Samhain Publishing Ltd, Ebooks and Books in Print

Chasing one of the undead was not my idea of a good time.

“Hold up, Kate!”

I ran to catch up to her in the heavily wooded neighborhood where we lived. She’d be the death of both of us if the guy we stalked really was a vampire.

Ornate wrought iron streetlights cast a soft glow, coloring the mist a pale yellow, and an orange moon attempted to make its presence known, blurred behind the screen of light fog. Rustling eerily, fresh green leaves on the live oaks and ash lining the two-lane street danced in the breeze, casting shivering shadows, setting my nerves on edge. Crickets filled the night with their sing-song tune. Cool air clashed with the sun-warmed earth. Typical heart of Texas weather in early spring. The sweet fragrance of grape hyacinth teased the air, but something else drifted on the breeze, something manlier and spicier. Something that came from the direction we were headed.

Kate’s flaxen hair flowed behind her like she was a golden goddess. Her makeup perfect, her midnight blue spandex running clothes fitting her curves, she looked like a star no matter where she was or what she was doing. Whereas I chugged way behind her in my light-colored blue jeans and blouse, hoping that the perspiration trickling between my breasts didn’t begin to appear on the silk. The breeze tangled my mousy blond hair, making me look like I’d been swept up by a tornado and spit back out. Everything about me paled in comparison to model-like Kate.

“Kate!” I implored, losing the race. Shin splints attacked my legs and a stitch ran up my left side, each shooting pain into my out-of-shape body. I felt like I needed to be hospitalized…and soon.

Thicker fog gobbled Kate up, crickets elevated their raucous tune, and an owl hooted somewhere nearby.

A shimmer of white vapor blanketed the inky void ahead like an opaque barrier and I felt that if I penetrated it, I’d be whisked into another world.

“Kate?” I no longer heard her size nine sneakers pounding the concrete sidewalk and my gut tightened with apprehension, but I tried to tell myself we were safe. That the guy we were chasing was not a vampire. That neither of us had anything to fear but what our own wild imaginations dug up.

Slowing my step, I attempted to catch my breath, the blood pounding in my ears. Adrenaline coursed through me like a river run amuck when a draft of cold air struck me from behind.

I couldn’t turn around to look. A whiff of subtle spice whirled around me like an invisible cloak. Was Kate still chasing after the unseen vampire, while he now stalked me instead? But they don’t exist, I hurriedly reminded myself.

Shoot. I hadn’t even wanted to find out whether he was a vampire or not. Well, maybe I was a little curious, but not enough to get bitten. Kate was the adventurer of the two of us, and bullheaded. Ever since she’d spied the guy at the corner all-night hamburger joint, she’d insisted he was a vampire. The black clothes he wore, the way he pulled his dark hair back into a ponytail. A Goth, I had explained. But she wasn’t buying it. A vampire—that’s what she insisted he was, and we were going to prove their existence, once and for all.

I itched to turn around and see if he stood behind me. I know, I know, curiosity killed the cat. But I had to look. I told myself nothing was there, but what my overwrought imagination told me stood there was a seriously magnificent guy, seventeen or eighteen years old in appearance, but hundreds of years old in reality, outfitted with a pair of razor-sharp, sabertooth tiger fangs. That’s what I envisioned.

I turned and my jaw dropped. He was all there. All drop-dead gorgeous six feet of him. Darkly seductive, he wore ebony black jeans, matching Doc Martens leather oxfords, and a black satin shirt opened slightly, revealing a smidgeon of his broad, bare chest. I looked up at his face, hoping the fangs were still well-hidden and under control.

His deep brown eyes darkened to midnight and his lips curved up. I breathed a guarded sigh of relief to find no fangs extended. His dark brown hair secured in a ponytail showed off his square jaw and handsome angular features.

“Are you…are you…?” I wasn’t normally a stutterer, but the realization I was alone in the dark with a possible vampire sent a rack of shudders through me, at the same time wreaking havoc with my tongue.

“Dominic Vorchowsky,” he offered, and bowed his head slightly.

Definitely a vampiric action if I’d ever seen one. Suave, polite, enticing.

His voice had a strange melody, a strong, sensual attraction—just like I imagined vampires were supposed to have. His eyes gazed at mine with such intensity I wondered if he was attempting to draw me under his spell. He’d woo me, then bite me and make me his forever. The notion should have made me ill, but the look in his hungry eyes lured me to drink every bit of him in. No one had showed that much interest in me, ever. For an instant, I was ready to bare my throat and let him take me.

“And you are Marissa Lakeland.”

The way he said my name made it sound like his tongue rolled over each letter, every syllable, with undying affection. My heart skipped a beat. Vampires could control humans easily, so I’d read. I straightened my back. But I was a witch and he should have no power over me. So there.

I folded my arms. “Are you a…?” Suddenly my gray matter focused on the words he’d spoken. “How did you know my name?”

He waved his hand at the night sky with a gallant gesture. “It’s written in the stars.”

“Right.” Witches often used mumbo jumbo like that to confuse the general non-witch population, but he was no warlock. Or was he? “And why would my name be written in the stars?”

“We were destined to meet, you and I, on this very eve.” He sounded so sincere, not at all teasing, though I didn’t believe him for an instant.

“We make our own destiny,” I said matter-of-factly, tilting my chin up slightly, like I always did when I knew I was right or at least wanted to assure another person I knew I was right.

He took a step forward and the action forced chill bumps to erupt all over my arms. Luckily, the long-sleeved, silky blouse I wore sufficiently hid the physical reaction I had to his presence. I tilted my chin up even more, determined not to step away from him as much as I longed to do so. My witch’s training was far from complete and an ancient vampire, if that was what he was, would be vastly more powerful than me, wouldn’t he? At least from the fictionalized accounts I’d read, they were. Certainly, I had no desire to test my theory one way or the other.

Not that I was a coward or anything. But I never saw myself as being really stupid either. Except that I’d agreed to chase after sprinter Kate in the dead of the night trying to locate a vampire who now very likely stood before me.

My throat grew parched, both from running like a horse in a madcap race to the finish line, and from the sheer terror that threatened to undo me when I attempted to pose the question dangling from my dry tongue. Yet I still clung to the words, not sure I truly wanted to know the answer to the question that fought to be asked.

“Isn’t it a little late for you to be out at night?” he asked, ruining my chance at questioning him first.

“Trying to get in shape,” I fibbed. It wasn’t an out-and-out lie. I had considered running to get in shape. But between playing video games, doing homework, reading for fun and doing chores that were not, I could never manage a formal P.T. schedule. I blurted out, “Are you a—”

He raised a brow, stopping my question in mid-sentence. “Would you truly like to know the answer to your question?”