by Unknown
Her heart pounded against his.
“Oh God! That was horrible!” He shook uncontrollably against her as Jolie’s hands soothed away all his fears. Flynn stared at the second vampyre sitting beside them as he ran his hand gently over Flynn’s leg in comfort.
“It’s okay, my friend. You’re safe,” promised Jacques, his serene, green eyes offering sympathy.
“We’re here, Flynn. You’re safe now.”
Brogan lay back, still clutching on to her tightly. As he came to rest against the pillows on their shared bed, Jolie curled protectively around him.
“I have you, Flynn. I won’t leave you,” Jolie offered.
Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the scent of her expensive French bath oils. Instantly, the fragrance began erasing the horrible memories that were replaying in his head. As he buried his face in her throat, she placed as much of her body against him as possible. His Jolie was acting like a warm, protective blanket.
“What happened, Flynn?” she asked.
“She was in my dreams,” he finally said, when the calming ministration began to relax him.
“Who is ‘she’, Flynn? We heard you call for us, and it took us a while to get to you. What happened? What was scaring you so much and keeping you from us?” Jolie inquired.
He relaxed as they both moved to protectively frame his body, building a buffer from anything that wanted to hurt him. The closeness gave him peace.
This was his family.
Flynn had survived, and now he could tell them what he’d learned. Someone had to give them the bad news, and it needed to be him.
“She’s back for you-for us.”
“She?” repeated Jacques, already sure he knew the answer to his own question.
“Genevieve,” he whispered, as if saying her name was forbidden and would conjure the monster into their room.
Silence shrouded them.
Jolie had no doubt that this day would come.
It had only been a matter of time.
Now, it would begin.
Jacques began planning his strategy of keeping his family safe. It appeared that the wicked vampyre was going to hit them fast and hard, but Flynn’s nightmare could be to their advantage.
They had a warning.
“She’s found us through your dreams, and now we’re the hunted,” stated Jolie sadly, knowing what was coming.
Brogan didn't say a word. After what he experienced, he knew that the woman wasn’t just coming for them.
She was wielding the hammer of twisted justice.
Genevieve had one thing in mind.
Their deaths.
∞ Chapter One ∞
Tuesday Afternoon
Brogan stared down at his cup of coffee in utter disgust. It tasted like bitter tar, leaving a bad taste in his mouth. Maybe he was spoiled by the rich blend stocked in their home. Then again, his pissy mood could have everything to do with his lack of sleep, and the evil vampyre chasing the ones he loved.
Yeah, that was it.
Over the years, Flynn had consumed gallons of toxic cop brew, and it never seemed to bother him quite like today. If he wasn’t tortured in his sleep, his mood might be a bit sunnier.
Perhaps.
Fighting to keep what was left of his sanity intact, he sucked it up to take another sip from his mug. What it came down to was the need for caffeine over the taste. Leaning back in his chair, he contemplated the irritating tick of the squad room clock on the wall.
Yeah, everything was bothering him today.
The clock was just doing its job, marking each second, despite driving him bat shit insane. Flynn could see himself pulling his gun to end its droning sound.
Someone was definitely testy today.
Never before had his heightened senses, a gift from his bonding with Jolie and Jacques, drove him this insane. Granted, at this time of the afternoon, he shouldn’t be bothered either way. While Jolie and Jacques were with death, he was weak. Not like a baby, but more like a normal human male.
Yet today, his gifts were magnified, reminding him they were there.
That was funny, like he could possibly forget.
For a brief second, he had to wonder if this was part of Genevieve’s plan to screw with them. He was the weakest link in their defenses, and the smallest things were pissing him off. Maybe she was trying to make him lose his mind.
Glancing back up at the clock, his eyes adjusted to the distance and the smallest detail was crystal clear. To him, the hands barely moved, once more driving up his anxiety and stress level.
Yeah, today was torture.
He could have sworn that it said three in the afternoon twenty minutes ago. Maybe the clock’s battery was dying.
Or he was going insane.
Yeah, this had the makings of the worst day on the job. Looking down at his desk, Flynn tried to focus on anything but the hours remaining in his day. On the top of the pile, the thickest file taunted him. His biggest case was going nowhere, and the lack of rest the previous night was making him a bitch to be around.
Taking a deep breath, he began picturing Jolie in his mind. The second she flooded into his head, there was calm.
Okay, he could do this.
She was the solution to his ever-growing angst.
Scanning the room, Flynn tried to distract himself with the mundane. The bustle of the police station, and then the woman sitting not far away, drew his attention. While he continued to poison himself with tar, he stared over the rim of his favorite vampyre mug at his new partner.
She was his total opposite.
Where Detective Flynn Brogan was built like a brick shit house, Detective Lily Winters was like a china doll. The differences didn't stop there. Flynn’s straight black hair, which was unusually long for a cop, fell to his shoulders in the deepest black hue. His partner’s was a cloud of sunny blonde curls, fluffed around her head like a halo.
Yeah, they were polar opposites.
When his icy blue eyes met her green ones over his coffee, he was having a hard time visualizing her as a cop. Granted, looks could be deceiving, but for him it was still a stretch. Even though he’d worked with her for a while, Flynn was still tripped up by how innocent she looked. He would never pick her out as a cop on the street, and maybe that was what made her good at her job.
Lily Winters carried her own weight, but Flynn was still wary. Try as hard as he might, there was this little voice in the back of his head that told him she belonged anywhere else but there.
So far, he was able to keep his mouth shut, which was a miracle in itself.
On the first day he met her, Flynn laughed. When his boss made the introductions, he couldn’t believe this was going to be his homicide partner.
Really?
Then, she opened her mouth to tell him off.
Lily Winters was tough, loud, and just like a bar full of drunken sailors.
In fact, she made him blush on occasion.
Where her toughness should have given him some measure of reassurance, it didn't. Flynn was still worried about letting her have his back. On this job, your partner was your lifeline, and he still has some reservations.
Okay, he had lots of them.
After nearly getting his balls kicked up into his throat when he called her princess, he’d learned to keep his comments to himself. Now, he was simply observing her. When it came to his partner, it was best to keep his lips zipped.
Unfortunately, she didn't live by that same rule.
Flynn had to overlook the teasing and not-so-overt comments regarding his life and origins. She was southern to the core, and he was a ‘Yankee’. Flynn took the pleasure of reminding her a few times that the north had won the war, and each time it pissed her off to no end.
Yeah, bonus points for him.
Picturing the look on her face made him grin.
“What’s so amusing, Brogan?” she asked, with her Cajun drawl.
“It’s nothing. I just thought of something funny,
and it slipped out,” he replied, glancing over at her.
“You look like shit today, sunshine. What happened darlin’? Now, don’t tell me that you and your rich girlfriend had a squabble. Did she make you sleep on the Chippendale instead of the posturepedic?”
He stared at her. “You’re funny for a munchkin.”
“Oh, you did have a fight with the babe. That sucks, Detective! You’ve been cranky all day, and now I get it. You couldn’t get into Frenchie’s pants last night.”
The last part of the sentence rubbed him the wrong way, and for so many reasons. “Shut it, Lily.” His nerves frayed further. Normally, he could handle her ribbing, but today was a bad day to poke him with a stick, especially when it came to sex.
She smiled a big toothy grin, allowing the southern accent to take over. “My poor partner is relegated to taking care of his own needs. You should dump that foreigner and find a good ole girl from N’awlins.”
Brogan prayed for patience, but he had no one to blame but himself. One day a few weeks ago, he had made the mistake of going home for a file that he’d left there. Of course, Lily was with him, and that caused a whole bunch of questions.
None of which he felt compelled to answer.
Unfortunately, his refusal to comply forced Lily to begin making up her own answers. She was busily concocting a million rich-boy scenarios.
Finally, he gave in.
Flynn really hated having to explain his choice of housing to his co-workers, and his partner was the worst of the bunch.
He wasn’t rich. Jolie and Jacques were.
Yes, they lived in a huge plantation behind some spooky wrought iron gate. From the road, it looked like it may or may not be haunted. There was Spanish moss in the trees, and the house was blocked from wandering eyes. It gave way to speculation and over active imaginations.
When they moved there with the entire family, they needed a place to be safe. This was their sanctuary, and it needed to offer security.
Once you approached it, the big pillars and stone carved gargoyles made you think of some home owned by Dracula.
That was the irony.
If there was one thing about his family, they loved to mock the obvious. Inside, there was a plethora of mirrors and crosses. They were desperate to do anything to hide the truth. Jolie and Jacques were the undead, and he was their guardian of sorts.
It was complicated.
On that day when his partner saw the place, it wasn’t easy for Flynn. Yes, he could rationalize the giant plantation where they lived, but the inhabitants were a whole other story.
Once Lily had followed him to the door, he had no choice but to invite her in. Mentally, he called to the family who were awake, to stay hidden. They were wary of cops and needed that little warning. It had taken him weeks to gain their trust, and even then it was questionable.
If Lily stumbled across one of the undead, the jig was up. With his luck, they’d try to kill her. Anyway he looked at it, there was bound to be a mess.
Inside their massive kitchen, he tried to distract her until he managed to retrieve the file. While the family remained hidden, the one person he didn't want Lily to see, popped out to greet them. Before his fingers touched the paper on the table, he sensed her presence.
Shit!
Jolie was awake.
His instinct was to panic and create a myriad of excuses, starting with Jolie being his sister.
That was a safe one, right? After all, they both had black straight hair. If she didn't talk, they’d be home free.
The second her laughter filled the room, drawing his partner’s attention, Flynn knew he was screwed. Well, so much for Jolie just watching them like a normal killer.
Damn it!
As if to torture him further, there stood a beautiful woman tightly clad in leather, covering her from neck to foot. The way she watched him, no one in their right mind would buy that they were related by blood.
Seeing her dressed like that was completely normal. In fact, Brogan looked forward to admiring Jolie lounging around in snug fitting clothes. They were sexy and sleek, just like her. Unfortunately to a stranger, it was like passing a train wreck.
You had to stare.
Jolie was one of the most alluring creatures he had ever met, and he didn’t use the word ‘creature’ lightly. In their home, it was a bit of an insult to throw it around, but technically it was the truth.
She and Jacques were vampyres, the beings who went bump in the night. They weren’t human, so in his mind that left only one option. It was just how he rationalized it.
The second Lily and Jolie met, Flynn’s fate was sealed. His partner didn't miss the long black hair, fathomless purple eyes, or pale creamy skin. It became Lily’s focal point and ammunition in her daily teasing.
Damn it, death!
Why couldn’t Jolie have stayed ‘asleep’ a little longer? Already, he could see the look on his partner’s face, as she took in Jolie with cool cop eyes.
What he didn't think he would see was how Jolie was measuring up the woman behind him just as much. Immediately, he began to panic. Don’t get him wrong. Every man liked a girl fight, in theory, but if Lily didn't mind her manners, it wouldn’t be much of a battle at all. The undead versus regular bullets was far from fair.
The human didn't stand a chance.
Nervously, he waited for one of them to make a move. His only saving grace was that Jacques, Jolie’s mate, was still asleep. How the hell would he explain that? ‘Hi, this is my girlfriend and her undead lover.’
That would make a mess of anyone’s life.
Brogan had just opened his mouth to make the introductions, when she glided effortlessly toward him. He was captivated by that seductive vampyre sway, making it very hard to think. When she went into his arms to kiss him enticingly on the lips, he was lost.
There was no doubt that the meeting of mouths was definitely territorial, and he knew it. The lip lock heated every inch of his body, causing his blood to boil.
Jolie was sending out a message to his new partner, and it clearly stated that he wasn’t to be touched.
Detective Flynn Brogan was off limits.
The entire time Jolie’s hands wandered his body and mouth made love to his, Lily watched them. He could see her from the corner of his eye, and Flynn knew he was screwed.
The jig was up.
Once out of there and back to work, the torture began. Lily didn't only torment him, but she told the entire squad about his ‘lover’.
It was a free-for-all.
The irony behind it was that Jolie wasn’t having sex with him. They’d yet to consummate anything. She may share her bed with him, but she hadn’t offered up her body in more than a teasing manner.
That also may be why he was cranky.
Flynn Brogan was tormented, and frankly, he didn't know how much longer he could take it. It was getting harder and harder to focus during his morning feedings, when all he could see was his body buried in hers. If he didn't get to taste Jacques’s forbidden fruit, he was going to go mad.
At the mere thought of the male vampyre’s name, he managed to return to the here and now.
“Well, then, why are you miserable today?” Lily asked again.
Yeah, he wasn’t going there. How do you explain to someone that you’re bonded to vampyres and an old enemy is trying to kill you through your dreams?
You didn't.
Not unless you wanted to be locked away in a straightjacket and a room with padded walls. So, he didn’t even try. Instead, he went with the logical excuse. “I couldn’t get comfortable in the new surroundings.”
“I see,” his partner said smiling. “Were you lying on something lumpy?”
He got the implied message and ignored it, not willing to give Lily more ammunition to comment on his very private life.
“No, it was the damn tree frogs chirping all night,” he offered, lying his ass off. “I don’t know how you sleep with them causing all that freaking noi
se.”
She stared at him.
“I’m used to city sounds, not plantation ones.” Putting his vampyre mug down, he continued to play with the handle. It was one of the trinkets that Jolie had given him. She liked to make him smile with vampyre related items. “I’ll adjust to them, or I’ll start to wear earplugs.”
“How did Frenchie sleep?”
He stared at her. “Like the dead.”
Detective Winters smiled, drinking more of her chicory coffee. She motioned at the pile of files sitting between their desks, cutting the man a break. “I went over the files last night on the kid slayings,” she offered, changing the subject. Granted, she liked to see Brogan squirm, but she’d had her healthy dose of torment for the day.
Besides, talking about the mystery woman just pissed her off. Something about the skinny bitch irritated her. In her head, the cop bells were going off whenever her name came up.
In fact, it rubbed her very sunny mood the wrong way.
“Yeah? Did you find anything?”
“I don’t get how these little kids are just disappearing out of locked houses,” she added, watching her partner brood about something.
“It’s unnerving,” he replied. Immediately, his hand went to the cross hidden beneath his shirt. The weight of it around his neck gave him a measure of calm. It was another gift from Jolie and Jacques, matching theirs.
Flynn cherished it, especially when they were all naked in bed. It gave him something else to focus on other than Jolie’s bare body. Just thinking about it made him want to laugh. Vampyres were about as afraid of crosses as they were of garlic and mirrors. Their home was proof of that.
“At first, I swore it was an inside job, some sick family member, but there isn’t any way it could be.” She tapped her pen on the desk before flipping through the latest crime photos. She passed one shot to her partner. “There were no wounds to any of the bodies. The ME said that it looked to be natural death.”
“Five little kids die in their sleep, someone takes the bodies and starts depositing them all over the city, and that ass of an ME thinks it’s natural?” Brogan glanced up from the file he was scanning when she laughed.