Title Page
Book Description
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Epilogue
About Buchenwald
About the Author
Copyright
Zane’s Redemption
(Scanguards Vampires #5)
by
Tina Folsom
* * * * *
Zane’s Redemption
Copyright © 2011 by Tina Folsom
Scanguards is a registered trademark.
* * * * *
Book Description
The last thing vampire bodyguard Zane wants to do is to guard a hybrid, a half-vampire, half-human, whose father wants to keep her a virgin. Known for his violent temper and callous lack of compassion, Zane’s out-of-control rage, born of the cruelty he suffered during the Holocaust, drives him to focus only on revenge. Trying to find the last of his torturers is his only goal in life.
Portia is a young hybrid with a serious dilemma: in a few weeks, her body will be set in its final vampire form. If she is to avoid having to live out her immortal life as a virgin, she must find a lover in that short time—something her father hires Zane to prevent.
The moment Portia and Zane meet, rules begin to bend, and a forbidden attraction bursts into flames hotter than the hell of Zane’s past. But that past threatens to pull them apart unless they can overcome their prejudice, forsake hate for love, and revenge for forgiveness.
MORE BY TINA
Scanguards Vampires
Phoenix Code Series with Lara Adrian
Out of Olympus
Venice Vampyr
Eternal Bachelors Club
Stealth Guardians
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the memory of my grandfather, Josef Veselak, prisoner #29658. He perished in the concentration camp at Dachau on July 26, 1942.
Chapter One
Zane heard a scream and blocked it out to prolong feeding from the succulent neck of the Latino kid he’d cornered in an alley in the Mission, the predominantly Mexican and South American neighborhood of San Francisco. It was a sketchy area; on one hand, trendy restaurants and nightclubs attracted the rich residents from the north side of town, on the other, poor immigrants toiled in dead-end jobs for minimum wage. Yet somehow, Zane had instantly felt at home when he’d first set foot in the neighborhood.
As his fangs lodged deeper to draw more blood, Zane listened to the thundering heartbeat of his victim, fully aware of the power he had over the teenager’s life. If he took an ounce too much, the boy would bleed out, his heartbeat ceasing, his breath rushing from his lungs for the last time, leaving behind a lifeless shell.
It was how he liked to feed, not from a bottle of lifeless donated blood like his colleagues at Scanguards preferred, but from a human where he felt the life pulsing beneath his palms while the warm, rich blood coated his throat. There was no substitute for this feeling. It went beyond pure nourishment; it appealed to his need to feel superior, to be powerful, to be in control of the life in his arms.
Every night, the struggle to allow that life to continue renewed. Despite the fact that each night a different human was at his mercy, it changed nothing, and the battle inside him remained the same: to stop while the human was still alive or to give in to the urge to destroy and assuage his need to avenge, for no matter whether he fed from a Latino kid, a black woman, or an Asian man, their faces were all the same once his memories of the past took possession of his mind. Their features morphed into those of a white man, his hair a dark blond, his eyes brown, and his cheekbones high: the face of one of his torturers, the only one he had failed to track down after chasing him for over sixty-five years. The only one he hadn’t slain—yet.
Zane noticed the change in pressure of the blood rushing through the kid’s veins, and withdrew his fangs from his neck. He quickly licked over the wound to close it and prevent any more blood loss as his fangs retracted back into their sockets, deep within his gums, satisfied for the moment. His own heart hammered furiously in his chest as he felt his victim slacken, but his ears picked up the faint heartbeat, assuring him that he hadn’t gone too far. He’d won tonight’s battle, but the restlessness he’d felt in the last few months was increasing and driving him to take more and more risks with his victims’ lives.
He’d come to San Francisco nine months ago on an assignment for Scanguards, the vampire-run bodyguard company that had employed him for several decades. The assignment had turned into a permanent stay. At first, he’d thought that the change of venue from New York to this quiet West coast town that was frequently engulfed in fog would bring him peace, but the opposite was the case. The hunt for his torturer had stalled, then come to a dead end. With every day that passed after the trail had gone cold, this failure drove his anger and hatred higher. He needed to hurt somebody. Soon.
At a sound, Zane snapped his head to the side. He lowered the Latino kid to the ground, resting him against the wall of a building. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, concentrating on the distant voice he’d heard. Past the noise that indicated a vibrant nightlife, a low whimpering laced with fear and despair drifted to him. It was remote, but his sensitive vampire hearing identified it as a plea for help.
“Fuck!”
He shouldn’t have ignored the scream he’d heard earlier. He should have known that something was wrong. Both his vampire instincts and his training as a bodyguard told him as much. Without casting another glance at his victim, Zane charged out of the alley and headed for the origin of the sound. He hoped he wasn’t too late already.
A few drunks stumbled along the sidewalk, their incoherent mumbles temporarily blocking out the distressed sobs he was following. Had he lost the trail? Zane rocked to a halt at the next corner and forced his ears to concentrate. For a moment, everything was completely quiet, but then the sound returned and intensified his gut feeling that he was needed.
This time, the cry was accompanied by the low hissing voice of a man. “Shut up, bitch, or I’m gonna gut you.”
Instinct took over as Zane raced around the corner and into the driveway where two shabby apartment buildings converged. His superior night vision assessed the situation instantly: a man was forcing a young woman face down against a dumpster, holding a knife to her throat. His pants bunched at his knees, and his bare ass moved frantically back and forth as he raped her.
“Shit!” Zane leapt at him just as the man’s head turned, alerted by Zane’s curse.
His fangs lengthened in mid-flight, and his fingers transformed into sharp claws capable of ripping an elephant to shreds. Zane pried the rapist off his victim with one swoop, his claws digging into the guy’s shoulders, cleaving clear through his hoodie sweater.
The man’s scream was first surprise, then pain as Zane’s claws slashed deeper into his flesh. He relished the sound and dragged one hand, claws extended, through the entire width of his shoulder, tearing the flesh apart, rupturing muscle and nerve tissue. Blood spurted from the open wound, and the air became pregnant with its metallic scent. He flashed his fangs, making sure the asshole got a good look at them.
“Nooooo!” The desperate protest of his victim did nothing to stop Zane’s assault. Deliberately slowly, he allowed his other hand to tear through the muscles of the left shoulder, doing equal damage there. His arms dangling limp from his shoulders, the severed sinew and nerves not supporting their movement any longer, the rapist was defenseless.
At his mercy.
If Zane had had a heart, he would have ended it right there, but it was too late. One look at the frightened girl who gaped at him in horror, and his past took hold of him. Suddenly, the strawberry blond rape victim’s features with the terrified blue eyes became a face he knew so well, a face he’d not seen in decades, yet never forgotten.
Her dark brown hair curled at its ends and caressed her pale shoulders as it framed her young face. Her chocolate brown eyes looked up at him, innocence lost, begging him to help her, to save her. “Zacharias …” As her voice faded, he reached for her, but she shrunk back, petrified.
“Rachel,” he whispered. “Don’t be afraid.”
Zane became aware of the man struggling against him and tore his gaze from her. He would kill the man who was hurting her, hurting his little Rachel.
Zane tossed the rapist against a wall a few yards away, hearing the cracking of his ribs with utter satisfaction. When he crossed the distance to his victim, his steps were deliberate. He allowed his body to harden and enjoyed the horrified look in the man’s eyes. But he didn’t see the face of the rapist anymore. It had changed. He saw a dark blond man with brown eyes. And finally those eyes shone with fear and the knowledge that his time had finally run out. He was caught and would pay for his crimes tonight.
Without another thought, Zane slammed his claws into the man’s chest and sliced it open with the infallible precision of a man who’d performed this task before. Ignoring the bloodcurdling screams, he plunged his hands inside and jerked the ribs apart. Blood spurted onto him, liberally gushing from the open chest. He inhaled the scent, the smell of life and death equally strong. Despite the fact that he’d only just fed, hunger surged, but it was a different kind of hunger this time, not for food, but for revenge. Sweeter than hunger, it begged to be satisfied by the only means possible.
Zane jammed his hand through the chest wall and reached for the beating heart. His palm clamped around it, the life-sustaining organ pulsing into his fist, its spasms still strong and fighting against the inevitable. “You’ll never hurt anybody again.”
As he tore the heart from its body, the man’s eyes went blank. Zane stared at the still-beating heart in his hand as the warm blood dripped from the torn veins and arteries and ran down his hand and wrist. A river of it tunneled under the sleeve of his black shirt, soaking it, pasting it against his skin. His heartbeat slowed to near normal.
It was done.
“Rachel, he’s dead. You’re safe now.”
Zane pivoted, but Rachel was gone. In her stead, a strawberry blond, young woman cowered against the dumpster, whimpering and shaking like a leaf. Tears had dissolved her black mascara and left long dark streaks along her cheeks. Her lips quivered.
Zane blinked. Rachel wasn’t safe. Rachel was gone, and he couldn’t bring her back. But this girl here was alive, and her attacker was dead.
He took a step toward her to impart the good news, but she scrambled back and away from him. “Noooo!” she echoed breathlessly, her eyes frantically searching for an escape route as if she thought Zane was coming after her next.
“I won’t hurt you.” He stretched his bloody hands toward her, but his gesture only made her shriek in panic.
Zane knew what she saw. His jeans and shirt were soaked in blood. The sticky, warm liquid had even penetrated his boots. But that wasn’t the worst. The girl he’d rescued saw his vampire side, the deadly claws, the sharp fangs that pushed past his lips, and the glowing red eyes that made him look like the devil. His bald head only accentuated the air of danger that always accompanied him even when he was in his human form. Even without his fangs extended, people feared him—as they should.
He’d massacred a man like a butcher slaughtered a pig and felt no remorse. He’d done what was necessary, even if most people would never understand it. Evil had to be eradicated instantly, before it had a chance to grow bigger and turn into a festering cancer that could destroy an entire people. As it had once done while the world had stood by and watched.
They’d stood by until it was too late, until the worst had been done.
“I’ll make you forget,” Zane promised the scared girl and allowed his mental powers to take hold of her mind, erasing everything that had happened tonight, including the rape. When she woke tomorrow, she wouldn’t remember anything about the man who’d attacked her, nor the man who’d saved her from this monster.
Or was Zane the monster? Was he the one to be feared, the one who was evil for wanting to avenge what had been done to him and his family?
As he stalked through the night, the warm blood of his victim rapidly drying on his skin and clothes, once again the face of his torturer hovered before him, taunting him. He had to close this chapter of his life and find him, otherwise peace would elude him and happiness remain a foreign word.
Chapter Two
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Samson, the founder of Scanguards, slammed a newspaper on the massive desk in his study and rose. He was over six feet tall and slightly broader than Zane who was leaner but not any less lethal than his fellow vampire. He’d rarely ever seen Samson angry, but tonight his boss was fuming.
Zane glanced at the headline: ‘Monstrous killer cuts heart from innocent partygoer.’ What a load of bull! He hadn’t cut anything—those reporters should get their facts straight. And his victim had been far from innocent. “He had it coming.”
“Did I say you could talk?” Samson snapped, his fangs descending in the process and peeking past his lips. “You weren’t thinking at all, were you? What was it, Zane, bloodlust? You couldn’t stop this time? You couldn’t confine yourself to just feeding from him?”
Zane’s heartbeat accelerated as Samson hurled wrong accusation after wrong accusation at him. “I didn’t feed off him.”
Samson blinked in surprise. “You murdered him in cold blood?”
Zane swore he could still hear the guy’s screams of pain and fear. The recollection caused his gums to itch, a sure sign that his fangs were eager to descend and come out to play. “And I enjoyed every single second of it.”
“My God, you have no heart.” Samson took an instinctive step back, clearly taken aback by his admission.
“I wouldn’t say that. For a while there, I had two.”
Samson pounded his fist onto the desk, apparently not enjoying Zane’s sense of humor. Zane didn’t care; he wasn’t Samson’s court jester.
“Do you have any idea what risks you were taking? This could expose us!”
Zane lunged for the desk, bracing his hands on it. “What would you have done, huh? That fucking asshole was raping an innocent girl! At knifepoint!”
With satisfaction, he noticed the widening of Samson’s eyes. “Yes, that’s right. But you always assume the worst of me, don’t you?” Just as everybody else did.
“She was an innocent, and he raped her, just put a knife to her throat and violated her. What if that had been your wife, or your sister? What if somebody did that to your daughter? Would you then stand here, self-righteously talking about exposure? Or would you rip the jerk a new one?”
Zane thrust his chin up in challenge and knew he’d won this round.
As a blood-bonded vampire, Samson was fiercely protective of his human wife, Delilah, and their two-month-old daughter Isabelle. He would gladly give his own life to protect theirs and wouldn’t think twice about killing anyone who threatened them.
When Samson closed his eyes for a moment and raked his hand through his raven black hair, Zane relaxed his aggressive stance.
“You could have made it a clean kill. There was no need to butcher him.”
“There was need.” He’d needed it. He’d needed to see him suffer. A clean kill wouldn’t have satisfied him. “Breaking his neck wouldn’t have hurt him. I had to set an example.”
“An example of what?”
“That evil will be eradicated; that rapists will pay for their crimes.”
“You can’t make an example of someone when nobody knows why you did it!”
Zane let out a sharp breath. “The fact that he had his pants down to his ankles didn’t tell you enough? What do you guys want, a sign around his neck that says ‘rapist’?”
“The article didn’t mention anything about his pants being down.”
“Then maybe you should check your facts with your contact at the police first before accusing me of being a cold-blooded murderer.”
Because of Samson’s friendship with the mayor, who was a hybrid—half-vampire, half-human—he had a direct line to the police department, a fact that came in handy on occasion. Maybe Samson should have used his contacts before he’d gone to town on him.
Zane straightened and turned toward the door.
“Oh, we’re not done,” Samson said calmly.
Zane raised an eyebrow as he spun around to face him.
“The fact remains that you slaughtered a man and left his body for anybody to find. It goes against everything Scanguards stands for.”
As Samson paused, a nauseating feeling spread in Zane’s gut. Was his boss planning on firing him? Scanguards was his life, his family, his only link to humanity. Without it, he would descend into darkness and give into his most evil desires. He would only live for revenge and nothing else, leading him onto a path that was sure to destroy him. He was smart enough to know that if Scanguards wasn’t there to ground him in reality any longer, he’d lose the last bit of his soul and turn as evil as the men responsible for his transformation into a vampire.
“No …” he choked out, feeling his throat constrict at the thought of losing everything that meant anything to him. The faces of his colleagues and friends flashed before him: the scarred face of Gabriel, Scanguards’ second in command and the man who’d first hired him; Thomas, the gay biker with the IT-Geek brain; Amaury, his linebacker-sized friend whose huge size detracted from the fact that he had the softest heart of any man Zane had ever met, particularly when it came to his blood-bonded mate Nina; and even Yvette, the prissy woman who’d been a pain in the butt until two months ago when she’d found her soul mate, the witch-turned-vampire Haven.
His thoughts wandered further, back to New York and his friend Quinn who was responsible for him still being alive. If Quinn hadn’t pulled him out of the downward spiral he’d been in at the time and introduced him to Gabriel, he would probably be dust by now. He couldn’t give all this up. Those were his friends, the only people he could rely on.
“Sit down,” Samson ordered.
“I’d rather stand.” If Samson was going to fire him, he would take it like a man.
“Suit yourself. I’ll discuss this situation with Gabriel later, but I’m sure we’ll be of the same mind.”
Figured! When didn’t those two agree on something, particularly when it came to the punishment of fellow vampires? Sticklers for rules, both of them! Fuck, he was a vampire, not some idiot human. He had his own rules.
“In the meantime,” Samson went on, “I’m pulling you off your assignment and revoking your class A status.”
Zane clenched his jaw shut. Having Scanguards’ highest clearance revoked meant being ineligible for any dangerous or high-importance assignments. It meant being relegated to routine duties. Samson might as well have chopped his hands off.
“You can’t …” He was no fucking rent-a-cop with a beer belly and a bad haircut sitting in the lobby of a deserted building all night, guarding empty offices.
Samson held up his hand. “Before you say anything you might regret later, I’d like you to listen.”
Zane snorted. Regret wasn’t part of his vocabulary. Neither was remorse.
“I can’t risk having a loose cannon on my staff. Until we’ve figured out how to mitigate the risk you represent, you’ll work in low-risk and low-stress areas. You’ll have my final decision in two days.”
Zane nodded stiffly. “Fine,” he pressed out, barely parting his lips so he wouldn’t bare the fangs that had descended the moment the rage had started to grip him.
Low-risk! Low-stress!
What the fuck was Samson insinuating? That he was having a nervous breakdown? Those were for fucking sissies, not for men like him! He’d shove a nervous breakdown up their asses if they gave him any more shit about this.
Zane left Samson’s study and resisted the urge to slam the door. His long legs ate up the distance as he hurried along the dark, wood-paneled corridor that led to the foyer. He couldn’t wait to get out of the Victorian home that suddenly felt oppressive. He needed to smash something.
“Low-stress!” he cursed under his breath.
“Evening, Zane!” Delilah’s calm voice came from his left.
He whipped his head toward her and watched her walk down the broad mahogany staircase, her infant daughter cradled in her arms.
“Delilah.” He was unable to be any more civil than that. After all, her mate had just insulted him.
She smiled at him when a beeping sound from the kitchen put a frown on her face. “Oh, no, the cookies, I almost forgot.”
Before he realized what she wanted to do, she stretched out her arms and put the baby against his chest. “Here, hold her for a moment. I’ve gotta take the cookies out or they’ll burn.”
Instinctively, his arms came up to hold the baby before Delilah rushed toward the kitchen. “But, I …” His protest was too late. Shit!
He looked down at the little bundle in his arms, not knowing what to do next when the baby opened its eyes. They were as green as her mother’s and just as beautiful. The little girl looked straight at him. She was a hybrid, a half-human, half-vampire child, possessing the attributes of both species.
She could be out in daylight without burning, yet she would have the strength and speed of a vampire once she was fully grown. Even as a child, she was stronger and would grow faster than a purely human child. While she could eat human food, she could also sustain herself on blood. And once she had reached maturity, she would stop aging just like a full-blooded vampire.
The best of both worlds, she was a tiny wonder. Only vampire males were fertile, but they could only procreate with blood-bonded human females. Vampire females were infertile. However, this little girl had lucked out: her human genes assured she was fertile. She would make Samson a grandfather one day; and her children would be hybrids like her, no matter who the father was.
Fascinated, Zane stared at the miracle in his arms and stroked his knuckles over her rosy cheeks. He hadn’t felt such softness and sweetness since his little sister had been a baby. Ten years her senior, he’d often taken care of her, fed her, and lulled her to sleep.
“You sweet little girl,” he whispered and noticed how she opened her mouth to smile at him. Tiny little fangs peeked from her upper gums.
The baby’s little hand reached for him, and he obliged her and allowed her to capture his index finger with her fist. Her grip was strong, pulling his finger toward her face with ease. Before he could register what was happening, she drew his finger to her mouth and wrapped her lips around it. Sharp fangs descended into his flesh.
“Ouch!” He jerked his finger from her. Blood dripped from it. Zane looked back at the baby and saw her smack her lips together as if she wanted more. The little devil had bitten him!
He shook his head and looked up, his gaze colliding with Delilah’s. Her mouth gaping open, she stared at his bleeding finger and then at her daughter’s mouth.
“She bit you.” Not a question, simply a statement. “She’s never bitten anybody before. You do know what that means, don’t you?”
Ah, shit, he knew only too well.
Chapter Three
Portia Lewis shut her laptop and slid it into her shoulder bag together with her course book, waiting for her best friend, Lauren, to do the same.
“Are you going to Michael’s party tonight?”
Portia shook her head as she and Lauren fought their way through the throng of students exiting the lecture hall. “I still have to prepare for tomorrow’s criminal psychology test.”
Lauren made a dismissive hand movement. “Piece of cake. Besides—” She bent closer and lowered her voice. “—you can always use your powers.”
Portia jumped back and gave her a scolding look. “You know we’re not allowed to do that!”
It had been drilled into her as far back as she could remember. Both her father, a full-blooded vampire, and her mother, a human, had instilled in her that she had to hide what she was at all times: a hybrid, half vampire, half human. The only reason she could even talk to Lauren about this was because her friend was just like her.
When Portia and her dad had moved to San Francisco after her mother’s death in a car accident six months earlier, she had struck up a friendship with the mayor’s daughter after realizing that Lauren was a hybrid too. They were signed up for many of the same courses at the University of San Francisco, a private catholic school. Because the aura of hybrids was so different from humans, they had recognized each other instantly, both glad to have a best friend they had so much in common with.
When she’d told her father about her new friend, he’d seemed displeased, making Portia wonder whether he was somewhat envious that she had instantly found a friend while he still mourned the loss of his wife. She missed her mother terribly, but she knew she had to get on with her life. Luckily, Portia had always been good at making friends quickly. It was a survival mechanism she’d developed early on, because her family rarely stayed anywhere for longer than a year. Her father always moved them to a new town just when she started to feel at home. She understood it to a certain degree. As a vampire, he had to be careful not to attract attention. Humans around him would eventually find it odd that he never ventured outside the home during the day, never extended or accepted dinner invitations, and didn’t age. She had accepted it, but at the same time, she longed for a place to grow roots and stay.
“Eric will be there,” Lauren baited her and brought her back to the present. “You know he likes you.”
Portia felt her cheeks flame and wished that her vampire side prevented her from blushing, but unfortunately only full-blooded vampires didn’t blush. As so often before, she covered her insecurity about guys with an offhanded remark. “You know he’s not all that hot. I’ve been with more exciting guys before.”
What a big lie that was! She’d never had a boyfriend, but not even Lauren knew that. Despite the fact that they were friends, Portia still hadn’t been able to confide in her that the prospect of getting naked with a guy not only made her nervous, but terrified her.
“Not hot? You’re kidding me. Eric is pretty much the number one heartthrob on campus.”
“Shh, not so loud,” Portia cautioned. “I don’t need everybody hearing us talking about him.” She cast a nervous look over her shoulder, hoping none of Eric’s friends were close.
Lauren put her hand on her arm, making Portia halt in midstride. She turned to look at her friend, wondering why Lauren suddenly gave her this penetrating look. “What?”
Lauren’s eyes bored into her. “Oh, my God, why didn’t I see this earlier?”
“Hey, move along, or get out of my way,” an impatient voice ordered from behind.
Portia stepped aside to get out of the person’s way when Lauren dragged her into the closest doorway.
“What are you doing?” Portia protested.
“We’ve gotta talk,” Lauren insisted as she darted cautious looks down the corridor as if about to reveal a big secret. She opened the door to a small study room and, finding it empty, virtually pushed Portia inside, shutting the door behind her.
“Lauren, I’ve got another class in five minutes.” Portia glanced impatiently at her wristwatch and hugged her bag to her chest. “I’ve already told you that I can’t go to the party because of that criminal psychology test. Honestly, I’ve been to plenty of parties in my life, and they’re all the same. It really gets boring after a while. So don’t be a nag.”
Lauren blew out an impatient breath. “Forget the party. This is more important.”
More important than a party when all Lauren lived for at present was entertainment? Listening to this was definitely worth being late for her next class. “What changed your tune?”
“Tell me about your last boyfriend.” Lauren’s casual tone belied the intense look in her eyes, as if she were a tigress waiting to pounce on her prey.
Portia furrowed her forehead, wondering what her friend was suddenly so interested in. “There’s really nothing much to tell. Why do you want to know about him?”
“Just answer the question.”
“He was nice. We went out for a few months, we broke up, I moved. End of story.”
“Oh, yeah? How was the sex?”
Instinctively, Portia’s body tensed, and she pulled her bag closer to her chest. “It was fine.”
“Fine, huh? Not hot, not exciting, not sweaty, not earth moving?”
Unease crept up Portia’s spine at Lauren’s insistent question. “What do you want, Lauren?”
“You’ve never had sex.”
Portia took an instinctive step back, crashing into the desk behind her. She quickly steadied herself, forcing her face into an indifferent mask she used when she wasn’t prepared to expose her feelings.
“That’s ... that’s ludicrous. Of course, I’ve had sex.” Admitting that she hadn’t and that she was a total innocent, was just too humiliating.
“I can tell when you’re lying. Your eyes do this thing ...” Lauren made a circular motion with her hand. “Anyway, I know you well enough by now to have figured that out.”
Portia let out a sigh. Somebody had finally caught her in her deception. And there she’d thought she’d played this role well enough: she’d pretended to be worldly and sophisticated, and whenever the subject of guys and sex came up in conversation, she’d talked as if she knew everything about it. She’d gone so far as to read everything about it, and even to chime in when other girls talked about their preferred brand of condoms. What a huge lie all that had been. And she’d done it so that nobody would think her odd; so she’d fit in, when she knew she didn’t.
Lauren waited patiently and flicked a strand of her long chestnut hair over her shoulder, drawing Portia’s attention to her graceful neck and the pretty head that sat on top of it. Raising her eyes to meet Lauren’s, she collected all her courage. “I’m still a virgin.”
“Not good,” Lauren murmured, shaking her head.
“I’m just waiting for the right guy.”
“I’m afraid you don’t have that luxury.” Lauren’s voice became even more urgent.
Uncomfortable about the situation and disappointed about the fact that Lauren didn’t seem to understand her, Portia spun toward the door. “I’ve gotta get to my class.”
In vampire speed, a blur to the human eye, Lauren blocked the exit. “You’re skipping class today. There are more important things in life than school.”
“Don’t be so dramatic; just because boys and sex are important to you, doesn’t mean everybody thinks the same. You and I, we’re very different.” Portia squeezed her bag tighter as if it could protect her from the things she didn’t want to face.
“I agree, boys aren’t important. Sex is.”
Portia rolled her eyes. “For you maybe.” Imagining herself in bed with any of the guys she’d kissed held no particular appeal. Lauren’s standards, however, appeared to be somewhat lower.
“You’re turning twenty-one in what, five weeks from today?”
Confused about the change in subject, she answered automatically, “In six weeks. Why?”
Lauren pressed her lips together and hummed to herself as if contemplating a massive problem such as the eradication of world hunger. “Then we have six weeks for you to lose your virginity. Granted, that’s not a lot of time, but there are enough horny guys out there we can take if we don’t find anything better. I can count at least a dozen—”
“Hold it! What the hell are you going on about? I’m not just going out there to lose my virginity to some idiot. I’m going to have sex when it feels right. And besides, I’m not planning on dating until after college. I promised my father.”
Her parents had always drilled into her that it was important to find the right person. And knowing how happy they had been together, she had to agree. The love between them had been palpable. Portia wanted the same for herself. She didn’t want to throw her virginity away at some guy she didn’t care about. So far, she hadn’t met anybody who had even tempted her in the slightest to take this step.
“Weren’t you listening? You don’t have time to wait.” Lauren made it sound like the world was going to end. “You have to lose your virginity by your twenty-first birthday or you’ll be a virgin forever!”
“That’s ludicrous! Even at twenty-one I’m still young enough to attract guys. Besides, once I’m twenty-one, I won’t age anymore.”
“Exactly!” Lauren waved her hands in a dramatic gesture. “And that’s the point. At twenty-one your body will freeze into its final form. It’ll be set in stone. Your physical form won’t change after that. Which means, if you still have your hymen in place then, you’ll always have it.”
Portia’s heartbeat stuttered to a halt. Her hymen would remain intact? “But—” It couldn’t be.
“Every time you have sex after you turn twenty-one, you’ll be in pain, because each time the guy you’re having sex with will tear through your hymen. And every day it will grow back, because your body thinks you’re injured and will repair itself. Sex will always be painful for you. Do you see now?”
Portia swallowed hard. Her knees buckled, and she sought support from the desk behind her. “You can’t be serious ... this can’t be true.”
Why was this the first time she’d heard about this? Her mother had never mentioned anything about that, and her father had only always cautioned her about boys. She raised her eyes to her friend, her head full of questions.
Lauren shook her gorgeous locks. “I’m telling you the truth. Go, ask my father. He made sure that I lost my virginity with plenty of time to spare. Hell, he screened the guys himself and helped me pick one.”
Portia looked back at the few times she’d struck up friendships with boys. “One time, my dad found me kissing a guy in the backseat of a car. We moved to another town a week later, but …” Her voice faltered as she remembered the times she’d gotten close to boys, but it had never led to more than a few kisses and some touching. Before she could go any further with any of them, had she even wanted to, she’d found herself in a new town and a new school.
Lauren gasped. “Your father kept you away from boys? But he must know what he’s doing to you. He can’t not know.”
Portia shook her head, not wanting to follow the implications of Lauren’s words. “No! My father loves me. He would never do anything to hurt me.”
She believed that. He was her rock. He’d always been there for her. Even more so after her mother’s death. She only had him.
“You said you promised him not to date until after college. Did you come up with that or did he demand that?”
“Demand?” She glared at her friend, yet at the same time she remembered how her father had explained that it would be better for her to wait. And she’d agreed with him, secretly relieved that she didn’t have to deal with this issue until later. “He didn’t demand it. We discussed it.”
Lauren tsked. “Do you always do everything your father wants you to do? Have you never rebelled?”
“I have no reason to rebel. Yes, my father is strict, but it’s because he wants the best for me. And I only have him. Without Mom ... I have nobody else. No other family. You can’t understand that. You’ve never been alone.”
Lauren put her hand on Portia’s arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. But you have to face the facts: you have to lose your virginity. You have to get rid of your hymen.”
“What if my father doesn’t know about this? He never hangs out with other vampires. We weren’t part of a coven or a clan. Maybe he doesn’t know because we never integrated in vampire society. We moved around too much for that.”
Lauren shook her head, her eyes full of pity. “He has to know. You don’t raise a hybrid daughter without knowing this.”
“I don’t believe it.” And she would prove Lauren wrong. “I’m going to talk to him tonight.”
Chapter Four
The sun had already set over the Pacific, when Portia got home and found her father sitting on the couch poring over a file he instantly closed when he saw her.
“Evening, sweetheart, how were your classes?” Her father gave her a cheerful smile.
Portia dropped her bag at the bottom of the stairs and walked into the living room.
“Fine.” She hesitated, not knowing how to start this difficult conversation. Shifting from one foot to the other, she avoided looking at him and instead stared at the wall behind him.
“Something wrong? You seem quiet.”
“Uh ... well, there is something I wanted to talk to you about.” She adjusted her gaze to look at him.
Her father sat up, his torso suddenly rigid. “Is somebody giving you trouble?”
She quickly shook her head. “No, it’s not that. Everything’s fine. It’s just ... I found out something today that you’re not aware of and ...” Portia broke off again, searching for the right words. This was harder than she’d thought.
“What is it? You know you can tell me anything.”
Of course she knew that, but this was kind of awkward. In this moment, she wished her mother were still alive, and rather than broach this delicate subject with her father, she could confide her concerns in her mother.
“It’s just that I found out today that once my body sets into its final form, I’ll still ... I’ll still have my hymen if I don’t lose my virginity before that.”
She swallowed. Now it was out and she and her father could discuss this matter like two adults.
“Who told you?” her father’s voice thundered as he rose in the same instant. “Lauren!”
Taken aback by his harsh and seemingly angry reply, Portia nodded quickly. “You mean she wasn’t telling me the truth?”
“It’s none of her business to tell you anything. You know only what I tell you, and that’s it. I’m the one raising you!”
Raising her? She was grown up! “Father, I’m not a child anymore. I have a right to know.”
“Silence! Lauren has no right to fill your mind with these things. Don’t concern yourself with them!”
Confused, Portia opened her mouth again. “But was she right? Is that what’s going to happen to me?”
Her father stared at her, his eyes glaring red in anger. “You are my daughter. And I say who you’ll lose your virginity to and when.”
In that instant, she saw the truth in his face. He understood the implications. He’d always known, but he’d chosen to keep her in the dark.
“Why? How can you do this to me?” How could he betray her like this? Didn’t he love her? Tears welled up in her eyes.
“You’ll understand eventually, and—” The beeping of his cell phone interrupted him. He glanced at it, then back at her.
“I have a meeting. Go to your room and study. I’ll be back soon.”
Then he turned and simply walked out like a man used to his orders being followed.
Portia just stood here. She had never felt so alone in her life.
Her father believed that it was his right to keep her ignorant, and what was even worse, he thought he could choose a man for her and decide when she would lose her virginity—whether that was within the next six weeks or not.
Tears streaked down her cheeks before she could stop them. Disappointment clamped around her heart like a tight fist, squeezing it until the pain was unbearable. Her father didn’t love her, because if he did, he would never impose this fate on her. She’d looked up to him all her life. No longer.
She would be his obedient daughter no more.
This was her life, and she would decide how to live it.
***
The party was at a fraternity house not far from campus. The music was blaring from several speakers, the light dim at best, the place reeking of alcohol and smoke. Portia wrinkled her nose—it was not the legal kind of smoke.
It took her a good ten minutes to locate Lauren. Her friend looked fantastic in her low rider jeans and tight top that could have doubled as a wide belt.
“I thought you weren’t coming.” Lauren gave her a surprised stare.
“I wasn’t, but I needed to talk to you and you didn’t answer your cell.”
Lauren motioned toward the crowd. “Too loud in here; couldn’t hear it ring. What’s up?”
“You were right.” The admission cost her.
Instantly, Lauren grabbed her arm and pulled her from the room and down a corridor. A moment later, the two of them were locked in one of the bathrooms.
“What happened?” Lauren asked.
Portia sniffed. “I asked him. And he knew what he was doing to me. He knew I would remain a ...” Her voice broke.
Lauren drew her into her arms and stroked over Portia’s hair. “I’m so sorry, honey.”
Portia pushed back the threatening tears. She would not cry. She had to stay strong. Slowly, she stepped back, pulling from Lauren’s embrace.
“I’ve thought about how to do it.” She’d come up with the perfect idea of how to take care of her predicament, and now she needed Lauren’s help.
“Good, Eric is here already. He was disappointed when I told him you weren’t coming. I’ll let him know—”
“No! That’s not why I’m here. I need you to go with me to buy a dildo.” She shuddered at the thought of walking into a sex toy shop on her own.
Lauren’s eyes widened. “A dildo? What are you ... oh no, you don’t mean to pierce your hymen with a dildo?”
“Yes, that’s the easiest solution. I really don’t want to have to sleep with anybody just to—”
“Not gonna work, Portia.”
Stunned, she stared at her friend. “Why not? It’s as big as a ... you know. I think it’s a brilliant idea.”
“Sure, if it worked, but it won’t. It’ll push through your hymen, but tomorrow it will have grown back. A man’s semen is what will make it disappear for good.”
Portia suppressed her urge to gag. “But then ... then ...” Her mind’s wheels churned. “Then, why don’t I get donated sperm. You have to help me.” She took Lauren by her shoulders, almost shaking her. “Can’t you get one of your ‘friends’ to donate some? I’m sure you can come up with some excuse for why.”
Lauren tilted her head and gave a sad smile. “You know, your idea would really be great, but unfortunately, it won’t work either. The sperm has to be ultra-fresh, and it has to be delivered with a flesh and blood dick. So whatever turkey baster method you’re thinking of, it’s off the table.”
This revelation hit her just as hard as the disappointment earlier in the evening. She dropped her head. “Why? Why?”
“I wish I could tell you something different, but that’s how it is.”
Portia lifted her head. “What now?”
“I think we should go look for Eric.”
Portia felt her palms dampen at the thought. “Now? Why don’t we wait a little while and see if we can figure out another solution. There must be something else.”
Lauren shook her head. “There’s no other solutions. Trust me, you’re not the first hybrid. You’ll survive. I hear Eric is good between the sheets.”
Portia groaned.
A half hour later, Portia found out first hand that Eric was a passable kisser. Only, no matter the contortions he put his tongue through, she wasn’t getting turned on. She remained strangely detached from the entire situation. In fact, none of the guys she’d kissed before had really made her feel like she wanted more. Sure, it had always been pleasant, just like sitting in the sun and eating ice cream was pleasant.
Was she frigid? Was that the reason why she hadn’t pursued sex and why it hadn’t bothered her that her father didn’t want her to date yet?
This wasn’t going to work, not with Eric. He was a nice guy and all, but for her first time she wanted to be wowed and not feel like it was a chore. She wanted to feel weak in her knees with her heart fluttering; she wanted a man who robbed her of her breath when he kissed her and whose touch made her skin sizzle. And Eric wasn’t that kind of man.
She was about to extricate herself from his embrace when a sudden tingling on her skin arrested her heart. Another vampire had entered the bedroom she and Eric had found to have some privacy. Portia knew the signature of the vampire’s aura only too well.
A split second later, Eric was yanked from her and slammed against the wall. Her father’s eyes glared at her when he pointed his finger in her face. “You, young lady, home. Now.” His voice was a low growl, one she knew well enough.
He was angry. But so was she.
Portia lifted her chest and raised her head, adding another two inches to reach her full height of five nine. With her two inch heels she was almost eye level with him. “You can’t tell me what to do!”
“I’m your father, and you’ll listen to me!” His hand clamped around her wrist like a vice, and despite her own vampire strength, she was no match for her father. He was older and stronger than she.
“No! You have no right to order me around anymore!” He’d lost that right when he’d betrayed her.
“You’re not of age!”
Portia froze. In vampire society, parents remained the legal guardians of their children until the child’s body had reached its final form, which occurred on its twenty-first birthday. Only then was a hybrid considered mature. How could she have forgotten that her father had been the one who’d told her about this rule many years ago when she was a child? He had every right to issue orders. But she was done following them.
“I won’t remain a virgin!”
“I’m not going to have you throw yourself at some dirty lowlife who doesn’t deserve you! You’ll only mate with someone your equal! Someone I’ll choose for you.”
She shook her head in quiet disbelief. No! She wouldn’t bend to his will anymore. She was ready to rebel. Better late than never.
Her father yanked her toward the door. Portia glanced at Eric who still lay on the floor. He stirred, groans of pain coming from him. She extended her mind to him, directing her powers to erase his memories of the last half hour. She needed no witness to her humiliation.
Chapter Five
Samson motioned his friends Gabriel and Amaury to take a seat in his study as he continued pacing.
“He needs to be punished,” Gabriel started.
Amaury shook his dark mane. “I disagree. Punish him and he’ll derail completely.”
“A crime like this can’t be left unpunished.” Gabriel shot a pleading look toward Samson, silently asking for support.
“I’m not saying that we won’t do anything about it, but if we punish Zane outright, he’ll go off the deep end. What he needs is rehabilitation,” Amaury insisted.
A short knock on the door interrupted.
“Come,” Samson answered, sensing who requested entry.
The door swung open and Thomas strolled in, his heavy biker boots scraping loudly against the wooden floor. He gave an apologetic smile as he pulled his second leather glove off and shoved both of them into his jacket pocket. Then he combed his fingers through his sandy blond hair, fluffing what his helmet had flattened. “Sorry I’m late; I had some problems with the bike.”
Samson motioned to the couch, and Thomas let his leather-clad frame fall onto it, making the furniture groan. His leather outfit easily added fifteen pounds to his weight.
“I thought your Ducati was in top shape,” Amaury wondered.
“I didn’t take the Ducati. I was taking the R6 for a spin.”
“That thing is a pile of junk,” Gabriel commented, shaking his head.
“It’s a World War Two antique,” Thomas corrected. “I’ve been fixing it up for the last two months.”
Samson smirked. Thomas’s passion for bikes was legendary, and he spent every free minute tinkering with one of his many acquisitions. “As much as I’d like to discuss your talents as a mechanic, we have more urgent things to talk about.”
Thomas nodded. “What are we gonna do about Zane?”
“Amaury was thinking rehabilitation rather than punishment.” Then Samson addressed Amaury, “What did you have in mind?”
Amaury moved to the edge of his chair. “We expose him to the softer things in life.”
“Excuse me?” Gabriel tossed his friend a confused look, the scar on his face, which reached from his ear to his chin, jumping at the same time.
Thomas scoffed. “Give him soft and he’ll smash it to pieces.”
“He’ll spit in your face,” Samson added.
Amaury’s blue eyes sparkled. “He didn’t spit in your daughter’s face.”