Vampire Mine

Epilogue

What a quandary.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Foolish mortal.

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

Fooling everyone around them.

Much like he’d duped Sadie Dumus.

His fingers stilled, thoughts turning in another direction.

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

Good. She wouldn’t be a distraction.

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

Olivia.

Her name suited her perfectly.

Regal. Beautiful.

Forever out of his reach.

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

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

All of his troubles evaporated.

He hadn’t seen her in weeks.

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

Such a pity.

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

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

He’d wanted her like hell on fire.

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

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

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

The memory was scorched into his head.

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

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

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

It lit a fire in his ass.

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

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

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

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

Where is she?

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

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

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

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

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

He stopped breathing, eyes flying open.

That scent. It can’t be.

Something was very, very wrong.

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

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

No, damn it. No.

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

She’s dying.

Everything inside him rebelled, screaming it would never happen.

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

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

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

She had to be the one for him.

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

That ends now.

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

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

He grinded his teeth, keeping his fangs from dropping.

How he loathed her waiting on others.

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

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

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

But no more.

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

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

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

Her reaction made no sense whatsoever.

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

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

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

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

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

Holy Mother of God.

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

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

Touch her now. Be certain.

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

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

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

The instant she was within reach his hand shot out.

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

He’d found her and imprinted on her, claiming her even if she didn’t know it yet.

His gaze ventured from the wrist he held to her face. She had felt the same thing but he was sure she didn’t comprehend its meaning. Not yet. The color had drained from her face, her pupils had completely dilated. A tremor shot through her, her skin going cold. He needed to get her away from this place, the sooner the better.

Before he could phase she yanked her arm away, standing upright. “Y-you n-need to l-leave,” she stammered, horror and revulsion evident by her tone.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Not without you.

He searched the minds in the area. There couldn’t be a scene. If he wanted he could use black magic, creating an illusion. Fortunately that wouldn’t be necessary. There was more than one way to skin a cat. Olivia needed to exit the establishment without causing a fuss. He followed mental pathways until he located the person he needed to influence.

Her boss. The cook.

In a second it was done.

Placing a thought into the man’s head was as easy as lifting a newborn.

“Livvie!” the mortal yelled from the kitchen. “I need you!”

Her terror returned, uncertainty wafting from her. “I’ll be right there,” she called in response but didn’t move.

Beautiful and clever female.

“Go. Do as he instructs then return to me.”

After tonight she’d never work again. The transition needed to be smooth. He’d let everyone around them think he was a normal customer coming to eat a meal. They wouldn’t notice a thing. He’d wait, get her alone and phase them out. Questions might be asked but without any clear answer Olivia would be safe.

With a final, petrified look at him she rushed away. He watched her go, resting in the booth. Once he’d taken her from this wretched place she’d be his to command. He couldn’t wait to uncover her body, exploring every soft curve.

No more wishful thinking. Tonight he’d have the reality.

Finally he’d see her on her knees.

Waiting for instruction at his feet.

Holy shit. Why is he here?

She willed her heart to stop pounding. If anyone noticed how shaken she was, they’d ask questions. She couldn’t risk that. Cancer might be taking her life but she had a little bit of time left. She didn’t want her heart to stop beating in an instant because she couldn’t keep a secret.

Entering the kitchen, she asked calmly, “What do you need?”

Harry—the owner and cook—shot her a look. He seemed almost dazed. “You need to clock out and go home.”

“What?” She was the only waitress on the floor. There was no way she could leave.

“You need to clock out,” he repeated like he was in a trance. “Go home.”

Then she knew. Her blood ran cold, terror returning with full force.

The vampire was responsible. He’d gotten inside Harry’s head. But why? Why would he show up here? He’d only seen her once and that had been months ago.

Have The Fallen come for me? Are they going to force me to go back?

If so she’d tell the entire world about them. She’d rather die immediately than return to that hell. The things they did to men and women sickened her. The only reason she’d agreed to exist there with Conrad was due to the bargain they’d struck. She wasn’t like the rest, used as a receptacle of lust. The things she’d seen had made her nauseous. She shivered as she pictured some of the acts, hating to recall that she’d sat there and watched.

Sex, blood, torture.

She considered asking Harry who’d work the floor but thought better of it. Under a compulsion he wouldn’t have an answer. Until she left he’d be oblivious to what he’d done. He’d certainly question why he’d sent her away, but eventually he’d figure out a reason that made some kind of sense to him. Human minds tried to repair themselves in strange ways after they’d been manipulated.

Her gaze swept to the back door. She could run but she didn’t think she’d make it far. The vampire could track her scent. If he wanted her badly enough to come here—for reasons she wasn’t sure she wanted to know—he wasn’t going to let her slide from his grasp easily. The strange sensation she’d experienced when he’d grabbed her wrist warned her things were not as they seemed.

She felt a migraine coming on, likely the tumor in her head preparing to burst.

Wouldn’t that be fitting?

Defeated, she untied her apron and strode from the kitchen.

The blond vampire had wanted her the night he’d appeared at the palace. She’d seen the glimmer of lust in his eyes, noticed with disgust that his light-blue irises had started to change in the centers, becoming red. To her mortification she’d felt a trickle of awareness stir to life. For the first time in years her body reacted to a male.

To a vampire.

Her breasts had tingled, her nipples growing hard. A gush of wetness coated her panties and her clit had started to pulse. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. He wasn’t dressed like the others, fully clothed in rich materials without a hint of leather in sight. His long coat had fit his broad shoulders perfectly, his thick blond hair falling past his shoulders.

Stop it!

It didn’t matter if she was attracted to the man or not. There wasn’t enough sexual gratification in the world to be what he’d expect. She didn’t like pain. The others had accepted it but the thought of being bound to objects and lashed with whips terrified her. She also didn’t want to be shared, given to anyone with a passing interest. At the very least she’d been spared that. She’d never taken part in the bloody orgies or been forced to endure the shame of being fucked by strangers.

Conrad. She thought of him fondly, even now. Why did you have to die?

Theirs had been an unlikely union but it had worked.

Now she was left to face the future without him.

Maybe the blond vampire only wanted to take her to his bed. That wouldn’t be so bad. One night and she could pretend she was a normal girl. A sliver of hope surfaced. If he allowed her to drink from him she’d also be given more time. Depending on his age her cancer would either go into remission or would recede all together. Conrad hadn’t been old enough to stop and reverse her malady but maybe this vampire could.

She walked back into the dining room and the iron will she’d tried to create crumbled around her. He was still there, studying her with those all-seeing blue eyes. He didn’t merely look, his gaze almost seemed to devour her. She felt like a deer caught in headlights, unable to turn away as she walked to him. There wasn’t enough distance between them, not nearly enough time to consider what she was doing.

“Are you ready?” he asked, rising from the booth.

So he had done what she’d thought, making Harry send her home. “Ready for what?” she whispered, hoping he wasn’t cruel. Many of the vampires she’d seen enjoyed tormenting their slaves, feasting on misery. “What do you want from me?”

Something crackled in the air, encasing their bodies. Her gaze darted around the small space. Had they been seen? Everyone continued with business as usual, as though she and the vampire weren’t even there.

Magic.

Dear God, help me.

He was much older than Conrad. Only the oldest of vampires could cast spells.

“Shh, luvena,” he murmured, reaching out, placing his hands on her waist. He drew her to his body, standing so tall she had to crane her neck to see his face. “Close your eyes.”

She did as he said, screwing them shut.

The air sizzled, burning her skin. Then the ground felt as though it disappeared, her body tumbling into nothing. Emptiness swirled all around her, the world vanishing into thin air. But she wasn’t alone, captured in his arms.

Everything returned with a jolt.

She opened her eyes, finding her equilibrium off balance.

They weren’t in the diner anymore. He’d taken her to another place.

A fire roared a few feet away, the furnishings were expensive and old.

She started to pull free of his embrace when he lifted her from the ground, her feet dangling inches from the floor. His lips found hers, the touch not painful but tender. She tensed, waiting for his violence to appear. Vampires loved to deceive. It was like a game to them. The instant she relaxed, he’d strike. But she also knew not to fight. That’s what vampires loved—to destroy things and see them fall to pieces.

To her shock he pulled away, his ice-blue eyes full of wonder.

She didn’t understand it. Nothing made sense. He wasn’t acting like any vampire she’d ever met. Was it an act? A way to gain her trust so he could turn around and break it? He seemed so sincere. It couldn’t possibly be all for show.

“Welcome home, Olivia.”

Welcome home? She gasped, thinking he’d lost his mind. What does that mean?

He dipped his head, kissing her again, drawing her close. Her traitorous body responded, heating from the inside. She tried to hold back, telling herself it wasn’t safe to give in. Then his tongue slid past her lips, delving into her mouth. She lifted her hands and clutched his shoulders, holding on tight.

It had been years since she’d felt like this.

Swept into a maelstrom of desire and need.

Stupid as it was, she gave herself over, meeting the soft strokes of his tongue. He groaned, thrusting his hips against her, his thick erection hard and long against her belly. She’d never made love to a vampire before but she had a feeling that was about to change. Just when she thought she was going to die—right as her body had started to fall apart and stop working—she remembered why she desperately wanted to live.

Surrendering to a vampire—an immortal.

Something she’d sworn she’d never do.

Damn it to hell.

She writhed against him, wanting to ease the ache between her legs.

She’d just gotten herself into a lot of trouble.

The End