Predatory by Alexandra Ivy; Nina Bangs; Dianne Duvall; Hannah Jayne

Author:Alexandra Ivy; Nina Bangs; Dianne Duvall; Hannah Jayne
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Romance, paranormal, Fiction
ISBN: 9781420125122
Publisher: Zebra
Published: 2013-05-07T07:00:00+00:00

IN STILL DARKNESS

DIANNE DUVALL

Chapter One

Like the last survivor in a postapocalyptic world, Richart d’Alençon strode down the deserted North Carolinian street. Buildings long since abandoned for the night stared out at him with vacant eyes. Quiet enfolded him, both comforting and disconcerting.

A new enemy had risen among the vampire ranks. A self-proclaimed vampire king, who had ordered his followers to transform their victims instead of just feeding from them. Most nights Richart fought and defeated two or three vamps at a time. A couple of the older immortals had been encountering groups of six, seven, and eight. But tonight . . .

Richart had not encountered a single vampire, and soon dawn would break.

A woman cried out in the distance, snagging his attention.

“H-how did you do that?” she asked shakily.

“He’s a vampire, bitch,” a young man taunted.

Darting between businesses, Richart plunged into the trees beyond, traveling so swiftly most humans wouldn’t see him. Those who did would see but a blur.

“Look into my eyes,” a second man said, artificially deepening his voice and speaking with a laughable B-movie version of a Transylvanian accent. “Look into my eyes and know me for who I am.”

Richart burst from the trees and raced through the oil-stained parking lot in front of a big-ass 24-hour superstore, letting the ridiculous conversation be his guide.

“I am Dracula,” the second vamp continued dramatically.

“Look,” the female captive countered, “just take the money. Here’s my purse. Take it.”

Richart almost laughed. She may not know what the hell was going on, but she wasn’t buying that the kid in front of her was the legendary horror figure Dracula.

“I don’t want your money,” Dracula said petulantly, losing the accent.

“Dude, just bite her,” a third vamp urged. “I’ve got shit to do.”

Richart zipped past two employees taking a smoking break. Busy chatting and texting, they would assume the breeze that ruffled their hair was caused by a gust of wind, not an immortal warrior seeking prey.

Circling around to the back of the sprawling concrete structure, he found three vampires. All appeared to be in their early twenties and huddled in the shadows between two Dumpsters, out of range of the cameras mounted on the corners of the building. Between their lanky forms, Richart glimpsed a small, slender figure shoved up against the wall and held there by a fourth vamp, the one who called himself Dracula.

“Shut up!” Dracula snarled at the others, then went B-movie Transylvanian again. “I am Dracula. I am . . . vampire.” He peeled his lips back and revealed gleaming fangs.

The woman’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit.”

Richart could do nothing to free her until the vampire released her. If he struck now, the vamp could break her neck.

So he simply cleared his throat.

The vampires all looked in his direction.

“Where the hell did you come from?” one spouted and shifted, giving Richart a clearer view of the captive.

The woman turned her head to meet Richart’s gaze.

And the oddest little tingle danced through his chest.

She was pretty, with fiery red hair that

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