Haven

by Celia Breslin

  He trailed his fingers across my forehead, sending delicious tingles from my head to my toes.

  My eyes closed. “I like you.”

  His fingers wandered down my cheek, feather light. “I like you, too.”

  I was silent for a moment, enjoying his touch. Nearby, Faith and Kai conversed. Faith laughed at something Kai said. A little bubble of happiness floated through me. They sounded relaxed, normal even. A good sign. I would’ve bet money Faith was seeing things again and she knew I wouldn’t die today. Good news, but still...

  “You know,” I rasped as loudly as I could manage given my messed up throat. “I’m getting tired of almost dying.”

  “Yeah, we’re tired of it, too,” Kai replied, sounding like his usual, jokester self. “So cut it out.”

  A wave of fatigue and blood loss and morphine took me. I sunk into those dark waters, welcoming oblivion, comforted by Alexander’s soft laugh and his warm lips pressed to mine.

  Epilogue

  I spent the next several days at Doc Scott’s clinic for reconstructive surgery and healing magic followed by a strict regimen of sleep and blood. Apparently, a half human, half vampire marvel of nature like me can heal most anything with the proper nutrition, aka the red stuff.

  While I recuperated in San Francisco, Tessa escorted Tony to Italy where my father would see him through his ‘adjustment period.’ The thought of what my brother was experiencing made me cringe. I couldn’t shake the guilt. If he hadn’t been in the wrong place at the wrong time, namely visiting me, he’d still be alive and strutting his gorgeous model stuff on some catwalk in L.A. or New York City. Once he regained his sanity and could hold a conversation without trying to eat me, would he blame me for his demise and hate me for the rest of his eternal life?

  My heart would break if he did.

  Brigid flew to Italy as our prisoner. Thomas and Jonas intended to punish her, or course, and use her as bait for the Dark One, who’d escaped the Deep Freeze along with Dixon.

  As much as we hoped the Dark One’s love for Brigid and his need of her magic would put her first on his evil dance card ahead of me, we doubted Dixon would be so lured to Italy.

  “The man has no honor,” Thomas said. He believed Dixon would ignore his new alliance with the Dark One in favor of serving his own needs—acquiring me as his personal revenge tool and shiny new sex toy. So, we increased security.

  Lily placed wards on the clinic, our homes, and the club to keep out anyone—living, dead, or undead—with evil intent. On the off chance the wards were breached, a psychic alarm would alert the vampires on Team Good. And Lily, too. Factor in our hi-tech security systems and a gaggle of well-trained, badass security minions both living and undead and our stronghold was looking good.

  Faith wanted to help with security, too, on the magical front. Lily insisted she possessed witch potential and invited my psychic friend to work with “a community of like-minded people” up north, as a white witch in training. Her departure saddened me, but it was a smart move. Smart would keep us alive in the long run.

  Kai, of course, accompanied her. After almost losing his soul mate to a psychotic, kidnapping witch, he was taking no more chances with his happily ever after.

  I was destined for training, too, of the physical and metaphysical variety. Vampire boot camp with Jonas. I agreed one hundred percent. I disliked being helpless in the hands of rogue bodyguards and crazy vampires. Possessing a here-to-stay, erratic, and unwieldy power was an equally great motivator.

  Mark and Ren were also invited, but when Dom and Lorenzo insisted on joining the group, Jonas referred them to Primo. I wouldn’t want to train with that giant, but my brothers agreed. Color me impressed.

  I was less impressed when they, upon Doc Scott’s urging, insisted I talk to the staff psychiatrist about recent events. “To mitigate any psychological damage,” Doc Scott said. I didn’t like it, didn’t want to bare my soul to a complete stranger, but I’d killed Tiffany, helped Alexander kill Greg, been kidnapped, physically abused, and almost killed by my own newly-undead brother. So yeah, I was due for some couch time.

  The shrink didn’t stick to the recent trauma script, however. He focused on my absentee father, encouraging me to explore my feelings, work through my anger, and hey, why didn’t we give my dad a call, invite him in for a session?

  Right. My father hadn’t shown up when his only daughter was in mortal danger—on more than one occasion. What made this well-meaning doctor think he would hop on a plane for therapy now?

  I wasn’t ready to talk to him, anyway. The man messed with my brain, stole my memories, lied to me and pretended to be my uncle, abandoned me for twelve years and counting. The words angry and resentful didn’t begin to cover my feelings.

  Yes, I was more than willing to ignore that emotional baggage for a little while longer and focus my attention on something—or specifically someone—much more pleasant. My hot, undead husband, of course.

  Alexander spent every night in my room at the clinic. In the bed, too. Not that we did much beyond some innocent smooching and cuddling. My body needed to heal, true, but we also had constant company.

  Stella hated losing me to the bad guys at the museum and now she clung to me like sticky rice. Didn’t matter the hospital was warded and staffed with round-the-clock guards. Or that Mark and Ren guarded me all day long. Come dawn when my boys arrived for the day shift, she’d shower and retreat to my room’s closet for six hours. Max. Then she was back at it. Stubborn vampire.

  While the constant bodyguard party in my room left us sexually frustrated, it did allow my man and I to talk. A lot. We covered big and little picture topics from our irrevocable blood bond and the prophecy with my name on it to his favorite toothpaste flavor.

  Cinnamon.

  Talking and cuddling was great, but once freed from this place, sex, sex, and more sex with my fine, bonded mate was at the top of my to-do list. Way ahead of dealing with my dad, boot camp, Team Evil, or worrying about the power surge my body would experience three years from now. The one that might kill me. No need to dwell on that lethal, future negative with a hot and hunky positive to distract me in the here and now.

  Besides, the future isn’t written in stone, as Alexander reminded me, and a lot can happen in three years.

  “Look what has happened in a handful of days.” He nuzzled my ear for the millionth time while Stella glowered at us from across the room. “Not all of it was bad...is bad...”

  He was right.

  So, I’m some chosen one for vampire kind. A future harbinger of doom and gloom for naughty little monsters. A living, breathing freak of nature, a half-breed. A vampire princess.

  So what?

  I’m still me, with kickass friends, a hot soul mate, a loving—if dysfunctional and overprotective—family and a thriving, fun, club business. My party doesn’t stop just because I’m super ninja girl and every bad little vampire in town and beyond wants a piece of me.

  As I showered little kisses on Alexander’s warm neck, over that vein with its steady four-on-the-floor beat dancing under his skin, and let my teeth take hold and squeeze until he let out a sexy groan, I agreed with him one hundred percent.

  Not all bad. Not. At. All.

  About The Author

  Celia Breslin grew up enchanted by stories of vampires and the Fae, including her Irish grandma’s encounter with a Banshee in her root cellar. Imagination fueled, she penned many a fairytale as a youth. Growing up, she earned a masters degree in French Literature and worked as a teacher, producer, (nonfiction) writer, editor, and copyeditor, but vamps and the Fae kept calling her back to fiction. Celia lives in Northern California with her family. She writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance about all the sexy and mysterious creatures of the Otherworld.

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