by Martha Woods
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Bonus Book 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Bonus Book 2
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Bonus Book 3
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
The Vampire’s Infliction
Book 4 of the Fatal Allure Series
Martha Woods
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Bonus Book 1
The Alpha’s Return
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Bonus Book 2
Kiss of A Vampire
1. Part 1
2. Part 2
3. Part 3
Bonus Book 3
Mysteries of a Vampire
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
© 2017 Martha Woods
All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
* * *
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Chapter 1
I did it to save him.
I let Vincent drink from me so his life could be spared. I told him how I felt, that I thought I might be in love with him.
Me, the cynic. The one who doesn’t believe that love is really possible has managed to love two men at the same time.
I do love Damon. I do. And as I open my eyes to find him next to me, it takes all I have not to turn away. Damon and I haven’t really talked about what had happened that night. I guess that’s because I’m confused about my true intentions of going to Olivia’s.
I’m also ashamed. I thought I was going to die when I closed my eyes and felt Vincent’s teeth pierce my skin. I was ready to die. For him. And I couldn’t go without him knowing. I’m also angry. No, not angry, disappointed. I’m disappointed because after all of that, he had delivered me to Damon and disappeared.
A year ago, I was a happy dog-mom, hunting for clues in a serial murder case that had left the entire force flummoxed. I was content in my belief that science was the be-all, end-all for answering complicated questions, and that no relationship could ever last.
I still believe in science. But now I know there is more. And I know that love can be messy and complicated. Whether it’s worth it remains to be seen, as I still believe that humans are simply not meant to be monogamous.
Damon kisses my cheek and rises from the bed, wandering around to pull on the clothes he will wear to his very first job interview. It’s laughable, really. He told me once that he was in the security business. Of course, he wasn’t lying so much as stretching the truth. He’s a hunter. Or…was. Now he considers himself retired, willing to move into something more mainstream, thinking it will be safer for us both.
Damon’s regret runs deep, as he truly believes he should have been there to stop me, change my course, keep me safe. I’ve never been a fan of having men do things for me, and that includes protecting me.
Someone else who tries very hard to protect me is my boss, Rick Gordon. A father figure in so many ways, he still has a force to manage. He still needs me to be level-headed and rational – the Amy he knew before all this nonsense began in that alleyway the night I met Damon and got pulled into the world of vampires, witches, and werewolves.
Los Angeles is a safer place because of Rick, and it kills me that I’m not pulling my weight in helping him keep it that way. I love my job. I find bits and pieces that no one else sees. With a mixture of science, patience, tenacity, and diligence, I help solve crimes. There is nothing more satisfying.
Less satisfying is how intertwined I have become with a series of crimes in the city. So intertwined, in fact, that Rick believes the force may be better served if I’m not on it. This is heartbreaking for me, and I simply can’t tell him the truth because he’d never believe it, just like he didn’t believe me when I said I had nothing to do with James Roberts’ abrupt disappearance during a criminal investigation. James Roberts simply ghosted and Rick’s red flag went up.
The truth is, James Roberts no longer exists. He’s a suspect on Rick’s list and he’s disappeared, and I’ve been questioned about it. But there is nothing for them to find, no evidence of the guy’s whereabouts. Vincent made sure of that after the piece of garbage tried to rape me.
Ever since James’ disappearance, though, things had been a little strained between Rick and I. I know he trusts me, cares for me, but what makes him a great cop is his rational, decisive, methodical nature. Vampires and werewolves simply do not fall in those categories.
A quickly-constructed lie about my health saved my job, but I’m on thin ice. I need to get back into the swing of things, back to the work I know and love. This will be easier if I can just live here with my hunter boyfriend, who will soon have a normal job, and try to move past everything that has happened.
I have questions, of course. If I didn’t always have questions, I wouldn’t be a very good forensic scientist, now would I? I mean, the scars on my body are nothing compared to the damage inflicted by an out-of-his-mind Vincent. That kind of healing had to come from some kind of…aid. Vampire blood, perhaps? How much? And what is the debt that comes with such a gift?
Damon, looking uncomfortable but handsome in dress clothes, leans in to kiss me, breaking into my thoughts.
“I’m off,” he says. “Wish me luck.”
“You won’t need luck,” I say. “You look nice.”
“Nice?” he asks. “Just nice?”
“Ummm…professional? Hirable?” I ask.
“I guess I’ll take that,” he says, grabbing his keys from the nightstand. He grins and his dimples make him look so boyish, not like the fierce hunter I know he was born to be. “Hopefully I’ll come back a gainfully-employed…What job am I applying for again?”
I groan and throw a pillow at him. “Security officer,” I say.
He shrugs and waves as he heads out. I cover my face with my arm, taking in a deep breath.
So many questions, maybe too many to answer. And I’m not the wallowing type, so the best thing I can do is to get up and get back into a regular routine, put this as far behind me as possible. I need to get a grip and get back to my life, whatever is left of it.
I was a fit person before. I ran every day with my dog, may she rest in peace. So, I’m going to run again. This is something very simple that I can do for myself, to establish some independence and confidence again. Damon has made it clear he’d rather I stay home, where he thinks I’ll be safer, but I can’t live the rest of my life in this apartment, hiding from the world.
Though I work with the police and most of us are armed while at work, Damon and I both know that human weapons rarely work on the supernatural. Strength and stamina are critical to survival, as well as understanding the tools and weapons that do work against such creatures. So, I’ll work on the strength and stamina part. I dress in my running clothes and head out to the street, starting with a fast warmup walk. I’ll try to run a few miles today, see how it feels.
I appreciate Damon’s protectiveness, of course. He’s been protective since the day we met, a feeling I enjoy, for the most part. It’s a conflicting feeling, really. I have never wanted or needed a man to save me. I’ve always wanted to be independent, do things for myself. But with Damon, from moment one, I just wanted to be in the protective circle of his very well-defined arms.
He’s built to protect people – all people – from the threat of the supernatural, and so it’s only natural that he’s nearly rabid in his attempts to keep those he loves safe.
What bugs me, though, is that he and Rick have formed some kind of alliance designed to keep me in a bubble. As if they think I can’t handle myself or make my own decisions. They confer on when I should be able to work, when I can leave the house. I have literally been on my own since I came of legal age and I’m not quite ready to have two men deciding what, where and how I live my life.
As I pick up my pace to a run, it feels good to stretch my legs, push my body a bit more than I’ve been able to in the past few days. I’m vigilant about my surroundings – always have been, working on the force – but more so now that I know what lurks beneath the surface.
Even in me.
I run a familiar path, feeling good and strong, almost as if I’ve got some supernatural help coursing through my veins. The thought makes me frown, but I don’t turn back. I run three miles out and then turn for home, stopping short, though, when a familiar-looking, muscular man walks down a nearby alleyway.
Could it be?
I jog over, trying to catch up with the man. As I get closer, I reach out a hand. Before I can touch him, he turns, his face pinched in annoyance.
“Can I help you?” he says.
My mouth opens. “Ah. Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought you were…I thought you were someone else.”
The man’s expression softens. “Fine, no problem,” he says as he turns and walks on.
I feel sick. I sincerely thought he might be Vincent. I’m both relieved and sad that he wasn’t.
As I start to run again, I feel a cramp in my calf. I rub it a bit and then jog in short spurts the remaining miles home. I feel a little stupid for thinking I could go so far on my first time back out in a while. Feeling stupid is just par for the course in my life lately, though I am not a stupid person. Regret is like my new middle name, mainly the ones that have pulled me away from the activities and people I loved most before all of this mayhem.
I get home and limp for the bath, starting the water and tossing some bath salts in. As the hot water rises, I undress and slide in, sighing as the water hits my skin, soothing my aching body.
Lying back, my eyes close. This is the worst part – the quiet moments where there are no distractions. I replay over and over again, the events of the last year, analyzing, overthinking. This is what made me, excuse me, makes me a great forensic scientist. I was careful. I paid attention. I looked over crime scenes again and again, looking for that one thing that no one else saw.
In my personal life, though? When it’s my own mistakes I’m analyzing? Agonizing. Full of what-ifs and lost opportunities.
I must drift off, because suddenly, a big body sloshes into the water with me. I open my eyes to find Damon grinning at me.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” I say sleepily.
“A trained hunter better be light on his feet, don’t you think?” he asks. “It’s good to see you out of bed.”
I nod. “I went for a run.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Really? Outside?”
“Calm down,” I say. “I can practically hear your wheels turning. I ran a familiar route. I had no issues, apart from the fact that I’m really out of shape and probably put on too many miles right off the bat.”
“Did you feel okay? I mean, physically? Other than the regular running stuff?”
I nod. “I did. I shouldn’t have, probably. But I did.”
The look he gives me says he agrees that I shouldn’t have felt good running. Not yet. What I went through would have put anyone else in the hospital for a month.
“How was your interview?” I ask quickly changing the subject.
“Good I think,” he says with a shrug. “Weird to have to try to tell a stranger all about yourself when you can’t really tell them very much about yourself. I can’t just say ‘Hi, I’m Damon and I’ve been killing supernatural creatures my whole life,’ right?”
I laugh lightly. “No, I suppose you can’t. What did you say?”
“I said I grew up in Portland and came to LA on a security assignment that recently ended,” he says. “Not too far off the truth, I suppose. They asked me about weapons training and physical fitness. I thought it was all fine. I’m supposed to hear from them soon.”
“I’m sure you’ll get it,” I say.
“You know what else I want to get?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
I splash water at him. “Are you trying to distract me?”
“Might be,” he says. “But I did come home to my hot girlfriend naked in my tub, so it’s not my fault where my mind went.”
I push forward, adjusting myself on top of him, water sloshing out of the tub. I look at him, biting my lip. “I could use the distraction.”
He nods, running a thumb across my cheek.
Our lips meet and he bites my lower lip. “You keep biting that lip. I needed to know if it tasted good.”
“You already know what m
y lips taste like,” I say.
“Fair enough,” he says, kissing along my jawline, then along my neck. “Then I’ll taste these other parts.”
I sigh. This part’s always been easy for me and Damon. We just fit, and he relentlessly pursued me from our first date. He was overtly flirtatious, his comments full of innuendo. There was no doubt that we would end up in bed together and when we were, it was supremely satisfying.
Now, as his fingers caress my breasts, teasing my nipples into hard nubs, I lean in and allow him to distract me. I force myself into this moment, with this man – the man I am supposed to be in love with.
I reach between us, finding him hard and ready. I slide my hand over the shaft, silky and smooth in the soapy water, and his eyes darken with desire.
We kiss – me running my tongue over his bottom lip, him meeting it, welcoming it inside. I move my hips, pushing his erection over my most-sensitive button, feeling the pull of want intensify.
Finally, I raise my hips, allowing him access, allowing him inside. I ride him there, tub water moving like an angry ocean as I focus on the feeling. Only this feeling of ache and desire, this building of sensation.
He puts his hands on my cheeks, pulls me to him, forces eye contact as we make love. I feel everything, my nipples rubbing against his broad chest, the water on our skin, his sex and my sex joined.
When I climax, our foreheads meet and my eyes close. I ride the wave and he groans, his own release right behind mine.
As the feeling subsides, I crawl backward, emptying myself of him, sitting back against the tub wall, eyelids heavy.
He sits forward and gives me a soft smile. “That was nice.”
“I agree,” I answer.
His fingers play at my thighs, then higher, finding my folds once more. He rubs me there, slowly, gently, then slips a finger inside.
I spread my legs as far as I can, watching him. He says, “It’s lunchtime and I’m still hungry.”
I purse my lips playfully at the innuendo. “Me too.”
At that exact moment, my stomach growls loudly. Too loudly to be ignored. Damon’s eyes go wide and he lets out a loud laugh, withdrawing his fingers and standing up.