Too loud. Everything too loud. Too bright. Too much.
On the table, the vials of blood taunted me along with Dixon’s voice, its cultured British accent so at odds with his undead Goth biker look.
‘Hello my pet, give us a kiss, my little kitty…’
I doubled over in my chair, hiding my face in my hands. Terror tore at my gut as unwanted images flashed in my mind.
Dixon’s skeletal fingers squeezing my breast as his fangs sank into my neck… Dixon’s nails grazing my flesh while his cold hand trailed down my spine and slipped under the waistband of my jeans… My body pinned to the floor, trapped by the magic of a psychotic witch. Dixon’s fingers curling around my hipbone, tugging, possessing…
“Stop,” I hissed and jumped to my feet. My chair toppled, the crash too loud, too painful. “I’m not there.”
I’m here, in my friend’s house.
The evil bastard’s shiny, white note glided to the floor. I slammed the box shut with a trembling hand, willing the symptoms of what was likely a PTSD panic attack to stop. Doc Scott warned me the flashbacks might continue for a while but I shrugged him off, especially when weeks went by and I remained trauma-free. I could deal with the sleepless nights. The dreams. But this…
The kitchen disappeared in a black abyss. Dixon’s eyes, silver like a winter moon, stared me down.
Be mine
, they commanded, like some twisted valentine.
Pain shot up my arm, my hand tingling like a sparkler. I yanked my hand away from the box. “This isn’t real,” I protested to Dixon’s ever-present eyes boring into me from the darkness. I was
not
back in the Deep Freeze, our prison for all naughty vampires that Team Horrible had taken over, and
where Team Horrible held me prisoner, where Dixon abused me, tried to bespell me, to claim me for his own, to mark me as
his
.
“I’m here.” Home. With Adrian and Jonas. Wasn’t I? My lungs seized. Where had all the oxygen gone?
Hello, pet.
Dixon’s face appeared, a horrible leer contorting it, wriggling the lightning bolt tattoo etched across the translucent skin of his hollowed cheek.
“You’re not here,” I rasped, throat tight with terror.
He laughed, delighting in my distress. My legs trembled as I resisted the fight or flight response coursing through my body, urging me to run.
Doubt assailed me.
What if this isn’t a memory? What if he really is in my head? Could I actually tell the difference?
A hand descended on my shoulder. “Rina?”
Instinct and training took over. Quicker than a blink, I had the owner of that hand flat on his back underneath me. I gripped his head and shoulder, exposing his throat. My eyes slid to black, the shift’s cold, waterfall sensation a welcome glimmer of my power flaring to life. Gums tingling, canines throbbing, I bared my teeth and hissed.
“Babe. Stop,” my attacker croaked, voice strained. His powerful body bucked under mine. I tightened my leg’s hold on his torso, eliciting a pained grunt from my prey.
“Kill you this time, Dixon.” I squeezed his throat.
Dixon’s laughter bounced around me, daring me to try.
“Not. Dixon.” The barely audible words halted my attack.
The black curtain of my PTSD confusion, or perhaps of dark magic from that damn box, lifted. Blessed light flooded the room. Underneath me, Adrian stared up at me, his light blue eyes wide with distress.
“Shit.” I rolled off him.
My friend coughed and rubbed his neck, not even bothering to sit up. Guilt assailed me. I’d just attacked—and could have killed—one of my best friends on the planet and my business partner in two dance clubs. If that wasn’t reason enough
not
to kill him, then factor in Jonas, his lover and my longtime vampire mentor, third in command of my father’s vampire gang and all-around scary, badass dude. Accidentally killing my friend and his lover would devastate us both.
As if my thoughts drew him, Jonas whooshed into the room wearing nothing but a thick black towel knotted around his slender waist, his long, jet black hair sopping wet and flinging droplets everywhere as he hauled us to our feet. He surveyed us with glittering and dark, snake’s-gonna-eat-you eyes, demanding an explanation without uttering a word. My guilt mounted by the second.
Adrian broke the silence. “What the fuck, babe? I thought the flashbacks had stopped.”
So had I. My gaze shot to the box. Magical booby trap?
Both men followed my stare.
I had to swallow twice before I could speak. “Dixon is back.”
When evil arrives on your doorstep, apparently the first thing you do is kiss.
I sat at the kitchen table, grounding myself with some much needed deep breaths and gliding my fingers back and forth over the vials in the box as Jonas bestowed a lingering smooch on Adrian as if that were the only way to determine I’d done no damage during my accidental attack on my friend.
Jonas, the leaner, smaller of the two men, always took the upper hand in their interactions and my sun-kissed, broad-shouldered, muscle-bound friend let him. Of course, the delicate packaging didn’t fool me. Power came in all shapes and sizes. Jonas, known to all vampire-dom as The Executioner, could probably lift and crush an army tank like it was made of tinfoil.
Adrian moaned, his lips parting as the other man deepened the kiss. Jonas pressed one pale, slender hand against Adrian’s tan cheek, the other sliding around his neck to immerse itself in my friend’s shoulder-length, sun-bleached, blond hair. I’d done the same thing months ago, pre-Alexander, so I knew firsthand that hair was silkier, straighter, and softer than my unruly, dark chocolate waves.
My heart rate calmed and much of my Dixon-induced tension melted from my muscles as I watched Jonas press Adrian against the doorframe. But when Adrian snaked an arm around the smaller man and one large, tan hand wandered south, to grip Jonas’s ass, I cleared my throat.
“Helloooo.” I tapped one of the vials with my fingernail. “Adrian is fine, Jonas. You can stop your…inspection. Special delivery from our enemy trumps your lusty reprise, don’t you think?”
The two men stepped apart. Jonas kept a firm grip on my friend’s nape and gave me a cool look. “The matter is already under discussion.”
Translation—a mind-to-mind chat with my vampire family was in progress. “Well, aren’t you the clever multitasker. Now, include me in the conversation.”
Jonas pulled Adrian against his side. “Later, child.”
Child.
I hated when they played the age card and left me out of the loop during a crisis, an all too familiar pattern in my family. Though twenty-five years old and an adult by human standards, the vampires continued to see and treat me like the child they’d known from birth.
“Don’t shut me out, Jonas.”
“Patience.” He planted a rough kiss on Adrian’s forehead, tightened the towel around his waist, then whooshed from the room. Seconds later, the door to the master bedroom slammed shut.
I looked at Adrian. “He didn’t just use the p-word on me. No, really, he didn’t.”
“He did. And the c-word too. Your favorite.” He sauntered over and ruffled my hair, teasing me just like my brothers.
“Cut it out.” I batted his arm away. “It’s such a double standard. You only have three years on me. He doesn’t treat you like a baby.”
“He didn’t know me
when I was a baby.” Adrian opened the dishwasher and took out clean glasses, storing them in the glass-fronted cabinets above it. “Besides, that was quite an episode you just had.”
The protest flew out of me fast. “I didn’t have an
episode.
That was a magic attack.”
The last two juice glasses landed in the cabinet with a resounding thud. He rolled his baby blues. “Po-tay-to, po-tah-to. But seriously, you’ve spent the last two months
not
discussing that guy. Maybe you should let them handle it.”
As if. My hands made contact with warm, clean plates, and I stacked them in the cupboard with noisy flourish. “I’m the one Dixon is after so I should be involved in their plans to thwart him.”
Sunlight sparked off silver metal as Adrian slid steak knives into the block on the center island, next to the cooktop. “Babe, I wish you would just trust your family. I don’t want Dixon to hurt you again.”
My irritation subsided at his concerned tone. “I’m not a newbie anymore. Not like last time.”
“Aren’t you?” Cutlery clanged together like discordant chimes as he plopped silverware into a drawer beside the dishwasher.
“No.” But part of me agreed with him.
When I first encountered Dixon, I was new to the vampire scene and my
special
power. I could burn things, specifically the undead, such as vampires. Back then my power was like a wild tiger—it paid little attention to my effort to control it. Thanks to Jonas and his incessant training sessions, I could now turn my fire on and off at will like a light switch. Once activated, however, I struggled with control issues, hence Adrian’s concern.
“Babe, I get it, I really do. But since you have a lot of old and powerful vampires on your side, why not let them take care of it?”
On my side.
Not so long ago, I hadn’t even known there were sides to take. Didn’t know I had twelve years of my life erased from my memory along with the knowledge that preternatural creatures existed, and some of them were members of my family. Now I was a vampire princess, and every bad vampire, like Dixon, wanted a piece of me.
I shuffled to the table and glowered at the vials. “Dixon sent these to me. He’s taunting me
.
” I glanced up at my friend. “And I will
have a say in how we respond to that.”
Adrian closed the dishwasher. “If Jonas and the others won’t talk to you, maybe it’s time to talk to your dad.”
My stomach tied itself into a knot. Talk to my dad? The man who pretended to be my uncle, stole my memories, then abandoned me in San Francisco along with my three brothers when I was thirteen? My father, Prince Maurizio Agostino Ottavio Tranquilli, leader of the Tranquilli vampire
cosca
, was the very last person on earth I wanted to talk to.
Yes, major daddy issues
.
“I’m not talking to him.”
Amusement brightened my friend’s face as he raised his hands. “Fine, you win. Be right back.” He disappeared into the dining room and returned with a bottle of Grand Marnier and two cognac glasses. After filling the glasses, he handed me one.
“
Salute
, Princess.” He raised his glass, a teasing twinkle in his eyes.
“Don’t call me that.” I glowered at him over the top of my glass, inhaling the orange scent of the liquor before taking a sip.
“Just trying to lighten your mood.”
I bumped my shoulder against his. “Try harder.”
“Okay then, let’s work.” He set down his glass. “I’ll grab my laptop.
Princess.
” He sauntered from the room, putting more wiggle in his walk than necessary and making me laugh, though the p-word still rankled.
Every time someone uttered it, I heard Dixon’s voice growling, “
You are mine now, little princess,”
as he crushed me against his hard body, buried his hand in my hair, fingernails scraping my scalp while he bent my head, exposing my neck, readying me for his bite.
A fierce ache in my gums snapped me out of the memory. I rubbed the gum line above my front teeth then poked the tips of my canines. My gums had throbbed for weeks now, like a teething baby, or in my case, a teething, baby vampire. The constant discomfort didn’t help my mood. The lack of Alexander in my arms and bed continued to frustrate me and now with Dixon back in the picture…I polished off the cognac, relishing the trail it blazed down my throat.
Damn you, Dixon.
On the table, his gift taunted me. What was his game? Why warn me of his return? And whose blood was this? Human? Vampire? Dosed? Poisoned? Why nine vials? Did the number hold significance?
Too many questions with no answers.
I picked up the first vial, broke the wax seal, and pulled out the stopper. The iron scent, like molasses and pennies, tickled my nose. A hint of citrus hit me too. My mouth watered, gums tingling. If I inhaled again I’d take a sip, uncaring it might poison me.
Adrian palmed my wrist. “If you’re thirsty, try me.”
I eyed my friend. “You offering?”
His mouth curved in a mischievous smile. “Sure.”
“What would Jonas say about that?”
A chuckle rumbled in his broad chest. “Not an issue. I wouldn’t offer to anyone but you. And he loves you, so…” He plucked the vial from my unresisting hand, popped in the stopper and placed it in the box. “I think Evil Dude has gone from trying to kidnap you to courting you.”
My face scrunched. “Ew! Don’t even go there.”
Adrian closed the box and pushed it to the far end of the table, replacing the empty spot with his laptop. “Let’s review the lineup for opening night.”
“Sure.” Anything to keep my mind off Dixon.
We were seven days away from the grand opening of our new dance club, Destiny. Unbeknownst to me, Adrian had worked on this project for the past year with Thomas, my other, adopted vampire “uncle” and second in command of my father’s formidable
cosca.
Once Thomas and Jonas restored my memory and brought me back into the vampire fold, Adrian pulled me into our new business venture—a club catering to a select clientele, aka the preternatural crowd and humans in the know—leaving our well-established dance club, Haven, for a strictly human clientele.
Adrian gestured at the list of DJs on the screen. “I shuffled everyone a bit, with the exception of Claire. What do you think?”