CAUGHT

A VAMPIRE BLOOD COURTESANS NOVEL

Julia Mills

Copyright © 2017, Julia Mills, and Michelle Fox incorporating the world created in the publication ‘Blood Struck’ © 2013 by Michelle Fox under the brand ‘Blood Courtesan’ republished as “reborn” in 2016 and used under this license.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. By purchasing this book, you have been granted to non-exclusive and non-transferrable right to access and read it. No part of this text may be duplicated, reproduced, reverse engineered, transmitted, downloaded, or stored without the author’s written permission. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictional manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

NOTICE:  This is an adult erotic paranormal romance with love scenes and mature situations. It is only intended for adult readers over the age of 18.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Edited by Lisa Miller, Angel Editing Services

Proofread by Tammy Payne with Book Nook Nuts

Cover Designed by Monica La Porta

Formatted by Charlene Bauer with Wickedly Bold Creations

Author’s Note

A special thanks to Charlene Bauer and Kelli Smith for reading along with me as I wrote this story. I could not have done it without you! You Rock My World!

To Michelle Fox for letting me be a part of her amazing world and the other authors who have joined this crazy ride. I had an absolute blast! I am humbled to be in such fabulous company.

For all the readers out there, I hope this tickles your fangs and makes you want more.

Remember, it’s only thirty days, what could go wrong? ;)

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

INTRO TO SET

ALSO BY JULIA MILLS

ABOUT JULIA MILLS

Chapter One

“Vampires?” I couldn’t believe my ears. Vanessa knew how I felt about those fanged freaks. “You’re kidding me, right?” I had to get up and walk into the kitchen where she was making us tea to make sure I’d heard her correctly. “There’s no freakin’ way I’m trusting a vampire, of all things, to help me with this or anything else.”

Vanessa and I had been friends since the first day of nursing school, took our state boards together, got hired at Methodist Dallas Medical Center on the same day, and sadly, attended my brother’s funeral together shortly thereafter. Putting your last blood relative to rest is not something you should do alone and thank God, I didn’t have to. Vanessa was my best friend, the sister I never had, and the best person I knew. So, she had to be kidding, right?

As soon as I saw her face, I knew she wasn’t. “Just listen to me, Kat.” She poured the boiling water into the mugs, returned the kettle to the stove, and then turned and leaned her hip against the kitchen counter. “I know what you’ve lost at the hands of vampires. I was there for the last chapter, remember?”

“Not to mention that vampires ultimately caused what I’m going through now,” I scoffed to keep from screaming.

“If you’d just listen, I have a point to make.” Vanessa shook her head and sighed in exasperation. “Just like people, there are good vampires and bad. You’ve only ever dealt with the bad. The ones that killed your brother…bad.” She held up the index finger on her right hand. “The ones that forced those kids to sell drugs and then fed from them until they were little more than skin and bones,” she added a finger, taking her count up to two, then added, “bad. The ones who leave people dead and dying in the streets that we get to patch up in the ER every night…bad, bad, bad.” She held three fingers high and made her eyes wide while waiting for me to agree.

Finally, I nodded, just to see where she was going with what was obviously a well thought out argument. As usual, my bestie did not disappoint. “I want to make something clear. Something I’ve been preaching since you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar, so to speak.” She leveled her gaze at me. “You are responsible for the actions you took to help those children.”

My best friend held up her hand as I started to object. “You had other options. Options I know you say would’ve scared them away or worse yet back into the hands of the very creatures who exploited them, used them, abused them, and left them for dead.” Vanessa paused and gave me her mother look before continuing. “But there were still other avenues you could’ve taken than stealing from the hospital. That is on you and you have to own it.”

As she turned to finish our tea, I thought about picking up the crystal bowl that had been my grandmother’s and throwing it on the ground in frustration or at the very least, arguing my point…again, but my conscience wouldn’t let me. Vanessa was right. There had been other options. I had simply chosen the wrong one. That was on me and now I was caught like a rat in a trap, and my best friend thought vampires, of all things, could help me. I was sure the pressure of the last few days was causing her to have a breakdown of some kind.

The whole mess started after an especially long day in the Emergency Room that included a double shift, a school bus crash, and hundreds of grieving parents. Stumbling out of the double doors and into the parking lot of Methodist Dallas Medical Center, I gulped my first breath of air that didn’t smell like antiseptic, blood, and the agony of loss, and simply let the chaos of the day roll off my back. Looking up at the starry night, I prayed for all the families who would go home without their loved ones then stepped out of the way of an approaching ambulance.

Tommy, the EMT who’d been asking me out for the last month, jumped out of the driver’s seat with his usual easy smile and waved. “Hey Kat. How’s it going?”

“Pretty good, Tommy,” I lied.

Making his way to the rear of the ambulance, he asked, “You walking home? Isn’t it kinda late to be out all alone?”

“Yeah, I guess, but I need to clear my head and a walk is just what the doctor ordered,” I answered, turning and taking a few steps before he responded.

“Oh, okay then. Be careful. Catch ya later.”

“See you tomorrow,” I answered over my shoulder while sighing in relief that he hadn’t asked me to have a cup of coffee with him for the umpteenth time.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like Tommy. He was a nice enough guy, but I wasn’t at a place in my life where I wanted it complicated with a man. I had a new apartment, a great job, and friends; that was pretty much all I could handle for the time being. Mom had always said I would know when the right guy came along, that I would feel it in my bones. To date, I hadn’t felt anything in my bones, or any other region of my body, but the unseasonably cold weather that had recently descended upon the Dallas/Fort Worth area.

Leisurely walking toward home, thinking about a cup of hot chocolate and a long soak in the tub, I nearly jumped out of my skin when a little girl with tangled dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes appeared out of nowhere. Her dingy, pink woolen coat was way too big and out of style, not to mention soiled and musty smelling, but the way she reached out her bare, shaking hand and sobbed, “We need your help,” nearly broke my heart.

Looking around, I found the street deserted. Where was a policeman when you needed one? My moment of indecision apparently spooked the child, because she disappeared just as quickly as she had appeared. Throwing caution to the wind, along with my better judgement, I ran around the corner, caught sight of the back of her, and raced down the alley, screaming, “Hang on. I’ll help! Don’t run away!”

Rounding the third corner, I skidded to a stop. Barely missing the little girl, out of breath and sure I’d lost my mind, I leaned against the brick of an abandoned textiles factory and wheezed, “Why did you run?”

With wide eyes and the one foot already positioned to run again, she trembled, “I heard their car.”

Not sure what to make of the way she kept looking from side-to-side and over her shoulder, as if she was expecting trouble, I asked, “Who are ‘they’?”

Stepping forward, she cupped her chapped little hands around her mouth and whispered, “The Runners.”

More lost than I was before and beginning to feel uneasy at the isolated area I had blindly followed the child into, I blew out a long breath and inquired, “Who are the Runners?”

Shaking her head and taking a few hasty steps backward, the little one’s teeth chattered as she whined, “I can’t tell you,” before spinning on her toes and taking off like a flash into the darkness.

I thought about just turning and going home. For all I knew, this was some elaborate ruse to get me alone and rob me—or worse. But the little voice in my head kept saying, She asked you for help. She said ‘we,’ so there must be more of them. Temperatures are going to drop below freezing by morning. If the little girl was part of a trap, I would already know, wouldn’t I?

“All right, all right,” I mumbled to myself. “Why am I always the one with the conscience?”

Following the echo of the girl’s footsteps, I ended up jogging to the end of the street and into one of the many derelict buildings that made up what used to be the Garment District before the designers all moved to the posh Dallas Galleria area. Shadows from the streetlights made grotesque shapes on the cracked concrete floor as they shined through the broken windows and holes in the roof.

Whispers and murmurs echoed on the cool winds that seemed to invade the crevices between the crumbling brick. I immediately recognized the little girl as she cried, “I tried. I really tried, but I got scared. I heard the rumble of the Runner’s car and that squeak it makes as the back of it goes up and down and got scared.” Her last words were muddled as she sobbed, “I’m so sorry. Is he gonna…gonna…die?”

No longer thinking of my own well-being but that of the person the girl feared was dying, I raced forward. The soft soles of my work shoes were silent, making my approach unheard as I threw back the tattered blanket hanging from one of the many lofts throughout the factory and stopped dead in my tracks. There were gasps and screams of all timbre, along with my own screech of, “Oh crap!” as I nearly fell over a group of children kneeling around another, who in the light of an old cracked flashlight, looked grey.

Immediately spotting the girl I’d been following, I looked her in the eye and over the commotion demanded, “What is all this?”

Silence instantly ensued as all the children’s eyes got big, they looked at one another, and then to the one who appeared to be the oldest, who’d thrown herself over the boy who remained unmoving on the ground. Not a one of them moved…I’m not even sure they were breathing. Taking a deep breath and a precarious step forward, I knelt next to the prone child and slowly reached for his wrist.

The girl protecting him gave me a narrowed glare but didn’t move. She also didn’t try to stop me from taking his pulse, which was sluggish and staggered. Looking into her haunted eyes, I asked, “Can I listen to his chest?” while reaching into my old leather satchel for my stethoscope.

For several tense seconds I wasn’t sure if she was going to move or attack, but then the squeaky little voice that had started all of this reasoned, “Let her help, Amanda. I did what you said and got her here. At least let her look at Josh.” Once again, her big blue eyes were looking up at me. “Maybe she can help.”

“Shut up, Cassie. He’s my brother,” Amanda hissed as she continued to stare at me like I was the devil incarnate.

“But…” Cassie, the girl who’d lured me there, stammered.

“But nothing. It’s Amanda’s decision. She’s been taking care of us for this long,” a tall, lanky boy at the back piped up.

“Shut up, Charlie! You were too scared to go yourself,” Cassie countered, which started a free-for-all that ended with Amanda screaming, “Shut up!”

All eyes were on me as Amanda cautiously moved just enough so I could carefully shift the ragged blanket and Josh’s tattered clothes far enough to get the chestpiece of my stethoscope onto his skin. Doing a quick assessment as I listened to his stuttering heartbeat, wheezing chest, and rattling lungs, I knew right away that the child had advanced pneumonia and needed to be in the ICU.

Sitting back on my knees, I reached to close his jacket and that was when the reality of these children’s situation came to light. There, on Josh’s neck were a multitude of double puncture marks…vampire bites. Looking up at Amanda, I pointed, “How long has that been going on?”

Not waiting for her to answer, I threw back his cover and shoved up each of his sleeves. The poor child’s arms were covered with varying degrees of healing and scarred bite marks. No one was answering my question, but it was obvious it had been going on for a long time.

Glancing back at the children, I saw they had all buttoned up their coats and some had even wrapped dirty, knitted scarves around their necks. Most had their arms crossed over their chests and they all sported looks that ranged from guilt to outright mortification.

It all started to make sense. Eight children hidden away in the darkness, hiding, afraid of the oncoming cars, all malnourished and ill but afraid to seek even the help of one of the many churches or shelters. I had a choice to make. I could walk away, forget what I saw, and live my life in ignorant bliss. But…wait…it was too late for that. I couldn’t turn back time. I couldn’t forget and I couldn’t just leave them to die, or worse, be turned into one the very monsters who were abusing them.

Looking into Amanda’s eyes, I used all the bedside manner I could muster as I strongly recommended, “We need to get him to the hospital. Josh has pneu—”

“—No!” she screamed, throwing herself back over her brother and commanding, “Get her out of here! Now! Make her go!”

The child stood frozen, looking at their leader and then back to me, afraid to move, not completely sure what was going on. Leaning forward, I reached for Amanda’s arm. “Josh has pneumonia. He has to be in a hospital where he can receive antibiotics, oxygen, pain medication, and most of all, be out of the cold.”

The tips of my fingers had just contacted her arm when Amanda pulled back as if I’d burnt her, tugged her brother’s still unconscious body into her lap, and hissed, “Go away.” She glared at me. “Just go away if you won’t help.”

Our Mexican standoff lasted for about two full minutes, during which I tried to think of any way short of grabbing Josh from his sister’s arms and running that I could get the child to the hospital. Finally, a tall boy stepped forward from the shadows, laid his hand on Amanda’s shoulder, and solemnly said, “Katharine…that is your name, isn’t it? Katharine Worthy?”

I nodded, not sure how he knew my name but wanting to hear what he had to say as he continued, “My name is Anthony. Myself, along with all you see here,” he motioned to the other seven children, “have nowhere to go. We did what we had to do to survive. Yes, it involved selling drugs for people we didn’t know were vampires until it was too late. We also became their main source of food. For this reason and others, we cannot go to the hospital or a church or a shelter or any other safe haven, because if we do, we go right back into the foster care system that already failed us which, by the way, is how those vampires found us. They paid our foster parents for us. So, if we go anywhere…” he looked at all the faces staring back at him before meeting my eyes and adding, “they kill us.”

Cassie came to me, wrapped her freezing little hand around mine, and with tears in her eyes, pleaded, “Please, Miss Katharine. Please help us.” 

The next few weeks was a blur. Between working my usual sixty hours a week, I had relocated the kids to a pay by the week flop of a motel and drained my bank account buying medical supplies, food, and clean clothes for all my new wards; the number of which had now grown to fifteen.

The good news was Josh was actually sitting up and eating broth and the others seemed to be feeling better as well. Of course, as well as things were going, I should’ve expected the other shoe to drop.

Arriving at almost daybreak, I barely made it to the front door of my apartment without falling asleep and was slipping the key into the lock when I felt something sharp push into my back and a low, growling whisper warned, “Give us back the kids or die.”

Unable to move, I stammered, “W-w-what?” But my attacker was already gone. After that I moved the children every few days, which kept them safe, and for a while, I thought things were looking up.

Then an outbreak of H1N1 influenza hit the Metroplex. The hospital was overrun and on my next trip to see the kids, I found three of them already sick and most of the others exhibiting signs of infection. I knew they had to have antibiotics. I tried to follow the proper channels to get the medicine the kids needed but at this point, the threatening letters were not only coming to my home, but also my job. There was no way I could bring even one of them in for an examination and no doctor I’d gone to would prescribe meds for me.

Five days into the worst epidemic our city had seen in over a hundred years, I arrived at the Notell Motel where I’d hidden the kids to find all fifteen feverish, lethargic, and barely able to move. Acting on instinct, coupled with a heavy dose of fear, I went to work that evening and did my job as I always did—with one exception; at the end of my shift, I took enough antibiotics from the medicine lockup to treat each child for three days.

Telling myself it would be the only time, that I could figure something out in seventy-two hours, I prayed for an answer…but one never came. The kids continued to need my help. I continued to take what I needed and…

“Kat, are you gonna get that, or are you just gonna sit there ignoring me and the door?”

Shaking myself from my memories, I stuck my tongue out at Vanessa, climbed out of my chair, and went to answer the pounding at my door. No sooner was it open than I had two gold shields in my face and a tall, blond man in an ill-fitting suit was asking, “Katharine Worthy?”

“Yes…”

“This is Detective Carnegie and I’m Detective Taylor. May we come in?”

Stepping back as the bottom dropped out of my stomach and sweat trickled down my spine, I cleared my throat and nodded. “Sure.”

I could feel Vanessa’s eyes on me while I stared at the policemen as Detective Taylor said, “Could you please get your coat, Miss Worthy?”

This was it. The moment I had known was coming but had prayed wouldn’t. Unable to move, I stammered, “A-am I-I under a-arrest?”

“Yes, ma’am. Now, please get your coat.”

Chapter Two

Being arrested and taken to the police station for questioning is nothing like you see on television. There is no friendly banter. They don’t put you in a comfortable room and offer you coffee and water. And they most definitely do not play good cop, bad cop…there’s no playing at all. At least in my case.

Detectives Taylor and Carnegie were direct, straightforward, and above all else, relentless in telling me that I was going to do time in prison, so I might as well just admit to everything that I had taken from the hospital. It seemed no matter how many times I told them that it was only antibiotics, supplies for dressing wounds, IV tubing and needles, and bags of saline, they insisted that Class II narcotics, specifically Fentanyl and Oxycodone, had gone missing at the same time as the antibiotics and I was their prime suspect.

I explained that they were looking at the wrong the person, explained that everyone had a PIN to enter the narcotics locker and that they needed to be talking to someone else, but the detectives were adamant that I confess. To make matters worse, every time one of them opened the door to the two-foot-by-two-foot cold concrete room I was shoved into, Vanessa would yell and scream, demanding I be given my one phone call and that I was entitled to a lawyer.

She was right, I think. At least that’s what all the crooks on TV demanded, but to be honest, she was the only person in the world I would call and I had no money for a lawyer, so a phone call was basically a waste of time. Hours upon hours passed. I answered the same questions hundreds of time and Taylor and Carnegie grew more insistent, more gruff, and infinitely more insulting.

“You don’t look like a junkie, but then again, you would know how to hide the symptoms with all your training as a nurse. Isn’t that right, Miss Worthy?”

The question had just crossed Detective Carnegie’s lips—the darker, beefier of my two interrogators—when the door burst open and in stumbled a stammering, pimpled-face cop looking as if he’d just seen a ghost. He was closely followed by a tall, debonair gentleman in a suit I had no doubt cost more than a year of my rent, carrying a briefcase and sporting a smug grin. “D-d-detect-tives, this is Mr. M-m-monroe, Miss W-w-worthy’s att-t-torney,” the cop I will always think of as Barney Fife, stuttered.

All eyes shot to me. Detective Taylor leaned across the table and with narrowed eyes and an accusatory tone spat, “Thought you didn’t have an attorney.”

“I didn’t,” I quickly answered, then added even faster, “I don’t.”

“Then who the hell is he?” I knew Taylor thought I was nothing more than a thieving junkie, but now he’d added liar to my list of stellar qualities.

Mr. Monroe stepped around the still quacking cop, handed his card to Detective Carnegie, who was now standing with his hands on his hips and frowning at the attorney, and demanded, “My client will not be answering anymore questions tonight or any other time without my presence.”

He laid his mahogany leather briefcase on the table, flipped open the shining gold locks, reached in, and produced a folder, which he slid to Detective Taylor. “And those are Miss Worthy’s release papers. You will see that she is being remanded into my custody until her final hearing. Not only is it signed by Judge Pennington but also your boss’s boss, Commissioner Evans.”

Slamming the folder shut, Taylor glared at me as he threw my own words back at me. “For a simple ER nurse with no ties to anyone but your friend out there, you have some mighty powerful friends, Miss Worthy.” He stood without another word, pushed the still staring uniformed cop out the door, and with his partner in tow, left the room.

Looking at Mr. Monroe, I asked, “Who are you and why are you helping me?”

A sly grin crooked one side of his lips, raising one half of his thin grey mustache as he answered, “The walls have ears. You need to go home, get some rest, and I will be in touch tomorrow.” Leaning down until I could feel his breath on my cheek, he whispered, “The children are being looked after; you needn’t worry. My employer has seen to everything. It is important you wait, in your home, for my call.”

“But…”

When he leaned back, the sly grin was replaced with the fierce look of a man not used to being questioned. My inquiry died in my suddenly dry throat. I could only nod. His almost- smile returned but did not reach his cold, dark eyes.

Holding out his hand for me to shake, I flinched at the sudden chill that shot through my body as his large, thin fingers wrapped around the back of my hand. It was like grabbing an ice cube; so cold it almost burned. But I held on tight, sure I was being tested in some way that had yet to be revealed. Whoever had sent Mr. Monroe to my rescue would undoubtedly be waiting for a progress report, one I somehow knew I needed to get a gold star on if I was to have his continued support.

Standing while my attorney locked his briefcase and grabbed the handle, I slid my arms into the sleeves of the worn pea coat that had been my brother’s and made for the door. But Mr. Monroe was faster. In the blink of an eye, he had the door open and was motioning for me to exit in front of him. Scooting past him and straight into Vanessa’s outstretched arms, I convinced myself that between being scared absolutely shitless and so tired I didn’t know which end was up, I had imagined Mr. Monroe’s speed. I had enough to worry about. I didn’t need my untamed imagination adding to my troubles.

Untangling from her hug, I leveled my gaze at Vanessa and asked, “Was the attorney your doing? Because if it was…”

“What attorney?” She looked genuinely surprised and totally confused. “I didn’t see anyone but those asshole detectives, the cop that looked like he just graduated grammar school, and you.” Her brow furrowed as she touched the back of her hand to my cheek, one of our old instructor’s ways of checking for a fever, in a caring gesture.

Shaking my head, I rolled my eyes. “Really? You think I have a fever? There was a guy…in a very expensive suit…dark hair greying at the temples…”  I motioned toward the door I had just come through. “Carrying a briefcase…enough attitude for five people…” By this time, I was getting frustrated. “Oh, come on, Van, you had to have seen him. He walked out of the room behind me.”

“I only saw you, but I was a really freaked out.” She put her arm around my shoulders and started to steer me toward the door. “If you say there was an attorney, then there was an attorney, but I had nothing to do with it. Detective Taylor said you were being released on your own recognizance and told me to go collect your belongings from the duty sergeant. I had just gotten back when the door opened and I saw you.”

Nothing made sense. I knew there had been an attorney. Sliding my hand into my pocket, I felt his thick linen business card and thought about showing it to Vanessa, but it seemed like a lot of effort for something that I could deal with later. Walking out of the police station, I squinted against the glare, kept pace with Van, and basically dove into her car as soon as the doors were unlocked.

Watching the digital clock on the dashboard of Vanessa’s Corolla tick down the seconds as the already risen sun shone through the downtown skyline, I listened to my best friend rattle on and on and on about everything she’d seen in the almost thirty-six hours I had been in police custody. Pulling into the underground parking garage for my building, she whipped into the spot next to my car, shut off the engine, and started to get out of the car.

Waking from my stupor, I turned in my seat, laid my hand on her arm, and all but begged, “Can I just go up alone?”

A mixture of indignation and hurt crossed her expressive green eyes as she pushed her long blonde hair off her shoulder, a sure sign she was miffed, and tired not to huff but failed miserably. “Are you sure? I mean, you have been up for almost two days.” I was nodding as she added, “And you know how forgetful you get when you’re sleepy, I don’t want you trying to make tea and burning down your apartment.”

Vanessa had the best intentions. She was a mother hen through and through. I had no doubt she would put the ‘S’ in smother when she had her own kids and they would be all the better for it. Her need to take care of and protect those she called family was a great gift and I, in turn, loved her for it. But in this instance, I needed to be alone. I needed to think about everything that had happened and figure out what steps to take next.

Why was I arrested? The hospital administration and the nursing supervisor had said I was being fired and a complaint sent to the state licensing board, which would undoubtedly result in the revocation of my nurse’s license. They made sure to tell me that neither the hospital nor its managing partners, the Rourke Group, would be filing any charges because no narcotics were involved. So, what had changed in the three days since I’d been let go? The detectives were damned sure I’d taken opiates and smelled a hefty conviction to add to their careers. Where had they gotten their information if not from the hospital?

Tuning back to Vanessa’s list of reasons why I should let her come up, I finally shook my head, grabbed the door handle, and said, “No, Van. I need to be alone. I’m going to have a shower, a glass of orange juice and a peanut butter sandwich, and fall into bed. In that order.”

I opened the door and put my foot on the concrete floor of the parking garage as I added, “You need sleep. I need sleep. I’ll call you when I wake up.” I turned away, got out of the car, and spun around and bent down until I could lean in. “You know I love you, but I really have to be by myself for a bit to think and figure some things out, okay?”

Reluctantly, and after opening her mouth twice before finally saying, “Okay, whatever you need,” Vanessa relented.

“Thank you. Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe,” I instructed, not waiting for her reply before shutting the door and heading toward the elevators.

Usually, I would’ve taken the stairs. I tried to stay in shape, even though my curves never got any smaller, but on this night, I was just too exhausted. I pushed the up arrow for the elevator and waited. It didn’t take long before I was exiting on the tenth floor, taking a right, then a left, and slowly walking toward my apartment.

I saw the wreath of pink and white flowers I knew had been hanging on my door when I was taken by the police laying in the middle of the hall. Taking a few steps closer, large black letters that spelled out DEAD BITCH spray painted on the wall came into view, and with one additional step, I saw my door hanging on its hinges.

I knew who had done it as I crept under the wood that had once been my door and over the threshold into my apartment. To be honest, it wasn’t a surprise. There had never been a doubt that the drug dealing vampires I rescued the children from were going to come after me and now that I had been taken to the police station, I was sure they thought I had spilled the beans about them and their operation.

Walking around the wreckage of my apartment, I thought about the kids. Mr. Monroe had said they were being taken care of. I hoped he was right. I hadn’t been able to see them in more than a day and before that, after I was caught, I had only seen Anthony and Amanda as we met so they could pick up the last money I had to feed everyone until I came up with a better plan.

The vandals had torn up my furniture, broken every piece of glass, ripped up every picture and piece of clothing, urinated on my bed, and spray painted vile things all over my walls. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket, was ready to dial 911, but I stopped dead in my tracks.

Would the police help a person suspected of stealing narcotics? I would definitely have to tell them about the vampires, which meant I would have to tell them about the kids and until I knew the vampires were out of the picture, I couldn’t put the children at risk. But as it stood, I couldn’t stay in my own home either.

Walking out of my bedroom, my heart skipped a beat as I caught sight of a shadow moving across my living room. Grabbing the baseball bat I always kept just inside my bedroom door, which weirdly enough the vandals didn’t even touch, I cocked it over my shoulder—ready to beat the shit out of the asshole who dared to enter my home—and crept down the hall.

Slowly peeking around the corner, I saw a tall, dark-headed man with shoulders that filled the kitchen doorway, dressed in a black leather jacket, and smelling of expensive cologne, shaking his head. Lifting my left foot, I took a precarious step into the living room, stepped on a piece of broken glass that in the tense silence sounded like the ringing of the bell on Wall Street, and then gasped when the stranger spun around and speared me with the most gorgeous grey eyes I had ever seen. Thankfully, self-preservation took over and before I could think I was sprinting toward the man, screaming like a banshee and swinging my bat.

Standing unnaturally still, the man maintained eye contact with me, raised his right hand and as I swung my Louisville Slugger at his head, grabbed the bat, ripped it from my hand, and held it out of my reach while wrapping his huge left hand around my right upper arm. Shocked and afraid to move, I simply shook with fear as the man rolled his eyes and sighed, “Hello, Katharine. My name is Roarke and I’ve come to help.”

Chapter Three

There was a sincerity in his words that I couldn’t deny. It matched the truth I saw in his eyes but the strength in his grip made me very uncomfortable. Looking at my bat still raised over his shoulder and then to his hand on my arm, I tried to act tough as I said, “Help me, huh? And that includes assaulting me in my own apartment?”

His grip loosened on my arm, he lowered the bat and as I took a step back, so did he. “Sorry to startle you. Your landlord let me in.”

“Great! Can’t even trust the old guy. Life just keeps gettin’ better,” I mumbled under my breath. There was something about this incredibly handsome man standing in the rubble of my apartment that felt familiar but at the same time, made all the bells and whistles in my brain go off.

“Okay. So, why did you have my landlord let you into my apartment?” Then it dawned on me that he might be the vandal coming back to finish me off. I took another step back, tried to look formidable with all five-foot-seven, a-hundred-and-we’re-not-gonna-talk-about-it-pounds of me coupled with my patented one eyebrow up stare, and accused, “Or are you back for more?”

Holding up his hand in surrender, looking at the bat he still grasped, and then grinning a toe-curling smirk, the man set my Louisville Slugger on the counter and replied, “As I said, my name is Roarke. I work for a very powerful man associated with the hospital who wants to help with your…situation.”

Forgetting my fear and grabbing hold of my anger with both hands, I closed the distance between us, looked him in the eye, and said, “You mean the situation the hospital made worse by lying and saying I stole narcotics?”

Shaking his head with his hands still up, Roarke calmly responded, “I happen to know with the utmost certainty that the hospital did nothing of the kind.”

Once again, the truth in his words rang as clearly as the bells of St. Patrick’s on Easter morning. I also had to admit I really liked the lilt and touch of an accent in his low rumbling voice, which certainly shouldn’t have been a deciding factor on whether I believed him or not, but it was. There was no doubt I could listen to him speak for hours, but something was still off and I didn’t have time to fantasize about the stranger before me. I needed answers. “Then why were the police so sure I had and why was I picked up and handcuffed after being promised no criminal action was being taken.”

Lowering his hands, Roarke scratched the scruff on his completely kissable jawline and in a mumble that seemed more like he was talking to himself than to me, he mused, “I have no idea why all of this is happening.”

“Well, what about the ‘powerful man’ you work for? You said he works with the hospital. Doesn’t he have money and influence? Can’t he figure all this bull crap out?” I knew I sounded hysterical, had even made the dreaded air quotes, which I absolutely detested, but my life was spiraling out of control and I needed a life boat.

Slowly turning his head, Roarke looked me right in the eye and with a confidence that was truly intoxicating, nodded, “Yes…yes, he can.” With a sweeping motion of his hands, he pointed to what used to be my front door and added, “Shall we go?”

Caught up in the moment, I made it as far as the hallway before I stopped dead in my tracks, smacked my forehead with the palm of my hand, and muttered, “What are you, a freaking idiot?” Then to Roarke, I said, “There is no way in hell I’m going anywhere with you. I guess I was suffering from shock or something but nope, no way.” I shook my head and took a step back. “I don’t know you from Adam.”

Again, a knowing grin curved his perfect lips and in a reassuring tone, Roarke suggested, “I was going to say that you should follow me in your car. That way, after you speak with my boss, you are free to go.”

 Completely taken off guard and feeling more than a little foolish that I was accusing the one person who’d been helpful since all of this shit happened, I blew out the breath I’d been holding, nodded my head, and gave a half-chuckle, “Oh, okay, that sounds good.”

We both seemed to be deep in thought on the ride down to the parking garage. Roarke followed me to my car and held my door as he explained, “I already called one of our cleanup crews to come replace your door and get rid of the mess the vandals left behind. Anything that is salvageable will be left in your apartment for you to go through when you return.”

“Wow, thank you,” was all I could say. If Roarke was so accommodating, I could only imagine what his boss would be like.

Shutting my door, he motioned for me to roll down the window. “I’m in that black Jaguar.” He pointed. “Just follow me. We’re going to the Adolphus on Commerce.”

“A hotel?” I squeaked.

More smiling, this time with a low rumbling chuckle. “Never fear, my boss owns the top three floors.”

I’m not sure that made me feel any better, but nonetheless, I followed him through early morning traffic, into the Adolphus’ underground parking garage, and straight into a complete row of parking right next to the elevators that was marked RESERVED. Before I could get the car shut off, Roarke was opening my door and waiting for me to exit.

We took an absolutely gorgeous elevator, complete with a red velvet covered bench and mirrors adorned with gold frames, to the nineteenth floor, exited directly in front of a huge granite reception desk, and walked in like we owned the place. Or rather, Roarke walked in like he owned the place. I followed along like a country mouse seeing the city for the first time.

Making our fifth or maybe it was sixth turn, my escort stopped, opened a tall door, and motioned for me to enter. Stepping over the threshold, I held back my gasp as I took in a beautifully appointed conference room. It appeared that the boss, as I had come to think of him on the drive over, had good taste and the money to back it up.

The entire wall directly across from me was ceiling-to-floor windows that overlooked the Dallas skyline. The décor was nothing short of a decorator’s dream with a long mahogany table, credenzas, and a podium at the front, high back camel-colored leather chairs. Paintings from Homer, Cole, and Meade decorated the three walls and fresh flowers adorned the table tops. Roarke interrupted my gawking as he pointed to the tray of food at the end of the table and said, “Have something to eat while you wait.”

Looking over my shoulder, I quickly asked, “Where are you going? Are you just dumping me here?”

The second the words were out of my mouth, I wished them back. But it was too late. There was a glimmer in his hooded eyes and a smirk on his lips. “I’ll be back. Just have something to eat. I know you have to be hungry.”

Trying to maintain a modicum of self-respect, I walked forward as I answered over my shoulder, “Thank you. I could do with something to eat and some tea.”

I swear I heard him laugh as he shut the door and I promised myself to give him a rash of shit about it when I saw him again, but for the time being, my stomach was growling at the smell of fresh baked bread, eggs, and bacon, and I needed a cup of tea more than I needed air. It took me a second to make myself touch the Royal Dalton china but hunger won out and I began to eat.

I had just put the cover back over my empty plate and made my second cup of tea when Mr. Monroe, the attorney from the police station appeared, preceded by a tall, voluptuous woman wearing a perfectly tailored black suit, stilettos I knew were Louboutin’s, and black hair that flowed over her shoulders and down her back like ebony water. I watched as the woman glided across the room, took a seat about midway down the table with the sun at her back, and laid her black leather portfolio beside her. I was amazed by the perfection of her makeup, the length of her pointed red nails, and the grace with which she did everything, to and including, placing her silver pen on the table.

The sound of Mr. Monroe’s baritone broke the spell the mystery woman had created as he asked, “Madame de Beaufort, may I get you a cup of tea?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” Her flowing French accent matched the woman in both poise and perfection. I had no idea who she was or why she was here, but I was enjoying the show.

Placing a cup and saucer then a small pitcher of milk and a bowl of sugar in front of the woman, Mr. Monroe turned to me and, with a smile that looked like he was running for political office, said, “Hello again, Miss Worthy.” Then with a sweeping gesture said, “May I introduce, Madame de Beaufort.”

Unsure what was happening but feeling like some momentous occasion was upon me, I stood, made my way around the table, and held out my hand while saying, “It’s very nice to meet you, Madame de Beaufort. I’m Katharine Worthy.”

Looking me up and down as if I was on the auction block and she were doing the bidding, the Madame finally laid her cold, lily-white hand in mine and said, “It is nice to meet you also, Katharine.” The way her accent wrapped around my name made me sound way more important than I was and I had to admit I liked it, but there was something about the way I could feel her staring at me as I walked away that made me uneasy.

Taking his place directly across from Madame de Beaufort, Mr. Monroe placed his cup then his briefcase on the table before swiveling in his chair and addressing me again. “I hear there was a bit of trouble after our last meeting. Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine. My apartment needs a visit from the Property Brothers.” I sighed then added, “But my mother used to say things can be replaced, people cannot.”

“You mother sounds like a very wise woman,” Madame de Beaufort commented as she sipped her tea while watching me over the rim of her cup.

Feeling completely out of place with exhaustion barking at my heels, I dropped all pretense and asked, “Do either of you have any idea what I’m doing here?”

Neither had time to answer as the door swung open and in walked Roarke. Gone was the black leather jacket, jeans, and flowing dark hair. Now he was dressed in a custom made, perfectly fit, black woolen suit with a crisp white dress shirt, red silk tie with matching pocket square, and wearing black double-buckle Christian Louboutin’s. His hair was combed back and gathered at the nape of his neck with a black leather tie.

He strode into the room as if he owned it, sat in the chair to my right, and just as he opened his mouth to speak, it all came rushing back. I saw the huge oil portrait that hung in the entrance to the Methodist Dallas Medical Center, recognized the voice that had addressed the faculty and staff of the hospital once a year at the annual meeting, and put the name Roarke together with the Roarke Group and jumped to my feet, shouting, “You! Oh my God, it’s you!” Then accused, “Haven’t you done enough?”

Chapter Four

“I’m not exactly sure what you mean?” His voice had become just as formal as his clothing and the shocked look on his face at my outrage only added to the surreal experience unfolding around me.

“You don’t know what I mean? How could I have been so freakin’ blind?” I threw my hands in the air. “How about telling the police that I stole narcotics?” I pointed at him, completely ignoring the others in the room. “Or pressing charges after I was assured that wouldn’t happen?” I pushed my finger into his well-muscled chest. “Didn’t think I’d been humiliated enough?” Another poke to the chest. “Yes, I made a mistake.” One more poke. “Yes, I should’ve found another way to help the kids.” Yet another poke. “But I didn’t, okay?” Two pokes. “And I’m paying the price.”

One last poke to the chest, followed by a spin, and I jumped out of my chair, paced to the window and back, then bent down until I was eye-to-eye with Roarke of the Roarke Group, Roarke Industries, Roarke Publishing, Roarke Beverages, and a bunch of other companies I couldn’t remember, and let all my frustrations flow. I was squaring off with one of the top ten richest men in the world per Forbes Magazine and acting like a total lunatic, but in for a penny, in for a pound as my grandma used to say. “And you know what, Roarke?” I said his name like it tasted bad on my tongue because right now, it did. “I’d do it all again to save those kids from scum-sucking, drug-dealing vampires.” Plopping into the chair that was a good way from the table, I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at the billionaire, daring him to speak.

Deafening silence filled the room as I stared into his stormy grey eyes. It was disconcerting to see amusement rather than anger, coupled with a great deal of intrigue. An expert in business, I had no doubt Roarke was letting me see exactly what he wanted me to see. A man like him did not amass the fortunes or businesses or power he possessed by wearing his feelings on his sleeves. No, we were engaged in some sort of negotiations that I had not been made privy to until this moment.

I had always heard that the key to success in business was knowing when to talk, when to listen, and when to let the other person speak first. From the looks of it, Roarke had invented the adage. So when he spoke, and it was with cool, crisp enunciation as the color of his eyes began to resemble gunmetal, I was sure it was time for me to listen.

“Katharine, I am not known for my patience. But in this instance, I am summoning all that I have for your, shall we say, explosive behavior, because of all that you have been through. That has now come to an end.” He sat back, steepled his fingers under his chin, and took a deep breath, which I only knew occurred because I saw his shoulders rise and fall before he continued.

“Before we go any further, I’d like to make a few things very clear. The hospital nor its administration filed criminal charges against you. Neither did they or any of their representatives accuse you either in word or in writing of the theft of narcotics.” He sat up and placed his forearm on the corner of the table. “These instances are being investigated by my own people and you can rest assured that I will not stop until I have found the parties responsible and they have been dealt with. Am I clear?”

Nodding because I wasn’t sure I could speak at the moment as the words Roarke and vampire kept circling my brain, I sat perfectly still as he looked deep into my eyes. It felt as if he was rifling through my mind to make sure I did indeed understand and was going to comply with his request. Finally, after long tense seconds in which I held my breath, he spoke again.

“Now, for the reason I brought you here.” He paused and I again felt like he was looking into my soul. “I have a way to help with your recent money issues, the loss of your job, and even in having your nurse’s license reinstated. Not to mention, finding good homes for all the children that are in your care.”

The children! Oh crap, I felt horrible. In all the confusion of being arrested, released, and sitting in a room with not only one of the most influential vampires in the world, but also two other fanged creatures, I had completely forgotten to ask about my kids.

“How are they?” I gasped, scooting to the end of my seat and using my feet to get closer to the table. “Where are they? Can I see them?”

“Please know that they are well and also asking for you. But for the time being, we need to keep you and the children separate. I want to draw out the drug dealers who were abusing them and terrorizing you before you can be reunited.”

I guess what Roarke said made sense, but I was suddenly filled with a sadness, a whole new sense of loss that I hadn’t expected. It wasn’t like I ever thought I was going to keep the kids and raise them as my own or anything like that, but I felt responsible. I had gotten used to taking care of them, having them smile when I popped in to check on them, and basically being important to someone other than myself.

“As I was saying,” Roarke went on, either unaware or not willing to give into my sudden mood change. “I have a proposition for you. For thirty days, I would like you to be my courtesan. You will be trained, paid handsomely for your time, and at the end of our time together be allowed to leave and return to your life.”

I was stunned, unable to think, barely able to breathe, certainly shocked into temporary paralysis. A courtesan? Was this guy for real? I had heard of vampire courtesans but only as whispers and idle gossip. In my little corner of the world they didn’t exist and I, most certainly, was not one of them.

Searching my brain for what I’d heard about the girls who were in service to the vampires, I remembered that blood and sex go together in a vamp’s mind and that drinking their blood doesn’t turn you into one unless your system is overwhelmed with it. There was also something about a bond that can be created between a human and a vampire when they shared blood, but it sounded gross so I had blocked it out. Other than that, I was totally clueless and still unable to do anything but stare at Roarke like he’d just said we were flying to the moon to plant daisies.

Watching as he stood and buttoned his jacket, I could feel our meeting coming to a close and was more confused than ever. Just about to force myself to speak, I slammed my lips shut when he beat me to the punch. “Madame de Beaufort is here to give you the initial screening and go over the contracts with you. She will also be in charge of your training, which I know will be a formality should you choose to take me up on my offer.”

He stepped away from his chair. “Mr. Monroe and I have business to discuss.” He stopped, leveled his powerful gaze at me, and added, “Whether you stay or go, the choice is yours.” He turned and exited the room.

The last few moments played over and over in my head until Madame de Beaufort cleared her throat, nearly scaring me to death because I had forgotten she was there, and said, “Shall we begin?”

I looked up, surprised to see her right next to me holding a red file folder, and gave a barely discernable nod. “Good. I like my girls to be decisive and to be able to think on their feet.”

Her girls? A courtesan? Vampires? How the hell had I gotten involved with not only drug-dealing scum-sucking vampires, but the high-society, seemingly law-abiding ones too? These fanged assholes had been the reason I was the last living person in the Worthy line. They had been indirectly responsible for the death of my parents by starting a riot in the little town I grew up in about thirty minutes from Dallas that resulted in a fire and a building collapse that claimed the lives of eighty-two people, including Bob and Mary Worthy, my mom and dad.

Then there was my brother, Jeremy. He had never gotten over the death of our parents. In the end, he quit his job, lived on the streets, and chased vampires. He said it was his way of ridding the world of the parasites who killed innocent people like Mom and Dad.

One night he was chasing a group of younger vamps, the ones they called rogues, those who didn’t follow all the fancy rules and sucked the blood of unwilling and unsuspecting victims. Jeremy was just about to light the arrow on his crossbow and burn the suckers down when one of them snuck around, jerked him up by the collar of his coat, and threw him to the vamps waiting below.

The police report said he had over two hundred bites all over his body. I only ever saw his face and followed his wishes to the letter by having him cremated and taking his ashes to the same hill behind our old house where we’d scattered Mom and Dad’s.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. A quote my favorite history professor used quite frequently floated through my mind. Had I fallen? Had I ever been mighty? Was Roarke’s offer the only way I was ever going to have a normal life again? Lord knew if I wasn’t a nurse, I didn’t know what I was. Since kindergarten, it’s what I had worked toward. It was my calling. I could flip burgers or stock shelves; I was able. It would pay the bills, but I wouldn’t be fulfilled. If this vampire could give nursing back to me, then didn’t I have to try? And to his credit, the man was quite easy on the eyes.

Deep in my own thoughts, I forced myself to tune back in to Madame de Beaufort’s speech just as she said, “Before we go any farther, we must get one thing straight. Yelling at Roarke, acting like a lunatic, and flailing about is not appropriate behavior for a vampire courtesan and will not be tolerated. Should it occur again, you may consider your contract null and void and you will be required to return all funds previously given to you.” She tapped the tip of her long red nail on the table as she raised a single eyebrow and asked, “Am I clear?”     

When I nodded, she added, “And nodding is not an answer. Yes, we have preternatural hearing as well as many other acute senses, but it is just common courtesy to verbally respond when asked a question. So, let’s try this again. Do you understand, Katharine?”

The thought of nodding just to be a bitch crossed my mind. I also considered clawing her eyes out, stomping on her toe, and calling her a cow, but since she’d made it clear I was not only outmanned but outclassed, I put on as sweet of a smile as I could muster and replied, “Yes, Madame de Beaufort. I understand.”

“Thank you.” She opened the file she’d placed on the table, sat in the chair next to mine, and after reading what looked like chicken scratch, asked, “What do you know of the vampire courtesans?”

I wasn’t sure what she specifically wanted to know and it wasn’t like I’d ever met one. At least, I didn’t think I had, so I answered with the only things I knew. “Wealthy vampires pay a courtesan for thirty days as a way to feed without breaking any laws or harming unsuspecting humans?”

She nodded and made a note in her cryptic script then with raised eyebrows asked, “And?”

Now, I was at a loss. What else could she want me to say? Thankfully, the Madame picked up where I was failing. “Blood is a vampire’s only source of nourishment. They do not eat food but do enjoy fine wine and spirits. As with your chicken, shall we say, I am sure you have a certain way you like it to taste. A blend of spices that is your favorite, yes?”

I nodded, then quickly replied, “Yes, Madame,” to avoid reprimand, not sure where she was going but interested enough to pay attention.

“A vampire is no different. He also wants his food to taste a certain way. But instead of adding salt or garlic, he prefers his blood paired with alcohol and seasoned with endorphins like oxytocin that only occur during sex.”

She looked right into my eyes, which I felt grow to the size of saucers. I knew vampires liked sex with their blood but had no idea why. The truth was a little more startling than I was ready for. Then she said, “That is why my girls live with their vampire during the term of their employment, which brings me to my next question. Have you ever slept with a vampire before?” 

My mouth dropped open as her stare became more intense. I got the same feeling as when Roarke was looking at me; like she was digging through my brain for the truth. Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I shook my head.

Not missing a beat, Madame de Beaufort smiled, “Good. That’s very good. Roarke will be pleased.” Then she asked, “Do you like sex? Are you experienced?”

At this point I could no longer sit still. I knew I was blushing. Sex was not something I ever talked about, not even with my mother, and definitely not with Vanessa. I mean, Mom had given me the talk when I got my period, and I was a nurse for cripes sake. I’d taken all the classes. Passed with flying colors. Knew all the anatomy, physiology, psychology, and biology. It was just not something I’d had very much practical experience with. Aside from Daniel Howard, Senior class president and quarterback of the football team in my senior year, I had no personal sexual experience.

Speaking to the window to avoid any further embarrassment, I replied, “Yes, I like sex.” Because I had enjoyed it the three times I’d had it with Daniel. “And…to be honest, I have only ever been with one man.”

I heard Madame’s pen scratching on the paper as I waited for her reply. It wasn’t that I had completely decided to go along with the whole harebrained scheme, but I had to admit it was the only prospect on my horizon, and I didn’t want to screw it up out of the gate.

Turning around when the suspense got to be too much, I watched Madame de Beaufort stand, smooth her skirt, turn toward me, and lean her shapely behind on the corner of the table. With her arms elegantly crossed over her ample chest, she smiled. “The fact that you have never been with a vampire, have an incredibly limited sexual history, and display your emotions so freely, are very sought after attributes for a courtesan, especially someone like Roarke.”

She reached for another stack of papers, held them out to me, and advised, “You need to read this contract and confidentiality agreement. It is for your protection as well as Roarke’s. When you have finished, signed, and if you have no further questions, we will begin your training.”

I took the papers from her hand, sat back down in my chair, and stared at the black writing on the stark white page. Apparently, they were my ticket out of jail. All I had to do was sign on the dotted line and spend thirty days with an attractive, rich, arrogant vampire then I would have my life back. It had to be better than jail, right?

Chapter Five

I stuffed all thoughts of what my family would say if they were alive, what I thought of vampires as a whole, and what was going to happen after my training and focused on listening to Madame de Beaufort’s teachings. I must admit, after the first day I hardly noticed all the weird ways she pronounced things and stopped flinching every time she touched me. We hadn’t bonded. I don’t think the Madame bonded with anyone, but I could safely say we were coexisting and working together toward a common goal.

 Roarke, who had been absent and I was told would remain so until I was ready, had arranged for Madame de Beaufort and I to have side-by-side suites in the hotel. Since all my clothing had been destroyed, the first order of business after I had been allowed two days of rest and recuperation was to get the appropriate wardrobe to be a courtesan for a man such as Roarke. Those were Madame’s words, not mine.

During those two days, I thought about my life before I found the children. I really did have it made. I spent most of my time working and hanging out with Vanessa, who I had no doubt was climbing the walls wondering what had happened to me. But then again maybe she knew. She had, after all, been trying to explain something about good vampires and bad vampires before the dead drop on the roller coaster ride I was calling my life began.

I was able to send her a text message and say that I would be out of contact for a while. I used the excuse that I was staying with the kids until my apartment had been repaired and it wasn’t safe for her to know where we were. I knew she had been to my home and knew about the vandalism from the message I received that read WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED? ARE YOU OKAY? All caps. She was screaming at me in text.  

A little time apart would do us good. She still had her career and I was…well…I was now a paid escort to a vampire, at least for the time being. Besides feeling like we might not have that much in common anymore, I had signed an ironclad confidentiality agreement making contact on any other than a ‘Hi, how you doing?’ level out of the question. Madame had explained that I would be required to attend functions with Roarke and at those functions I might see people I knew. She explained that I was to be cordial, always considering that my actions reflected upon Roarke, but for the most part I was cut off from my old world until my thirty days of service came to an end.

My spirits were sinking as I waited for the wardrobe consultant to arrive. Madame had explained that he was the best in the business and had extensive experience in dressing courtesans all over the world. All that kept going through my mind was a photo of me at six years old, dressed in my mother’s prom dress and heels with bright pink lipstick covering most of my face and my long dark hair piled up on top of my head with a scarlet ribbon tied around it. To say fashion was not my thing, even all those years ago, was an understatement.

I had never really had to use makeup and only had the occasional pimple during puberty; I had a natural glow to my cheeks and my big dark eyes came lined with long black eyelashes. Several girls during high school and college had told me how jealous they were that I didn’t have to wear makeup, but I think most thought I was just plain Jane from the farmland.

My hair had always been long, like past my waist long, and dark with golden and red highlights and enough natural wave that it didn’t hang limp and it wasn’t a pain in the butt to brush. I had never colored it and only had it trimmed every six months. It was mostly in a ponytail or on top of my head while I was at work, or down my back and tucked behind my ears on the side when I was home.

Going out, dressing up, or doing anything fancier than jeans and a T-shirt had never been my thing. To say I was nervous about being Roarke’s courtesan, both in public and private, was like saying the Hoover Dam was a blow-up pool in the backyard.

Thankfully, my turmoil was cut short by the small rap on the door followed by the scratch of a keycard in the lock and the grandest entrance into a hotel suite I had ever witnessed. Waiting to see who popped out from behind the huge rolling rack packed full of clothes, I sat up straight and held my breath.

What I saw was nothing like I expected and for the first time in a week made me genuinely smile. The man who appeared was over six-feet tall, lean muscled with a great complexion, an eight-inch violet mohawk, and a hoop earring in both ears. He was squeezed into acid-washed skinny jeans, wore a vintage Grateful Dead T-shirt with the arms cut off, and with the wave of his arm declared, “My name is Jacques and I am your Fashion Fairy Godmother,” in a high trill with a wink and a swish of his hips.

Not missing a beat, Jacques threw his bag on the couch and rushed over to me with his hands out and a smile on his face. “You must be Katharine. I have to say I’m surprised to meet you. In all the years I’ve worked with Madame Rouge and known of Roarke, I’ve never had the pleasure of dressing one of his courtesans.”

“Has he had a lot?” The question popped out of my mouth before my brain had gotten over the shock of the man before me but apparently, Jacques didn’t notice as he sat beside me and started to talk like we were old friends.

“Well, you see, that’s the thing, I don’t think he has. At least not from any of the gossip I could pick up around the water cooler.”

“And who is Madame Rogue?” I figured if he was answering questions, I was going to ask.

“She runs the New York office. It’s not very often she lets me help other madams but she and de Beaufort are old friends and once she knew it was for Roarke, well…to be honest, I think she was jealous that I was getting to come instead of her. He is quite a hunk.” Jacques looked down at his nails, wiped them on the leg of his jeans, and then sighed. “Shame he bats for your team.” Then with a quick smile he added, “But hey, I’m loving the cowboy vibe around here. I may have to go ropin’ and lassoin’ before I head back to the Big Apple.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Jacques was the splash of life and fun that I needed to get out of my funk and embrace what I was about to do. Before I could continue my questions, he was up and talking about my clothing. “I hear you have nothing but what you’re wearing?” He tried not to look down his nose at me, I could see it in his eyes, but he failed miserably.

Pushing the rack to the center of the room, Jacques started at the back with a couple of pairs of jeans. “These are size tens and twelves. Take them in there,” he pointed down the hall, “Try them and let me know which fits best.”

Grabbing the pants and getting to my feet, I was halfway down the hall when he called, “Better yet, come out and let me decide which fits best. Once we have sizes, I can set the shopping gurus loose and we’ll have all the garments we need at our fingertips within a day.”

I swear Jacques squealed in delight at the end of his sentence. I had never met anyone so excited about clothes but as the day went on, I learned his zeal knew no end. We, or rather he, decided I was a perfect size ten. I believe his exact comment was, “Now, that’s the way to package what you’ve got, girlie,” to which I nodded and took the next handful of garments.

Every time the doorbell rang, I cringed. I knew it meant more clothes were being delivered and I would be spending more time in and out of them. I think Jacques could’ve gone on all night had it not been for an appearance from Madame da Beaufort.

I heard Jacques say, “Hello, Madame. So good to see you.” Then she gave her patented French non-committal greeting before the telltale sounds of cheek kissing reached my ears.

The thought of running back into my room crossed my mind, but I was barely staying upright on the four-inch stilettos Jacques had insisted I try on. Besides, I knew beyond all doubt that the Madame had heard the rustle of my dress. There was no running away.

Making sure my shoulders were back and my head held high, I walked into the living room wearing an elegant black Chanel gown that was cut down to my navel, up to the top of my thigh just shy of my thong, and showed my entire back. I have no idea how the designers had used so much silk and I still felt naked, but they had accomplished a miraculous feat with style. Opening my mouth to say just that, I remembered who was there, slammed my lips shut at the sight of Madame, and kept walking as she motioned me forward.

Holding out her hand, palm up, she ordered, “Stop.” Then in slow, short steps she walked all the way around me, her eyes going from top to bottom then bottom to top with every step. I nearly jumped out of my skin when she ran the pointed tip of her fingernail up my spine and murmured, “Beautiful skin. It feels like silk and looks like porcelain. Roarke will be pleased.”

Biting my tongue to keep from letting one of the many smartass comments running through my mind fly, I simply stood still until she made her way back to the front and while looking at my braless cleavage said, “And those tits literally defy gravity,’ over her shoulder to Jacques.

“Yes, Madame de Beaufort, they are wonderful.”

“And they are natural?” She asked Jacques and not me, to which he replied, “Absolutely.”

At this point, I was just about to blow my top when she looked down her nose at me and asked, “Do you have to wear that horrific thong? It destroys the lines of the gown and makes a mockery of Karl’s work?”

Now, I had no idea who Karl was or why my thong offended him so much, but I had officially had enough. Opening my mouth to let Madame de Bitchford—as I had begun calling her in my head—know exactly what I thought of her, I never got to speak as Jacques jumped between us and said, “We’ll make sure she goes au’ natural in the final fitting.”

Turning toward the door and not a second too soon in my humble opinion, Madame de Beaufort sighed, “See that you do,” then added, “Oh and, Jacques, thank you for coming on such short notice.”

Grabbing my hand and squeezing so that I kept my mouth shut, Jacques waited until we heard the bell on the elevator indicating the Madame was on her way off our floor before turning to me and laughing out loud, “Girl, you have got to get a better poker face. These vamps are gonna eat you alive the way you wear your feelings on your sleeve.”

Snatching my wrist from his grasp, I kicked off the heels, spun on the balls of my feet, and started to stomp off to my room. I had officially had enough of being Jacques dress-up doll. But my grand exit was cut short when he jumped in front of me, put his hands on my shoulders, and shook his head. “They aren’t all snots like the Madame. From what I hear, Roarke is really nice, but he’s one of the old ones and with that comes a sense of entitlement. He will want you to look a certain way and act a certain way when you’re on his arm.” He winked. “Just let me help you with the clothes and then keep your temper during your training and you’ll be just fine.” He leaned forward and gave me a peck on the cheek. “You’re a smart cookie. You can do this.”

Blowing out a long-suffering breath and reminding myself how I’d gotten into this mess, I nodded and tried to smile. “Okay, but enough of the clothes for today. I’m putting on sweats and eating popcorn. Wanna hang?”

“You betcha, but only if you promise we can start bright and early in the morning. I have three more stores delivering garments and I have to be back in New York by the end of the week.”

“Promise,” I quickly agreed, picking up the skirt of my gown, sliding around Jacques, and heading to my room. Halfway there, I remembered something I wanted to ask. “Hey, who is this Karl she said designed this dress?”

High-pitched laughter filled the air as my new friend answered, “Karl Lagerfeld, you silly girl. You know Christian Louboutin shoes but not that Karl Lagerfeld is the head designer for Chanel?”

Shrugging as I walked across the threshold, I chuckled. “I like shoes...clothes? Not so much. Is there a crime in that?”

The rest of the night up until the afternoon that Jacques was to leave went off without a hitch. He picked out so many outfits and gowns and even my pajamas, which were little more than lace with satin strings, that I was never going to need to shop again. He was also thankfully present for the first few of my lessons with Madame de Beaufort. My Dresser, as he liked to be called, provided the perfect buffer between myself and the woman who simply could not be happy unless she was criticizing me.

After Jacques left it was a whole different story. Madame de Beaufort seemed to chill out; well, as much as a really old - Jacques’ words – not mine, French Madame who is a vampire and trains courtesan to be blood bags and sex slaves for the vampire elite, can be. She actually cracked a smile once or twice. I think she was shocked that I had decent manners and knew which fork to use for the salad and which for the shrimp and not to drink from the finger bowl.

The only problem we had was when she would ask me to don a pair of four or five-inch stilettos, take off my clothes, and march around the suite in my birthday suit. She insisted that it was to see the lines of my body while I walked. I didn’t buy it. So finally, on the third occasion that I was asked to perform this ridiculous task, I blurted out, “Is Roarke really going to have me parade around in nothing but heels? I mean, I would think he has much better things to do with his time.”

An intrigued look came over Madame’s face as she closed the distance between us, cocked her hip, and tapped her blood-red lips with the tip of her fingernail. After a few seconds, she reached forward with the same hand and ran the tip of that very same nail across first one and then the other of my nipples. I felt them harden, knew I was blushing from head to toe, but refused to break eye contact with her.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, she stepped back, smiled the first real smile I had seen since meeting her, and said, “Very good, Katharine. Very, very good.” Her voice had dropped to a purr. “Being comfortable in your own skin is important when dealing with vampires. Your confidence, coupled with the beautiful blush of your ivory skin and the way your body reacts to touch, will be a combination Roarke will find irresistible.” She stepped forward, ran her fingernail down my arm, and grinned as goose bumps raised all over my body. “And irresistible will earn you the money you need to start your new future.”

Stepping back, she added, “You will be…”

But I never got to find out what I would be because her cell phone rang and I was dismissed with the flick of her wrist as she spoke to her caller. Deciding to make sure the Madame knew she hadn’t unnerved me, even though deep down inside she really had, I slowly turned and did my best seductive walk toward my room.

I had just reached the hallway when she beckoned, “Katharine darling, you’ll need to put on the beige linen suit and I’ll be in to help you pack. Roarke needs to go out of town and your presence has been requested.”

Nearly falling off my heels, I tried to keep the tremor out of my voice when I answered as I had been taught, “Yes, Madame.”

Racing down the hall, I ran into my room, kicked off the heels, and barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up what little I had eaten for breakfast. Standing up, I staggered to the sink, brushed my teeth, used mouthwash, and then looked at my naked, pale reflection in the mirror. “You can do this Katharine. You have to do this. The papers are signed. You’ve made the commitment.”

I turned away and shuffled across the thick, slate-grey carpet to my closet, because I knew it would only be a matter of minutes before Madame breezed in and if I wasn’t at least dressed, I would be subjected to another of her speeches about being prompt. Pulling out my suit, blouse, and shoes, I laid them on the bed and began the mantra that had gotten me through the roughest times in my life. “When it’s over, you can eat cake.” 

“It better be a damn big cake,” I muttered under my breath. “Chocolate. With big buttercream flowers.”

Oh, Lord, I’m not sure there’s enough cake in the world for what I’m about to do.

Chapter Six

I was dressed, made up, and had passed Madame de Beaufort’s inspection just as a knock sounded at the door. The butterflies who’d been doing fly-bys in my stomach since she told me to get ready kicked into high gear at the sight of Roarke. Taking a deep breath and plastering on a smile, I prayed I wouldn’t barf on his Italian leather shoes.

The smile on his face brightened the room and after not seeing him for over a week, I realized I’d forgotten how truly drop dead handsome the roguish billionaire was. The word vampire still floated through the back of my mind, but I had to admit it was barely a whisper and growing softer the more time I spent around them. I hadn’t forgotten what I’d lost because of the fanged monsters; I was readjusting my opinion. Maybe Vanessa was right. They were like regular people, some good, some bad. They had, after all, been just regular people at some point in time, right?

“You look lovely, Katharine.” Roarke’s low baritone rolled through my body, setting parts of me on fire that had previously barely sparked.

His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared as a sly grin crossed those amazing lips of his. It was as if he’d read my mind, but…no, I would know if he could read my mind. Roarke’s gaze held power, if he chose to use it. Madame de Beaufort had been sure to warn me of a vampire’s ability to mesmerize and rearrange my memories but had added that only after we were blood bonded would our minds be connected.

Of course, my first question, to which she had rolled her eyes, was whether he would be able to control me. She scoffed and said only if I was very weak-minded. I’m sure she meant it as an insult, but I moved on and asked if Roarke and I would be able to communicate telepathically. Her reply was simply if we were compatible and the bond was deep enough. The glint in her eye, coupled with her sneaky grin, made me wonder what she wasn’t telling me, but I opted for the ignorance is bliss avenue. God knew I was already overwhelmed with all my new knowledge.

“Thank you,” I replied, not sure what to do as we stood staring at one another, the electricity of our attraction filling the room with what could only be described as magic.

However, the spell was broken as Thomas, one of Roarke’s many assistants, rushed in. Racing toward me, he bowed his head. “Good day, Miss Worthy. May I take your bag to the car?”

Clearing my throat, I smiled to hide my blush. “Yes, thank you, Thomas.”

Grabbing the bag along with my garment bag, which contained two sequined cocktail dresses and three gowns, the young man scurried out of sight as Roarke asked me, “Are you ready to go? The pilot just informed me we will be wheels up in an hour and a half.”

Sliding my sunglasses on my nose and my purse strap onto my arm as I had been taught, I walked toward Roarke while asking, “How will we ever get through TSA and on the plane in an hour and a half? Won’t they leave without us?”

Smiling as he reached for my arm, my new benefactor chuckled. “We’ll be flying in one of my private jets.” He placed my hand on the crook of his arm and turned us around. “If they leave without me, they’ll have no job.”

Without even thinking I said, “No shit!” To which Roarke barked with laughter and Madame de Beaufort scolded, “Katharine!” somewhere behind me. But the rich rumble of Roarke’s laughter and the glint in the depths of his steely grey eyes created a web of seduction and euphoria that I simply could not, or maybe it was would not, break free from.

I wasn’t surprised when he got a call just as we were getting to the elevator and admit to being a bit relieved. Roarke was a lot to take in, especially with the knowledge that he would not only be drinking my blood but that we would also be…having sex…very soon. It was then I remembered that Jacques had never really answered my question about how many courtesans Roarke had employed or even if he’d ever had a serious relationship. The only thing I really knew about the man I was going to be spending the next thirty days with was that he was an old vamp, very rich, absolutely irresistible, and would be my first real sexual experience.

Reaching the underground parking garage, the elevator doors opened at the same time that Roarke said goodbye. I jumped when his fingers intertwined with mine then blushed when he chuckled. “Did I frighten you?”

“No,” I lied. “Just surprised me.”

Leaning down as he opened the back door of the limo for me, his lips touched the outside of my ear as he whispered, “I find that I like surprising you.”

Chills ran up and down my spine at his innuendo as I climbed into the seat facing the back of the vehicle and watched him speak to the driver before he continued around to the other side and climb into the seat opposite mine. Looking at me then at the seat beside him then back at me, Roarke crooked his index finger and beckoned, “Why so far away? Come sit with me. We have much to discuss.”

Not wanting to upset the man who was doing so much to help me, I unbuckled my seatbelt and with as much grace as I could muster, swung my butt around and planted it on the seat next to him. My heartbeat quickened and sweat trickled down my back. Just being near Roarke made my body and mind eager to experience all the new and frightening feelings just around the bend.

Laying his hand on mine where it was unconsciously rubbing up and down my thigh, he whispered, “Breathe, just breathe. I’m not going to ask you to do anything until you’re ready.”

Not wanting him to misunderstand, I turned in my seat and looked up into his eyes. I opened my mouth to explain that it was more excitement or maybe anticipation than nerves but the words froze on my tongue. His grip on my hand tightened. I leaned forward, mesmerized by the intensity of his gaze. There was no mind control or any other vampire tricks happening. No, this was something different, something primal and raw, something completely Roarke that was being fueled by me.

His voice came out as little more than a growl as he lowered his lips to mine. “I must taste you, Katharine. I’ve waited for so very long.”

There was no time for thought as the electricity I had experienced in the suite sprang to life, igniting a fire within me that demanded to be quenched. Roarke’s tongue sought entrance and I was helpless but to do as he bid. Pulling me closer, deepening our kiss, it was as if he was devouring me, marking me, making me want him as much as he wanted me. Leaving my lips, he kissed across my jaw and down my neck, scraping the sensitive skin with his teeth then kissing away the sting.

A tiny voice in the farthest reaches of my mind was screaming that I was missing something, that I needed to snap out of the euphoria Roarke’s kiss created and pay attention, but everything I was experiencing felt way too good to heed any warnings. Pulling me onto his lap, I straddled his thighs as he continued to weave a sensual web of desire and need that I never wanted to leave.

As he kissed up my neck, I threw my head back to allow him greater access as just the tip of his tongue teased the outside of my ear before he whispered, “May I taste you, beautiful Katharine? May I drink from your neck?”

Lost to desire, I tangled my fingers through his silky soft hair, directing his lips back to my neck as a way of answering. The little voice in my head was hysterical, but I was too far gone to want anything but to please the man who was already giving me more pleasure than I had ever experienced before.

His large, capable hand massaged the small of my back, holding me to him, while his other hand slid under the linen of my skirt, tempting and teasing his way to my center. His fingers gently moved the silk of my panties to the side as the tips of his fangs scraped my neck. Moving in tandem, his fingers teased my clit and his teeth readied my flesh.

My skin felt too tight, my need to release too great. I rolled my hips against his hand trying to hurry the climax I felt barreling toward me. The breath froze in my lungs. My muscles stiffened as I felt the gush of my orgasm at the same moment Roarke’s fangs pierced my flesh.

I had expected the pain but not the rush of pleasure that filled every fiber of my being, or the second orgasm that burst forth as Roarke drank the blood from my vein. My head lulled to the side as I felt the sensual slide of his fangs leaving my neck, and I shivered as he licked the marks I was sure he’d left before kissing his way back to my mouth.

Slipping his fingers from my center as his lips met mine, I sighed at my warm, coppery taste on his tongue, wondering how I tasted to him. His hands massaged the globes of my butt as I continued a slow rolling dance on his lap. My fingers bit into his shoulders as the passion began to grow within me once again.

The feel of his hands on my back as he slid them under the silk of my blouse left trails of fire in their wake. He had just touched the clasp of my bra when the intercom in the limo sounded and the chauffer’s voice rang out loud and clear. “I am sorry to interrupt, sir, but I have Mr. Monroe on the phone and he says it is most urgent.”

“Just one moment, Jase,” he growled before laying his forehead to mine and kissing just the tip of my nose. “Thank you, Katharine.” Another peck, but this one to my lips, then he added with a waggle of his eyebrows, “To be continued,” before lifting me off his lap and setting me right beside him.

I started to scoot away, to give him privacy to talk. My clothes were askew and I needed to make sure my body hadn’t been invaded by a wanton woman. I had never acted that way in my life, and with a vampire? It was absolute lunacy and totally unbelievable, even as I watched it replay in my mind. However, Roarke’s hand closed over my thigh and he shook his head as he called to the driver, “You can put the call through now, Jase. Thank you.”

With his hand massaging circles on my thigh keeping the embers of desire burning, Roarke put his cell phone to his ear and curtly asked, “What do you need, Monroe?”

I couldn’t hear what the attorney was saying, but his speech was harsh and clipped. Roarke’s hand stilled on my leg as he ordered, “Tell me again…everything.”

Afraid to move, barely breathing, I sat completely still as Monroe’s voice slowed and his cadence became deliberate. Whatever he was telling Roarke was clearly not good news. The longer the attorney spoke, the stormier the billionaire’s expression became.

Then there was silence. The kind of silence that is eerie and makes you feel like there’s not enough air in the room. I counted to five before Roarke growled through gritted teeth, “I want around the clock guards. I want their presence known. No more covert operations bullshit. This has gotten completely out of hand. I want you to reach out to our contacts within the police department and most of all, keep those children safe. Take them to the house in the hills if you must.”

At the mention of the children my ears perked up. I had not forgotten how strongly and how many times Madame de Beaufort had stressed the importance of me being seen and not heard but this was different. Vampires can’t have kids, so it only stood to reason they were talking about the children under my care. I tried not to make it obvious that I was listening but I somehow knew I wasn’t fooling anyone.

Roarke seethed as he added, “I want the responsible parties found, Monroe…and brought to me.”

Monroe spoke again but Roarke was quick to cut him off. “My plans have changed. I will not be leaving Dallas. You just do what you must to find them…sooner rather than later.”

Without another word, Roarke lowered the phone from his ear and stared at the streetlights as they passed the window. Looking up, he hit a button on the console in his door and instructed, “Plans have changed, Jase. Please contact Jeffrey and let him know we won’t be flying this evening then take us to the compound.”

I sat waiting to be filled in on our plans. Madame de Beaufort had said I was never to ask what was happening, just to take my cues from Roarke and be ready to act at a moment’s notice. His hand was still on my leg, unmoving, and it was then I realized it wasn’t cold like it had been before, and that made me think about what had just happened between us. Neither his lips nor his hands were cold when he touched me. I wondered if maybe he could warm himself up or if the little taste of my blood that he’d had raised his core body temperature.

Storing that away for another time, I slid my eyes to the side to find Roarke looking at me. His brow was furrowed, his lips pursed, and his eyes that stormy grey that said he was deep in thought and it was not good news for someone. I wasn’t sure if I should keep looking at him looking at me or look away. Thankfully, he took the choice away when in a low, commanding voice, he said, “Katharine, something’s happened that I think you should know about.”

Turning in my seat, I nodded, remembering what Madame said about saying yeah and answered, “Yes, what is it?”

His hand moved from my leg and his fingers found mine as he sighed and shook his head. “There’s been another break-in at your apartment.”

I sat still, waiting for the really bad news, because there was no way he was this upset about more vandalism. Hell, he’d been the one to send me a message while I was sequestered with Madame that everything had been repaired and I had nothing to worry about. There had to be more.

Looking down at our joined hands, he continued, “It was much worse this time. They set the carpet on fire and embedded the legs of the dining table and chairs into the walls.”

He scrubbed his free hand over his face and looked up. “The threats on the walls were much more explicit. They included the children and …me.” The last word came out as a snarl through gritted teeth. “Which means there is a leak in my organization.” The muscle in his jaw jumped. “And you have no idea how angry that makes me.”

I thought about telling him I was getting a clue; actually opened my mouth to speak, but at the look on his face, slammed my mouth shut and waited for him to continue. Looking me in the eye, he rubbed the pad of his thumb across the back of my hand and said, “Mr. Frangellio, your landlord, was hurt in the process.”

I gasped. It wasn’t that Mr. F was the best landlord ever or even really that nice. It was the fact that he’d been hurt just for knowing me. It made my heart ache and then I thought about his wife and blurted out, “What about Mrs. F?”

“She is out of town visiting her sister, but Monroe is calling her to let her know her husband is receiving the best of care and that she should return to Dallas. We will send a jet for her.”

“And the children?”

“There has been no trouble in their current location except Amanda and Anthony insisting on seeing you.” He tried to smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. “They have twenty-four hour armed guards, surveillance and several caretakers and tutors, but all the same, I am having them moved. They were mentioned in the threats and I’m not taking any chances.”

His smile became a bit broader and some of the clouds cleared from his eyes as he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss upon my lips. “That is also why you are coming home with me. I had hoped to do this after our little trip when I was sure you were comfortable with us being under the same roof, but the situation demands a change in plans.”

Taking a chance, I leaned forward, placed my hand on his cheek, and smiled. “Thank you for everything.”

“It is my pleasure, I assure you,” he whispered, leaning forward. I closed my eyes, waiting for another of his amazing kisses. Instead, I was thrown forward as the limo came to a screeching halt and Jase’s frantic voice bellowed through the intercom, “We’re being attacked!”

Chapter Seven

Everything seemed to happen at once but also in slow motion. It was the weirdest sensation; like the scenes in the moving where you see them floating in the air but the sound is so loud the theater walls shake. Roarke threw me on the floor, covering my body with his as bullets ricocheted off the bulletproof windows and armored body of the car. Shouting directions at Jase, who had obviously been trained for just such an occasion, his voice sounded far away and super slow, like a record on a turntable set on the wrong speed or a bad acid trip. At least what I’ve seen a bad acid trip to entail in the training films they showed us in nursing school. Because, if I’m being honest, I’ve never taken anything stronger than a puff off a menthol cigarette behind the gym after a football game, and that made me cough until I was lightheaded and about to throw up on my best friend in high school.

“Reverse, cut to the right then floor it. Run over anyone in your path,” Roarke ordered, still hovering over me while looking out the heavily tinted windows to catch a glimpse of our attackers.

“Have you called for backup?” he roared as fire shot past the windows.

“Are they using a flame thrower?” I screamed at the same time Jase grunted, “Yes, sir.”

I felt the car lunge forward and heard the telltale sounds of metal hitting flesh and bones being shattered. I had no idea how many people Jase hit, but I can tell you it incited our attackers into doubling their efforts to rip the car apart, as what I am sure was a hand grenade bounced off the back window while I looked under Roarke’s arm.

The unearthly screams that sounded like a cross between a shrieking baboon and a laughing hyena only added to my fear, while the taunts of “You’ll pay, you fucking bitch” and “Give us back our property” only fueled my anger.

The squeal of the tires as we tore around a corner was a small prelude to rapid machine gun fire pinging and ponging off the windshield, down the passenger side, and over the trunk of the limo. Apparently, there was more than a little leak in Roarke’s operation since the bastards knew what route we would take to the airport and to escape their initial attack, and had all their bases well covered.

Jase growled, “Son of a fucking bitch,” at the same time he jerked the steering wheel in the opposite direction and ran over what sounded like two more bodies plus a curb before I felt the limo go up on two wheels.

Unable to scream as terror filled my body, I dug my fingernails into Roarke’s forearms, only the weight of his body on top of mine keeping me from flying across the car. Crashing back down to earth with the screech of metal on concrete, the limo lurched forward as once again Jase slammed down the accelerator and more flames shot over the back end of the limo.

Once again I asked, “A flame thrower?”

“Yes!” Roarke spat. “They’re trying to blow us up.”

“Blow us up? What the hell?”

It was then I realized that I had no clue what in the world could possibly harm a vampire. I believe it was my mind’s way of helping me deal with what was happening all around me. Give me a puzzle as a distraction. Madame de Beaufort had laughed when I ask about the whole garlic thing and literally laughed out loud when I mentioned a crucifix, silver, and the whole lack of a reflection thing.

With a high-pitched cackle and a motion to her face, complete with the batting of her eyes and her crazy French accent, the Madame had said, “Do you think I could look like this every day if I could not see my face in a mirror?”

I laughed it off by saying, “Guess Hollywood got it wrong.” When I actually wanted to punch her in that perfectly made up mug. But, I quickly asked, “What about the whole sunlight thing?”

Rolling her eyes and clucking her tongue, the Madame had chastised me with, “Aren’t you the nosey one today?” She went on to say, “Sunlight is an irritant to the younger ones.” From that little tidbit and what Jacques had said about Roarke being an old vampire, I put two and two together and figured out that he could handle a day at the beach.

From Roarke and Jase’s reaction to the fire, I had to guess that it was one of the things that would hurt them. I knew it would damn sure do some serious damage to me and, since they were both flesh and bone, well…it only stood to reason it would hurt them too. It wouldn’t kill them, at least I was pretty sure that was the case from all Madame had taught me, but it would hurt like a bitch.

Then it hit me. Our attackers were aiming for the gas tank. Roarke had said ‘blow us up’. Okay, it all made sense. Vampires had major healing mojo but not even they could put all the pieces back together after an explosion. Not even with all the king’s horses and all the king’s men.

Roarke’s arm around my waist pulled me from my mental holiday as he hoisted me off the floor and onto the seat beside him. “We’ve gotten away from the attack,” he said, “but we’re not going to the compound. One, maybe more, of my own people are involved. That’s the only explanation for what just happened,” he growled before ordering, “Jase, plan X.”

“Yes, sir,” the driver responded, still tearing down the road like Mario Andretti at the Indy 500.

Looking around the limo at the hundreds of puckers in the windows from our attackers’ ammunition attempting to penetrate the bullet proof glass, I could only imagine what the armor plating on the outside of the car looked like from all that plus the flames. 

“Plan X?” I asked, barely recognizing my own voice as it cracked and shook.

Roarke’s arm was immediately around my shoulders, pulling me to his side, rubbing my arm. “Yes, it is something only Jase and I know about. A little Doomsday Plan we came up with just in case.” He kissed my forehead and looked me in the eye, “And it seems that just in case is here.”

“W-wh…” I cleared my throat and started again, “Why did they attack like that? I mean bullets don’t hurt you, right? That’s what Madame said.”

Giving the best smile he could muster, Roarke explained, “Actually, they hurt like hell. But no, they cannot kill us.” He placed his index finger under my chin and gently raised my head until we were eye-to-eye. “But they can do considerable damage to you.” His lips touched mine in a tender kiss before he pulled back and looked at me again. “And that is something I simply could not bear.”

 Out of nowhere my body started to shake and my head started to spin. It was shock. I’d seen the signs of it in others a hundred times but never experienced myself. Roarke’s face took on a wavy appearance, floating in and out of focus, and his voice sounded like he was talking to me from the bottom of a barrel when he cursed, “Dammit, you’re going into shock.”

I was suddenly so tired that all I wanted to do was sleep, which was great since Roarke was moving faster than my eyes could track and in a flash had me laying with my head on his lap and legs stretching across the seat. Covering me with a blanket he’d pulled from under the seat across from us, he ordered, “Do not got to sleep. I’m not sure if you have a concussion.”

I felt his fingers gently rubbing my scalp as I slurred, “I…didn’t h-hit…m-my h-head.” My eyes felt so heavy. All I wanted was a few precious moments of sleep. I knew it was wrong, but my body was begging for sweet slumber. The nurse part of me was trying to help but plain ol’ Katharine was voting for a power nap.

Once again, Roarke was yelling at Jase, “Hurry, I need to get her out of this damned car and into the light where I can make sure she’s okay.”

“Yes, sir.”

  I giggled at Jase’s reply, wondering if ‘Yes, sir’ was the only thing he knew how to say. My world was like a dream - fuzzy around the edges and slightly out of focus with the feeling of floating. Everything was funny.

For the second or maybe it was the third time, I was losing track of time. Roarke gently shook my shoulders and commanded, “Stay awake, we’re almost there.”

Trying with all my might to lift my heavy eyelids, I slurred, “I-I’m…j-just soooo…t-tired.” I swallowed as the car took a right turn that had me rolling around like I was in a rowboat on the rapids. Roarke’s hand on my shoulder kept me from falling onto the floorboard as I begged, “J-just l-…let m-me h-have a…m-minute.”

“Dammit, Katharine,” Roarke growled. “I demand you stay awake.”

Trying to chuckle but finding I just didn’t have the energy, I felt something warm and wet against my lips a split second before Roarke’s wrist was pressed against my mouth and he was ordering, “Drink, Katharine. Now!”

In the deep recesses of my mind I knew it was blood, vampire blood, and that I had no idea whatsoever what it would do to me. But in my dreamy, shock-induced haze, it was only Roarke and he was trying to help me. I knew he would never hurt me. I had no idea how I knew, I just did.

His voice sounded again, this time less commanding, more coaxing as he whispered in my ear, “Please, Katharine, take what I am offering. It will help.” He sounded so sincere, like all that mattered was me feeling better. That, coupled with the butterfly kisses he was tenderly placing on my cheek and neck, sealed the deal.

Opening my mouth, I gently licked his wrist, first one swipe and then another. He tasted sweet like wine and smoky like scotch with a hint of something light and almost floral. That was me. I remembered the taste from when he had kissed me after drinking from my neck. Closing my lips over the wound, I lightly sucked, letting the warm liquid slide across my tongue and down my throat, warming me from the inside, making me feel more cozy than floating.

As I pulled away, afraid I’d taken too much and not sure what vampire blood would do to me, Roarke wiped my lips. With his other hand, he ran his fingers through my hair. “Rest now, the danger has passed. With my blood in your system the risk to your health is no more. We will be at the compound shortly.”

The warmth of his thigh on my cheek as I cuddled closer, coupled with his hand stroking my arm and the rich, unmistakable scent of sandalwood and amber that was uniquely Roarke invading my senses, I focused on the slow, steady beat of his heart and drifted closer to sleep. Again, I wanted to ask him how he felt so warm when the first time I’d touched him in the wreckage of my vandalized apartment he’d felt so cold, but the distant ringing of a phone stopped me.

“Roarke here,” he barked as my world was reduced to a single circle of light that was slowly fading away.

I listened to the incoherent mumbling of whoever he was talking to and his low grunts that served as a response, wondering what fresh hell had befallen us now, when he demanded, “What did Jose have to say? What do the police know?”

The silence went on for longer this time. Roarke stopped rubbing my arm. His hand balled into a fist. I could feel him shaking but not from the temperature. He was literally getting angrier by the second.

“And what about our own people?” he barked. Then after a second or two of silence, “Hell yes, I want everyone vetted again,” he growled. “We were ambushed, Monroe.” He was talking through gritted teeth. “They had machine guns and flame throwers. They knew where we would be and what route we would take to escape. It was well-planned with information only a trusted few were privy to.”

Monroe’s voice grew louder but I still couldn’t make out the words. He was clearly rattled and trying to make up for falling short of his employer’s expectations. Roarke took several deep breaths as the attorney rambled on. I wished I could get my eyes open and sit up so I could see Roarke’s face and maybe even catch a bit of what Monroe was saying, but I was too far gone.

Fighting the undeniable urge to sleep, I sighed as Roarke grumbled, “I don’t care. If they want a job they will submit to the questions.”

After a few more seconds of silence and a long deep breath, Roarke began to speak again, but this time his tone left no room for disobedience and was heavy with accusation. “And I will see you in the morning.”

There was a pause. I thought he’d simply hung up and I wondered how the hoity-toity lawyer liked being dismissed. But then he said, “No one is exempt… not even you, Monroe” and disconnected the call.

For a few long seconds all I heard was the sound of the engine. Roarke’s fist slowly relaxed and he began to rub up and down my arm again. I opened my mouth to offer some comfort but nothing came out; my mouth had already fallen asleep.

The last words I heard as my little light extinguished and I gave in to the undeniable urge to slumber was “Sleep, Katharine, rest and heal. Fear not, for I will take the head of the one who has betrayed us.”

Chapter Eight

I woke up with a start, sitting straight up in bed and wondering where the hell I was. Looking around the room, I saw a perfectly decorated space with dark woods and rich fabrics. I thought of Roarke and the memories of our attack came flooding back, complete with the sensory recollection of my drinking his blood.

I knew I wasn’t a vampire. First of all, one drink of blood couldn’t do that and secondly, I didn’t feel any different excerpt for bumps and bruises and a helluva headache. Opening my mouth to speak was like opening a rusty hinge. My throat burned with a medicinal taste and it was then I realized I was no longer in my messed up beige linen suit but a men’s white silk pajama top and nothing else.

Before I could freak out, the door slowly opened and Roarke appeared, carrying a tray of what smelled like food with a pot of tea. “You’re up? That’s a good sign…I think.” He chuckled and for the first time since I’d met him sounded unsure of himself, which only added to his incredible sex appeal.

Setting the tray on the bedside table, he brushed the hair back from my face and simply stood looking down at me. My brain hadn’t gotten back up to speed or at least that’s the only excuse I can come up with for blurting out, “You’re warm. How are you warm?” My voice was little more than a croak and it hurt to speak, but I had done it any way.

Laughing out loud, Roarke pulled his hand away, picked up a cup of tea, and sat down on the bed next to my legs. Handing me the tea, he smiled. “I remembered seeing Earl Grey in your kitchen the night we met. Granted, it was on the floor beside a broken bottle of floor cleaner and trampled, but I took the liberty of having Mrs. Garrity make a pot for you.” Nodding toward the cup, he suggested, “Have a drink. It’ll help your throat and then we can talk?”

After several sips and all I could take of the uncomfortable silence, I turned, put my cup and saucer on the table, sat back on my pillows, and began. “I do want to know about the warm hands thing, but first of all, can I ask how I got from my suit to what I’m guessing is your pajama top?”

“I had to make sure you had no other injuries than the bump on your head. Your suit was a mess and I wanted you to be comfortable.”

“So you…” I couldn’t quite get the words out as I felt the heat of a blush starting somewhere near my toes and working its way to the top of my head, coloring my skin. I had no idea why I was freaking out after our kiss in the limo, but I was, and his answer only made it worse.

“Saw you naked?” he asked, working really hard to look innocent.

Nodding, I murmured, “Uh huh,” as my cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Well, yes, I did and I must say,” he picked up my hand where it lay on the bed and kissed across my knuckles, making sure to hold my eyes captive with his gaze as he purred, “You are even more beautiful naked than I imagined.”

“Than…y-you imagined?” I knew I was stammering but, between the pounding of my heart and the look in Roarke’s eyes, it was better than hyperventilating.

“Of course. Now, to answer your questions.” He laid my hand back on the bed and covered it with his. “I have found over the years that people find the usually cool temperature of my skin very off-putting. Either from our makers or as we get older, vampires acquire different abilities. One of mine is the ability to keep my body temperature at a perfect ninety-eight point six degrees with little to no effort. It’s not something I do all the time or when I’m meeting with people I don’t especially like, and I will admit even at my age, I forget if I get distracted.” He turned my hand over and laid his palm on mine, letting just the tips of his finger tease the pulse as it jumped in my wrist.

“How old are you?” I slapped my free hand to my mouth and quickly apologized through my fingers. “Oh, my God, I’m sorry. That just popped out.”

His face lit up with a huge smile as he chuckled. “Not a problem. You can ask me anything. I knew what I was getting into when I asked you to be my courtesan. I am the first vampire you’ve ever been this close to...been able to question,” he paused and raised an eyebrow, “been attracted to?”

I wanted to deny it, wanted to act cool and aloof, but the fact was after our little escapade in the limo, he knew all about me. I was not, however, going to agree outright. My pride wouldn’t let me go that far and apparently, Roarke knew that. His smile widened and he nodded. “Very well, we’ll discuss that later.” He winked. “As for my age, I was born in 1107 to a peasant farmer and a midwife. In 1123 I became a soldier for Pope Urban II in the Crusades and in 1129 I was promoted to one of the revered Knights Templar. In 1142 I was mortally wounded defending the Roman Catholic Church in lands that we now call the Middle East.”

Pausing, he looked out the window, and when he spoke again it was as if he were watching the events play out in his mind. “I lay in a pool of my own blood among others of my order when a man dressed in a black cape with a large brimmed hat covering most of his face appeared out of the shadows. He knelt down beside me, looked at my wounds, and informed me in no uncertain terms that I would be dead in a matter of minutes.”

Looking back to me, I saw pain mixed with appreciation in his eyes. “Letting my head fall to the side, I waited for death when the man grabbed my chin, looked me in the eyes, and said, ‘But there’s another way.’ I don’t remember if I heard his complete explanation or if I truly agreed but nonetheless, on that night, on that battlefield littered with bodies, I was turned. I have been and will remain until the day someone takes my head, for all intents and purposes, thirty-five years old, or at least as far as appearances go.” He smiled. “I know that is more than you asked, but I had a suspicion you wanted to know the story.”

“But…you’re… really?”

“Nine hundred and ten, sometime this year.” He winked. “So, I guess it could be said we have a May-December thing going on here.” He motioned between us and I couldn’t help but snicker at his attempt to ease my tension. Then he added, “Are you sufficiently freaked out yet?”

I leaned forward, still focused on the weird mix of emotions I felt coming from him. Touching his face with the back of my fingers, I was amazed at how smooth his skin felt, just like he was in his mid-thirties. It should have been scary. I should have been jumping from the bed and running for the hills. Vampires were the enemy. Vampires were killers. Vampires had taken my family from me.

But not this vampire…not this man. No, he had come to my rescue, offered to give me back my life, been nothing but a gentleman even when he was giving me the first orgasm of my life in the back of a limo and then saving my life. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame but had no fear of getting burnt. Something deep inside told me as long as Roarke was by my side, the big bad evils of the world could never touch me.

Leaning forward, I laid my lips to his. Kissed first one corner and then the other of his beautiful mouth before concentrating on his perfectly shaped Cupid’s bow and running just the tip of my tongue along the seam of his lips. It was as if I’d flipped the switch. Roarke opened immediately, his tongue invading my mouth, stroking mine with delicate finesse as his fingers thrust into my hair, massaging the back of my head and holding me in place.

My nipples tightened and brushed against the sensual silk of his pajama top. His touch, his kiss, pulled at something deep inside of me. My body was immediately wet and needy. Goose bumps danced all over my skin.

Wanting more, needing to be closer, I grabbed his shoulder and slid on the silk sheets until his hands closed around my waist and I climbed onto his lap. His erection pushed against the softness of my stomach as our kiss deepened and my arousal skyrocketed.

An ache of pure desire burned in my center. My nails bit into his back through the cotton of his shirt as he pulled his lips from mine with a gasp and began nibbling and tasting across my jaw and down my neck. My fingers found his hair, fisting his dark, silken tresses, holding him close, loving the way he made me feel.

Paying special attention to the spot where my pulse was pounding just under the skin of my neck, he whispered, “I love that your heart beats faster with my every touch.”

I could feel the truth in his words. Knew he felt the same from my touch. Heard those exact words as he thought them. Fresh, white hot arousal shot through me as the scratch of his fangs brought the recollection of the first time he’d bitten me to the forefront, begging for a repeat performance.

Pushing him tighter to my neck, I let my head fall to the side and gasped, “Please….”

“Let us make it all the sweeter,” Roarke growled against my skin as, from one heartbeat to the next, he stood up with me in his arms, laid me back on the bed, and ripped his shirt from my body.

Looking at me with fire in his eyes, Roarke stripped out of his clothes and joined me on the bed, his lips smashing to mine with the scorch of demanding need. His hands seemed to be everywhere, teasing my nipples to near painful points, leaving fiery trails of seduction across my stomach and down my ribs, and finally running across my pelvis, the tips of his fingers ruffling the already wet curls atop my center. Of their own volition, my hips lifted off the bed in an effort to force his skillful digits where I ached the most.    

  As my body burned, my hands explored the beautiful man beside me. The well-toned muscles of his chest flexed under my fingers; his nipples pebbled as I sought to touch and feel all of him. I had just reached the thin line of hair leading to his erection when Roarke’s two middle fingers invaded my throbbing pussy and the pad of his thumb teased my aroused clit.

My body was burning from the inside-out. A need unlike any I had ever known pushed my every action, my every thought, as my hips met each thrust of Roarke’s fingers sliding in and out of my center with deliberate intent. His index finger joined his thumb, rolling my clit between the two until I saw stars. One gentle pinch and the orgasm that had been sitting just out of reach roared to life as I screamed his name into our kiss until I was hoarse…but it still wasn’t enough.

I needed more. I needed…him.

As if he knew my thoughts, Roarke pulled his fingers from my center, climbed over me and while holding himself up, looked deep into my eyes and asked, “Are you sure? It was less than…”

I’d had enough talking, enough thinking. Reaching up, I wound my hands around his neck and pulled his lips to mine as an answer to the question I hadn’t let him ask. Lowering us until my back touched the mattress and the delicious weight of his body was on top of me, Roarke rolled his hips, letting the tip of cock slide through the proof of the arousal wetting my curls.

 Reaching between our bodies, I wrapped my hand around his erection, trying to direct him where I wanted him most, but Roarke was too quick. His hand closed over mine, holding it as steady as he held his body. Tearing his lips from mine, he captured my eyes with his lust-soaked gaze and then using our combined hands, pushed his cock into my throbbing pussy. 

Pulling my hand away with his, still looking into my soul, inch by glorious inch Roarke pushed inside of me, going slow as my body adjusted to his size. Once seated deep inside, he immediately began to pull back out, pushing in again just when I feared he would fall from me. Stroke after excruciatingly slow stroke he moved in and out of me, never looking away, controlling my gaze as he controlled my body.

His arms shook with restraint as he worked hard to go slow, to let me get used to the myriad of feelings rushing through my mind and body. Needing him more than I needed my next breath, needing to feel the release only Roarke could give me, I wound my legs around his waist, pushed my heels into the rock-hard cheeks of his ass, and began thrusting my hips against him as quickly as I could.

Shock mixed with intense desire and the hint of a wicked glint flashed in his eyes as he immediately met me stroke for stroke. I could feel my release rolling with increased passion and fire to its blissfully wonderful end as Roarke’s lips met mine with a harsh kiss of possession before teasing my earlobe with his teeth as he whispered, “May I taste you?”

Unable to deny him anything, I rolled my head to the side and gasped, “Yes, oh yes.”

His fangs slide down my neck, hovering just above my pounding pulse as our rhythm became frantic. Roarke hissed, arching his back, pushing him deeper into me as my nails slid down his back. The sounds of our bodies meeting thrust after thrust, coupled with our ragged breaths, filled the room. His hands slid under my ass, lifting me off the bed, changing the angle just enough that the tip of his cock bumped the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of my channel on every stroke until breathing became impossible.

Sure I would lose my mind and loving every second of the journey, my body shook with anticipation as Roarke’s fangs pushed against my skin, piercing the flesh, pulling my life’s essence from my vein just as our orgasm reached a mutual mind-blowing end. Over and over, I rode the waves of my climax as he drank at my neck, holding me tight.

Tenderly, Roarke retracted his fangs, lowered me to the bed, and slowed his movements, gently sliding in and out, wringing the last vestiges of my orgasm from me. Slowly opening my eyes, all I could give him was a lazy smile as he asked, “How are you, my sweet?” Followed by a slow, sensual kiss that threatened to awaken even more passion within me.

With a knowing smile, he pulled his still semi-erect cock from me, lifted me in his arms, and positioned my head on the pillows before laying down beside me. Rolling over, I laid my head on his chest and sighed as his arms came around me. I wanted to tell him that I’d never experienced anything like what we’d just done and that is was wonderful, but exhaustion was winning the battle and within seconds, I fell blissfully asleep.

This time I woke with a smile as Roarke placed kisses on my temple, my cheek, and the tip of my nose before finally reaching my lips and making the morning all the better for it. Opening my eyes as my fingers found his, I yawned and stretched, loving the feel of his body against my back and the tickle of the smattering of hair on his chest as his chuckle rumbled through me. “Time to get up, my sweet. You need something to eat and I need to make some calls.”

Rolling over, I caught a bit of what he was thinking and before I could stop myself, I asked, “Why can I hear your thoughts?”

“You can hear my thoughts?” he asked with a look of total shock.

Nodding, now more than a little nervous, I held the sheet over my chest and sat up as I countered with, “Yes. Can you hear mine?”

“Yes, but that’s a side effect of the blood bond,” he rushed to explain as I felt my eyebrows raise as high as they could go. “It’s nothing to worry about. It happened when I gave you my blood in the limo. Another of my powers is the ability to help others heal. Anyway, a blood bond would usually give me the ability to track you if you were in danger and to know what you were thinking and feeling, which serves as protection because of my strength and abilities.”

Lifting himself to a sitting position, Roarke continued, “But in all my years, which you know is considerable, I’ve never known a human to hear a vampire’s thoughts after just one taste of blood.” His eyes narrowed. “Can you also feel my emotions?”

“Some of them,” I murmured, afraid to answer since I wasn’t sure if it was a good thing.

Nodding, he turned toward me and put his hand over mine where it laid on my leg. A smile brightened his face as he said, “I think...no, I know I like that you can hear my thoughts and know what I’m feeling.”

Unfortunately, I never got to ask any more questions as a loud knock echoed through the room. “Yes,” Roarke called out in an annoyed tone.

“I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but you received an urgent package some time ago. Mr. Monroe has called several times to see if you’ve opened it. His last call came just a few minutes ago and he was quite insistent.”

“That’s fine, Michael,” Roarke answered. Then pulling up the thick, navy comforter and making sure I was completely covered, he winked before adding, “Bring it in.”

A tall, thin, man with dirty blonde hair and scruff on his jaw opened the door and walked straight to Roarke, who smiled and gestured to me. “Michael, this is Miss Katharine and she will be staying with us.”

With a single nod, Michael replied, “Nice to meet you, Miss Katharine,” and then to Roarke, “And will that be all, sir?”

“Yes, thank you, Michael.” With that, the lanky man left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Ripping the tape from the package, Roarke pulled a stack of papers and photos from the large manila envelope. The picture on top floated to the comforter. I gasped and grabbed it, screaming, “Vanessa!”

Looking over my shoulder, I could feel Roarke’s rage as he stared at the photo of my best friend, tied to a chair, her face beaten and bleeding with the barrel of a gun at her temple. Grabbing his phone and pressing a single button, he roared, “What the fuck is this, Monroe? And where the hell did it come from?”

Chapter Nine

“It was left at the front desk of the Adolphus then delivered to Madame de Beaufort, who called me because she knew I’d be talking to you while you were out of town.” Monroe cleared his throat and for the first time since I’d met him, looked a little nervous. “I knew you weren’t telling many people your plans had changed so I went and picked it up. After I saw what it was, I had a courier bring it here.” He was nodding like a child looking for approval as he added, “Just as protocol demands.”

And the here Monroe was talking about just happened to be Roarke’s estate in Preston Hollow, just outside of Dallas, not the alternative location—damned fortress from all I could see—of Plan X. I was kind of surprised Roarke wasn’t telling our true location to his attorney, but he had earlier explained that the fewer people who knew, the easier it would be to find the traitor amongst his own ranks. It made sense, but I still felt bad for him. I could see how much it bothered him that someone he trusted had sold him out and to the worst of his own kind.

It had taken me a long time to get calmed down. I yelled and screamed then cried and sobbed then yelled some more, until my throat was hoarse and my eyes so swollen that I looked like I’d gone a few rounds with Tyson. All the while Roarke assured me that he would find Vanessa, bring her home to me, and see that those responsible for laying a finger on my best friend would pay with their lives. 

His words helped, but it didn’t take away my guilt. Seeing Vanessa in that state and knowing it was because of me was almost unbearable. The dam of emotions I’d been holding at bay since being caught stealing, losing my job, finding my apartment ransacked, and being in a gunfight, burst. I was filled with uncontrollable rage and spine-chilling fear, with a huge cloud of good old fashioned guilt covering it all. Staring at those pictures, seeing the terror in her eyes and the gun to her head, broke something in me. I literally saw red. For the first time in my life I knew beyond all shadow of doubt that I was capable of committing murder. I could wrap my hands around the neck of those responsible for hurting Vanessa and squeeze with all my might until the life simply drained from their eyes. I wanted those bastards dead and I wanted it to happen sooner rather than later.

Monroe’s voice pulled me back to the present. I found him looking at me then back to Roarke as he asked, “Are the children okay? I was told Jase moved them and told the guards I had arranged to go home. Did you send another team to their new location?”

Ignoring the attorney’s question, Roarke turned his desk chair around and looked out the large picture window onto his perfectly manicured yard. I could feel him thinking, feel his fury simmering just below his perfectly veneered surface, and was amazed at his control. When he spoke, it was without turning around and his voice held the tiniest hint of suspicion. “And you have no news from Jose or any of his contacts in the police department?”

“No, but I’m to speak to him again in about an hour.”

“And the interrogations of our own people?”

“Well…th-that is taking a bit longer.” Sweat dotted Monroe’s upper lip as he stuttered his answer then quickly added, “But Sampson assures me they will be completed by the end of the day.”

Moving faster than my eyes could track, Roarke spun around in his chair, flew across the room, and had Monroe backed against the wall of his office with his hands around the attorney’s neck while seething through gritted teeth, “What aren’t you telling me, Monroe?” He leaned forward, pressing his thumb against the lawyer’s Adam’s apple, and spat, “What are you hiding?” Roarke leaned even closer, the tip of his nose touching the tip of the attorney’s and sniffed. “I can smell your fear, the reek of deceit, see that your hiding something in the depths of your soulless eyes.”

A door at the back of the room, one I hadn’t seen, burst open and in walked the biggest man I had ever seen, dressed in a tight black T-shirt, faded jeans, and looking like he was ready to rip anyone who stood in his way into pieces. He had to have been six-foot-ten with bulging muscles, long blonde hair, and wicked blue eyes. His voice was so deep it sounded like a growl as he addressed Roarke. “Sir?”

At the sight of the man, Monroe froze, his eyes bulging and his mouth hanging open. “Want to tell me again about Sampson doing the interrogations?” Roarke snarled.

Getting better at filling in the blanks as Monroe hung like a rag doll against the wall, I figured out that the blondie was Sampson, Monroe had lied and there were more hits coming. Leaning back, his eyes glued to Monroe’s, Roarke pulled his cell phone from his pocket, pressed a single digit, and put it to his ear.

The ringing and then a man answering filled the tense silence as an evil smile spread across Roarke’s face and he spoke into the phone, sounding as if it was a normal day and he wasn’t holding a man by the neck. “Jose? It’s Roarke. Yes, I’m fine. I wanted to see if Monroe had contacted you yet with my request for information.”

Two seconds of silence in which the smile on Roarke’s face turned from evil to downright scary. “Is that right? Haven’t heard from him for at least three weeks?”

Another second of Roarke listening to Jose speak and Monroe snapped out of his stupor and began to claw at the hand holding him hostage before Roarke signed off by saying, “I’ll be in touch soon.”

Tossing his phone to the side, the room was filled with the sound of cracking wood and breaking plastic as the device hit the oak paneling and millions of pieces of phone fell like confetti onto the wooden floor. Leaning farther back but increasing the pressure on Monroe’s neck, Roarke asked, “Want to tell me again about the phone call you’re expecting from Jose?”

“I…I c-can…expla…” Monroe struggled to speak but Roarke only increased the pressure on his neck and added a punch to the stomach as he growled, “Explain?” Another punch. “What would you like to explain?” Two more punches.

I knew as a nurse and a pretty decent human being that I should have felt bad for Monroe, but as I watched Roarke attempt to beat the answers out of one of the men responsible for Vanessa’s abduction, I admit to feeling nothing at all. Somewhere in my mind I rationalized that he was a vampire and would heal anyway, and that in the scheme of cosmic justice, he deserved everything he was getting. Mrs. Simpson, my third-grade Sunday School teacher, may not agree, but then again, she would’ve never believed in vampires either.

Getting nothing but wheezed pleas for mercy, Roarke flung the attorney into a chair I hadn’t seen Sampson retrieve from the far side of the room and stalked toward him like a lion tracking his prey. I could feel just how much he wanted to rip Monroe’s head from his body, feel his need for violence and vengeance mixing with what I could only describe as bloodlust as he took one step after another, staring down at the man who dared to betray him.

“Roarke…please…listen…you don’t understand,” Monroe begged.

Rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he stood in front of the attorney who was being held at the shoulders by Sampson, Roarke shrugged, “What exactly do I not understand?”

The sound of a hand slap echoed through the room a split second before Monroe cried out and a huge red handprint appeared across the left side of his face. Roarke had literally moved faster than I could see.

“I had no choice,” the attorney wailed as another smack rang out and another handprint appeared on the other side of his face.

Sobbing, Monroe begged, “Please…listen…I can help.”

“You can help?” Roarke grabbed him by the collar and punched him in the stomach before asking, “How can you help?

Coughing and gagging with tears running down his face, Monroe croaked, “I-I’m the only one who knows where they’re keeping her. I can take you there.”

Tightening the grip he had on Monroe’s collar and pulling the attorney toward him as Sampson held tightly to his shoulders, Roarke growled, “You can take me there?” just before the sound of joints popping filled the room and the attorney howled in pain.

Shoving the bawling man against the back of the chair, Roarke closed the distance between them, squeezed the attorney’s face between his thumb and forefinger until he looked like a weeping clown, and snarled, “You won’t be going anywhere, you worthless piece of shit. Now,” he squeezed harder, forcing a strangled shriek from Monroe’s lips before adding, “tell me where they are or I will rip you limb from limb, slowly and deliberately letting you live until all that is left is a pile of flesh and bones and then I will set it on fire and dance in the ashes.”

Sniveling and sobbing, trying to catch his breath, the lump that was Monroe sniveled, “Y-you h-h-have…*sob*… to t-t-take me with y-y-ou.” His sniffed while tears mixed with snot ran down his face. “Y-Y-You’ll n-n-ever….*sob*… get p-p-ast the guards… T-They’re everywhere.” His last words came out as a wail but ended in a gasp and more gagging as Roarke punched him in the stomach.

Grabbing Monroe by the hair, Roarke pulled his head back as far as it would go, glared down at him, and demanded, “Speak now or I swear I will behead you without a second thought.”

More coughing and gagging interspersed with begging and sniffling accompanied yet another plea for mercy. Closing both hands around the attorney’s neck, Roarke roared with barely contained violence as he lifted the man from the chair and threw him across the room. I watched in amazed horror as Monroe crashed into the middle of the floor-to-ceiling solid wooden bookcases with the loud crunch of breaking bones and slithered to the floor in a weeping pile of defeated vampire.

Grabbing the attorney by his arms and pulling him to his feet, Roarke was a man possessed. His rage was all encompassing, his need for justice overwhelming. I shuddered as Monroe’s already dislocated shoulders pulled farther from their sockets and the sickening sound of grinding bones made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

“S-stop…p-p-please s-s-stop,” Monroe coughed. “I-I-I’ll…t-tell you…e-e-everything.”

Throwing the weeping man over his shoulder, Roarke spun in his heels, threw Monroe back into the chair he’d just yanked him from, and growled, “Speak.”

It took several minutes but, between the gagging and sniveling, Monroe confessed everything as Roarke glowered, taking it all in. I pulled my cell phone from the pocket of my sweater and took notes. I had no doubt Roarke would remember everything that was said, but there was no way I would and there was no way he was leaving me out of any of it.

Monroe was winding down when another monster of a man, even larger than Sampson, with a bald head, arms covered in tattoos and another of a tombstone on the side of his neck, entered the room from that same door at the back. He walked straight to the center of the room and stood to the right of Sampson with one hand behind his back.  

The already strangling tension in the room spiked. Roarke leaned down and patted Monroe on the shoulder, ignoring the man’s cries of pain, and in a low, ominous rumbled said, “That’s good, Monroe. Thank you for your help.”

Trying to smile despite the pain, the attorney sniveled, “I-I’m so s-s-sorry …*sob* … Roarke. It-t-t’ll n-n-never happen a-again.”

Nodding, Roarke replied, “I know it won’t,” as he reached over Monroe’s head, took a long, shining sword from the bald man’s hand, and with a swing that I had no doubt he’d used a million times prior, separated the attorney’s head from his neck.

Unable to move, I gawked as Monroe’s head flew through the air and blood spewed like a fountain from the stump of his neck. Roarke turned toward me, dropped the sword, and said, “I am sorry you had to see that but I wanted you to understand how strongly I feel about honesty and loyalty.”

Covered in blood from his neck to his feet, he walked forward, stopping a few paces in front of me before he added, “And I heard your thoughts. You wanted to stay. I believe the exact words that flowed through your mind were ‘I dare him to try to make me leave.’ Am I correct?”

Chuckling, even though it somehow felt inappropriate with Roarke’s men carrying what was left of Monroe from the room, I nodded. “That’s exactly what I said.” I took a step forward and went on, “And that goes for trying to leave me out of rescuing Vanessa.”

His expression darkened and his brows furrowed. “But there will be rules. We will be out of the house and therefore, there will be many things out of my control. Your safety comes first and foremost. On this I will be obeyed.”

Warmth filled my heart. The feelings I had been pushing aside since the first time I saw him were multiplying, growing, and filling my being. I should be running away in fear after what I’d just witnessed, but I felt just the opposite. This man was willing to kill for me; willing to do whatever it took to keep me and those I loved safe.

He cared about more than my blood or the contract or the money or any of the other stuff that had brought us together…he cared about me. It only mattered that we were together. I knew he could feel what I felt, hear what I was thinking, and a burst of anxiety shot through me. Maybe he didn’t feel the same way, maybe I’d misread the situation, but then he smiled and with his rumbling reply made all my worries go away.

“You have nothing to fear, my sweet Katharine, nothing at all.”

Leaning forward, careful not to touch me with anything but his lips, he whispered, “Let me take a shower and then we’ll talk,” just before his lips touched mine.

Chapter Ten

I knew Roarke was powerful and had lived a long, long time, but I could’ve never guessed how extensive the network of people who were loyal to him actually was. As we prepared to rescue Vanessa, I was astounded by the sheer number of vampires and humans who arrived.

I had to smile as Kristiyan, a tall, blond vampire with an air of royalty, an accent to die for, and a very formal way of speaking, who Roarke described as ‘even older than me’ asked, “And you found it necessary to kill Monroe before finding out the number of combatants we were facing and their identities?” 

“Yes, Kristiyan. It was necessary to take his head before I pulled off his arms and beat him with them.”

I snickered as Roarke’s old friend raised his eyebrows and sighed. “Very well.”

With that discussion out of the way, Roarke began explaining to everyone where we were going and what we were doing. He made sure to let them know Vanessa was a close, personal, human friend and to thank them for coming when he called. From the bits and pieces of conversation I picked up and the way people responded to him, it was obvious Roarke had been very influential throughout his many lifetimes and had amassed a literal ton of friends.

I was the hot topic of conversation. It was very clear by the way the vampires all stared at me and every conversation stopped when I came anywhere near that I was a novelty. Tired of feeling like I had lipstick on my teeth or a hole in my pants, I asked Jase what was up. I figured the guy who’d saved my ass when people were shooting at me was as good a guy to get the truth from as any, and I was right.

Roarke’s driver and confidant looked me right in the eye and said, “No one’s ever seen the boss with anyone like you before.” He shrugged. “I mean, in the old days there were women but they were only for…” He paused and gave me the side eye, “Well, you know what they were for. Then when our existence became known, he had a few courtesans but they stayed out of sight and were gone when their contract was up.” The driver looked and after spotting Roarke across the room, he added, “For the last few years, since he came back, he’s been on bottled blood. You’re the first woman I’ve seen and definitely the only one I’ve ever seen him introduce to the likes of Kristiyan.”

“What do you mean since he came back?”

“Sorry, I thought Madame de Beaufort covered that in your training,” he smiled.

I shrugged. “They probably do, but mine was cut short.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” he nodded and went on. “Well, since we live so long, every thirty or forty years we have to die or move away to retire so people don’t start asking questions about why we’re not aging.” He took a sip of what appeared to be a very dark wine but that I had on good authority was a wine/blood mixture that most vampires enjoyed. “While they’re gone, another vampire runs their businesses and keeps things up to date and functioning. Then after a while, say twenty or thirty years, the vamp reappears as a distant relative and picks up where they left off. It’s a crazy cycle but one that’s worked for a long time for us. Now that we’re out most have stopped, but some of the old ones still do it. Not sure what the boss will do.” He finished his wine and placed the glass on the bar before adding, “Just got the sign from the boss. Gotta go get the SUV ready. Talk to ya later.”

“Sure thing,” I mumbled, deep in thought. It had never dawned on me that I would get old and wrinkly while Roarke stayed young and handsome. Whatever was going on between us had happened so fast. I wasn’t even sure he knew the depth of my feelings or if he felt the same way. Hell, I was freaking out. How did I, Katharine Worthy, dedicated vampire hater, end up falling for one of the very beings I hated in such a short amount of time. None of it made sense, but that didn’t matter to my heart.

We were supposed to talk after his shower, but the reinforcements started to arrive and I felt really selfish being all girlie and talking about my feelings when my best friend was being held captive by a bunch of scumbag vampires. Stuffing all of it to the back of my mind as I watched Roarke coming toward me, I plastered on a smile and asked, “Everyone ready?”

“They are,” he pulled me close. “Are you?”

As peppy as I could make it, I gave an Academy award winning performance as I said, “I am.”

Pausing and looking deeper into my eyes, Roarke grinned. “Nice try, but under the circumstances, you’re doing great.” He kissed my forehead and murmured, “You can always stay here and wait for me to bring Vanessa to you.”

Pulling back, I looked up in outrage. “No, I will not stay home and wait. I got us all into this and I’m going to see it through to the end.”

“Very well,” he sighed. “But remember your promise.” He raised an eyebrow. “You will do everything I tell you when I tell you and without question, yes? And if I tell you to stay back after we get there, you will do that also, right?”

“Yes, Roarke,” I groaned, rolling my eyes because it had to be the twentieth time he’d asked me the same questions. I wasn’t going out there to get killed, only to get my best friend back, and I repeatedly said that in not so many words.

The sound of a car horn stopped the chatter in the room. “That’s the signal. Jase has heard from Jose and we are a go,” Roarke instructed. “Everyone take the route you were assigned so we don’t spook any lookouts they may have. These men are street dealers and former junkies. Yes, I believe they have a leader, but for the most part they operate on street smarts. Remember that and act accordingly.”

All heads nodded as the vampires and humans alike filed out of the room, out the front door, and into their vehicles. I climbed into the back of the SUV Jase was driving while Roarke got in the front seat. Kristiyan also joined us, sitting in the back with me.

We traveled the forty-minutes to the abandoned warehouse where they were holding Vanessa in total silence. Working hard to keep positive, I ended up praying. There were times during those silent moments when I was sure Roarke was praying with me. I could feel the warmth of his presence and the power of his strength.

We hadn’t talked much about beliefs. To be fair, we hadn’t talked much about anything, but I had to believe a man who was one of the Knights Templar had believed in a higher power at some point in his life.

Shoving that away as Jase exited the highway and we began our convoluted route of back streets, Roarke’s phone rang. “Yes,” he answered.

The buzz of conversation filled the silence of the SUV before he took a deep breath and acknowledged, “I see.”

More conversation from the voice on the phone and then Roarke’s response of, “I believe we have that covered. If not, I’ll make the appropriate adjustments. We are five minutes out. Thank you for the call.”

I wanted to ask what was happening, but Madame de Beaufort’s words, ‘Be seen and not heard, Katharine’ rang in my head again. Had it only been Jase in the car with us, I would’ve spoken up, but with a vampire as old and staunch as Kristiyan, I bit my tongue and tapped my foot, promising myself to ask as soon as we got out of the SUV.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait as Roarke turned in his seat and looked at Kristiyan. “Do you remember the vampire we rescued from that Italian monastery during the Witch-Trials in the fifteen hundreds?”

The ancient vampire sat perfectly still and for a second, I wondered if he’d heard the question, then he began to nod his head. When he spoke, his accent was more pronounced and he seemed to be picturing the man in his mind. “Short, brawny, with a poor complexion and bad manners.”

“Yes,” Roarke grinned. “Guillermo. It seems he’s the man in charge of the illegal drug operation we are about to raid.”

“Well, one as old as he definitely knows the laws of our kind.” Kristiyan’s answer was blunt and emotionless. “I told you all those years ago that I believed the monks had broken his mind, but you said he was fit to live.”

“I agree, he needs to be dealt with appropriately,” Roarke replied. “As far as his state of mind five hundred years ago, I still stand by my decision to let him live.” There was a moment of silence and what looked like male posturing before he went on, “Your feelings on those following him? Doing his bidding?”

“We have always lived by a certain set of rules. If they have broken them, then they must face the consequences. Although I doubt Guillermo gave them a proper introduction into our world, ignorance is not an excuse for immoral actions. In my experience, morality is part of the person, not the species.” He looked at me and his blue eyes glowed in the darkness. I had no doubt he was reading my mind. I couldn’t feel it, but the power filling the space between us made the hair on my arms stand on end.

Looking back at Roarke he added, “This woman…Vanessa, she is important to your courtesan and therefore, important to you. She is human and thus should not have been involved in this matter. The choice is clear. We clean the nest.”

Roarke’s response confirmed my suspicions about Kristiyan’s meaning. “I agree. Save the girl. Execute the rest.”

For a split second, I almost asked if that was completely necessary, but I once again bit my tongue and sat back. This was their rodeo. I was just along to make sure my friend got home in one piece.

Slowing to a crawl, Jase turned off the headlights as Roarke pointed out the windshield. “It’s the one in the back according to Jose’s informant.”

“Very well.” Kristiyan cleared his throat. “Then I shall take my leave and see you at the battle’s end.” Without another word and so fast all I felt was the breeze from his actions, the ancient vampire was out of the car and out of sight.

Turning off the engine, Jase sat silently as Roarke got out, came around, opened my door, and helped me to the ground. I could feel a speech coming on so I headed him off at the pass. Placing my palms on his chest, I smiled. “Thank you for doing this. Thank you for everything, especially not leaving me behind to sit and wait and worry.” I stood up on my toes and gave him a quick kiss. “I promise to do whatever you ask without question.”

Shaking his head, he sighed. “I do believe you will be the death of me, Katharine.”

“You better not die on me,” I ordered, swatting his arm to make my point.

“Not a chance,” he kissed me hard and fast then turned, grabbed my hand, and led me to the edge of the ten-foot chain link fence that was supposed to keep the riffraff out.

The streetlights had been broken and the parking lot lights literally ripped from the concrete and left to lay where they fell. It all reminded me of a scene from a slasher film. I thanked God for Roarke’s night vision. Without it, I had no doubt I would’ve broken my neck.

Looking at his watch, he whispered, “Thirty seconds,” and squeezed my hand.

Counting to thirty in my head, the way I had so many times when taking a patient’s pulse, I was right in step with Roarke as he jogged around the back of the fence and with one hand, ripped open a hole in the metal fencing big enough for us to walk through. Following the perimeter, we headed to the farthest of the huge garage doors at the back of the building.

A flash here, a whistle there, all signaled that everyone was in place at the precise moment we reached the door Jose’s informant was to have unlocked for us. With his fingers wrapped around the handle, Roarke looked at me and mouthed, “Ready?”

Nodding, I held my breath as he pushed the door up, grabbed me around the waist, and sped into the abandoned structure. If possible, it was even darker inside as the stale scent of mold and mildew made my eyes water. I could only imagine how Roarke felt with his super senses but didn’t dare bother him as he ran as fast as he could with me in his arms and while staying to the black shadows along the back wall.

Reaching what looked like a cage with a thick metal chain and huge lock holding the door closed, Roarke set my feet on the ground. Looking at his watch again, he held up his hand and silently counted down, five…four…three…two…one. No sooner had his pinky finger fallen than he ripped open the lock and kicked open the door.

The clatter of the chain hitting the floor could barely be heard over the shouts of “What the fuck!”, “Hold it right there”, “Drop it fucker” and many other taunts I couldn’t make out.

Being scooped off the ground and flying down a pitch-black corridor wasn’t nearly as scary as the fact that we were heading straight for the gunfire that had just started. I could see the bursts of light and hear the ricochets as all-out war broke out less than a hundred yards way. My heart broke as visions of a helpless Vanessa tied to a chair stuck in the middle of a vampire turf war flooded my mind.

Stopping at one of the many doors inset in small recesses lining the hallway, Roarke set me on my feet, grabbed my chin, looked me straight in the eye, and said, “Stay right here, Katharine. I’ll be right back.”

Before I could answer, hell, even before I could breathe, he was gone. The sounds of fighting increased. My imagination, fed by the sounds of gunfire, shouts, and agonizing wails, ran full speed to the absolute worst conclusions possible.

Shaking with a combination of rage and fear and feeling totally useless, I’d had enough. Yes, I’d promised to stay put, but there was no way I could stand idly by for one more second while those I loved were in danger. Poking my head out the alcove Roarke had left me in, I made sure I was alone and crept out of hiding.

With my back against the wall, I shuffled down the hall, constantly looking one way and then the other until I made it the next nook, where I ducked in and took a deep breath. My hands shook, sweat rolled down my back, and my head pounded from the overload of adrenalin, but I wasn’t giving up. I was sure I could help. Repeating my actions from before, I made it another door closer to the action and this time knelt to avoid being caught in the beam of an oncoming flashlight.

“Which door was it?” a young man with gold teeth that glowed in the darkness asked.

“How the hell am I supposed to know? It was your job to stay with her, not be out smoking a bowl,” another young guy, this one with a north-eastern accent and carrying the flashlight, chastised.

“How the hell was I supposed to know we were gonna be invaded. Who the hell are those guys anyway?”

“I don’t know and I don’t want to find out. G said if there was trouble, we were to take the bitch out in the woods, put a bullet in her head, and run.” He slapped the other guy on the arm, motioning with the flashlight to try the door ahead to my left. “And that’s what we’re gonna do.”

“Whatever you say, Jaz.” The younger of the two agreed, then added after looking through the window at the top of the door, “Not this one either.”

The sounds of gunfire grew louder. The guy with gold teeth turned and ran down the hall, yelling in a loud whisper, “Come on, Jaz. Let’s get the hell outta dodge. Let that bitch die on her own.”

The fight was moving toward us and the two guys in charge of Vanessa were not hanging around to be a part of it. I wanted to throw my fist in the air. Finally, a break. But then it dawned on me; if they hadn’t been able to find her, how was I?

Not a second later, the sound of metal scraping concrete cut through the gunfire. Holding my breath and listening for it again, I nearly cried when I heard it again. Vanessa! I shouted in my mind, following the direction of the sound back the way I had just come. Three doors down, I heard a muffled cry.

Trying the door, I was shocked to find it unlocked. Carefully pushing it open, I stuck my head in and blinked rapidly. I could see nothing. There were no windows and Vanessa had stopped moving. The only thing I could think to do was call her name.

Walking all the way into the room and leaning against the door, I whispered, “Vanessa! It’s me! Kat!”

A scrape sounded from the corner of the room followed by garbled speech that I followed with my hands out in front of me until I touched Vanessa’s shoulder. Pulling my cell phone, the one Roarke had told me not to bring, out of my pocket, I switched on the flashlight. Yeah, I was disobeying, but I had to see to untie her hands.

Shining the light in her face, I bit back the tears. My sweet friend had two black eyes, a broken nose, her lip bled from two different cuts, and her jaw was so swollen I doubted she could speak without sounding like a prize fighter.

Carefully pulling the dirty bandana out of her mouth, I couldn’t help but hug her when she croaked, “I knew you’d come.”

“Never leave a girl behind.” I repeated the line we’d used all during nursing school as I let go and moved to the back of the chair to untie her hands.

“We gotta move quick. Can you stand?” I asked when her hands were free and I was back in front, untying her ankles.

Nodding, she whispered, “Yeah, let’s just go.”

Up and on the move, I led the way while holding onto Vanessa’s hand for dear life. Sticking my head out the door, I made sure no one was in the hallway, pulled my best friend out of her prison, and took off running.

Reaching the cage Roarke had ripped open, I realized not only was there fighting behind us but also in front of us. Crouching in the corner with my arm around Vanessa, I peeked between two tall filing cabinets and looked for a way to escape without being seen or getting shot.

Pointing, I showed Vanessa a path to a back door that went through what must’ve been some kind of office with no door and all the windows broken out. Nodding that she understood, I counted down from three with my fingers the way Roarke had, and off we went.

Not looking back, just running as fast as I could and keeping a hold of my best friend, I ignored all the gunfire and shouts. I had made up my mind that I would stop running when we got to the SUV and not a step before.

Pushing open the door to the outside, I slammed it shut and smiled when a piece of the frame fell down and blocked whoever was trying to follow. Racing along the dark fence line, retracing the path Roarke had taken me to get into that hellhole, I kept pulling Vanessa along, and when we reached the hole he’d torn in the fence, I pushed her through and jumped after.

Running full speed in the dark over rocks, debris, and fallen branches was way easier when I was being carried. Tripping for the second time, my blood ran cold when I heard several shots and felt a bullet whizz past my head. Pushing Vanessa into the tall weeds, I dove in behind, ordered her to her knees, and together, we crawled as fast as we could. Well aware that we couldn’t outrun one vampire, let alone a herd of them, I prayed the sounds I heard ahead of us were friendly.

No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than Roarke’s harsh whisper called out, “Damn you, Katharine!” as his arm wound around my waist and he lifted me off the ground. Looking up, I saw Kristiyan had a shivering, panting Vanessa in his arms but before I could comment, we were speeding away.

Reaching the SUV, my feet barely touched the ground before I was forcing Vanessa into the back and quickly checking her wounds. I could feel Roarke seething behind me and knew there was going to be hell to pay when all this was over. But I would take my lumps as long as it meant having my best friend alive and away from those maniacs.

Moving down her body, I saw fresh blood staining the front of her torn T-shirt. Pushing the fabric up to reveal her stomach, I found nothing but superficial bruising and a few abrasions. At the sound of Roarke’s phone ringing, I spun on my knees to see who it was and my vision blurred. It felt as if the SUV was spinning and I was suddenly very cold.

Roarke’s eyes met mine then looked down my body just before he bellowed, “Katharine!”

White hot pain shot through my abdomen. Grabbing my stomach, I felt something warm and sticky as I started falling forward. Roarke’s hands slid under my arms and pulled me out of the SUV. Running around the vehicle, he jumped into the backseat, pulled the door shut, and roared, “The hospital, Jase! Now! Drive!”

His voice sounded far away. His face was out of focus and the movement of the car made it feel like I was flying. Laying across Roarke’s lap, he gingerly placed his hand on my cheek and begged, “Stay with me, Katharine. Stay with me. We’ll be there in a minute.”

My world was going black. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I wanted to tell Roarke that it wasn’t his fault, that I’d made my own choice and had saved my friend. I wanted him to understand that it didn’t matter and that gunshots hurt like hell, but I couldn’t speak.

My head became too heavy to hold up. My limbs felt like they were full of lead and all I wanted to do was sleep while Roarke kept begging me to stay awake. Finally, I had no choice. The darkness was taking me away.

The last thing I heard before my world turned black was Roarke whispering, “I love you. Damn you, Katharine, I love you.”

Chapter Eleven

I slowly drifted to consciousness to the beep, beep, beep of a heart monitor and the smell of fresh flowers mixed with a hint of antiseptic. Every bone, muscle, and cell in my body hurt, making me think it might just be better to stay asleep. But the sound of a man clearing his throat had my brain screaming Roarke! and my eyes popping open. Unfortunately, it was only Detective Taylor in his cheap suit and off-putting cologne.

“Hello, Miss Worthy, how are you feeling?”

The thought of telling him, “Like shit” and rolling over to show him my butt crossed my mind, especially after the way he’d treated me on our last meeting, but I didn’t really have the energy so I said, “Not sure. I just woke up.”

“Yes, I know.” He sounded irritated. “I’ve been waiting for three days to speak to you.”

Three days? Well, that explained how every flower in the Dallas/Fort Worth area got into my room. As far as I could see, it was a wall of blooms, buds, and blossoms. Then I thought, wait, he’s pissed that he had to wait to speak to me about only God knows what after I was shot and unconscious for three days? Okay, now I was irritated.

“Yeah, well a gunshot to the stomach will do that for ya’.”

I saw the flicker of something ominous in his eyes as he went on, “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I tried to avoid bothering you, but your friends,” he looked at his notebook as if verifying something, and then continued, “A Miss Vanessa Espinosa, a Mr. Roarke, and a Mr. Kristiyan, were unable to give me any information?’

“About the gunshot or my stomach?”

He obviously didn’t like my sense of humor. I almost laughed out loud when the muscle above his right eye started to jump and he gritted his teeth so hard I wondered if he should be calling his dentist, but Detective Taylor powered on. It seemed he was on some kind of mission.

“I’m here to ask you about the shooting at the old Hamilton warehouse and the disappearance of Mr. Monroe,” he paused, raised an eyebrow, and then added with a healthy dose of sarcasm, “your attorney.”

As a nurse, it has always been my job to listen to not only the words that people are saying but, more importantly, the ones they aren’t, and to take cues from the look in their eyes during those seconds of silence when they are thinking of what to say next. Inevitably, someone who is trying to deceive will give it all up in that tiny span of time. They don’t even know they’re doing it, but there’s a look in their eyes that says, “I’m lying to you and want you to just go along with it.” Detective Taylor had that look combined with a healthy dose of anger and a great big bunch of malicious intent. All I had to do was figure out why. It was time to ask a few questions and play the I’ve just been shot card.

With wide eyes and a little cough, I replied, “I haven’t seen Mr. Monroe in a few days.” It wasn’t a lie because, well, I’d been unconscious for three days according to the good detective.

“You’ve had no contact with him at all?”

“No, not at all.” I shook my head.

“And about the shooting at the abandoned Hamilton Casket Works…”

He let the question hang to see if I would bite. Thankfully, there were still a lot of drugs running through my system that kept my heart rate from jumping as I lied, “I have no idea what happened there. I was shot during a mugging outside the Adolphus.” My only hope was that I could get to Vanessa, Roarke, and Kristiyan to have them corroborate my lie before the flatfoot did.

“But the police weren’t called?”

“I most certainly didn’t call them. To the best of my recollection, a crook tried to take my purse, shot me when I wouldn’t give it him, I fell to the ground bleeding, and he ran off.” I maintained eye contact and tried my best to control my breathing but to be honest, all of this stress was pushing the pain meds out of my system way quicker than normal and I felt like my body was about to break apart.

“And who called the ambulance?”

Thankfully, I didn’t have to answer as the door burst open and in walked Vanessa with a nurse, a doctor, and hospital security. The doctor, who I’d seen but couldn’t remember his name, immediately went after Detective Taylor. “Did I not tell you that when and if Miss Worthy was healthy enough to speak with you one of my staff would call to set up an appointment?”

“Yes, but…”

“And did I not make it abundantly clear that she had coded twice during surgery and it could be weeks before she was well enough to answer your bothersome questions?”

Detective Taylor’s eye was twitching double time, his jaw was clinched, and he had thrown back his shoulders as he took a step forward and accused, “Dr. Thomas, are you trying to impede a police investigation?”

With a smug look that only an experienced physician can get when you challenge him on his turf, Dr. Thomas stepped forward and, with a sarcastic smile, replied, “No, I am telling you that my patient is not well enough to speak to you now and that this officer,” he pointed at hospital security, “will be escorting you to the elevator.” He took another step forward, crowding the detective and pressing in on him with his two-inch height advantage. “Furthermore, if I see you harassing Miss Worthy again, I will be filing a complaint with your superiors.”

Detective Taylor turned a brilliant color of red but knew he’d been beaten; at least for the time being. Taking a deep breath, he plastered on an evil smile, turned and looked me in the eye, and growled, “I will get my answers,” then left with hospital security.

Letting out the breath I’d been holding as soon as the latch on the door sounded, I let my head flop back on the pillow and stared at the plain white ceiling tiles. Never one to miss an opportunity to give me hell, Vanessa touched my hand and chuckled, “So, you’re awake and already making friends. That’s good.”

Raising my head up, I rolled my eyes at my best friend, saw Dr. Thomas reading my chart at the end of the bed, and then noticed there was a vampire missing from the room. “Where’s Kristiyan?”

Vanessa shrugged, “No clue. He moves too fast for me.”

Walking to the other side of my bed, Dr. Thomas checked my IV then my sutures and asked, “Did you want the whole doctor speech or would you rather just read your own chart? I remember you from my rotation in the ER when I first started here. I have no doubt you can diagnose and probably treat yourself, but I appreciate you letting me do the surgery.” He smiled and I had to snicker even though it made my stitches pull and my stomach feel like it was on fire.

“If you don’t mind, just bottom line it for me.”

After listening to all that they repaired inside of me and how much blood I’d lost, there was no doubt I was lucky to be alive. I had a feeling Roarke had something to do with that. Our blood bond was stronger than before. I couldn’t hear his thoughts, it felt as though they’d been blocked, but his emotions were broadcasting loud and clear. He was cranky, tired, and doing something he didn’t want to be doing.

I tuned back to Dr. Thomas just as he said, “You will need to be here at least another week. That nick in your liver was significant and I want to make sure there are no complications before I sign off on your release.” He smiled. “Any questions?”

“Yes, can you hand me the control for the morphine pump?”

Winking as he placed the handheld device on the bed, he said, “I wondered how long it would take.” He patted my shoulder. “Don’t be a hero. Take the medicine when you need it. Sleep, eat, recuperate, you know…do all the things you tell your patients to do.”

Giving a lazy salute, I agreed. “You got it, doc,” as I hit the button for my pain meds. The warm fissure of morphine filled my veins and spread throughout my body, making me feel like I was on a cloud where nothing would ever hurt again.

Vanessa’s face blurred. I heard her laugh and felt her pat my arm. “I’m gonna let you rest. You need it. I have an appointment to have my tooth fixed anyway.” Kissing me on the cheek, she added, “That bastard broke it when he hit me. But your vamp and his scary friend fixed him.” Squeezing my hand, she promised, “I’ll be back in the morning and if you’re good and don’t give anyone a hard time or try to be your own nurse, I’ll sneak you in an asiago bagel with veggie cream cheese.”

I wanted to beg for that damned bagel, ask her what she was talking about when she said ‘they fixed him’, and find out where Roarke was, along with a million other things, but I couldn’t get my mouth to work. My body was demanding rest now that the pain was gone and that’s all there was to it.

The next time I opened my eyes the room was dark except for the nightlight in the corner by the bathroom that all patients’ rooms were required to have. My mouth was dry, my butt was asleep, and I wanted to see Roarke. Slowly rolling to my side to get a drink of water, a long, tall shadow moved against the far wall. The beeping of my heart monitor went nuts as I snapped my head around to see who was in my room and got a pillow shoved in my face.

 My head crashed onto the bed as my attacker pushed the pillow against my nose and mouth with incredible speed. Trapped between the bed and the pillow, unable to breathe, I scratched at the gloved hands attempting to end my life while kicking and flailing about.

Nothing I did helped. My lungs burned with the need for oxygen. My heart pounded against the confines of my ribs. I felt the impending darkness closing in all around me but still, I fought. I wouldn’t die now, not after everything I’d survived, not after finding Roarke.

Deciding on a new approach to my losing battle, I had just twisted my shoulders in a last-ditch effort to get free when an inhuman roar shook the walls of my room. The pressure on my face immediately disappeared, the pillow was ripped from my face, and my attacker flew over the end of my bed.

Gasping for air, trying to catch sight of both the assailant and my savior in the shards of light from one tiny nightlight, I pushed the emergency call button on the side of my bed for help. When nothing happened, no red light, no voice over the intercom, I pushed again. Still no answer. It was then I realized that my bed had been unplugged. Smart killer. He made sure I couldn’t call for help.

Watching as again, my attacker went airborne, this time landing in the corner on his head with a nauseating crunch—the unmistakable sound of a neck breaking—I cringed. Looking at the foot of my bed, I saw the outline of a tall man with glowing blue eyes. “Kristiyan?” I asked in shock.

“Yes, madam, it is I.” He moved to the side of my bed. “It would seem that you are not safe anywhere.”

“What?” I croaked, obviously in shock and still not sure what had happened. 

“There is no time for questions.” His accent was thick and clipped. I had to remember to ask him where he was from, unless someone else tried to kill me before I had the chance. “I must dispose of the detective’s body and then get you to safety. It is the least I can do for Roarke.”

“Detective? Taylor?” I gasped.

“Yes,” was his only response as he went to the dead officer, threw his body over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing, and headed for the door. Opening it just enough to look out, he glanced over his shoulder and said, “I will be right back,” before disappearing into the dim light of the hallway.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long, since all I could do was lay in the darkness as the adrenalin wore off and the pain returned. My bed had been unplugged, making it impossible for me to even turn the light on, and I was somehow sure at least a few of my stitches had been torn so I didn’t dare move. Opening the door and striding in like he’d just had a latte, not disposed of a dead detective, Kristiyan walked straight to my bed and put the side rail down before stating, “I will be taking you to Madame de Beaufort at the Adolphus. It is not safe here. Do not worry, you will have the best of care. Everything here has been taken care of. Your Dr. Thomas has signed all the paperwork for you to have private care.”

“Wow, you’ve been busy,” was all I could say.

Nodding, he looked at my heart monitor and IV then asked, “Can you unhook all of this?” His hand motioned to the equipment. “I have been told by the doctor you will be in a bit of pain without it, but I promise to make the trip across town very quickly.”

Instead of answering his question, I asked one of my own, “Where is Roarke?”

Looking directly at me, the ancient vampire replied with a deadpan expression, “He is making the world safe for humanity.” He leaned forward and I felt myself falling into his eyes as he said, “You are too smart for you own good sometimes, are you not, Katharine Worthy?”

Nodding, because suddenly it was important I do and say whatever he asked, I listened intently as Kristiyan continued, “Now, you will sleep.”

Again, I was nodding. Something in my brain was screaming you’ve been mesmerized, but I didn’t care. It felt right to do what Kristiyan wanted and so, I closed my eyes and fell right to sleep.

The sounds of chatter and the smell of coffee pulled me from my slumber, closely followed by the growling of my stomach. Opening my eyes, I immediately recognized the bedroom in my suite at the Adolphus, but this time it was filled to overflowing with flowers. Some I thought I’d seen at the hospital, others looked new.

Then, as if the channel in my brain had changed, the recent past came rushing back. I remembered Detective Taylor trying to kill me. Kristiyan killing him and then being mesmerized. I thought about getting upset at the ancient vampire’s highhandedness but then dismissed the idea. It had been for the best. I was in no condition to travel while awake.

Looking to the side, I saw that my IV had been replaced. Pulling up a new hospital gown, I found fresh stitches and the drain tube removed. Kristiyan had assured me the best of care and it appeared that was exactly what I was getting.

Thinking about trying to get up, all my thoughts fled as the bedroom door flew open and in strolled Jacques. His mohawk was now flaming red, his outfit a pair of black leather pants that looked as if they’d been painted on, a leopard-print silk shirt opened to just above the navel, and knee-high black leather boots. He squealed, “Thank God, you’re awake, Doll. I thought I was gonna have to pinch you.”

“What? Why? How long have I been asleep this time?”

Throwing his head back and barking with laughter, Jacques replied, “This time… priceless. Only about thirty-six hours.” Plopping down next to my legs, he added, “Nothing like the time I partied with Alice Cooper. I think I slept for a week before waking up in a tour bus headed for Toronto with no pants and a Marilyn Monroe tattoo. But that’s a story for another day.”

Although I enjoyed Jacques and all his stories, I wanted to know about another man, the one who had been mysteriously absent since I’d been shot. The one who said he loved me. Waiting for my former dresser, at least I thought he was former and not present, to take a breath, I jumped in with, “Who all is here?” as soon as he paused.

A knowing grin curved his gloss-covered lips. “Just Madame and I. who were you expecting?”

Picking at the imaginary lint on my blanket, I shrugged, “No one in particular.”

“Liar,” he teased just as the door opened and in walked a private nurse and a tall, thin, serious-looking man who had to be the doctor. Jacques excused himself, promising to come back later.

For the next two hours, I was examined, helped with a bath, dressed in a gorgeous cream silk short-sleeved gown with matching robe, and put back to bed. The doctor had left after pronouncing me ready to have my IV taken out and instructed that I take oral pain killers as needed. He was shocked at how quickly I was healing. I almost laughed out loud while thinking Yeah, vampire blood will do that for ya’, but thought better about freaking out the guy helping me get well.

My nurse, Lillian, was a really nice, newly graduated RN who admitted to being nervous because I was also a RN. After assuring her that she was doing a great job, things seemed to go smoothly and we ended up laughing over shared stories of our schooling and training as I ate my chicken broth and Jell-O, which could’ve been Prime Rib and a baked potato it tasted so good.

Worn out from actually moving about after so many days in bed, I fell asleep not long after eating and dreamed of Roarke. The next morning when I woke, I was the one who was cranky and tired. I wanted to know why he hadn’t come to see me. Why he wasn’t staying with me. He had filled the damn suite with flowers, but I wanted him, not his gifts. What was happening? Did they get all the drug dealers? How were the kids? Why had Detective Taylor tried to kill me? Why was Kristiyan here? And most importantly, did he really love me?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It had been three weeks since I’d been moved back to the hotel in the dead of the night after damned near being killed. I still wasn’t released for anything but moving around the suite and taking my own showers. The doctor was still monitoring my liver functions but all seemed to be going well.

I had Jacques who kept me entertained, Vanessa who visited when she wasn’t working, and Madame de Beaufort, who was actually nice to me when she thought I wasn’t looking. Kristiyan visited every day, always with an excuse that Roarke was taking care of his business and I would see him soon. He was, however, able to fill in a few of the blanks regarding the drug dealers, Guillermo, and my kids.

“Guillermo was but a low-level henchman in what appears to be a worldwide drug cartel. With him dead, there is a hole in the operation here in Dallas that Roarke is working to make permanent.”

“There are more vampires involved in the illegal drug trade?”

Nodding, he tapped his chin with his index finger where it rested on his hand as he sat watching me. “But of course, vampires, humans, all manner of beings – the whole world is made of good and bad. One cannot survive without the other. It is a symbiotic relationship. We just have to keep the bad docile and that is what we shall strive to do as we discover more of this network of evil-doers.”

I had a feeling Kristiyan had not always been on the ‘good’ side but for what it was worth, I was glad we were compatriots in this war. But I still had questions. “And why did Detective Taylor try to kill me?”

“He was being paid by Guillermo, as well as other corrupt officers, for information and drugs that were in evidence being held at the police lock-ups all over the city. You simply knew too much. It was he and Monroe who planted the evidence and they made up the charges that you had stolen narcotics. As I understand, you were going to be incarcerated and then have a tragic accident. When that didn’t work and Monroe disappeared, Taylor had to improvise.”   

“Wow, and all because I helped the kids they were abusing.” I shook my head as he nodded. “Speaking of my kids, how are they?”

“They are well. They want to see you but understand you are recuperating. I understand there are more coming and talk of an orphanage and school are in the works. It seems the network of drug-dealing vampires as you call it and their abuse of children is far and wide.”

I shook my head. “But at least y’all are working to make things right?”

“Indeed.” He scoffed. “Roarke more than I, but he knows I am available. He only need call.”

I smiled at the aloof vampire for about the hundredth time and then remembered something I wanted to ask. “Do all the old vampires only use one name like you and Roarke?”

Giving me a coy look, Kristiyan snickered. Well as much as I believe the stiff and formal Kristiyan ever snickers, and said, “You really should be asking Roarke about this. He is, after all, only a phone call away.” Then with a wink, “And is, after all, who you truly want to speak to.”

Pulling the afghan up to my chin, I snuggled into the mass of pillows Jacques insisted I had to have to feel better and grumbled, “Is his phone broken? I’m the one who was hurt.”

Kristiyan’s shoulders bounced as he held in his laughter. I knew I was being petty, laying around and pouting. Yes, I could’ve called him, but he was supposed to come to me. We were blood bound so I knew he was thinking of me, just like he knew I was thinking of him. No, I hadn’t heard any more of his thoughts, but all the emotions were there. He was cranky and pining and miserable. Besides, he was the one who’d said I love you. He needed to man up.

I was just about to say exactly that when the doorbell to my suite rang. Figuring it was another bunch of flowers and not wanting to have to smile and say thank you, I slid farther down into the couch and yelled for Jacques to get it. When he didn’t answer and the bell sounded the second time, I tried to look pathetic and even kind of whined when I asked, “Kristiyan, will you get the door for me?”

Shaking his head, he shrugged. “It is not for me. This is not my home.”

Throwing off the afghan, shoving my feet into my slipper, and standing up, I huffed, “Thanks, Kris. Just thanks,” purposely using the nickname I’d made up for him that he absolutely detested. Stomping to the door and grumbling about stupid vampires, I yelled, “I’m coming,” when the bell sounded for the third time.

Throwing open the door without looking out the peep hole, I gasped at the sight of Roarke, dressed in jeans, a sweater, and his leather jacket, handing me a single red rose. Before I could speak, he asked, “May I come in?” Then held up his hand and added, “But before you answer, make sure that if you say yes, I can stay forever.”

Chapter Twelve

I was stunned silent, staring at the man I loved, not sure if I was dreaming, when of its own volition, my hand reached out and took the rose. It was then I could finally speak.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

The thought of slamming the door crossed my mind, but the look on his face said he really was confused. ‘Men, no matter of their species, really are clueless.’ Jacques’ words echoed through my mind. I gave us both a break and said, “When you said you loved…when I was dying…did you mean it, Roarke?”

He started to answer but the words wouldn’t stop. I had held it all inside for so long, my heart and soul had to be heard. “I mean, you left me alone. You didn’t call, you didn’t text, not even a note, just bouquet after bouquet of flowers.” I waved the rose in front of him. “Which don’t get me wrong is nice, but where were you? I needed you. I…”

His lips slammed to mine, demanding entrance, accepting nothing less than my unconditional surrender and acceptance of the fact that he was as in love with me as I was with him. My feet left the ground as he walked us into the suite, still kissing me, his tongue stroking mine, stoking the fires of desire and passion that was only and forever all for him.

I heard the door slam, but we were still moving. My legs wound around his waist. It seemed like forever since I’d seen him, touched him, held him in my arms, but also like we’d never been apart. Our hearts beat as one.

At the sound of a deep, rumbling chuckle, I tore my mouth from Roarke’s and laid my forehead on his shoulder, whispering, “Oh crap, Kristiyan.” Then a little louder but still hiding my embarrassment, “I’m sorry, K…”

Roarke took over where my words would’ve failed. “Good to see you, Kristiyan.”

“And you, Roarke.” I could hear the levity in his voice, making me blush even more. “I’ll let myself out.” Another chuckle. “Unless you’d like me to stay?”

I have no idea what Roarke said or what look he gave his old friend, but for the first time I heard Kristiyan laugh out loud. It was low and rumbling, like his speaking voice, but with a musical quality that made me smile. The only thing I heard before Roarke let go of my legs and I slid down his body was the opening and closing of the door.

Grinning up at Roarke, I giggled, “Did Kristiyan leave so soon?”

Placing his hands on either side of my face, Roarke gave me a quick kiss and smiled. “I have missed you so much.”

I knew it was probably the wrong time, thought about waiting until we’d properly made up, but that’s not the kind of girl I am. If something is bothering me, I need to get if my chest. So, placing my hands on his forearms, I looked deep into those beautifully expressive grey eyes of his and asked, “If you missed me, why did you make me wait so long?”

Taking a deep breath, he looked even deeper into my eyes and, in that instant, it felt like a door between our minds had been opened. I could not only feel his emotions but now, I could once again hear his thoughts, and every single one was centered around me. I tried not to smile, thought it might make me look egotistical, but in the end, I gave up and grinned from ear-to-ear.

Laying his forehead against mine, he sighed. “And that is one of the many reasons I love you.” He paused, kissed the tip of my nose, and went on, “I waited because I had this crazy notion that you had to make the decision to be with me on your own, that I might in some way influence your choice.”

I opened my mouth to speak but Roarke continued, “This is hard for me to admit. I suppose it would be hard for anyone to admit, but you must remember how old I am, how long I’ve lived, and in what time period I was born. I had to be sure. I had to know it was forever. After all, it was me who started all this.”

When he paused, I asked, “And why did you…start all this?”

Lifting his head and looking at me like I’d just asked if the moon was made of green cheese, Roarke narrowed his eyes and, with true wonder in his voice, he asked, “Do you really not know? How could you not know?”

Not sure what was happening but knowing whatever it was, it was going to be big, I shook my head.

“No, I guess you couldn’t know because I never told you.” Roarke nodded. “Do you remember the welcome speech the Chief Administrator gave on your first day at Methodist Dallas Medical Center?”

Nodding, I held my breath.

“What you didn’t know as you sat trying to stay awake for ninety plus minutes of boring bureaucratic rhetoric was that I was there too, and that I’d seen you, sensed you, from the first moment you walked into that auditorium. I had no idea who you were or why you meant so much to me, just that you did.”

“But that was over two years ago…” was all I could say.

“Yes…yes, it was, and for all that time, I wondered how to approach you, how to get to know you. I knew I wanted you. I knew you were the only one for me, so I waited. Time was, after all, on my side.” He let out a long breath then added, “I never thought I would get to know you as my courtesan, but when the opportunity presented itself, I jumped on it.”

“But…me?”

“Yes, you. I saw you and I wanted you. I knew it deep in my soul or my heart or whatever we vampires have, that you were the only woman for me and I was willing to wait a lifetime to make that come true.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, what to ask, what I even wanted to know. It was all like something out of a romance novel. I loved him, he loved me but…but… Oh hell, that was all that mattered. With a world full of unhappy people looking for love, I had found mine. It didn’t matter that he was a vampire. It didn’t matter that he was way, way, way older than me. It didn’t even matter that he was going to live forever and I probably had about sixty years left. All that was important was that I adored him, he made me happy, and he completed me in ways I hadn’t known existed. The rest we’d work out as we went. 

Smashing my lips to Roarke’s, I kissed him with everything in me. I wanted, no…I needed him to know that there had never been and never would be anyone for me but him. His arms came around my waist as he once again lifted me off the ground and headed toward my room.

Pulling me tighter and kissing up my neck, he whispered in my ear, “Katharine, I have missed you so much.”

Crossing the threshold, he tasted and teased his way back down my neck while his hands worked their magic, stripping me down to my black sports bra and panties before I knew what was happening. For a split second, I wished I had sexier lingerie on and opened my mouth to give a half-hearted protest, but Roarke was quicker.

Covering my lips with his, he kissed me with such passion and single-minded desire that all thoughts of everything but he and I together fled from my brain. The contrast of the cool air at my back and the trails of fire Roarke’s hands were leaving as he touched and massaged every inch of my body only added to the sensuality of the moment.

The fabric at my waist pulled tight. The ripping of fabric filled the air as I felt the cotton of my panties touch my legs as it floated to the ground. His hands closed over the globes of my butt and held me tight, rolling his hips against mine. Goose bumps covered my body as his denim-covered erection teased my excited clit. Tearing my lips from his, I gasped, unable to get enough air as every cell in my body pushed me to strip Roarke bare and show him exactly how much I loved him.

Sliding my hands under the shoulders of his leather jacket, I pushed it down his arms, letting it fall to the floor before slipping my fingers under the woven silk of his sweater. The electricity of our connection burst to life. My body tingled in places I didn’t know I had. My every thought and action was focused on making love to the man in my arms.

Ripping his sweater over his head at the same time he pulled my bra over mine, our eyes met, my hardened nipples met the granite planes of his chest, and I felt the proof of my arousal wet the inside of my thighs. Roarke’s pupils dilated, his nostrils flared, and a growl rumbled from deep within his chest.

His nose slid up the column of my neck as he inhaled and groaned, “You smell good enough to eat.”

No sooner had the words crossed his lips than Roarke picked me up and sped across the room, laid me on the bed with my legs hanging over the edge, and dropped to his knees, commanding, “Put your legs over my shoulders.”

Obeying without a second thought, I shivered as he began to nibble the inside of my thigh, licking and tasting my juices, groaning low in his throat, setting off a whole new set of sensations that made rational thought impossible. His hands slid down the outside of my thighs and back up the top while his mouth moved ever so slowly closer to where I needed to feel him.

Trying to roll my hips as I begged, “Please, Roarke…please… I need….” But he didn’t let me finish as his hands continued their journey upward and without hesitation, he slid his index and middle fingers into my pussy at the precise moment I felt the pleasurable sting of his fangs sinking into the soft flesh of my thigh.

I was immediately climaxing, riding his fingers, my pussy contracting with every pull of his lips on my vein. Gasping, my nails digging into the skin of his shoulder, I screamed his name when his thumb teased my incredibly aroused clit. Rolling my hips, keeping rhythm with my mate’s fingers, I shrieked my love for him when he added a third, pushing harder and deeper into me, curling the tips of his fingers in a come hither motion at just the right moment to touch the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of my channel.

Over and over he teased. Faster and faster his fingers moved in and out of me, forcing me to ride the waves of the most intense sexual pleasure I had ever experienced. I clawed at his skin, yelled his name, and when I was sure I couldn’t take it anymore, Roarke pulled his fangs from my thigh and licked my clit. Another more intense, heart-stopping orgasm roared through my already quaking body. Stars burst before my eyes. I couldn’t catch my breath and still he continued, driving my excitement higher and higher.

Pulling his fingers from me while my body still trembled and quaked, Roarke quickly replaced them with his mouth, thrusting his tongue into my still climaxing pussy, picking up where his digits left off. One orgasm bled into another. He ate at me, licking and tasting all I had to give, pushing me to give him all that I was, accepting nothing less than everything.

All I could do was feel. The world outside of Roarke and I ceased to exist. I wanted… needed all of him. I pleaded in harsh gasps, “Raorke… please…please…I need…you.”

Instead of answering, my love placed the flat of his tongue at the base of my outer lips, pushed through my wet curls, and with the perfect amount of pressure, licked me from bottom to top, sucking my super-sensitive clit into his mouth until I was wailing his name. Raising his head with a satisfied smile while I struggled to breathe, Roarke lowered first one leg from his shoulder, and then the other, while massaging away the fatigue as he stood, climbed onto the bed, and over me with the grace of a jungle cat. Stopping to taste first one and then the other of my hardened nipples until I was arching my back and my arousal was rushing back.

Abandoning my breasts, he leaned forward and slammed his lips to mine. I moaned low in my throat at the taste of blood and arousal on his lips. Smiling when the low rumble of his answering groan rose from within his chest, I placed the palm of my hand over his erection where it pushed against the zipper of his jeans and rubbed up and down. Tearing his lips from mine, he laid his hand over my fingers and shook his head, “I won’t last long if you keep this up, love.”

Opening my mouth to tease, the words never made it out as using his vampire speed, he made quick work of removing his boots, jeans, and boxers then stood looking me over from head to toe while I enjoyed my view as well. My mouth watered as his cock jumped when I slid my toe up his thigh, but Roarke had other things on his mind. From one second to the next, he flipped me from my back to my stomach and covered my body with his.

The heat of his solid, masculine frame sank into my curves as his hands massaged across my ribs to the underside of my breasts, his fingers sliding between my skin and the sheet, teasing my nipples until once again I was lost to his touch. His hips rolled gently against my backside, his erection teased my still sensitive outer lips as my body moved in tempo with his. His soft tender kisses across my shoulder made me shiver as I let my head and hair fall to the side, granting him access, needing to feel him everywhere.

His lips touched the outside of my ear as he whispered, “Up on your knees, my love. I need to be inside you more than I need to breathe.”

With one hand around my waist and the other still taunting my breast, Roarke lifted us both to our knees and as we moved together, slid inside me until I had no idea where I ended and he began. Sighing in unison, finally one, together as we were meant to be, Roarke held perfectly still, demanding I do the same by capturing my legs between his and pushing them together as close as he could. The added pressure, combined with the contractions of my body and the throbbing of his cock buried deep within me, completely blew my mind.

Knowing what I needed before I did, reading my mind, Roarke moved the hand he had around my waist down my body, took my highly aroused clit between his thumb and forefinger and gently massaged until I was once again screaming his name. Only then did he begin to move in and out of me. Slowly at first, keeping me just on the edge, not letting my orgasm end but not letting it grow either. Making me want him, need him…crave him with a passion that I knew would never end no matter how long we lived. No other had ever loved not only my body, but also my heart and soul the way Roarke could.

His thrusts became more powerful, his hands on my body more demanding, his kisses more frantic upon my sensitive skin. The sounds of our bodies colliding with one another filled the room as we moved as one, pushing each other to our mutual release. Palming my breasts, Roarke slammed his throbbing erection into me as far as he could at the same time that his fangs entered the vein at the base of my neck.

I shouted his name as Roarke and I shared our mutual release until neither could draw breath. Gasping for air, I let my head fall forward and thanked God that Roarke’s arm was around me to keep my face from hitting the mattress.

Pulling his fangs from my neck, he licked and kissed the mark for several long seconds before rolling to the side and taking me with him. Laying on his back, Roarke lifted me to his chest, where I laid my head over his heart and simply listened to the wonderful sound of his heartbeat.

When I could finally breathe normally and my pulse was almost normal, I propped my head on my hand and looked at the vampire of my dreams. It took a second, but a question I’d had over and over for our three week separation popped into my mind and straight out of my mouth. “How did you feed if we weren’t together?” I tried not to sound like the jealous girlfriend, but I needed to know. “Did you find another courtesan?”

Caressing my cheek and letting his fingers slide into my hair, Roarke shook his head. “No, my love, I did not have another courtesan. I could not. Once I had tasted you, been with you in both mind and body, I knew there would never be another for me.”

“But you have to feed every day or two. We were apart for three whole weeks.”

Smiling his patient smile, he explained, “I drank synthesized, or bottled blood.”

Trying not to wrinkle my nose but failing miserably, I asked, “How does it taste?”

“Terrible, but I could not bring myself to taste of another. You are the one for me.”

I moaned as he massaged my scalp, my eyes sliding shut until he added, “Now, I have a question for you.”

My eyes flew open, the breath froze in my lungs, and I nodded for him to go on.

“Did you mean what you said?”

Drawing a complete blank, I searched my brain for what he was talking about but came up empty-handed. I was just about to admit that I had no clue what he was talking about when he reached over the side of the bed, pulled a small black velvet box from the pocket of his jeans, and set it on his chest.

My eyes felt like they might fall out of my head and I was working hard not to let my mouth hang open as he asked, “Did you mean it when you agreed that I could stay forever?” Then he lifted the lid on the box, revealing the most beautiful princess cut ruby and diamond ring I had ever seen.

Placing his finger under my chin, he gently lifted my head until we were eye-to-eye and asked, “Will you, Katharine Worthy, make a very old vampire extremely happy by agreeing to be his wife?”

Blinking back the tears, I nodded Yes as he took the ring from the box and reached for my left hand. But then I added, “On one condition.”

Roarke’s hand froze in midair and his brow furrowed as he asked with a cautious look in his eye, “And that is?” 

Biting the insides of my cheeks, I tried hard to school my features as I said, “If you promise that we have forever.”

Understanding dawned in his expression and turned to a smile when I added, “After we are wed, I want your word that you will turn me.”

Sliding the ring on my finger, Roarke pulled me up his body, and just before his lips touched mine, uttered, “Your wish is my command.”

Welcome to the shadow world of Blood Courtesans. 

Where vampires are real, rich, powerful--and hungry.

Blood is bought and sold like fine wine, and the best blood goes to the highest bidder.
It's not supposed to be about love...until it is.

Meet the Blood Courtesans: Standalone Vampire romances set in Michelle Fox's Blood Courtesans world by NY Times and USA Today Bestselling and Award-Winning Authors. All books have an HEA and can be read in any order.

Reborn (Myra)--Michelle Fox
Ensnared (Star)--Rebecca Rivard
Bitten (Nova) & Taken (Nova, part 2) & Resurrected (Nova, part 3)--Kim Faulks
Marked (Winter)--Gwen Knight
Wanted (Corynne)--Kristen Strassel
Needed (Angel)--Ever Coming
Stolen (Dakota)--Marissa Farrar
Resist (Anya)--Tami Lund

Escape (Flora) – A K Michaels
Caught (Katharine)--Julia Mills
Desired (Stella)--Monica La Porta

Coming soon! 

Fallen (Paige)--Ever Coming

Hooked (Poppy)--Selena Kitt

Cursed (Piper)--Jami Brumfield
Pursued (Mia)--Lisa Carlisle

Also by Julia Mills

All available on Amazon

*****

The Dragon Guard Series

Her Dragon to Slay, Dragon Guard #1

Her Dragon’s Fire, Dragon Guard #2

Haunted by Her Dragon, Dragon Guard #3

For the Love of Her Dragon, Dragon Guard #4

Saved by Her Dragon, Dragon Guard #5

Only for Her Dragon, Dragon Guard #6

Fighting for Her Dragon, Dragon Guard #7

Her Dragon’s Heart, Dragon Guard #8

Her Dragon’s Soul, Dragon Guard #9

The Fate of Her Dragon, Dragon Guard #10

Her Dragon’s No Angel, Dragon Guard #11

Her Dragon, His Demon, Dragon Guard #12

Resurrecting Her Dragon, Dragon Guard #13

The Scars of Her Dragon, Dragon Guard #14

Her Mad Dragon, Dragon Guard #15

Tears for Her Dragon, Dragon Guard #16

Guarding Her Dragon, Drago Guard #17

Her Love, Her Dragon: The Saga Begins, A Dragon Guard Prequel

*****

The ‘Not-Quite’ Love Story Series

Vidalia: A ‘Not-Quite Vampire Love Story

Phoebe” A ‘Not-Quite’ Phoenix Love Story

Zoey: A ‘Not-Quite’ Zombie Love Story

Jax: A ‘Not-Quite’ Puma Love Story

Heidi: A ‘Not-Quite’ Hellhound Love Story (Magic & Mayhem Kindle World)

*****

Kings of the Blood

VIKTOR: Heart of Her King ~ Kings of the Blood ~ Book 1

ROMAN: Fury of Her King ~ Kings of the Blood ~ Book2

ACHILLES: Soul of Her King ~ Kings of the Blood ~ Book 3

About Julia

 Hey Y’all! I’m Julia Mills the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of the Dragon Guard Series. I without a doubt admit to being a sarcastic, southern woman who would rather spend all day laughing than a minute crying. Living with my two most amazing daughters and a menagerie of animals, keeps me busy but I love telling a good story. Now, that I’ve decided to write the stories running through my brain, life is just a blast!

My beliefs are simple. A good book along with shoes, makeup, and purses will never let a girl down and no hero ever written will compare to my real-life hero, my dad! I’m a sucker for a happy ending and alpha men make me swoon.

I’m still working on my story but I promise it will contain as much love and laughter as I can pack into it! Now, go out there and create your own story!!! Dare to Dream! Have the Strength to Try EVERYTHING! Never Look Back!

I ABSOLUTELY adore stalkers so look me up on Facebook and sign up for her newsletter at JuliaMillsAuthor.com. Send me a message!

Thank you for reading my stories!!!

XOXO Julia