Lone Star Vampires 4- Virgin Vampire Vixen Read online

  Lone Star Vampires 4: Virgin Vampire Vixen

  Alecia Monaco

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2007 Alecia Monaco

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  ISBN: 978-1-59596-762-6

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  HTML, Adobe PDF,

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  Publisher:

  Changeling Press LLC

  PO Box 1046

  Martinsburg, WV 25402-1046

  www.ChangelingPress.com

  Editor: Crystal Esau

  Cover Artist: Karen Fox

  This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  Lone Star Vampires 4: Virgin Vampire Vixen

  Alecia Monaco

  Cameron Zane, rogue slayer, can’t stand the sight of vampires until he gets an eyeful of his new client, soon-to-be vampire empress Eden Lockhart.

  Eden’s got more curves than most guys can handle -- and a killer hot on her trail. Will this vampire vixen fall prey to a bloodthirsty criminal, or will her new bodyguard take care of all her needs… in more ways than one?

  Dedication

  To my beautiful editor, Crystal Esau --

  One of the most patient people God ever created.

  Thank you for everything.

  Vampire Murders Continue, Special Taskforce Formed

  by Maria Vega

  Houston Vampire Press

  A special taskforce is being formed in order to hasten the capture of Houston’s now-infamous murdering vampire, announced Captain Alvin Davis, head of the regional Texas Slayer Squad, at a press conference Monday.

  The body of a human female was found behind Undead Threads in the Vampire District last Friday, the victim of an apparent homicide. The remains have since been identified as Melanie Bates, 23, of Houston. Bates was employed as a seamstress at Undead Threads.

  Although law enforcement declined to confirm details of the case at this time, inside sources tell us that Bates is believed to be the eleventh victim of the vampiric killer.

  “We have a definite profile,” Davis said Monday. “This killer goes after young women almost exclusively.” Though he refused to cite specific evidence, Davis did say that the killings do not appear to be sexually motivated.

  “There’s no evidence of sexual assault in any of these cases, nothing to suggest anything of that nature took place,” Davis said. Although Davis would not comment on the method used to kill the human victims, it has been widely reported that all ten of the confirmed victims had severed carotid arteries and appeared to be drained completely of blood.

  The killer is believed to be at minimum a seventh-generation master vampire of exceptional skill, perhaps with abilities previously unknown among his kind. Anyone with information about the case is urged to contact local police or the Houston offices of the Texas Slayer Squad as soon as possible.

  Prologue

  Crimson Hungers

  No one noticed the Merrow at first.

  She stood there beneath the sign announcing that Unholy Hour, the vampire equivalent of Happy Hour, began at midnight.

  She was just in time for a ninety-nine cent Vlad’s, if she so desired.

  Rex Fountainebleau held court at the VIP table on the side of the bar furthest from the entrance. His future wife, Agent Katya Stern, a bottle of Corona in one hand, was doing what Rex fondly called her Borscht Belt Comedian routine, much to the amusement of the vampires, human swans, and other random paranormal entities seated around their table.

  Master vampire Sebastian Hale pounded the table and let out a howling laugh when Katya delivered the long-awaited punch line. Everyone at the table joined in the laughter, except for a royal personage in the form of a fairy named Phaedra.

  Phaedra, as queen of a local band of fey, traveled with her own personal security. One of her men in black had noticed the dripping creature standing just inside the door of the bar and brought it to the queen’s attention.

  Phaedra rose to her feet, keeping her gaze fixed on the Merrow, and took a step toward the creature.

  Katya drew her gun beneath the table.

  The bar went silent. The crackling energetic hum of vampires communicating telepathically gave every human in the bar a severe case of chills.

  Phaedra gave the Merrow an uncertain smile. “Hail, friend.” She inclined her head slightly, no stranger to diplomacy under duress. “What brings you to dry land tonight?”

  That was indeed the question on everyone’s mind. Merrows almost never left the depths of the sea where they made their homes. Unlike the more flirtatious Mermen and Mermaids that lived nearer to the shore, Merrows congregated in the deep waters, where sunlight seldom permeated and shadows reigned.

  The Gulf Coast Paranormal Almanac claimed that the last Merrow sighting in Texas occurred in 1973. Yet here one stood before them, her fingers and feet webbed with white, her blue-tinged skin covered with a shroud of seaweed. A single mother of pearl comb held her tangled green hair in place.

  She held a red cap in her left hand. The Almanac informed readers that Merrows donned the red cap when they wanted to return to Mer form. Diving beneath the waves, their legs would fuse into a turquoise colored tail with fins and scales.

  Apparently, she hadn’t come to stay.

  The creature turned her dark gaze on the assembled crowd. “I have come tonight to warn you.”

  A shudder went through everyone present. A Merrow had appeared in a bar down in Louisiana weeks before a hellish hurricane struck, warning the humans of imminent danger.

  The waters of the Gulf churned just miles to the south of where they stood.

  “A terrible evil lurks among you.” The Merrow’s oddly toneless voice sounded rusty, as if the salty sea water had corroded her vocal cords. “We feel its rage down at the bottom of the sea.” She turned to Vance Carmitrue, a seventh-generation vampire and the oldest among them. “It is an ancient evil.” She flicked her gaze over the crowd. “Bloodthirsty.”

  Katya held her gun at her side. “What is the nature of this thing you’ve come to warn us about?”

  The Merrow looked at Katya. “It is not of the sea. Not a force of nature.” She shrugged. “Be cautious.”

  “That’s all you can tell us?” Katya inched closer to the Merrow. “You come in here and tell us to be careful out among them English when we have a serial killer on the loose?”

  Phaedra let out a nervous giggle at the reference to the movie Witness.

  “Can’t you tell us what it is we’re supposed to be on the lookout for?” Katya’s voice rose with every word.

  The Merrow raised her green brows. “You already know.”

  She left as suddenly as she’d appeared.

  Chapter 1

  Full dark. Showtime.

  Cameron Zane checked the watch secured to his wrist with a spiked leather band. Already 8:00 PM, and full darkness had just begun to settle across the Texas sky like an ink stain consuming the rich pink and gold of a fine silk scarf.

  He didn’t like full dark. It couldn’t be trusted. Things lurked in those shadows, things that would steal your very life without looking back in regret.

 
But since the bloodsuckers in the upscale townhouse in front of him didn’t rise until the sun went down, he’d agreed to an interview after dark.

  An interview with a vampire, he thought with a snort. How fucking cliché could you get?

  He shut off the engine of his black Chevy Tahoe and pulled the keys from the ignition. Time to go in and meet his potential new client.

  He locked the doors and headed up the driveway, gravel crunching beneath his black Lucchese boots. He had a .45 Magnum in a shoulder holster beneath his black leather jacket on his right side, and a .38 Special Colt Cobra for backup in an upper arm holster on his left. Both were loaded with silver. The Glock 23 tucked into the back of his jeans stood ready in case all hell broke loose.

  The scent of honeysuckle mixed with the perfume of magnolia blossoms hanging heavily from the tree a few feet from the black wrought iron porch railing. He breathed deeply, inhaling the fragrance of the coastal evening. The heady perfume reminded him of his grandmother, her homemade chocolate chip cookies and the radio playing gospel in her kitchen.

  A scenario about as far from his current circumstances as the sun was from Pluto.

  He noted the discreet brass plaque above the mail slot, bearing the house number. An obviously expensive intercom system blinked its yellow light at him from beside the front door. He hit the talk button. Might as well test their current security system and see what kind of improvements it would need.

  “Yes?” A cultured English voice came through the speaker.

  “This is Cameron Zane, here to see a Mr. Charles.” He pulled a sheet of wrinkled notebook paper from his jacket pocket, looking at the information he’d hastily scrawled. He had the correct address.

  “Yes, of course,” the voice responded. “I’ll be right with you.”

  Cameron stuffed the paper back into his pocket. Finally getting to meet the famous Mr. Charles was quite an honor for a mere mortal like himself. The human liaison for the fang gang was legendary in the slayer world. For a vampire killer to meet Mr. Charles was like a Fed getting an audience with the Godfather’s consigliere.

  A faulty analogy at best, he thought with a scowl. He had a hell of a lot more in common with the Godfather than the good guys anymore.

  The front door swung open suddenly, revealing an older man in a tweed suit who looked like he’d tumbled out of the pages of a Sherlock Holmes novel. “Mr. Zane, I presume?” The Englishman held out his hand.

  “Mr. Charles.” Cameron shook the older man’s hand. “So, this is House Black Rose?” Mr. Charles moved aside and Cameron stepped into the foyer of the townhouse. The crest of House Black Rose hung on the wall just inside the door, alongside a massive Star of St. Germain.

  Nice. They had all the trappings of good little vampires, law abiding citizens who just wanted to be treated like everyone else, thank you very much.

  Who cared that they were a pack of walking corpses who fed on the living? After all, what’s a little blood among friends?

  “If you’ll just step into my office…” Mr. Charles inclined his head toward a carved oak door to their left. A huge Abusson rug covered the gleaming parquet floor. A crystal chandelier sparkled overhead, and vases -- real Waterford, unless he was mistaken -- overflowed with roses on both of the mahogany Chippendale end tables as well as the antique sideboard.

  Nice digs, Cameron thought, catching a glimpse of himself in the gilt framed mirror hanging above the sideboard. His freshly shaved head was already rough with dark stubble. Maybe it was time for a new razor.

  “Melaina collected antiques,” Mr. Charles said, referring to the former empress of the Gulf Coast Vampire Court. He opened the office door and sat down in a delicate chair behind a desk large enough to double for a dining room table. “After she married and returned to Europe, she left the residence as it was for her successor.”

  Cameron flopped down in an equally diminutive chair opposite the desk, hearing it groan as his six foot two form unfolded onto it. He stretched his legs out in front of him. “Will the successor be joining us for this meeting?” He didn’t try to keep the undertone of condescension out of his voice. The residence? Please. Who did they think this bitch was, the Queen of fucking England? Being head of the undead didn’t mean jack shit to anyone but a vampire groupie. She was still just another vampire, as far as he was concerned.

  “If you decide to take the position, I’ll take you to meet Eden.” Mr. Charles folded his hands on top of the desk. Eden, he mused. So that was her name. “Agent Stern recommended you highly for this job.”

  Yeah, and if Katya hadn’t called up every favor he’d ever owed her, he probably wouldn’t have even considered it. “I think I’m more than capable of protecting your future empress.”

  “I understand that you and Agent Stern worked together on several cases when you were with the Texas Slayer Squad.” Mr. Charles leafed through some notes on his desk. “Your record with them is quite… impressive.”

  “If killing more vampires than anyone else on the squad makes me impressive, then yeah, you’d be right.” He shrugged out of his leather jacket, revealing both of his holstered guns as well as a silver knife strapped to his tattooed forearm in a wrist sheath. “I have more kills than any other slayer in Texas, as a matter of fact.”

  “I see.” Mr. Charles’ gaze traveled along Cameron’s tattooed arms with a look somewhere between alarm and admiration. “You’re aware of the fact that the squad sees you as rogue now.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I rid the Earth of one of House Minotaur’s less desirable residents.” Cameron shrugged. “So I didn’t have a warrant. No great loss to humanity.”

  “Alvin Davis would beg to differ,” Mr. Charles observed, dropping the name of the captain of the slayer squad like a grenade between them.

  “If Alvin Davis was doing his job, you wouldn’t need me, would you?” Cameron leaned forward for emphasis. “You’ve got some psycho vampire roaming the streets, draining humans for God knows what purpose. You’ve got House Minotaur in an uproar protesting this new queen of yours, making threats right and left. The shapeshifters are fighting amongst themselves, so their allegiances are all over the place.” He shook his head. “Do you want Alvin Davis offering you his brand of protection, or do you want someone who shoots first and asks questions later?”

  “I believe we want the latter,” Mr. Charles said, meeting Cameron’s gaze with eyes as cool and deadly as any he’d ever seen. A silent understanding passed between them.

  Cameron relaxed a notch. “Then we can do business.”

  “Tell me this, Mr. Zane.” Mr. Charles dropped his voice. “Your loathing of vampires is no secret. Why would you agree to take a job protecting one?”

  “That’s easy.” Cameron felt himself grinning. “I’ll rack up a hell of a lot more kills guarding her than I would sitting at home waiting for the phone to ring.”

  Mr. Charles processed that in silence. Cameron matched him stare for stare. The older man broke first.

  “Perhaps I should take you upstairs to meet Eden before you sign on the dotted line.” Mr. Charles rose from his chair. “If you’ll follow me…”

  Cameron grabbed his jacket and fell in step behind the older man. They passed through the foyer to the staircase. The muted sound of a television drifted down from the second floor, along with the aroma of food cooking -- tomatoes and garlic, if he wasn’t mistaken.

  Dinner, at a vampire house? Must be for the human help. Cameron shook his head. God knew the vamps didn’t do anything but suck down some Vlad’s synthetic blood or sink their fangs into their human swans.

  They reached the landing and met with a sight strange enough to banish his musings on the subject of vampiric dining habits.

  An enormous greenish-brown skinned oaf of a creature stood guard on the landing. His sloped shoulders hunched forward inside his hide vest, and the thick fingers of his right hand were tightly wrapped around a wooden club studded with countless nails.

  Holy shit.
They had an honest to goodness ogre on the payroll.

  “Good evening, Clow.” Mr. Charles gave the creature a polite nod. Clow grinned, baring teeth that made Austin Powers’ smile look like a model of dental hygiene. “This is Cameron Zane. He’ll be joining our staff, if Eden approves.”

  Cameron had never met an ogre in a social setting. In fact, he’d never seen one in person except for the cadaver he’d viewed at the preternatural morgue in New Orleans a few years back. He extended his hand toward Clow, hoping the ogre had been in human company long enough to know a few of the ropes. Getting bitten by Shrek’s evil twin wasn’t on his agenda for the night. “Good to meet you, Clow.”

  “Likewise,” Clow grunted, taking his hand in a firm shake. “You going to help us guard the mistress?”

  The mistress? Jesus. “That’s what I’m here to find out.” He felt his mouth tightening into a frown. He could hardly wait to see what kind of throne room this chick had. It was bad enough that her staff acted like she was the freakin’ pope.

  “Come.” Mr. Charles gestured for Cameron to follow him, past Clow’s post and up the flight of stairs leading to the third floor.

  He waited until they were out of earshot to speak again. “Where on earth did you find an ogre willing to work as a bodyguard?”

  “Eden ransomed him from House Boudreaux in Lafayette, Louisiana.” Mr. Charles paused. “The local vampires had captured him in the swamp and were using him for… most nefarious purposes.” A visible shudder went through the man.

  “What made her do something like that?” Cameron’s voice broadcasted his disbelief. “Vampires aren’t known for their compassion toward lesser beings.”

  “Our Eden,” Mr. Charles answered, “is not like other vampires.”