Tales of the Blood Kissed by Seleste deLaney

Author:Seleste deLaney
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: vampires, paranormal, magic, supernatural, demons
Publisher: Seleste deLaney

I dash through the door, grabbing the stake from the planter as I go. Stuffing it into my pocket, I tear off into the night after Daddy Vampire. My feet pound through snow deep enough to leave tracks, but not thick enough to slow me down. The trail in front of me leads away from the buildings and toward the street.

Even at this time of day, a guy running down the road on fire is guaranteed to draw attention. I need to catch up before some early morning traveler spies him. My legs already ache from the cold and exertion, and my lungs freeze with every breath, but I pour on as much speed as I can manage. Rounding the clubhouse, I finally catch sight of him, heading straight for Adams Road.

I’ll never get there in time. Anyone driving by can see him already anyway. Then he darts across the street right in front of a passing sedan. As the car fishtails to a stop, I run behind it, close enough to feel the heat that trails from the flaming vampire.

If I had a range weapon and knew how to use it, I could take him down from here. But I can’t and I don’t. I add that to my post-holiday shopping list—assuming I survive to see after-Christmas shopping.

He rounds the back of a gas station, and I skid in the snow, trying to turn after him. The sickening odor of charred flesh hits me full force as a blackened hand grabs me, and slams me against the back of the building. Definitely not dead.

“Thought you could kill me, child? I am far too old for a little torch like yours to destroy. Now, it is my turn to see how delicate a flower you are.” He growls as he opens his mouth, ready to clamp down on my neck.

Right then, I almost wish for Max again. At least he never wanted me dead. But I’m not about to go down without a fight; I don’t care how old or strong this guy is. I flick on the lighter and keep the canister low, spraying it at his crotch.

Apparently, his assertion about sex just being a weapon is a lie, because the screech he lets out pierces my eardrums as he knocks the spray from my hand and bats the flames away. The motion gives me the seconds I need to slip out of his grasp and get the stake from my pocket. I spring on him, but he throws me to the ground. His pants still smolder, and I can feel mine start to burn where he presses on top of me.

“For that, you will pay. Tonight, you will be a feast fit for royalty.” He rears his head back, fangs flashing in the sudden glow of headlights. At the edge of the gas station, a car pulls to a stop in a spray of slush. He turns toward the glare, and I take advantage of his distraction to plunge the stake as hard as I can into his chest.

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