Immortal Promise: A STANDALONE Vampire Romance (Vampire Mates)

by Kim Loraine

  “It’s the enchantment you feel. Magic is a living thing. It can only thrive if it’s nurtured by the witch. But some people think they should use it for their own gain and put the price on the shoulders of others.”

  “If I break this curse, won’t that be using this for personal gain?” I stare down at the gleaming blade.

  She shakes her head. “No. You’ll have to sacrifice more than a few drops of your blood to get what you want. Believe me, you’ll pay plenty for this.”

  That makes a chill break out over my skin, and when she levels her deep brown irises at me, I have to clench my teeth to keep from reacting.

  “Now, close your eyes so we can send you home. But there will come a time when we will call in the favor you owe us, and if you want to keep your mate, you’ll help.”

  “How do you know? Can you see the future?”

  She laughs and shakes her head. “There’s always some kind of crazy shit happening in this world. I want as many favors owed in my pocket as possible when the next disaster strikes.”

  I nod, and take in the room—exposed beams, stone walls, beautifully simple—one last time before closing my eyes. Wind whips all around me and my stomach dips like I’m on a roller coaster. But when everything settles, the first thing I sense is Brandt. I can feel his heart, smell him, nearly taste him. My body craves him as surely as it craves blood. He’s mine.

  My fangs descend, and hunger slams into me, but I shake it off, not willing to let myself be distracted. I stare down at the dagger held in my fist. I don’t have the first clue what to do with it, but I can’t go another moment without seeing my mate with my own eyes.

  Stepping through the front door, I stop in my tracks. Something is wrong. Very wrong. Brandt’s heartbeat is louder than it has ever been. Pulsing through my body. Beckoning me. The door that leads to the basement is wide open, darkness at the mouth of the creaky stairs. I’m sure we closed the door before we left.

  “Brandt?” I call, hoping desperately he’ll answer me from the cage that keeps him safe.

  Strong arms wrap around me from behind, the scent of my mate easing my tension even though I know touching me is torture for him. I turn in his grasp and stare into wild eyes filled with agony and hunger. “I can’t take it any more,” he growls. “You need to be mine.”

  Then, he bares his fangs and plunges them into my throat.

  15

  Brandt

  I can’t stop. I need her. It hurts. Everything hurts…everything. My lips burn where they touch her delicate neck, my throat is on fire as her blood fills me, but I can’t stop.

  I feed deeply because it’s the only thing my body will do. I can’t control the magnetic pull of her.

  “Brandt, stop!” Claire screams the words, begging, and I want to. I want to save us both. But this magic is too strong.

  With desperate effort, I attempt to bring myself to release her. Instead a growl rumbles in my chest and I hold her closer, my skin sizzling with the contact.

  “Please, don’t make me do this,” she whispers. “Please.”

  Her pulse is slowing, and I’m dying with every pull of her blood as it poisons me, but still I feed. This diabolical curse has me imprisoned in my own body. I’m a slave to Thea’s spell, and I’ll kill the only woman I’ve ever loved because of that witch.

  A tear leaves my eye and spills onto the pale slope of Claire’s neck, but I can’t do anything to end this. I wish for death, for this nightmare to end before I drain my mate beyond hope. The door is wide open. If I don’t stop soon, she’ll be too weak to make it to the safety of the bedrooms or the basement before sunrise.

  Then, sharp pain pierces my back, straight through my ribs and into my heart. It is the worst agony I’ve ever felt, but I’ve never been more thankful. Someone is here. Someone is stopping me. A stake through the heart. She’ll be safe.

  I release my hold on Claire, and she staggers backward, one hand on her neck, tears in her eyes, and a blood-coated silver dagger in her other palm. “Brandt, oh, God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  She falls to her knees, and I follow, waiting for death to turn me to ash. But I’m lucid. I’m myself. I reach out, touching her cheek with my burned fingers. She killed me. She saved me. I can die with the knowledge that my mate will live. “I love you, Claire. You’ll be all right.”

  A cold sensation builds in my chest and I turn my face toward the heavens, closing my eyes as I wait for the end.

  But it doesn’t come. My skin doesn’t burn at her touch, the acid in my veins from feeding on her has turned cold. A low humming builds in the air and I frown, not understanding where the sound originates from. Hand pressed to my chest, I feel the vibration inside me. “What’s happening?”

  Claire sways and drags in a ragged breath. She drops the dagger, the blade hitting the floor with a loud clatter. Then she throws herself on me, wrapping her arms around me with such strength I’m almost knocked on my ass.

  A blue glow radiates from my skin, surrounding us, and I know, this is it. I’m leaving her. “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “I love you,” she says against my chest.

  “I’m sorry I can’t stay.”

  My head spins and my vision blurs as I slowly drift out of consciousness. But if I have to die, at least it’s in her arms.

  Soft kisses pressed to my bare skin pull me back from the darkness. I blink a few times, trying to acclimate myself. Dark wood beams across the ceiling, rustic decor and warm lighting. I’m in the cabin. In my master bedroom. In my bed. Claire’s locks brush across my taut abdomen, sending want and heat through me. But when she slips farther down my body and her locks trail over the rigid length of my cock, I am wide awake. Not dead. Very much alive.

  “Claire,” I groan. “Why am I alive?”

  “Shh,” she says. “Not now. I need my mate. We have forever to have this conversation.”

  I reach down and run my fingers through her hair as she kisses my straining erection. “God, Claire.”

  My mate is a naughty tease, though. She doesn’t take me into her mouth. She bypasses my cock and focuses her attention on the juncture of my thighs, my femoral artery. Then it hits me. My mate desires me in the most intimate way. “Go ahead,” I murmur. “Take what you want. I’m here to give you everything you need.”

  She moans and shifts, and her perfect breasts brush my thighs right before her fangs sink deeply into my flesh. It’s the perfect kind of pain. Low and aching, arousing, and exactly what I was made to do for her. Pleasure rushes through me, uncontrollable and intense. I grip her hair at the roots and my hips buck as an orgasm rockets through me with little warning, my seed spilling across my belly in powerful jets. My groan is loud enough to echo off the walls, and when I come down from my high, she’s there, licking my blood off her lips as she strokes my still hard cock.

  Then she’s on me, sinking down on my length with abandon. She rides me, and I let her. I watch her move above me, let the moment etch itself on my mind for eternity. And when she falls over the edge, so do I, again.

  I sit up, still inside her, and wrap her in my arms before kissing her long and slow. I need her to know exactly what she means to me. So I pour my love into the kiss, giving her the last drop of emotion until she pulls back and stares into my eyes.

  “I love you,” she says.

  “And I love you, my mate.”

  Together, we lie on the bed, wrapped in each other, embracing the calm perfection of being together with nothing between us.

  “You were a warrior last night,” I say, fighting the swell of anxiety at the thought of her at risk.

  “I’d do anything to keep you safe.”

  “Even kill me?”

  “Even that. Except I knew you wouldn’t die.”

  I raise one eyebrow. “Really? You stabbed me through the heart with a silver dagger.”

  She shakes her head. “Not silver. Enchanted.”

  “Magic? You made a bargain with the witches?” That sends
a curl of dread through me.

  “It was the only way to save you. To save both of us.”

  “What did you promise them? Our firstborn?” Incredulity rolls off my words.

  “No. I…I have witch blood. They sensed my dormant power. I promised them a favor.”

  “A favor? You promised the very beings who cursed us a favor of their choosing?”

  “Thea cursed us, not them. They saved us from her darkness.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, I don’t want to be anywhere near magic, ever again.”

  She snuggles into my side. “What’s one favor in the face of an immortal life together?”

  I let out a heavy sigh. “Perhaps you’re right. But I’d rather you not be beholden to them.”

  “Well, it’s done. You’re alive. If I have to go help them with something, I will. It’s not changing.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t want us to argue. I want to spend every hour of this night making love to you. Then tomorrow, we can face the rest of the world.”

  I feel her body relax against mine. “All night? Do you promise?”

  “Yes,” I say, nipping her earlobe as I move to nuzzle against her neck. “All. Damn. Night.”

  Epilogue

  Two months later

  Brandt

  “Ready?” I ask, holding out a hand as Claire steps out of the car.

  She smiles, her eyes shining with excitement when she fits her palm to mine. The evening air in Stockholm is clean and crisp, cold with the edge of winter creeping close.

  “Do you think she’ll be happy to see me?”

  There’s such nervousness in her voice, I can’t help but pull her closer to me. The door to the house swings open and Elaine practically flies down the few steps and into the driveway.

  “Claire!” she shrieks before wrapping her arms around my mate and wrenching her from my grasp. “You’re okay. You’re here! God, I’ve missed you so much.”

  Mattias is right behind her, grinning like an idiot as he watches his bride hold mine tightly. “You made it. It’s good to see you…both.” I know he’s referring to the fact that he thought I was going to lose her.

  “It is. The journey was not without its trials.”

  “Nothing worth having is ever easy.” He glances at Elaine, and tenderness lighting up his eyes.

  “Laney, are you kidding me? You’re having a baby?” Claire shouts the words with such excitement, I can almost feel it vibrating through the air. Then Elaine nods and places her palm on her lower belly.

  That shocks me, and my focus returns to Mattias. “Really?”

  He grins, eyes filled with excitement and the promise of a future full of so many things he thought he’d never have. “Really. We found out a few weeks ago.”

  “It’s rare.”

  He nods. “It’s precious.”

  “Congratulations,” I say, holding out a hand.

  “You next?” he asks, cocking a brow.

  “We’ll see.” My gaze tracks back to Claire, her bright smile, shining hair, beautiful mouth. She’s all I need. If children come from our joining, I will be ecstatic, but I could live over a thousand years with her alone and it would be the greatest gift she could give me.

  “Come on. Grab your bags and come inside. We’ve all got some catching up to do.” Mattias claps me on the shoulder before striding toward Elaine.

  I smile at Claire, unable to hide the need in my expression. She sees it. My mate knows me too well. Desire flashes in her eyes and her cheeks turn slightly pink.

  The two of us follow Elaine and Matt into their sprawling home, inviting and cozy even with the immense amount of space.

  We walk up the stairs to our room, a beautiful suite on the opposite end of the home from our hosts. No worries about privacy, no fear of being a burden to our friends. Our own private honeymoon oasis.

  “It’s beautiful. Perfect for Laney,” Claire murmurs, holding tight to my arm. “I can see why she loves it here. Why she’s so happy.”

  “And you?” I ask, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “Are you happy? Do you need more?”

  She stops in her tracks and stares at me. “Do you really have to ask?”

  I swallow. I know what I need. Her. But what if I’m not enough? What if she wants to have the same life Elaine does? They are family, after all. “Yes. I’ll give you anything you ask for, but children are rare between two made vampires.”

  “All I want is you, Brandt. And whatever comes along with you. Immortality together is what you promised me. That’s the only thing I expect.”

  Something in my chest eases. Scooping her into my arms, I stare into her eyes. “And it’s what you’ll get. You’re mine. Night and day, heartbeat to heartbeat, forever, Claire.”

  She leans close and I meet her halfway, claiming her lips with mine in a searing kiss. “Forever,” she whispers against my mouth.

  Forever is the only promise I’ll ever need from her. Claire is mine, I am hers. No matter what happens, our love will always be immortal.

  Immortal Hunter

  Patricia D. Eddy

  Kára

  She woke with a snarl, the dream so real, so vivid, her hand closed around the bedside lamp, ripping it off the table as if it were her sword. Only when the electrical cable caught on the nightstand did she realize her mistake, and the heavy, brass luminary fell to the floor with a crash.

  “För fan i helvete!” Kara scrambled out of bed, stumbled for the bathroom, and turned the faucet to hot, full blast. Ducking her whole head under the flow, she waited until her skin prickled, burned, and blistered.

  Just a dream.

  Grabbing a towel, she wrapped her shoulder-length blond hair. Times like these, she wished she still had a reflection. Exploring her cheeks and forehead with trembling fingers, she blew out a breath as the welts disappeared beneath her touch.

  Stalking out to her small kitchen, she yanked open the cabinet next to the sink and pulled out a bottle of twenty-year-old whiskey. “Get yourself together, Kara.”

  A generous pour spilled into her glass, and she downed it in a single swallow. The alcohol warmed her from the inside. Not much, of course, for her body perpetually ran cold now. Ever since…

  “No. I am not that young waif Hagen lured to his castle and turned. I am a shield maiden. Protector of this town. And a badass.”

  She loved that word. Badass. Twenty years ago, she’d saved a group of children from something dark and dangerous. Something that never should have been in this town. Or on this earth. And the oldest, a young girl of thirteen, had thrown her arms around Kara and used that word. And from then on, Kara called herself a badass whenever she felt…unsure.

  Which, wasn’t often. After all, she was a four-hundred-and-twelve-year-old vampire.

  A quick peek at the clock confirmed she’d at least managed to sleep most of the day away. Her stomach rumbled, fangs tingling as she showered and dressed in black leather pants, a black tank top, and then shrugged into her long, black coat. Total cliche, but she figured if she were going to hunt evil, she might as well look the part.

  Tucking a short lock of hair behind her ear, she checked her email. One of the best inventions of the modern age, the laptop allowed her to correspond with her sisters, and though the dark memories came hard and fast when they were together, she missed them.

  Herja was somewhere in Iceland, and Mist…Mist had gone south. To Louisiana. Kara couldn’t understand why her younger sister would want to live somewhere so…humid. And hot. Even in the dark of night. But Mist always had been stubborn. And perhaps…a little broken, even before Hagen had gotten a hold of her.

  Kara’s fingers skimmed the back of her neck, feathering over the brand her maker had given her. One of many scars—both inside and out—she carried from her days in northern Sweden.

  If Kara’s heart hadn’t stopped the night she was turned, it would have skipped a beat seeing Mist’s name in her inbox.

  Kara,

/>   There is a dark wind blowing, sister. The shamans speak in whispers; the voodoo priestesses do not speak at all. Most of the clan members I have allied myself with have fled the city. The Hunters have gone after them, which affords me more freedom. I have even been able to secure an invitation to the Witch’s Ball. Though if the rumors are to be trusted, the Ball itself may be the beginning of the end.

  Stay safe, sister. And warn Herja. She thinks me daft, but she will listen to you.

  Yours,

  Mist

  Kara sighed. Her sister always spoke in riddles. She supposed Mist’s association with the darker side of New Orleans did not help. Her closest friends were the voodoo priestesses and tarot readers on Bourbon Street.

  Dashing off a quick reply, she promised Mist she’d contact the local coven and added a final, “I miss you.” Not that Mist would ever say it back.

  Buttoning her coat, Kara headed out into the night. “Time to go to work.”

  ***

  Ewan

  Three days after he’d stumbled off the boat in St. John’s, he ducked his head into a dark pub with a Help Wanted sign in one of the windows.

  “We’re not open yet,” a grizzled old man rasped as he wiped down the bar.

  “I’m here about yer sign. I could use a job.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed, bushy white brows drawing together. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

  “No, sir. Scotland, originally. By way of a lot of places.” Ewan approached the bar and held out his hand. “Ewan Blair.”

  “Alfie McCann. Can you pour a decent pint?” Alfie gestured to the taps, and Ewan skirted the well-worn bar top, grabbed a glass, and wrapped his fingers around the Guinness handle. Angling the glass away from him, he filled it three quarters full, then set the glass down, watching it until the white foam settled along the top. The second pour was straight down, filling the glass and leaving the perfect creamy head.