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One woman. Four sexy vampires. A wicked hunter hiding in the shadows.
With her vampire family at her side Elara is prepared to weather any storm, but nothing could prepare her for the violence that descends on Whitby. Lucky for Elara, she has three lovers sworn to protect her and a new man who will do anything to earn her love. But how can love triumph against a hunter more twisted and clever than even her most fearsome ally?
Vampire Touch is the second book in the Vampire Game reverse harem paranormal romance series. Expect sexy scenes, supernatural dangers, and tender romance. Welcome to the Blood Bay.
Get notified when Book 3 releases here: http://eepurl.com/dkpAiv
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BEGIN READING!
In the weeks since my death, I’d learned this half-moon of water was known locally as the Blood Bay. That didn’t make me feel any easier about being on a fragile rowing boat in the middle of it in the dead of night. With only the moon as witness, I pumped the oars faster and led the bow of the boat through the rippling black water. Whitby was a couple miles back, or whatever the sea equivalent of miles was. Knots? Either way, no help was coming if this went bad. And it could very quickly. The last time I’d seen my killer, he’d been beaten into a pulp shortly after my mum found out he was the one who’d murdered me and made me into this: a soulless, starving vampire.
That happened a few days after a terrifying encounter with Fear Doirche, a powerfully old faerie once worshipped as a god. I hadn’t even fought him and I’d nearly died of shock and blood loss—as I found out later. I’m not sure which had scared me more, being in the presence of that endless power or watching my mum’s fists and boots lay into Oisìn, my heartless murderer, while he just cowered there and took it.
I wasn’t happy that part of me felt bad for him, had read an awful lot from the few words he’d spoken and even more from the words he hadn’t. He’d ripped my life from me; I had no room for sympathy. Even if I was pretty sure he’d been brainwashed and made into a weapon against his own kind, all under the threat of pain and violence from his master, Fear Doirche.
But that wasn’t why I was here now, my arms straining with the effort of rowing, out of breath and exhausted even before I saw him again. I was here for Finn, my friend and Oisìn’s father, who’d been searching for his son for a thousand years ever since the fae god had murdered his mate and stolen his baby. I was here because I hadn’t seen Finn smile once in the past few weeks, hadn’t seen his eyes twinkle even around Allen, another of my friends and the man who’d found me the night my throat was torn out, who’d taken care of me.
I hated seeing Finn suffer, and I’d do just about anything to make it stop. Including rowing a boat up to an island that didn’t exist on any map, that a month ago I wouldn’t have even been able to see because I was human. I was starting to get a bit unnerved by the signs of witchcraft all around me, even if the only reason I was here tonight was because of a spelled necklace that kept me from tearing out the throats of any unsuspecting humans. My heart clenched at that, and I remembered a dark street and a mouth-watering scent. Never again, I vowed. I wouldn’t kill again.
Unless it was to protect my family.
I pulled the boat up on the sandy shore, a strip of grey in the dark, and with effort, climbed out. My arms were jelly but my legs were still working so I let them lead me, following a burning flicker in my chest that I’d rather liken to indigestion that a trembling firefly even if the latter was more accurate. I didn’t want to think of that link between creator and progeny as anything beautiful.
“Hello?” I called into a cave as I got closer. It looked exactly like the place someone guilt-wracked and dripping with self-hatred would go to punish themselves. “Nice Elba.”
A laugh sounded from inside, cracked and weak. I followed the sound into the darkened hollow, my stomach flipping even as I assured myself I wasn’t scared. “My crimes are worse even than Napoleon’s.”
“I’m not disagreeing.” I took another few steps inside and stopped, within view of the exit. I’d never been afraid of enclosed spaces but something about this cave was prickling my new instincts in warning. “But either way, I’m taking you back with me.”
Another ragged laugh. My only answer.
Anger curled up in my chest like a cat and I used it to shore up my courage enough to lay into him, this thousand-year-old vampire who still had access to faerie magic. “Your father has been searching for you for the past thousand years. He hasn’t stopped one second since you were stolen from him, and I get that you’ve been programmed to hate him, but give him a chance. Don’t you want to know which parts of the story Fear Doirche fed you were true and which were lies?”
I tensed at a scuffle in the dark, and went utterly still as he emerged. Well. He took self-flagellation to a new level. He wore nothing—not even underwear—and his skin was burnt to a crisp, craters of raw red flesh and dead skin covering his whole body and there, right there, my fury paused. “I see you’ve been out in the sun.”
His mouth tightened.
“I don’t think we can tan if that’s what you were trying to do.”
His eyes dropped to the ground, his shoulders curled inward, and I guess he’d been hoping to shock me into leaving with his burned state.
“Finn is your father. Don’t you owe it to yourself to hear him out at least once?”
“No.”
I sighed. I’d expected him to fight me. Not this. “Fine. Wait here until Fear Doirche comes and takes you back.”
He jerked forward a step and that was fear in his eyes. Good, a part of me said. The rest of me saw him for exactly what he was: an abuse victim. I unbuttoned my coat and held it out to him, and my heart twisted into an ache as he just let it dangle in his fingers and whispered, “I don’t deserve this.”
“It’s just a coat,” I muttered but of course it wasn’t. Oisìn had killed me, but on his master’s orders, and I was starting to see he hadn’t been in a position to question, let alone refuse. Almost against my will, my vision of my death shifted. Had Fear Doirche been there that night, watching?
I started walking for the boat and heard him follow. Before I stepped onto the boat, I paused and looked back. “Oisìn.”
He nodded but didn’t meet my eyes.
“I’ll ask one thing, before I bring you into my family’s house, before I trust you with them.”
He looked up, solemn.
“Don’t betray us.”
He glanced away, at the water hushing around us, the beach, the sea rock, but he eventually met my eyes. “I’ll do my best.”
And after what he’d been through for the past millennia, that was all I could ask.
That happened a few days after a terrifying encounter with Fear Doirche, a powerfully old faerie once worshipped as a god. I hadn’t even fought him and I’d nearly died of shock and blood loss—as I found out later. I’m not sure which had scared me more, being in the presence of that endless power or watching my mum’s fists and boots lay into Oisìn, my heartless murderer, while he just cowered there and took it.
I wasn’t happy that part of me felt bad for him, had read an awful lot from the few words he’d spoken and even more from the words he hadn’t. He’d ripped my life from me; I had no room for sympathy. Even if I was pretty sure he’d been brainwashed and made into a weapon against his own kind, all under the threat of pain and violence from his master, Fear Doirche.
But that wasn’t why I was here now, my arms straining with the effort of rowing, out of breath and exhausted even before I saw him again. I was here for Finn, my friend and Oisìn’s father, who’d been searching for his son for a thousand years ever since the fae god had murdered his mate and stolen his baby. I was here because I hadn’t seen Finn smile once in the past few weeks, hadn’t seen his eyes twinkle even around Allen, another of my friends and the man who’d found me the night my throat was torn out, who’d taken care of me.
I hated seeing Finn suffer, and I’d do just about anything to make it stop. Including rowing a boat up to an island that didn’t exist on any map, that a month ago I wouldn’t have even been able to see because I was human. I was starting to get a bit unnerved by the signs of witchcraft all around me, even if the only reason I was here tonight was because of a spelled necklace that kept me from tearing out the throats of any unsuspecting humans. My heart clenched at that, and I remembered a dark street and a mouth-watering scent. Never again, I vowed. I wouldn’t kill again.
Unless it was to protect my family.
I pulled the boat up on the sandy shore, a strip of grey in the dark, and with effort, climbed out. My arms were jelly but my legs were still working so I let them lead me, following a burning flicker in my chest that I’d rather liken to indigestion that a trembling firefly even if the latter was more accurate. I didn’t want to think of that link between creator and progeny as anything beautiful.
“Hello?” I called into a cave as I got closer. It looked exactly like the place someone guilt-wracked and dripping with self-hatred would go to punish themselves. “Nice Elba.”
A laugh sounded from inside, cracked and weak. I followed the sound into the darkened hollow, my stomach flipping even as I assured myself I wasn’t scared. “My crimes are worse even than Napoleon’s.”
“I’m not disagreeing.” I took another few steps inside and stopped, within view of the exit. I’d never been afraid of enclosed spaces but something about this cave was prickling my new instincts in warning. “But either way, I’m taking you back with me.”
Another ragged laugh. My only answer.
Anger curled up in my chest like a cat and I used it to shore up my courage enough to lay into him, this thousand-year-old vampire who still had access to faerie magic. “Your father has been searching for you for the past thousand years. He hasn’t stopped one second since you were stolen from him, and I get that you’ve been programmed to hate him, but give him a chance. Don’t you want to know which parts of the story Fear Doirche fed you were true and which were lies?”
I tensed at a scuffle in the dark, and went utterly still as he emerged. Well. He took self-flagellation to a new level. He wore nothing—not even underwear—and his skin was burnt to a crisp, craters of raw red flesh and dead skin covering his whole body and there, right there, my fury paused. “I see you’ve been out in the sun.”
His mouth tightened.
“I don’t think we can tan if that’s what you were trying to do.”
His eyes dropped to the ground, his shoulders curled inward, and I guess he’d been hoping to shock me into leaving with his burned state.
“Finn is your father. Don’t you owe it to yourself to hear him out at least once?”
“No.”
I sighed. I’d expected him to fight me. Not this. “Fine. Wait here until Fear Doirche comes and takes you back.”
He jerked forward a step and that was fear in his eyes. Good, a part of me said. The rest of me saw him for exactly what he was: an abuse victim. I unbuttoned my coat and held it out to him, and my heart twisted into an ache as he just let it dangle in his fingers and whispered, “I don’t deserve this.”
“It’s just a coat,” I muttered but of course it wasn’t. Oisìn had killed me, but on his master’s orders, and I was starting to see he hadn’t been in a position to question, let alone refuse. Almost against my will, my vision of my death shifted. Had Fear Doirche been there that night, watching?
I started walking for the boat and heard him follow. Before I stepped onto the boat, I paused and looked back. “Oisìn.”
He nodded but didn’t meet my eyes.
“I’ll ask one thing, before I bring you into my family’s house, before I trust you with them.”
He looked up, solemn.
“Don’t betray us.”
He glanced away, at the water hushing around us, the beach, the sea rock, but he eventually met my eyes. “I’ll do my best.”
And after what he’d been through for the past millennia, that was all I could ask.