The Vampire's Fall
One Kiss Could Cost Him Everything… Half-vampire Blade Saint-Pierre had no choice but to defend the beautiful stranger wandering near Tangle Lake from her demon attackers. Yet, when he sees her blood run black, Blade must deny his fierce instinct to bite – because the black blood of a demon means certain death…Zenia is drawn to her mysterious rescuer and, when an adversary attempts to claim Zenia as his queen, she needs Blade’s protection more than ever. But it’s only a matter of time until Zen’s magical identity – and the reason Blade must always remain forbidden – is revealed…
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Zenâs mouth landed on Bladeâs with graceful precision.
He grabbed her arms to push her away. Not expecting a kiss, heâd been blindsided. And when he wanted to shove her off and march out of the room, he suddenly relaxed his grip on her arms and leaned into the kiss.
And then he leaned in a little more.
He pulled her closer, sliding a hand up her back to keep her there. Her mouth fit his like no other womanâs had. She felt ⦠not so much right, but rather as if sheâd found something and did not want to again lose it. A missing piece to her puzzle? Despite being unable to remember things about herself, sheâd certainly not lost the skill of delivering a kiss.
Blade moaned deep in his throat and then opened her mouth with his and slid his tongue inside her heated kiss. She felt impossibly exquisite. She smelled like honey and her body was warm and supple against his. A sweet thing.
And that was the kicker. Her scent did not allude to her identity. What was she? And worse, could whatever she was be bad for him?
MICHELE HAUF has been writing romance, action-adventure and fantasy stories for more than twenty years. France, musketeers, vampires and faeries feature in her stories. And if she followed the adage âwrite what you know,â all her stories would have snow in them. Fortunately, she steps beyond her comfort zone and writes about countries and creatures she has never seen. Find her on Facebook, Twitter and at michelehauf.com. You can also write to her at PO Box 23, Anoka, MN 55303, USA.
Contents
It wasnât often Blade Saint-Pierre walked through the Darkwood without a purposeâor a weapon. Tonight heâd craved the exhilaration of awareness that always accompanied such a venture. Instincts on alert and every muscle in his body strung tightly, he closed his wings against his back as, barefoot, he strode toward the clearing that opened to a mossy bed edging a stream.
A dark forest of no return, the massive acreage edged his property. The Darkwood was a no-manâs-land that was principally Faery, but as well, a place for all breeds to congregate. It provided respite for those who could not walk amongst humans. A wayside stop for those paranormals traveling this realm that wished to take a breath before meeting the challenge of humans.
No humans dared enter the forest, for rumors told it was haunted and that the former residents of Bladeâs propertyâthe original 1910 mansion had been razedâhad killed themselves after hearing voices tell them to cut out their hearts.
Great rumor, Blade thought. It helped him maintain his privacy. It wasnât at all true. But it worked for him. Though he respected the boundaries of the Darkwood and only entered it with a certain reverence and much caution. Even then, he only stayed so long as his comfort level allowed.
Rumors told that people went into the Darkwood and they never came out. Deer, squirrels and wildlife? They didnât exist within the dark thickness of evil that formed the murky wood.
Blade smirked as a squirrel scampered past him, its goal, the stream. And at that reminder that all was not as it seemedâor was rumored to beâhe let down his shoulders and knelt on a mossy stone, pressing his fingers into the thick, verdant frosting. For the moment, he connected with it all. The grass, stones and trees. All creatures small and large whose heartbeats he could sense. The atoms that formed his body were the same atoms that formed nature, the very air, earth and flora.
How blessed was he?
You are alive. You have survived. Move on, yes?
He was trying.
While principally considered vampire, Blade had also his motherâs faery genetics coursing within his system. His black wings were not so faery-like, and the leathery edges were serrated and sharp, as if demonic. He didnât mention his faery side to others. It was his dark beast, which craved unnatural tastes, such as demon blood, that others knew aboutâif they knew at all.
Blade honored all of natureâs creatures, including those breeds considered monsters by humans who would believe in myth. And yet, he hated demons. That a part of him looked similar to the creatures disturbed him. His wings shamed him and defined him as different. And different amongst the varied species was not always a saving grace.
Such a difference had attracted cruelty to his life.
Heâd kept to himself over the past year. To the point that his brothers and sister had begun to call him a hermit. The quiet one.
Heâd always been quiet. More in tune with nature than with what was going on with the human realm. The cruelty that his difference had attracted? Heâd suffered torture a year ago. And following that, he had hidden away. Not wanting to show his face, his scars, to anyone. Not wanting to put himself out in a world that could attack at any moment.
