Shadow Of The Vampire

“Do you like what you saw, vixen?”

Embarrassment flooded her face. She wriggled beneath his hold and barely moved an inch. “Let me go.”

The dragon propped himself up on an elbow. His electric blue eyes slid from hers, to the flesh her leather bodice failed to conceal.

“No.”

Her jaw slackened. “Release me or – ”

“Or what? Don’t tell me you’re frightened of me now?” His thumb began to draw lazy circles over the pounding pulse in her wrist.

“I’m not frightened of you,” she said, the words coming out in a breathy sigh.

His wing coiled tighter, crushing her breasts against the warm barrel of steel he called a chest.

“Then why are you trembling?” He dipped his head below hers. “I can hear your heart hammering. Right here.” A hot, open mouth covered the pulse beating beneath the skin.

“You’re –” she stammered.

“Hungry. And you look tasty.”

His dark head swooped.

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The Highwayman by Michele Hauf

Wild Wolf by Karen Whiddon

Shadow of the Vampire by Meagan Hatfield

To: Nan and Bump, for giving me not only a love of the written word, but raising me to believe I could do and be anything I set my heart to.

Lori Devoti, for not outbidding me and for being a mythbuster. Kristi, because a book not dedicated to you is just dirty and wrong. AVP, Kathy, Chris, Diane, Kathryn, Bev, Shari, Bobbi, Rachel, Heather, Andrea, Angie, Deb, Donna, Stacey, Mary Jo and the rest of the WI writing gang for all the help, support, inspiration and friendship.

Shawn, Jayne, Courtney, Kathy, Jenelle, Shelley, Virgil, Christine and the other gym rats.

Rosalind (and Raven), for being my first official dragon lovers.

The two best kids on the planet, Bodi and Zoe, for putting up with more than their fair share of “I know you’re hungry, but I’m almost done!” and still loving me.

Sean, for telling me I don’t write crap, even when I do.

My mom, who taught me to believe in soul mates and happily ever after.

My agent, Kim Whalen, and to Karin Tabke for pointing me in her direction.

And to my fabulous editor, Tara Gavin, for taking a chance on me and helping me make this book everything I dreamed it could be and more.

She made certain they didn’t have bodies to bury.

Hatred and rage weighed down Declan Black’s shoulders, already heavy from his newfound responsibility as King. Since the news of his parents’ deaths hit the lair, the only thought in Declan’s mind was that he had not been able to bring back their bodies for a proper burial. Every dragon in their flock had gathered around their mountain to say goodbye to the King and Queen and usher him in as their new ruler. But the vampire Queen had ensured their ancient order and traditions would not be upheld.

They didn’t have bodies to bury.

That was the only thought running through Declan Black’s mind.

That and revenge.

Declan stood at the lip of the cliff, staring through the darkness at the churning sea a hundred feet below. Moonlight and night winds caressed his bare chest, carrying a scent right to him. The salty ocean air masked the stench of death blanketing the beach. Most humans would not even take notice. But the animal within Declan sensed it lingering in the undertones of the sea air.

Blood.

Declan crouched low. The tip of his booted foot dangled over the ledge, sending a handful of pebbles tumbling to the water. Undaunted, he leaned farther and cocked his head.

She was down there. He could not see her, but he could smell her. Powerful. Evil.

His sharp eyes zeroed in on the ragged cliffs and caverns below, searching for an opening. He always thought it ironic that the warring clans both chose the comfort of caves as their dwellings. Vampires inhabited the ground beneath the earth, while the dragons lived high above to avoid the increasingly astute human population. The security and protection a cave offered also appealed to his species. Only one entrance meant that they would always know their foes were coming and could block them or guard the cave to keep out attacks.

Much like his dragon kin’s lair, the vampire catacombs below no doubt were elaborate and full of surprises. He’d have to be careful.

Declan fingered the brown satchel in his hands and stood. Despite his reservations, he knew he must do what his parents had died trying to do.

What she had killed them for.

Someone yanked the bag from his grip. Declan whipped around. At the sight of a small female with violet eyes, the frown he’d worn all evening deepened.

“Tallon, get back to the lair,” he said, swiping his arm out. She shifted her hold, keeping the bag just out of his reach. Declan rolled his eyes. They were not hatchlings playing keep-away anymore.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Like hell you are,” he seethed, easily snatching the satchel from her hands and turning his back to her. He slid the straps over his broad shoulders, making sure the bag hung low enough that his wings would not rip through the fabric when he shifted into dragon form.