

  Yet the very sight of Connor Gregory, the sound of his voice, had thrown her back in time.

  “Who was that?” Sean asked, drawing her from her thoughts.

  There were so many answers to that question, but the only one which mattered was, “A Judge.”

  Sean glanced back, his hand tightening on her arm. Her son knew full well the consequences of running into a Judge.

  Vampires like her were safe at first glance. But her son, his blood a mix of vampire and demon, was to be killed on sight.

  Breathing became a struggle as a sharp pain worked between her ribs. “How close is he?”

  Sean glanced back again. “Two blocks and catching up.”

  She silently cursed herself for leaving her swords at the hotel, not that they would do her any good against Connor. The man had been an expert swordsman.

  But if she’d had them, she’d at least feel better. Instead, her magic would have to do. She didn’t want to rely on that. It would take a lot of effort, and she didn’t want to be weak out here in the city with those hunting her and her son.

  There was only one choice.

  “We have to hide. We can’t outrun him.” She turned at the next corner, then the next, weaving around people and buildings, until she saw an opening.

  A tall apartment building stood just down the street. She pulled Sean towards it and they burst inside. Quickly, they hurried up the stairwell to the roof.

  Once there, she searched for a way out, but nothing was very promising. The closest roof was a good twenty feet away.

  “We can make that jump,” she said, though her voice held an edge of fear.

  Sean grabbed her arm. “We can do it.”

  She nodded, then stepped closer to the edge.

  Taking precious time, she called on the earth’s magic, asking for wind to help hide their scent.

  Backing up, they raced for the edge of the building, and jumped together. The wind whipped at her clothes, whistling in her ears. She landed on the other roof, then stumbled forward. Sean caught her in his arms and helped her stay upright.

  Without hesitation, she said, “Let’s go.”

  They ran, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, until she felt there was enough distance between them and Connor.

  Easing into the shadows, she closed her eyes. She connected to the magic all around them, listening to its song. Weaving her spell, she tugging on the colorful hues of power until it hid her and Sean. Not just from sight, but from all senses.

  When she opened her eyes, nothing seemed to have changed, but they were safe. At least for the moment.

  It took only seconds for Connor to reach the roof. He strode to the center, his body stiff, eyes blazing an angry red. She held her breath, forcing herself to trust in the magic to keep them hidden.

  She didn’t want to fight. Not him. But she would do whatever it took to keep her son safe.

  Connor walked across the roof to the other side, but didn’t jump. He glanced into each deep shadow, then lifted his head to the sky and began to take in deep breaths of night air.

  A second later, he looked straight at them.

  He was different from the young man she remembered. His steel-gray eyes, ringed by vampire crimson, shone with hard fury, not the softer emotions they’d always held. The lines around his wide mouth were deeper. He even held himself straighter, still a warrior, but now on the hunt for his prey.

  Her hands shook and the colored lines of magic dimmed. She breathed slow and deep, holding tight to the connection.

  Long, strained minutes passed.

  His dark t-shirt strained over his muscled physique, unhidden by the duster enhancing his wide shoulders, flowing to flap around his ankles from the wind.

  Ashlyn pushed back the past. Now wasn’t the time to remember the feel of his touch, the spicy taste of that mouth currently twisted into an angry scowl.

  Finally, he turned and jumped back to the last building. But he wouldn’t find their scent. It had disappeared on the wind.

  She waited until she could no longer see Connor, then another twenty minutes. Though her strength was drained, and moving with the protection would take even more energy, she kept up a steady whisper to her magic as they headed down the stairs and back onto the street. Only when they were over a mile away did she let the spell go.

  Weakness hit and she nearly fell, but Sean grabbed her arm. “It’s all right. I’ll get us home.”

  She reached up and patted his cheek. “I know you will.”

  Keeping to little used streets, they headed for their hotel.

  Ashlyn’s mind drifted between awake and asleep. She needed rest and food to recover. Until then, she wouldn’t be able to protect her son.

  That thought was the only thing keeping her from passing out.

  She would not leave him alone while a Judge—no matter
who Connor had once been in the long ago past—roamed the city.

  As Sean walked, Ashlyn’s thoughts uncontrollably returned turned to the time long past, a time in which the world had seemed a brighter, simpler place. She’d been a carefree girl, her only wish to become the wife of Connor Gregory.

  She remembered the night of their handfasting, so clearly it could have been yesterday.

  He’d looked at her with eyes full of love. The future had been theirs, wide-open for the family they’d dreamed of.

  Sean’s arm tightened around her shoulders as they entered the hotel and took the back stairs up to their suites.

  She slammed the lid on her memories.

  The past could never be brought back. She needed to keep that in mind.

  Connor was no longer her love, no longer part of her life. He couldn’t be, for if they ran into him again, it would be her son who paid the ultimate price.

  Chapter Two

  Hours later, Connor once more stood on top of the building where he’d lost Ashlyn and the half-demon’s scent. It was impossible to mask such things, and yet, he couldn’t find any trace of where they’d disappeared.

  His hands clenched into fists and his jaw muscle ticked from the pressure of grinding his teeth. For all he knew, the demon was at this moment torturing her. And there was nothing he could do about it.

  The wind whipped around him, ripping at his duster. Seconds later, the sky opened and rain poured down, soaking him.

  He let it cool his anger, trying to think clearly.

  He’d already checked out the addresses the Goth girl had listed before coming back here. While there had been something strange and off about the demon scent in those places, they’d reeked of sulfur and smoke.

  But the scent had faded. Which meant the demon had a new hideout. And now he had Ashlyn.

  Rain splattered onto Connor’s face, stinging his eyes. He refused to blink, welcoming the pain as a voice whispered in his head, wondering why she’d fled with a demon.

  Wondering how she’d survived the attack on their clan.

  For a millennia, he’d known only himself and two cousins had escaped. Ashlyn showing up now made no sense, unless...

  Just a few months ago, he’d discovered one of his cousins had been the betrayer, the cause of demons and vampires wiping out their entire highland village.

  Their family.

  The very thought of Ashlyn being part of it hurt him someplace so deep, he’d thought it no longer existed.

  His cell phone rang and he answered, uncaring if the rain ruined the damn thing. He hated it anyway.

  “Gregory?” a soft, almost womanly voice asked. It was in direct contrast to the man, nearly seven foot tall and built like a tank.

  “Captain. What do you need?”

  “We’ve another murder.”

  Connor took the address, but glanced around the roof one last time. He’d find Ashlyn. Hopefully, this new crime scene would help him figure out where the hell she might be.

  * * *

  The house, like the others Connor had been to the past weeks, was run-down and nearly ready to fall over. He followed the police lights to the front of the dirt yard and stared up at the second floor. Like the other cult murders, a window, nearly in the center of the house, faced the street.

  Bright red blood stood out clearly on the few shards of glass that remained. Light shone from the room, originally from candles if this scene held true to the others, but now coming from flashlights that bobbed and wavered.

  A uniformed cop stumbled out the door and down the porch steps, falling to his knees next to the spindly branches of what used to be a bush. The sounds of his retching carried over the rain.

  Connor headed up the sidewalk and through the rickety gate somehow still attached to the fence. The officer in front of the gate never even saw him flash by, he was too busy watching the rookie.

  Inside, Connor walked normally, going up the creaking stairs, breathing shallowly as already, the stench of blood and rot was strong. His stomach growled, reminding him of the hunger he’d been ignoring. He licked his lips, closed his eyes for a moment, regaining control. Duty first.

  He followed the sounds of voices down a long, dark hall, and into what had once been a bedroom.

  Wallpaper peeled in large patches, mostly hidden by depressing splashes of crimson.

  A bed, the only piece of furniture in the room, lay pushed against the wall opposite the window. On the floor, carpet had been ripped up, showing the floorboards. A pentagram and accompanying runes were etched into the boards, most likely with some sort of knife, then painted with blood. Black candle wax had dripped over the remaining pieces of carpet and exposed wood.

  Beneath the window, six thin candles stood in a row, alternating black and red.

  “’Bout time you made it,” Captain Wes Michaels muttered, his voice only slightly deeper in person.

  “It’s only been a few minutes,” Connor replied absently.

  “Humph.” Michaels pushed the two other cops out of the room, then hovered by the door to watch Connor work.

  At the first murder scene Connor went to, it had been a battle to get the room cleared. The captain didn’t quite believe in the Arcaine, but he didn’t disbelieve either. It was only after two more cult murders, and Connor losing his temper and flashing the captain some fang, had the hulking man let up and give in to a few demands.

  Michaels still insisted on watching everything, which annoyed Connor, but he could deal with it. Mostly.

  He stepped between puddles of blood where he could, trying not to disturb evidence—not that this would ever come to trial in a human court, but for Michaels’ eagle eye.

  Three sets of chains hung from the wall above the bed around an inverted crucifix. Blood dripped from the upside-down Christ.

  Yet another example that this was mostly a group of punk kids playing at being devil worshippers.

  Demons didn’t give a shit one way or the other about images like the cross.

  It wasn’t the symbol that hurt them, but the belief of the person, and the strength of God, behind it. Mounted on a wall it didn’t have any of that.

  He finally let his gaze drop to the bed, where a white sheet soaked with blood covered two body shaped lumps. Connor tugged the sheet to the foot of the bed.

  The only reason he could tell they were female were the clothes they wore. Which looked very familiar. Faceless, with deep cuts, punctures and bite marks over their arms, chests and legs, the only thing immediately recognizable were the matching spike-covered dog collars.

  He inhaled deeply, hoping the kids he’d warned earlier hadn’t come to this place. Deep in his gut, he knew better.

  Damn it all to hell.

  He sorted through the other scents, picking up the stench of the two boys as well.

  Why hadn’t they listened? Didn’t they care about the danger working with one of the hell spawn brought? The beast wouldn’t share power or anything else with them.

  Nay, the demon would see any human, especially ones young and corruptible, as playthings.

  A part of him raged at what had been done to the poor girls, yet there was nothing he could do now, but find those responsible.

  Make them pay.

  Turning from the bed, he concentrated on sensing anything the cops would miss. The scent was definitely demon, and like the other addresses the dead girl had given him, it smelled... off. There was something he couldn’t quite place, something he hadn’t smelled earlier when running into the demon and Ashlyn.

  “Anything?” Michaels asked.

  “Nothing so far. It’s the same as the others. There’s at least six different people, not including the two dead girls.”

  “And you know that just by sniffing the air.” His tone of voice filled the statement with doubt.

  “Aye.” He turned to the captain, needing to bring some levity into the fact he’d just been talking to the girls a few hours ago. “I could smell you a mile away.”r />
  Michaels crossed his arms over his barrel of a chest and grunted. “You can get the scent of them girls even under all that blood?”

  Barely, but that wasn’t how he’d sorted them out. “I ran into them earlier. They were with two teenage boys. I’m certain they’re part of the group we’re tracking, so I don’t understand why they would be sacrificed.”

  He had a sinking suspicion though.

  He’d stopped the soul-stealing ritual.

  The demon had either needed the power badly, or hadn’t cared whose soul he took. The ritual gave the demon more power based on the pureness of the soul it sucked. Two slightly corrupt souls, like the girls’, would give the demon enough magic to hunt its next meal.

  Absently, Connor rubbed his knuckles together, trying to piece everything together. “Track down the other kids. They’ll help you figure out who’s a part of this.”

  “You still think there’s a real life demon out there in control?”

  There was nothing else he could do here, but remember the scents. The magic was gone, used up when the girls’ souls had been taken.

  Connor headed for the door. “Captain, I know it.”

  * * *

  Ashlyn devoured the food Sean ordered from room service, as well as three bags of hospital grade blood.

  She hated being weak.

  Weak got you nowhere but used and abused.

  That was a lesson she’d had beaten into her for nearly half a millennium, while her poor son had been chained in the dungeon right next door.

  But they’d both survived, coming out stronger than before. Even if when she was at her weakest, panic tried to claw at her insides.

  The sounds of Sean moving around in his bedroom soothed her. It was so much better than his screams.

  She gulped down another bag of blood, willing her strength to return faster.

  Her son would never go through such a thing again. Which meant she must be able to protect him from anything.

  Including Connor.

  The thought of him made her stomach roil, but she swallowed the nausea. Her kind needed real food just as much as blood to keep up their strength. She wouldn’t waste the nourishment in her belly for such stupid, useless emotional turmoil.