Title Page
Book Description
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Epilogue
Other Books by Tina
About the Author
Copyright
YVETTE’S HAVEN
(Scanguards Vampires – Book 4)
By
Tina Folsom
* * * * *
Yvette’s Haven
Copyright © 2011 by Tina Folsom
Scanguards is a registered trademark.
* * * * *
Book Description
“I’m addicted to Tina Folsom’s books! The Scanguards series is one of the hottest things to happen to vampire romance. If you love scorching, fast-paced reads, don’t miss this thrilling series!” -Lara Adrian, New York Times Bestselling Author of the Midnight Breed series
After being kidnapped by a vampire hunter, vampire bodyguard Yvette’s first instinct is to kill the bastard. But before she gets the chance, she realizes that he was double-crossed by the witch he was working for and now is in as much danger as she is.
To get his brother out of trouble, bounty hunter / vampire slayer Haven has to deliver the young actress Kimberly to a witch. Unfortunately, she’s protected by the very creature he hates most: a vampire.
As Yvette and Haven try to escape their prison and rescue the actress and Haven’s brother, will their natural hatred for each other keep them apart or is the passion that bubbles up between them strong enough for them to dare risk their lives to defeat the witch from harnessing the greatest power of all?
MORE BY TINA
Scanguards Vampires
Phoenix Code Series with Lara Adrian
Out of Olympus
Venice Vampyr
Eternal Bachelors Club
Stealth Guardians
Prologue
Haven was the first one to hear his mother’s alarmed cry. Immediately, he seized his younger brother Wesley by the collar of his polo shirt, making him squeal in protest.
“Let go of me, Hav. I wanna play.”
Haven ignored his eight-year-old brother’s objection and slammed his hand over his mouth. “Shut up,” he ordered, keeping his voice low. He could sense his mother’s mounting fear, despite the fact that he and Wesley were in the den and their mother’s panicked scream had come from the kitchen where she was mixing potions.
“Someone’s in the house. Keep quiet.” He gave his brother a stern look. Wesley’s eyes widened in fear, but he nodded nevertheless. Haven took his hand off Wesley’s mouth and was rewarded with his brother’s silence.
Anticipating something just like this, his mother had drilled a strict protocol into him and his brother: hide and keep quiet. As much as Haven wanted to obey his mother, her scream had torn through his gut; he’d be a coward if he didn’t help her. He was tall for his age, almost a man. Being abandoned by their father less than a year ago had forced him to grow up fast. He was the man of the house now. It was up to him to help his mother.
“Go get Katie and hide under the stairs.” Their baby sister was sleeping in the downstairs bedroom, rather than in the nursery upstairs, so she could be heard if she woke. She wasn’t due to be fed for another two hours, and hopefully that meant she’d remain asleep.
Wesley took off, running down the hallway, his sock-clad feet making no sound on the hardwood floor. Haven mustered all his courage and crept toward the kitchen door.
“You know you have to sacrifice one of them, so who’s it gonna be?” a man hissed from inside the kitchen. The malevolence in the stranger’s voice was unmistakable, and a cold shiver slithered up Haven’s spine like a snake.
“Never,” Haven’s mother answered, a flash of white light accompanying her words. He knew if she was using magic so openly on the intruder it meant he was a preternatural creature: not human.
Shit!
A burglar Mom would have no problem dealing with, but this was different. That’s why she needed his help, whether she’d forbidden it or not. She could ground him all she wanted later, but he wasn’t going to stay away and hide like a spineless weasel. Wesley could take care of Katie by himself, but Haven was old enough now—eleven to be exact—to help his mother defeat an attacker.
Haven inched forward and glanced around the door frame into the well-lit kitchen. Aghast, he pulled back.
Double shit!
Without a doubt, her attacker was a vampire—top of the food chain. His fangs were extended and pushed past his open lips, his eyes glaring red like a car’s taillights in the night. While vampires weren’t immune to witchcraft, Haven’s mother was merely a minor witch with no powers beyond her potions and spells. She’d never mastered control of any of the elements: water, air, fire, and earth, as others of her kind had. She was nearly defenseless.
The tall, slim vampire had his hand clamped around her neck even as her lips moved as if trying to cast a spell. But no words issued from her throat. She struggled in his hold, her eyes darting to her side, searching desperately for a means of escape. There was no way out—no way she could free herself if she couldn’t utter a spell to make the vampire release her. And even then . . .
Haven knew what he had to do. Summoning all his courage, he rushed through the door and charged for the kitchen counter where an assortment of kitchen utensils stood in an earthen jug. He reached for the wooden spoon and broke it in half.
At the sound, the vampire snapped his head toward Haven and flashed his fangs in irritation. A warning snarl ripped from his throat. “Big mistake, little boy, big mistake.”
Nobody called him little and got away with it.
A choked gurgle came from his mother. She blinked her eyes at Haven, intent upon sending him a message despite her obvious distress. He understood her all too well, but he wasn’t going to flee. She wanted him to save himself. But he was no coward. How could she even think that he would run and leave her in the hands of this monster?
“Let my mother go!” he demanded from the vampire and lifted his hand holding the makeshift stake.
Haven charged toward the vampire, letting out a warrior cry like he’d seen in the Westerns he loved to watch on TV. Before he reached the bloodsucker, the vamp dropped his hold on his mother and tossed her against the stove, the sound of her back connecting with the metal oven door blasting a wave of fury through Haven. Faster than his eyes could follow, the vampire was on him and gripped his wrist, holding it immobile.
Haven clenched his teeth and kicked his leg against the massive creature’s shin, but to no avail. A growl issued from the vampire’s mouth. Behind him, Haven caught sight of his mother getting up, moaning in pain. But her face looked determined, and her lips mouthed a spell.
“Night bring day, day bring night, help the small, and . . . ”
The vampire twisted Haven’s wrist, wrenching the stake from his clenched fist. It clattered to the floor, rolling out of reach. Then the vampire released him. Spinning around, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a knife. “You stupid witch!” he snarled. “I was gonna let you live.”
Undeterred, Haven’s mother continued chanting, “ . . . tall, and give them might . . . ”
Haven launched himself at the vampire from behind, trying to wrestle the knife from his hands, but his opponent jabbed his elbow into the soft muscles of Haven’s tender stomach and shoved him to the floor. When Haven looked up, he only saw the flick of the vamp’s wrist as he released the knife to find its target.
A startled shriek interrupted his mother’s chants. The knife had hit her in her chest. As she tumbled to the floor, blood staining her white apron, Haven scrambled to get closer, but the vampire blocked his approach.
“Haven,” his mother’s strained voiced cried out. “Remember . . . to love . . . ”
“No! You bastard!” Haven screamed. “I’ll kill you!”
But before he could do anything, the cry of a baby filled the house. Katie.
The vampire’s head spun toward the hallway. Then a self-satisfied grin spread over his mouth. It did nothing to alleviate the ugliness of his visage. “Much easier,” he proclaimed. “As if I wanted to burden myself with the likes of a troublesome little boy.”
“No!” Haven screamed, realizing he was going after Katie. The vampire had said that all he needed was one of them.
The vampire stampeded out of the kitchen and down the hall. Haven ran after him, picking up a broom that leaned against the wall. He cracked the handle over his knee and gripped the shorter end like a stake.
When he reached his brother’s hiding place beneath the stairs a few seconds later, the bloodsucker was already pulling Wesley from it, and Katie’s wails mixed with Wesley’s panicked squeals.
“Help! Haven, Mom, help me!”
The vampire yanked the little bundle that was Katie from Wesley’s arms and pressed her to his chest, while he held Haven’s struggling little brother off with one hand. Wesley’s attempts at boxing the vampire in the stomach were futile—his tiny fists did no damage to the creature.
“Stop, you little idiot.”
Neither Wesley nor Haven listened to the vampire’s command. Instead, Haven jumped, his makeshift stake in his raised hand, but the bastard turned too fast. He slammed Wesley against the wall and raised his arm to fend off Haven’s stake, holding Katie higher with his other arm. Haven was no match for the supernatural creature, even with his fierce determination to save his sister.
The vampire kicked him against the wall, the impact knocking the wind out of Haven. Pain seared through him, reminding him that he was only a human without any skills to fight the powerful bloodsucker.
“I mean you no harm. I’m only taking one of you.” There was a flicker of something in his eyes, almost as if he regretted what he was doing. “To keep the balance.”
A second later, he was gone. The front door was left ajar, darkness intruding on Haven’s devastated home, the chill and fog taking hold where warmth and love had lived earlier.
Wesley moaned. “Mom, help us.”
Haven crawled the few feet that separated him from his bother. How could he possibly tell Wes what had happened to their mother? And Katie, what was going to happen to Katie?
“Mom can’t help,” Haven whispered to his brother, ignoring the pain in his ribs as best he could. It was nothing compared to the pain he felt in his heart. He looked at Wesley and saw tears of realization run down his cheeks. Haven couldn’t cry; instead, his heart filled with hatred: hatred for everything magical, everything preternatural, everything not human. Because, despite not knowing what the vampire had wanted or why he’d killed his mother, Haven suspected it had to do with her magic. There could be no other reason. He’d not been here to rob them of any of their worldly goods. To keep the balance, he’d said. The balance of what?
Haven stared at his brother and squeezed his hand. “I will find him, and I will kill him and all vampires that cross my path. And we’ll get Katie back. I promise you.”
And he wouldn’t rest until he’d fulfilled his promise.
One
San Francisco, 22 years later
It was a trap—how big a trap, Haven could have never guessed.
After receiving Wesley’s text message to meet him at the abandoned warehouse in one of the less fashionable neighborhoods of the city, he’d cased the area and determined that at most one or two assailants were waiting for him. Piece of cake, he’d figured.
It wouldn’t be the first time he freed his little brother from the greedy clutches of a loan shark or other minor con artist he’d gotten himself in trouble with. Whatever the amount of money they wanted to extort from him for the release of his brother, they’d never see a penny of it. His concealed Glock would guarantee that.
The door to the warehouse was unlocked. He pushed it open and eased inside, taking in the musty scent of the building. It mingled with a strange mixture of herbs, conjuring up images of Chinatown with its foreign smells and tastes. The long corridor ahead of him was dark, the single light bulb hanging overhead covered in cobwebs and dust. There was nothing inviting about the place.
Any further explorations were cut short when a cold blast of air came his way. An instant later, Haven felt a force like a tidal wave press his six-foot-two, two-hundred-pound frame of solid muscle against the wall. Despite his strength and training in all types of hand-to-hand combat, he couldn’t push against the invisible foe.
Shit!
This time he wasn’t dealing with some low-life criminals.
Haven didn’t like the feeling of helplessness that spread through his body as the assault by the force field continued. As a tough-as-frozen-shit bounty hunter, vulnerability wasn’t a word in his vocabulary. And he wasn’t going to add it now. His slate for V’s was full: vampire, vermin, vulture. No space for vulnerability. Leave that to the people at Webster’s; maybe they had use for the word.
And if he ever got out of this mess alive, he’d skin his brother, but not before he’d beaten the dog snot out of him.
“I see you got my text message,” a female voice commented calmly. A moment later, she stepped into view. She was beautiful; long red hair cascaded around her face and over her shoulders. Her cheekbones were high, her skin pale, and her lips plump. At first sight, the woman was every man’s dream and Haven bet that whatever predicament Wesley found himself in, it was because this woman had short-circuited his brain—making sure he had to use the one between his legs instead. Haven wasn’t quite as susceptible to beautiful women as his brother was. He’d never allowed himself to have his head turned like that. And he wasn’t as gullible as his little brother. No, he was tough as nails and unwavering as steel, and somehow he’d get out of this.
Haven gritted his teeth staring into the icy-blue eyes of the devilish beauty. “What did you do to my brother, witch?” Since she hadn’t introduced herself, it was fitting enough to call her by her profession rather than her name. And of her profession he was certain: the force she was using against him wasn’t something a physicist could explain. It was magic. And he recognized magic when it bit him on the ass.
“You make it sound like a four-letter word.”
“Isn’t it?”
She shook her head disapprovingly, her copper curls bouncing around her shoulders. “The name’s Bess, not that it should matter to you. I would have expected more respect from the son of a witch. Don’t you respect your mother’s craft?”
The memory of his mother bit hard into his gut. He rammed it back, trying to stave off the emotions that came with it, emotions which he’d tried to suppress ever since her brutal death. He wasn’t going to allow this damn witch to weaken him by dredging up things that should stay well hidden. “Leave my mother out of this. Now, where’s my brother, and what do you want?”
“Your bad-boy, bounty-hunter attitude doesn’t work on me, so leave it at the door and come in.”
Haven glared at her and clenched his jaw.
“Unless you don’t want to see your brother again. I can just leave him tied up and let him rot.”
Suddenly, the pressure on his chest eased, and he was able to pry himself off the wall. He shook off the remaining feeling of claustrophobia and reached into his jacket. The thought of killing her was foremost in his mind, but without knowing whether she kept Wesley somewhere in this warehouse, he couldn’t let the bullets do their job. Not yet, anyway.
“And take your hand off your gun.”
It didn’t take being a witch to know what his hand was reaching for. Haven snorted. “Get on with it. Where’s Wesley?”
Bess walked into a fairly spacious room, a living room of sorts. He followed her. Several pieces of mismatched furniture filled the space. Rugs were spread over the concrete floor, and heavy drapes of thick velvet hung over the windows. Add the bookcase filled with old books and jars of ghastly looking herbs and animal parts, and the room had a decidedly gothic look. Not his choice of abode anyway.
In his eight years as a bounty hunter, working for different bail bondsmen along the way, Haven had seen his fair share of weird, so nothing surprised him. But even without that, he wouldn’t have been surprised by her decorative choices. She was right; he was the son of a witch, and as such, he’d seen enough. More than he’d ever wanted to see—or know.
Haven shook off the memories. “Where’s Wesley?”
The witch took a seat on one of the overstuffed sofas and pointed toward an armchair. “Somewhere safe. Sit.”
“I’m not your dog.” Witch or not, he didn’t like being ordered around.
“I can turn you into one if you like.”
Grunting his disapproval, he let himself fall into the chair, creating a dust cloud around him. “I’m sitting.”
The witch let her gaze travel over his body. Uneasiness crept over him; he didn’t like being studied as if he was some piece in an exhibition. Or worse, a subject in an experiment.
“Your brother is nothing like you. He seems much more . . . gentle. Not as—”
“I’m sure you didn’t invite me for a psychology lesson; besides I don’t appreciate the kind of invitations you send out.” Why hadn’t he guessed that his brother hadn’t sent that message? Maybe because it had originated from Wesley’s cell and sounded just like him: desperate for help and riddled with mistakes. His brother couldn’t spell for shit; Haven hadn’t questioned its authenticity.
“Would you have come if I had sent a polite letter? Anyway, pleasantries aside, we have business to discuss.”
Haven raised an eyebrow. He had no business with a witch. Despite the fact that his mother had been a witch, neither he nor his brother had inherited any of her powers. It had never bothered him because the way he liked to kill his victims was close up so he saw the fear in their eyes when they realized he’d won; he had no desire to strike from a distance using magic. And his victims had always been vampires—not that he had any qualms about adding a witch to the bunch. Whoever threatened him or his family would be dealt with swiftly. In a deadly kind of way.
“What is it you want from me in exchange for my brother?”
“You catch on fast. Given your somewhat unorthodox profession, what I’m asking will be just another day in the office for you.”
He hated being played with, and the cat-and-mouse game in which she was engaging him was his least favorite pastime. “Spit it out.”
“There’s a girl, a young actress. I would like you to bring her to me.”
“Given that you managed to get me to your lair without any trouble, I don’t see why you can’t get her yourself.”
Bess pursed her lips. “Ah, that’s where the little problem starts. See, the girl has a bodyguard.” The witch gestured with her hand. “Something to do with the paparazzi.” She rolled her eyes, her disdain for celebrities openly showing in their cold blueness.
“And you can’t get past the bodyguard? You used your powers to immobilize me. What’s the guy made out of? Steel?” Something stank. And it wasn’t the incense that was burning in the room, robbing it of oxygen.
“Unfortunately, her bodyguard is a vampire.”
Haven listened intently now. Things had just started getting interesting. He leaned forward in his chair, intrigued by her words.
“I see I have your attention now. You could kill two birds with one stone: free your brother by bringing me the girl and kill the vampire as a bonus. It’s a win-win situation.”
Win-win, but for whom? “Are you trying to tell me that you can’t defeat one measly vampire?” Haven knew for a fact that witchcraft worked on vampires just as well as on humans. And by the looks of it, this witch appeared strong enough to fight a vampire with her spells and potions and the way she was seemingly able to control at least one element: air. He’d felt it used on his own body earlier. A witch who controlled the elements wasn’t to be trifled with.
“I could, if I got close enough. However, vampires can sense witches from afar. I’d never get close enough to work my magic. That’s why I need a human; you’ll be able to approach him without drawing any suspicions to you.”
She dug her hand into the pocket of her cardigan and pulled out a little vial. It was filled with a purple liquid. “Once you’re close enough, you’ll smash the vial, and the gas it produces will render the vampire unconscious within seconds. And you know what to do then.”
Stake him.
Haven grinned despite himself. While he didn’t like the idea of being ordered by a witch, who held his brother captive, the thought of being handed another vampire to kill was appealing. Ever since his mother’s death, he’d searched for the one vampire who’d killed her and kidnapped his baby sister. He hadn’t found him yet, but he’d killed plenty of other vampires since.
However, the thought of handing over an innocent human to this witch created an uncomfortable knot in his stomach. “Who’s the girl?”
The witch made a dismissive hand movement. “Nobody to concern yourself with.”
Haven shook his head. “What do you want with her? If she’s just an actress like you say, why would you be interested in her?” There was plenty Bess wasn’t telling him. Maybe he shouldn’t dig too deeply, maybe he should just take the assignment and get his brother out of her clutches. But he still had a smidgen of a conscience left.
“It doesn’t concern you,” she snapped and rose. “Get me the girl, or I’ll crush your brother.”
“And where is my dear brother?” he asked casually. Once he knew where she was keeping him, he could figure out a plan for how to free him without doing her dirty work for her.
“Even if I tell you where he is, you won’t be able to free him. His cell is protected by invisible wards. You won’t be able to break through them.”
If Haven knew one thing about witchcraft, it was that once a witch died, all her wards and restraining spells would dissolve as well. Now there was an idea in the making. “So, he’s here then,” he hedged and watched her face for any affirmation of the truth of his statement. He wasn’t an excellent poker player for nothing.
Her left eyelid twitched, and he followed the direction. He almost didn’t see the door; it blended well into the bookcases next to it. When he looked back at her, he noticed how her lips had pressed together into a thin line.
Haven tilted his head toward the door. “I see.”
“It’ll do you no good. He’s too well protected. You’ll never break through the wards.”
He didn’t have to. If the witch was dead, there’d be no wards.
“Fine. We’ll do it your way.” He rose from his chair and turned slightly, attempting to conceal the movement of his right hand. He was a fast draw and had won plenty of competitions against the best in the field. Bess was as good as dead.
Haven slipped his hand inside his jacket, wrapped his fingers around the gun’s handle and pulled it from its holster.
“Ow!” he yelped, releasing the weapon from his hand a moment later and dropping it onto the carpet where it made a muffled thumping sound. Shocked, he stared at the angry red skin of his palm. The gun had turned sizzling hot in his hand. “What the fuck?”
“It’s better that you learn right now that there’s no crossing me. Either you do what I say—or your brother dies.”
Haven glared at her and recognized the impatience in her eyes. He swallowed his own anger, forcing himself to calm down. Losing his head now would not serve Wesley. He had to push his pride and scruples aside. Only his brother mattered. Wesley was all that was left of his family.
For now, he needed to keep a cool head.
“You win. What’s her name and where do I find her?”
Two
Yvette moved behind the privacy screen in Maya’s exam room and ripped off the paper gown. How she hated these examinations, but in order to get what she wanted, she put up with them.
“It’s consistent with the lab results,” Maya explained from behind her desk. “There’s nothing wrong with your uterus or your tubes.”
“And the eggs?” Yvette asked as she shimmied into her entirely too-tight leather pants, sucked in a breath, and zipped up. She slid her toes into her black stilettos. Most other women would have broken their ankles twice over if they had to walk in her penny-diameter heels, but she felt powerful in them. Besides, a well-placed kick with her heels could do serious damage to any aggressor.
“As fresh and viable as the day you were turned.”
Yvette pulled her black top over her head and walked around the screen, looking at Maya, who was rifling through the lab file. Over the last few months, she’d undergone test after test to help Maya figure out why vampire females were infertile and what it would take to change that. She couldn’t deny Maya’s dedication to the project, despite the fact that the two of them hadn’t exactly started out on the right foot.
After Maya had been turned into a vampire against her will, Gabriel, Yvette’s boss, had fallen hard for her. Yvette had her own eyes set on him at the time, and the fact that Maya had just swooped in and snatched him up within a week of meeting him had hurt.
But none of their earlier disagreements were evident now. Maya, who’d been a doctor before she was turned, had become a champion for her cause: to find a way for vampire females to become pregnant. But so far, all tests had resulted in a dead end; none of them indicated a reason for the infertility.
“Then I don’t get it. I always assumed that my eggs died when I was turned. But if my eggs are intact, why haven’t I gotten pregnant?” She’d had plenty of unprotected sex over the last decades, not just with vampire males but also with humans.
Maya motioned toward the chair in front of her desk, and Yvette sank into it. “You mean, apart from the fact that you haven’t been with a man since we met?”
That got Yvette’s hackles up, even though she had put herself on the shelf over the last few months. But that wasn’t Maya’s business. It was easy for Maya to talk: she had a man who loved her and was totally hot for her no matter what time of day or night. All she had were unsatisfying one-night stands, and she hadn’t even bothered with those in the last few months.
“That’s beside the point. I had lots of sex with virile men who, I know for a fact, have gotten other women pregnant. It’s just been a little slow lately.” Who was she kidding? She hadn’t been interested in anybody after Gabriel had bonded with Maya. Not that she was jealous or anything—the two were really suited for each other—but she avoided men, afraid to fall for the wrong guy again.
“Listen, Yvette, we’re at the very beginning of this. I don’t want you to lose heart. Just look at what we’ve already discovered: your uterus is built the same way as a human’s, which means the turning didn’t change that. That’s a good thing. Your fallopian tubes are clear and unobstructed, and your ovaries are stocked with viable eggs. The lab confirmed it.”
She tossed Maya a hopeful glance. “What happened with the donated sperm?”
“Good news actually.” Maya shuffled through her papers and pulled out one sheet. “Here’s the latest result. Bringing donated sperm in contact with your eggs resulted in a fertilized egg in the test tube. So there’s—”
“But my body won’t keep the egg. Is that it?” Just like the other miscarriages. Yvette pushed the memories away. She didn’t want to be reminded of those times. Nobody knew about her past. And she wasn’t going to talk about it now. If Maya knew about the miscarriages she’d had as a human, she would have never even tried to help her. She would have considered Yvette a lost case and stopped wasting her time on this futile undertaking, but Yvette couldn’t give up despite the obstacles.
Maya could never find out. But Yvette remembered everything: the pain and the disappointment—as well as her broken heart. She’d been married. Robert had wanted a family: her and kids, a dog and cat, a white picket fence surrounding their trim little yard . . .
What he’d gotten was a wife who couldn’t hold onto the life that was inside her. The first pregnancy had started well enough. He’d been ecstatic. He’d told everybody that she was expecting. Every day he’d showered her with flowers and other little trinkets. But one day, at the beginning of her second trimester, she’d started bleeding. She’d miscarried. Robert had been disappointed, but he’d said they’d try again.
He’d been supportive then. Her husband had comforted her. Yvette had gotten pregnant again six months later. But it all had ended the same way. In her third month, she’d lost the baby. This time, her husband wasn’t as understanding. He’d accused her of deliberately jeopardizing the pregnancies.
Which was ludicrous. It hadn’t stopped him from leaving her, however. She wasn’t important enough to him. All he wanted was a child. And she couldn’t give him that, so he stopped loving her. She didn’t want that to happen again; she hadn’t let a man that close in a long time. With the next man, she wanted to know that she could give him everything he wanted. Then there would be no reason for him to leave her—and she didn’t give a rat’s ass about whether the man was human or vampire.
“Yvette?”
Yvette looked up and saw Maya’s concerned face. “We’ll have to be patient. You’re healthy, and there’s no apparent reason why you can’t get pregnant. I’ll just have to figure out what happens in a female vampire’s body after conception.”
Yvette rose and ran her hand through her short, spiky, black hair. “I know. It’s just . . . well, I’m just impatient.” And damn it if she didn’t feel a tad bit guilty about having kept her prior medical history from Maya, but she couldn’t divulge that information—or the pain and hurt that was so closely associated with those events. Nobody needed to know that as a woman she was a failure. It was enough that she faced the cold truth every day. And the truth was she wasn’t woman enough to give a man everything he wanted. Not as a human, and certainly not now as a vampire.
“I’ll do everything I can.”
“Thank you.” With a last nod to Maya, she strode out the door and took the stairs to the main floor of the Victorian mansion, relieved to leave the examination room behind her.
After bonding a few months earlier, Gabriel and Maya had bought a large, old Victorian home on Nob Hill, not too far from Samson’s house. Ah, Samson. Scanguards’ founder. He was another one who’d found love and happiness—with a human woman, a woman who was expecting their first child. Envy sliced through her like a knife. It wasn’t a child she craved, but the love of a man. And how could any man truly love her for eternity if she couldn’t give him everything he wanted? If she couldn’t satisfy his every need?
“Just the person I wanted to see,” Gabriel’s gravelly voice greeted her as she reached the foyer.
Yvette looked at her boss. As was the case so often, he was dressed in black jeans and a white shirt. His long brown hair was tied back in a simple ponytail. He wasn’t even trying to hide the long scar on his face, which stretched from the top of his right ear to his chin. It gave him a dangerous look. Yet underneath it all, he was handsome and kinder than anybody could imagine. Which couldn’t be said for the man who stood next to him: Zane.
Just like her, Zane was one of the bodyguards employed at Scanguards, the security company owned by Samson Woodford. Zane was as tall as Gabriel, but his head was shaved bald, and apart from one single time, Yvette had never seen him smile or laugh. To say that Zane was brutal and violent would be a gross understatement; yet, at the same time, he was family, just like the rest of the vampires who worked for Scanguards. They were the only family she knew. The only one she was likely to ever have.
“What can I do for you, Gabriel?”
“Everything okay?” he asked and motioned downstairs, indicating Maya’s medical practice.
Yvette’s spine stiffened. “Sure, why wouldn’t it be?”
“Good, good.”
“Listen, Gabriel, I don’t think we need to get Yvette involved,” Zane interrupted, his feet impatiently grating against the wood floor.
Gabriel cut him off with an impatient hand movement. “We’ve discussed this. You won’t use mind control on our client. I won’t allow it. If she’s afraid of you, it’s better we assign somebody else.”
Yvette raised an eyebrow. A client Zane was protecting was afraid of his—or if she heard correctly, her—bodyguard? Well, that certainly wasn’t anything new. “You have an assignment for me?”
“Yes. The agent of a young actress has approached us to protect her while she’s on a publicity tour here in the Bay Area. She’s had some threats against her, the usual stuff any movie star deals with, probably some obsessed fan or some jealous actor or actress, or who knows, some disgruntled crew member. I originally assigned Zane, but it turns out the girl is intimidated by him.”
“Go figure,” Yvette muttered under her breath. Zane shot her a furious glare which didn’t bode well for her immediate future.
“I could easily influence her, and she won’t even realize that she can’t stand me,” Zane offered. She knew her fellow bodyguard well enough to know that he didn’t give a rat’s ass about whether somebody liked him or not—more often not—but that his ego was bruised because he’d been taken off a job. Zane wasn’t a quitter. A lot of bad things could be said about him—hell, Yvette had a whole litany of things she could rattle off right now—but she had to concede one thing: he was loyal and determined to a fault.
“You won’t use your powers on her. There’s no need; Yvette can take over your job, and I’ll assign you to somebody else.”
“Fine by me,” Yvette answered. “Any other things I should know?” She ignored Zane’s grunt.
“Her name’s Kimberly Fairfax. She’s young, early twenties, an up-and-coming actress. Her latest movie has just hit the theatres, and it’s making a big splash. There are bound to be lots of crazies around who think themselves in love with her. Just watch her back for stalkers and keep the paparazzi at bay. She isn’t used to all the attention yet.”
“No problem. When do I start?”
“Tomorrow night. There’s a premier party at The Fairmont. I’ll send a briefing to your iPhone. Good luck.”
“Sounds good. Check in with you tomorrow.”
Yvette walked to the door, the prickling tension at her nape telling her Zane was following.
“I’m out of here,” Zane grumbled.
“Zane,” Gabriel warned, the single word heavy with reprimand.
“What?” Zane didn’t break his stride.
“Are my orders clear?”
With an answer more grunt than word, Zane stopped next to her and reached for the knob. Yvette was faster and opened the front door. Then she stopped in her tracks. There on the steps, a golden Labrador lay on his haunches. The moment he saw her, he rose and wagged his tail.
“Your dog?” Zane asked from over her shoulder.
“No. He’s been following me for four months. I don’t know what he wants.” It wasn’t entirely the truth. Yes, the dog had been following her ever since she and her colleagues had rescued Maya from the clutches of a rogue vampire several months earlier. What Yvette didn’t reveal was that she’d begun feeding the stray.
“Looks like he’s yours,” Zane observed.
Made sense. Ever since she’d let the dog into her house on Telegraph Hill, the beast really thought he belonged to her.
“What’s his name?” Zane continued undeterred, obviously enjoying her discomfort.
“Dog.” At hearing her say his name, the dog’s ears perked up and his tail went into overdrive. Damn, he even listened to her.
“Yep, definitely yours. Enjoy.” And Zane was gone, striding down the dark, deserted street and disappearing into the shadows.
Yvette looked at the dog, whose intelligent eyes seemed to ask her a question. He tilted his head and looked as if he smiled. Could dogs smile?
She caved in. “Fine, we’ll go home.”
Three
Yvette heard the flap of the doggie door slap against the wooden doorframe and opened her eyes. Installing the door so the dog could go into the garden whenever he pleased had been a blessing; however, it was also a curse. Now that stray really thought he belonged here. How she’d ever get rid of him, she really didn’t know. He’d even started barking at the mailman as if the poor postal employee was encroaching on his territory.
“Hey, dog,” she greeted him as he jumped on the bed. One thing she’d definitely not do was to give the beast a name. Once he had a name, he would never leave.
“Is it sunset yet?” It was an idle question; the dog wouldn’t answer her, nor did she actually need him to. Her own body had already told her that the sun had set over the Pacific Ocean and it was time to get ready for her assignment.
Yvette stretched, then put her hands onto her head. As every night upon waking, the short, spiky haircut she showed to everybody was gone, replaced by long, dark tresses. During her restorative sleep, her hair grew back to the length it had been the day she was turned. At first, she’d kept her hair long, but over the years, she’d decided that she didn’t like the look anymore. She looked too female, too vulnerable.
She walked into her bathroom and picked up the scissors lying on the vanity. Even without a mirror, she’d learned over the years how to cut her hair. She took a bunch of it in her left hand, cutting with the scissors in her right. Instead of discarding the hair in the trash, she placed it in a plastic bag which was marked St. Jude’s Hospital—Cancer Department. Let somebody else have long hair. She didn’t care for it.
When the weight of her hair lifted from her head, she felt as if the pain of her past was lifting with it. It felt the same every time she woke. The long hair reminded her of her life as a human, of the husband who’d loved to bury his face in her long tresses when they’d made love. Robert. His face wasn’t as clear in her mind anymore as it had been in the first years after they’d separated. Almost fifty years had passed since. While her memory of his face had faded into the distance, the desire for a child hadn’t. Or rather what a child represented.
Yvette placed her hand on her flat stomach. While human, a life had grown in there, not just once, but twice. She’d felt like a woman then, a woman who could give her husband what he desired above all. During those brief months of her pregnancies, she’d felt loved, not just by her husband, but also by the child inside her.
Crazy. Yvette shook her head and continued cutting her hair. She’d been devastated when she’d lost the second baby, and Robert hadn’t been there to comfort her. He’d blamed her. For a year, she’d lived as if in a trance, taking whatever drugs she could get her hands on. The numbness the drugs had produced had prevented her from taking her own life. But then, one night, she’d woken up in a stranger’s home, stoned out of her skull. He’d asked her if she wanted to live forever and enjoy sex without consequences. Sure, she’d joked, still riding on a drug high.
She’d struggled against his bite at first, but then she’d allowed death to take her, hoping the next life would be kinder. Only when she’d woken again had she realized what had happened to her. The stranger had turned her into a vampire—an infertile vampire, a fact she’d had to come to terms with the hard way.
As a human, she might have had another chance at a child and at making a man happy, but as a vampire, no such hope existed. And men were men, no matter what shape or form they came in. They fucked her, and she fucked them. But when all was said and done, even her sire had given her the marching papers. Too clingy, he’d called her. Too needy.
Not anymore. Now she was as tough as any vampire male, and nobody would ever see otherwise. The fragile woman inside was dead to the world.
Just like Gabriel had told her, the girl Yvette was to protect was young. What he’d neglected to mention was that Kimberly was also extremely beautiful. A twinge of jealousy hit Yvette the moment she set eyes upon her charge. This girl had everything: a thriving career, beauty, and a human body to bear children. Life was cruel. She wished now that Gabriel had let Zane use mind control to make the girl forget about her dislike for him. Yvette really didn’t need a constant reminder of what she couldn’t have. She would have much rather protected some wealthy, overweight executive with a bad haircut, body odor, and a beer gut.
Her consolation was that the assignment would last only a week before Kimberly would return to Los Angeles to work on her next movie.
“This is so much better,” the girl blabbered. “Frankly, that other man, Zane, or whatever his name was, he was really strange. I didn’t like him at all. The way he looked at me, I tell you, he made me really nervous. And I really don’t get nervous. Normally. The one other time I really got nervous was when I had to audition for . . . ”
Yvette tuned out Kimberly’s chatter and looked out of the tinted window of the limousine. This was just peachy. Not only did Kimberly have everything humanly possible, she talked constantly. She only hoped the girl didn’t actually expect her to listen to her chit-chat and respond. She swore she’d make Gabriel write a big bonus check for this one.
“ . . . so I said to him, ‘back at the orphanage we had that game . . . ’”
Yvette offered a fake smile and nodded as if listening intently while she scanned the goings-on outside. The limo was stuck in traffic on California Street and was slowly inching its way up toward the Fairmont Hotel.
“ . . . thought I was only nineteen, when I’m really already twenty-two, but it didn’t matter, because they wanted somebody mature for the role . . .”
No waterfall could have produced a steadier gush than the stream of words coming from this airhead’s mouth. Yvette gave her another sideways glance. Perched on the comfortable leather seat, Kimberly wore a pink evening gown. It suited her. Her wheat blond locks fell over her naked shoulders and looked perfectly natural. Only the faint smell of chemicals, picked up by Yvette’s sensitive nostrils, hinted at the fact that blond wasn’t Kimberly’s natural hair color.
For the first time in a long time, Yvette was wearing a dress. It irked her, but Kimberly had insisted, saying that if she showed up in a pant suit, she’d stick out like a sore thumb, and everybody would think she was CIA.
So Yvette had rummaged through her closet and found a little black number that would do the trick. It was an old halter dress with a plunging neckline and a naked back. If anybody gave the dress a closer look, they’d notice it was vintage. Well, they hadn’t called it vintage when she’d bought it back in the 60s. Why she’d held on to the useless thing she hadn’t worn in nearly fifty years, she didn’t know.
She should have given it to Goodwill years ago. It wasn’t like she’d worn a dress or a skirt in the last few decades; leather pants were her favorite attire. Coupled with the same high heels that adorned her feet now, she was always ready to kick ass in her leathers. In the halter dress, albeit a black one—the only color she felt truly comfortable in—she felt uneasy. As if she was faking it. And maybe she was. For the sake of her client, she had to pretend that a dress was a perfectly normal piece of clothing for her, when inside it made her feel vulnerable. And on display.
“Ma’am,” the driver interrupted her thoughts. “Don’t think we get far. Cable car seem broken and block road.”
Instantly alert, Yvette peered out through the tinted windows, scanning the street ahead for any immediate dangers. “Wait here,” she instructed Kimberly and stepped out of the car. She looked up the street and realized that the next intersection was blocked by the cable car coming up from Powell Street. Nothing looked out of place. She’d gotten used to the fact that the old cable cars broke down from time to time.
The Fairmont Hotel was only a block farther. Glancing up and down the street and assessing the passing pedestrians quickly, she determined that everything looked as it should. Foot traffic was light. Yvette dipped her head back into the car.
“We’ll walk from here. It’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?” Kimberly asked, her voice faltering for the first time.
Yvette offered her hand to the girl and pulled her out of the car. “I’m sure. Let’s go. You don’t want to be late for your own party.” She slammed the door shut, then tapped on the passenger window, keeping her other hand on her charge’s arm. The driver lowered the window instantly. “I’ll call you when we’re ready to be picked up.”
The hill was steep, but Yvette knew there was a side entrance to the hotel which was halfway up the block, and within seconds they reached it. She preferred side entrances anyway—it was a better way to escape attention, and for certain the front entrance of the hotel would be teeming with autograph hunters and photographers.
“Here.” She ushered Kimberly through the side door and along a narrow corridor until it widened into a large opulent foyer, attesting to the hotel’s turn-of-the-century roots.
Yvette’s eyes scanned her surroundings. Waiters and waitresses passed through the area as did well-dressed people. She noticed the stares Kimberly received and knew that people recognized her. Whispers drifted to Yvette’s ears as they passed.
When she found the hall in which the premier party was to take place, she noticed the security at the door and let out a sigh of relief. At least the movie studio had provided some additional security to screen the arriving guests and check IDs.
Yvette flashed her Scanguards ID.
The guard nodded then beamed at Kimberly. “Miss Fairfax, may I just say, I really liked your movie. You’re so talented. Do you think I could have an autograph?”
He reached into his jacket pocket, putting Yvette on instant alert as she shifted into fighting stance, ready to strike him down. When he pulled out a postcard with Kimberly’s face on it, Yvette relaxed marginally.
“Of course,” Kimberly cooed and autographed the picture before turning to the door.