VampireMine (25 page)

What a quandary.

Aldon Frost studied the fireplace, watching the wispy red
flames dance and sway. He didn’t like to brood. It wasn’t his style. Normally
he didn’t have to. Smart people avoided him. They certainly never fucked with
him.

Not if they wanted to keep their heads attached to their
shoulders.

Sadie Dumus, how you’ve thrown a wrench into things.

He’d put her down more than once but she kept coming back,
determined as ever. He’d actually found her stalking rather amusing at times.
She’d truly believed he hadn’t been aware of her. A shame, since a true member
of The Fallen would have killed her. For all her slyness she wasn’t
intelligent. Likely she’d never even encountered a member of The Fallen in her
life. The silly vampire had no idea what she was dealing with.

The fire spurted, wood splintering. The sound matched his
dour mood.

Thrumming his fingers on the edge of his chair, he
contemplated his next move.

Although he wanted the vampire who could locate objects
using touch, he didn’t have to have her. So far he’d gained much information
about the whereabouts of the zephyr. The ignorant human dog that had the
mystical creation managed to maintain a low profile but he left a paper trail.
After Aldon had gotten a name it was as easy as phoning in a few favors. Thomas
Brisbane was tightening the noose. Soon he’d jump the gun and strangle himself.

Irritation was a waste of time but he let the sensation flow
through him.

Foolish mortal.

His brothers wouldn’t like it if Aldon didn’t obtain the
relic. As the self-proclaimed hunters of The Fallen, they wanted the tainted
thing wiped from existence. Certainly they could use it to their benefit but
his family would never allow that. They operated under a strict code of ethics.
True, they did use black mage magic to accomplish their tasks but only when
absolutely necessary. Otherwise they’d be lost to the allure of the dark.
Besides, if they didn’t use their gifts they couldn’t blend in, spying on those
they picked off one by one.

Fooling everyone around them.

Much like he’d duped Sadie Dumus.

His fingers stilled, thoughts turning in another direction.

So now the female was claimed. Mated to a werewolf.

Good. She wouldn’t be a distraction.

The head of her coven was an outright bitch but he could
handle Geneva. The arrogant female was much like Sadie, thinking she was
smarter than she actually was. She wanted to take control of New York? Good
luck with that. When Sadie found out she’d wipe the floor with the woman’s ass.
He often wondered if overconfidence was a feminine trait, but that wasn’t fair.
Not all women were created equal. Especially in his eyes.

Olivia.

Her name suited her perfectly.

Regal. Beautiful.

Forever out of his reach.

He knew he shouldn’t go to her but in a blink he’d phased
from his hideaway to the small diner where she waited tables. As per the norm
he took the booth in the back, so he could watch her without notice. To be safe
he put a veil in place so no one would see him. Mortals were drawn to him but
also terrified of him. Best to let them think they were safe and sound within
the secure little bubble they placed around themselves.

A flash of blonde drew his attention. There she was, coming
from the back.

All of his troubles evaporated.

He hadn’t seen her in weeks.

He inhaled deeply, wanting to draw her scent into his lungs.
He had to sort out the other unwanted aromas—cheap beer, greasy food, stale
sweat—until he locked onto what he was searching for. His shoulders relaxed,
eyes drifting closed, his mind awash in bliss. The female bathed in lily of the
valley. He loved that about her. Hell, he loved even more than that if he was
being honest with himself. And to think she’d once been a willing vampire
slave, allowing them to feast on her blood and body.

Such a pity.

He drew another breath, taking it in, letting it pervade his
senses.

The first time he’d seen her—resting on rounded cushions
placed upon the floor with a glistening gold collar on her throat—he’d accepted
his first defeat. Blonde curls had fallen to her shoulders, her piercing purple
eyes like newly bloomed violets. Dressed in white, she’d looked like an angel
who’d been trapped in a den of depravity.

He’d wanted her like hell on fire.

In most cases he’d have requested her services and claimed
his due. While he didn’t use slaves often, he’d been tempted once or twice. He
needed to sate his needs once in a while. Who better to get him off than a
human female who used vampire blood to remain forever young? As an added bonus,
his involvement and participation tricked The Fallen into thinking he was just
like them. Twisted and sadistic, manipulating humans to be whatever they
wanted.

So he’d approached Conrad Masterson and asked about the girl
seated at his feet.

To his dismay her master refused to share, stating the
angelic creature that belonged to him was off-limits. It had made no sense. The
Fallen didn’t care about mortals. They were toys, mere playthings used at their
leisure. Conrad had instructed the angel—Olivia—to collect their things and
take them to her quarters. Aldon had no choice but to watch her stand and walk
away, her curvaceous backside taunting him as she strolled from the room.

The memory was scorched into his head.

He couldn’t forget her, even when he tried.

Over time the image of her had become an obsession. He
couldn’t bed other women without seeing her face. Even when he drank he
pictured her, allowing himself to wonder what it would be like. The softness of
her blonde curls would caress his face, her silken skin soft as she begged for
his bite. She’d shatter into a million pieces when he sank his fangs into her
flesh, crying out as she came.

The truth was he’d found something he wanted but couldn’t
have.

It lit a fire in his ass.

So he’d returned to Aurora Palace—an exclusive mansion on
the outskirts of Georgia where members of The Fallen dwelled—determined to
change Conrad’s mind. He didn’t know the male very well but all black vampires
were pretty much the same. Everything had a price. Once he found out what
Conrad wanted, Aldon could take the woman to his bed, drink until he was full
and be done with it.

He hadn’t been prepared to learn that Conrad had been
killed.

With her master gone Olivia had been set free. It had taken
him a couple of weeks to find her—here, at this place. Her departure had made
little sense. Most would have stayed, grateful to be treated like a pampered
pet, content to be a belonging and not a person. But not her. The perplexing
mystery of a woman baffled him. She’d taken her things and left, vowing never
to speak of her former life.

It was a sealed deal too, inked in black magic. If she ever
revealed what she knew to other mortals, the curse placed upon her would kill
her in an instant. She was free to speak with other slaves—or other vampires
for that matter—but never to those who knew nothing about the supernatural
world.

Where is she?

Lost in his thoughts, her scent had drifted from him.

He inhaled, searching for her, wanting to feel her presence
all around him.

One day he’d ask her why she’d left. Perhaps when he’d
figured her out he’d lose interest. Over the years many women had attempted to
snare him but he’d never stuck around. He bored of them easily, casually
pushing them aside. He was what humans referred to as a player, moving from one
partner to the next.

There.
His lips curved into a smile.
There she is.

Another scent mingled with her blood, burning in his nose.
He frowned, trying to block it out. He attuned everything to Olivia, wanting to
be crystal clear. If he hated one thing about her working—as he didn’t think
she should be working at all—it was the place she’d chosen to earn her living.
At the diner she catered to others like she did as a slave, cleaning up their
messes, doing precisely as she was told.

He stopped breathing, eyes flying open.

That scent. It can’t be.

Something was very, very wrong.

Panicked, he searched for her, eyes wild as they darted
across the room. Her glorious curly hair was gone, cut into a short pixie. And
she was rail fucking thin. So slight he’d break her with a stiff fucking. There
were circles under her eyes, her frame barely strong enough to support the tray
she carried. Even in her current state she smiled at the family seated at her
table, carefully placing their meals before each one of them.

He took another breath, staring straight at her. There it
was, bright as day.

No, damn it. No.

He knew what the smell meant, even when he tried to tell
himself it couldn’t be. He’d encountered it on numerous occasions from the
various mortals all around him. There wasn’t another smell like it, almost like
a citrusy acid. The stronger the scent, the worse the condition.

She’s dying.

Everything inside him rebelled, screaming it would never
happen.

He dropped his guise, doing something he never did, acting
on instinct.

Everything for him was carefully planned. In order to stay
alive and one step ahead of his enemies, it was a necessary precaution. His
brothers would kill him when they found out he’d dropped his guard, asking him
what the hell he’d been thinking. He’d tell them the truth.

He’d never seen it coming. He’d never seen
her
coming. There had to be a reason he couldn’t stop thinking about her, drawn to
her in a manner that would never dissipate.

She had to be the one for him.

He’d just never touched her. If he had, he would have known
for sure.

That ends now.

“Livvie,” the hostess called out, giving Aldon a strange
look. Her mind was easy to read. She wondered where he’d come from, thinking
there was no way she’d have missed someone like him. “You’ve got a table.”

“Are you set?” he heard Olivia ask the people at her table.
“I’ll be back to check on you. Enjoy your dinner.”

He grinded his teeth, keeping his fangs from dropping.

How he loathed her waiting on others.

Ever since he’d tracked her down he’d wished she’d find
another line of work. He’d refrained from giving her the idea, wanting to
figure her out without invading her head and depositing his own thoughts. That
was the danger with mortals. If you weren’t careful you could change who they
were, influence their decisions.

When Olivia came to him, he wanted her. Not what he’d
created.

She walked over, pulling a pad from the apron at her waist.
As she retrieved her pen she lifted her head. Her purple irises were no longer
as bright, her skin a sickly shade of yellow. Mortals wouldn’t notice it but he
wasn’t a mortal. The last time he’d seen her she’d been the picture of health.
Vibrant and youthful, the vampire blood in her system slowed the aging process
considerably.

But no more.

The last blood she’d taken had obviously left her, returning
her to a completely mortal state. She’d grow old now, her body susceptible to
illness and disease. He guessed her to be in her mid-twenties, but since she’d
been drinking from vampires she could be much older. His eyes took her in, his
cock hardening despite the changes in her body and face.

Once she drinks from me she’ll heal. She’ll never look
like this again.

At first she struggled to place him, her lovely brushstroke
brows furrowing. Then her eyes widened, the scent of her fear punching into his
nose. She stopped a couple of feet away, terror etched on her face, hands
visibly trembling.

Her reaction made no sense whatsoever.

She knew about his kind. She’d lived with them for God knows
how long.

Why would she be afraid? What has her so spooked?

“Come here,
luvena
,” he instructed quietly, staring
into her eyes.

The order broke her from her trance. She scanned the diner,
looking to see who might have seen her reaction. He understood that much at
least. If she gave anything away she’d die on the spot. Doctors would think
she’d suffered a heart attack or stroke. But it would be magic that killed her,
the curse she’d accepted sending her to her death. He noticed her relief when
she discovered no one had noticed her slip.

Lifting her shoulders, she walked to the table and asked,
“What can I get you?”

Holy Mother of God.

She’d never spoken to him directly. Now he wished she had.

The sound stroked his nerve endings, his already stiff cock
jerking in his trews. Her dismissal—pretending she didn’t remember him—agitated
him a way he didn’t appreciate. Likely he’d tan that luscious little ass of
hers so she wouldn’t do so again.

Touch her now. Be certain.

“I gave you an order,” he rasped, fingers twitching. “Come
here.”

She’d broken away from the palace but she’d know not to
disobey. It wasn’t an enormous request. If she didn’t do as he said she’d draw
attention to herself. He waited, blood rushing through his veins, gums burning
with the effort to keep his fangs retracted. As if it pained her she complied,
inching nearer to the table. Her fear doubled and he could hear the frantic
drumming of her heart.

Like a bird flapping its wings against the bars of a
cage.
She’s afraid.

The instant she was within reach his hand shot out.

He encased her tiny wrist in his fingers, holding back a
groan when their skin touched for the first time. Like magic, a white-hot burst
of blistering fire seared him, winding up his arm, traveling to his chest.
Quickly as it came the sensation vanished. The deed was done.