Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (or undead ;-), business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

For Peter.

My best friend, staunchest supporter, and greatest inspiration.

CHAPTER THREE

Description

Blood Legacy
:

Despite surviving silver poisoning, Vivian isn’t out of the fire yet. Rolando is still alive, as is his desire to eliminate all manipulator vampires like her. The streets of Buenos Aires prove to be a tricky hunting ground for Vivian and her husband Rafe, especially when a paranormal serial killer starts leaving bodies behind.

Overwhelmed amidst the city’s chaos, they seek help from Jon, Vivian’s werewolf servant and the couple’s right-hand man. As the deaths continue, a local alpha under scrutiny for the crimes threatens to blame Jon and reveal his master’s daytime location—if they don’t find the real culprit.

It’s a race for the trio to stop the killings, uncover the truth, and catch the vampire responsible for Vivian’s torture—before the supernatural locals pick up their proverbial pitchforks and stop them all, for good.

CHAPTER FOUR

Vivian

After being almost killed by silver poisoning, I’m recovering nicely. Most people think vampires are immortal, and I can understand why with how long our kind can normally exist. But if you can be killed by
any
means, then you aren’t technically immortal, right? I prefer the term semi-mortal. Lord knows I’ve certainly killed more than my fair share of vampires, and I can attest that we are not immune to death.

I stretch on the chaise lounge, gazing up at the late afternoon cloud coverage revealed by the clear atrium panels above me. It’s a nice winter day in late June, three weeks after I escaped from capture, off the southeastern coast of Argentina, and a semblance of peace finally fills me.

Drew, one of the vampires in my seethe, or vampire family, strides into the inner garden of our large Spanish-style hacienda and clears his throat. “Vivian,” he says, calling me by the nickname most everyone uses instead of my real name, Dria, short for Alexandria. “Do you really think shipping us home to Alaska is the best idea? We all want to stay and help.”

I glance up at the tall, slender man, noting his healthy hue and the sexually satisfied air about him. Judging by the noises drifting from his suite every night since our return to the island, he and Chelly have been exploring their new relationship status, vampire and servant, every chance they’ve had.

“You’re not strong enough for this fight, Drew, and neither are the others. I appreciate your loyalty and decision to stay to see things through, but I won’t risk your safety for my own.”

Frustration appears to simmer beneath his smooth facade. “I take it there’s nothing I can say or do to prove we’d be an asset?”

I rise from my comfortable spot on the lounge chair. “Think about it—
you
might be a help, but what about the others?

Can you say the same for any of them?” I angle my head and go for a low blow. “Could you live with yourself if your desire to protect your master led to
their
deaths? Would you sleep well during the day knowing Chelly died before she had to?”

Drew’s handsome face crumples, his noble intent twisting within. “Not fair, Viv. Not fair. Dammit!” He paces away before whipping around to face me again. “Deep down, I know you’re right, but that doesn’t mean I have to accept it without complaint.”

I walk toward him, reaching out a hand in comfort. My grip rests lightly on his forearm as I push my will into him, not quite using my full manipulator traits that can sway any vampire to my way of thinking, but I give him a mental shove past his immediate anger to offer clear thinking. “I know where your heart lies, and I don’t mean regarding Chelly. I know you would fight to the death beside me, without hesitation. But I have need of you elsewhere.” His brow quirks up in question. “
You
will be the one to protect all I hold dear.
You
will be the strongest left in Alaska should trouble befall them while I’m gone.”

Irritation at my words spills into his tone. “What good will I be in Alaska during the summer? I’d be living indoors and traveling via the tunnels the entire time.”

“Do you really think a vampire weakened by the sun is still not strong enough or clever enough to protect those who matter to him? Do you think a man, or group of men, could outwit you at your lowest? You are over a century and a half old, Drew. By no means are you on the same level—in any sense—as Paul or the werewolves.”

He smiles. “I see exactly what you’re doing, you conniving woman. Building me up to make me feel important with what you want me to do. All right, I’ll go quietly—whether I agree with you or not about how much good I’ll be while cooped up inside.”

“Good. Now, onto the more important question: Do you trust Paul to share the flying duties home with you?”

“Uh… no, not yet. But either way, we can’t fly during the day.”

I smile, glad the issue of them leaving will be dropped. “Not to worry. I’ve arranged for several top-notch pilots you can pick up in Buenos Aires.”

Once Drew departs, I return to the personal suite I usually share with my human husband, intending to do some yoga. The stretching and muscle work has helped realign my spiritual balance with the physical healing. Thanks to Rafe, I’ve fully regained my strength from the silver trauma a few weeks ago.

The ones responsible for my imprisonment and torture, Coraline and her cohorts, were killed by my husband in a brutal display of his defensive nature. Only one man—Rolando—remains for us to track down in Buenos Aires. Hopefully, finding him will put an end to the hunt for other manipulator vampires like me. As far as I know, I’m still the only one who has escaped extermination over the last few centuries.

While I rested and recovered, Rafe explored the underbelly of the Argentine city extensively, making sure his casual occupation stayed unnoticed by the ruling Tribunal of Ancients. His protective instincts toward me have barreled to the surface, and I’ve found I rather like this side of him.

After the worst of my damage was healed through copious amounts of blood and lots of deep restorative sleep, the dead-to-the-world type only the undead can take, we split up—him staying in the city to investigate, and me journeying back to our island off the coast of southeastern Argentina to tend to the family of caretakers. Their minds needed delicate fixing from the damage done by the same people who tried to kill me.

The island caretakers were not harmed permanently, and I have to admit, what was done to their minds was so subtle it didn’t require much effort on my part to repair. The island hideaway they help keep in tip-top shape is where we spend most of the Argentine winter,

only venturing to Buenos Aires when there’s a big Tribunal shin-dig.

But this year was different.

Not only did we initially arrive weeks earlier than normal, with most of our new seethe traveling with us, but now we’re sending Drew, Chelly, and the others home to Alaska during the region’s summer months—which is typically singe and die season for vampires above the Arctic Circle. The extensive tunnels and safeguards built into the resort will keep the returning vampires alive, so I’m not worried on that end. They’ll be safe and—by the end of the long stretches of seemingly never-ending daylight—bored with cabin fever.

I’m sure Asa, the ex-military vampire responsible for the resort’s security, will be happy to have them back. Recently, he’s had his hands full with helping to exorcise ghosts at the inn. The apparitions were of the humans and supernaturals who’d died during the past year’s adventures. By the lighter lilt in his voice during our last conversation, it sounded like Asa may have found a female diversion this summer, too. Good, the man needs to let someone in.

Sending them home while Rafe and I get to the bottom of things here is the smartest solution. I will not let guilt sway me.

In the end, it was the others and not Drew who protested nonstop about returning home last night, tempting me beyond belief to force them to my will, but I managed to resist and smile benignly during their blathering.

Above all, Rafe and I need to focus on finding Rolando and putting an end to this drama. Having the others here, even if they stayed on the island and not in the direct path of my enemies, could be dangerous—not to mention a distraction I don’t want to take on. I’d worry about their safety.

Someone could succeed in finding them again, even on our tiny middle-of-nowhere island, to use against me. In comparison, the inn is more of a secure, secluded fortress than many of them realize. It’s the perfect place to await an enemy, especially when you know the property as well as we do.

Doubt creeps into me and I squash it, determined not to second guess my resolve regarding Jon and our plans to fly him down. As an alpha werewolf, he would be the best choice to stay and safeguard the seethe at the inn. But, whether I like it or not, I need him here by my side, to hunt down Rolando.

What prompted a hidden sect within the Tribunal—one hell bent on tracking and killing manipulators, a rare breed of vampire thought long exterminated—to hunt me down?

Has the story of Coraline’s tampered memories, which I was responsible for on her last visit to Alaska, spread among their supporters? Did I reveal myself unknowingly through another channel? Has my arrogance in always assuming I could handle anything thrown my way with a simple bending of my will finally backfired on me?

How did they know to look for me? Who pointed them in my direction? Have others, vampires older than me, suspected my secret for centuries and yet never acted to eliminate me? And if yes, why? Was it out of fear, or with the hope to someday use me and my skills to their advantage?

I shake my head, eager to dispel the uncharacteristic self-doubt. The wondering of why and how my hidden traits have been discovered is not important. Tracking down those who wish me harm and killing them
is
.

Resolve swells within me, strengthening with the deep breath I draw into my lungs. I will find those responsible. I will secure the safety of those pledged to me. I will—

My cell rings, cutting off my internal diatribe.

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