
Thankful for good reads, a return to a familiar series
For two thousand years, vampire elder Stacia has roamed on
her own, haunted by the betrayal that turned her into a
creature of the night. Her nights looming empty and eternal,
Stacia longs for love, but settles for quick bites and
sinful pleasures in South Beach. Until she comes
face-to-face with the unforgettable DEA agent she once
brought back from the brink of death. Alex Garcia knows that demons exist—the real kind, the kind
that are kidnapping women and selling them into slavery.
Finding those victims is his focus—not a beautiful
seductress whose otherworldly abilities can't possibly be
real. But when Stacia summons all her powers to prove what
she really is, Alex will summon all his to believe in the
vampire's kiss….
Excerpt A vampire who has given up on love gets a second chance
from a most unlikely mortal...
For two thousand years, vampire elder Stacia has roamed
on her own, haunted by the betrayal that turned her into a
creature of the night. Her nights looming empty and eternal,
Stacia longs for love, but settles for quick bites and
sinful pleasures in South Beach. Until she comes
face–to–face with the unforgettable DEA agent
she once brought back from the brink of death.
Alex Garcia knows that demons exist–the real kind,
the kind that are kidnapping women and selling them into
slavery. Finding those victims is his focus–not a
beautiful seductress whose otherworldly abilities can't
possibly be real. But when Stacia summons all her powers to
prove what she really is, Alex will summon all his to
believe in the vampire's kiss....
Chapter 1
The nightmares had sucked life from him for months.
Then they had stopped abruptly. Tonight's bad dream was
far worse. It sank its teeth deep and refused to let go.
Maybe it was wrong to call it a dream, Alex Garcia
thought as he walked into a scene that was so vivid he could
smell, taste and feel all that was around him.
The apartment he entered was dank and reeked of urine
from the many squatters that had used the place for shelter.
Only the chill of the winter night kept his discomfort to a
tolerable level in the abandoned apartment. His cold sweat
on the grip of his Glock turned the stock slippery. His gut
tightened as he held his breath.
He was nervous.
Not a condition he was used to. He had grown accustomed
to danger in his many years as a DEA agent. This mission was
different.
Failure on this mission meant the possibility of death
for hundreds of innocent civilians.
Never again.
He repeated the vow he had made after September 11, the
one that had been the reason he had accepted this assignment.
He gripped the Glock tighter and moved farther into the
apartment. He and his fellow Cuban Democratic Army member
were supposed to pick up a stolen handheld smartbomb
delivery system that the CDA planned to use in the terrorist
attack that he intended to prevent.
The weapon was not in the empty apartment as it should
have been. As he turned to look at his partner, wondering if
they had gone to the wrong location, another CDA member
stepped from a back room and opened fire.
The force of the blow to his chest had him reeling
backward. The pain was so intense he nearly blacked out from
it. When a second blast immediately followed, ripping into
his midsection, his knees buckled.
He fell back against the wall, slowly sinking to the
ground in a sitting position, the body of the other CDA
member sprawled beside him. The man's lifeless stare
confirmed that he was dead, much as Alex expected to be
shortly as his assailant trained his weapon on Alex's head
for the coup de grace.
The loud sounds of gunfire and an explosion outside the
room distracted the shooter long enough for Alex to raise
his weapon and fire.
With a surprised look, the armed man lowered his gun and
stared at the blossoming trail of blood down the middle of
his chest. It was the last thing he saw as he dropped to the
ground, dead from a direct shot to the heart.
Alex had little time to ponder what to do next.
He was too badly wounded to move. Already he could feel
the growing warmth of the blood soaking into his clothing
and leaving a chill behind in his body. He was going to die
there, alone and unable to do anything else to help stop the
terrorist attack.
He had failed in his mission.
Outside the apartment all hell had broken loose judging
from the noises reverberating in the winter night. The FBI
must have moved in and the CDA was likely fighting back,
determined to complete their plot.
A second later, the door to the apartment burst open,
slamming against the wall.
His eyesight was fading, but he saw that a man had
entered the room. He was holding something.
Someone.
He forced himself to focus and realized the man held
Alex's ex–lover, but Diana wasn't moving. Blood
covered the man's arms and hands as he embraced her.
Diana's blood. Too much of it.
Alex forced himself to take a painful breath, attempting
to speak. It managed to get the man's attention, and as his
gaze wavered, Alex finally glimpsed the man's face.
Only it wasn't a man.
Shock gathered his senses, bringing Alex to painful
alertness.
He had to protect Diana from whatever that was. He tried
to raise his gun, only his body refused to cooperate. He
couldn't move his arm. Couldn't even feel the Glock in his
hand anymore as awareness fled his dying body.
A voice suddenly penetrated his fading consciousness.
They weren't alone in the room any longer. He trained his
attention on that voice–a woman's husky tones.
'This one's still alive."
Alex realized she was referring to him, not that he would
be alive for much longer. That realization didn't bring fear
for himself, but for those he had failed.
"Unlike your friend will be shortly," the woman added and
motioned to the monster holding Diana in his arms.
"Leave," the demon commanded, pain evident in that one
word, but the woman just laughed and sauntered over. She
crouched before the demon and Diana.
Alex's hearing and vision were dimming quickly. Only a
confused murmur of voices came to him, but then the woman
shot upright and strode angrily across the room toward him.
Her bright, almost phosphorescent blue–green gaze
locked with his, her fangs clearly visible. A vampire, he
thought for the barest of moments.
Only, vampires weren't real.
What he was seeing had to be a product of his blood loss,
he thought.
But as the woman leaned closer, there was no denying what
stood before him. She stared at him hard and, for a moment,
reverted to human form.
She was quite beautiful as a human, he thought, before
the vampire returned and bent toward him. Sharp fangs grazed
his neck as the warm kiss of her lips slipped across his
skin, awakening ardor.
Bestowing passion that twisted together with the pain in
his body and soul as her fangs broke through his skin.
Alex shot up in bed, drenched with perspiration. Shaking
from the reality of the waking nightmare and the desire that
was always associated with it.
As he wiped his hands across his face, clearing the cold
sweat of fear mixed with unwanted passion, he tried to scrub
away the memories of the demon as well, but they refused to
leave.
Refused to depart in much the way that the recurring
memories of that winter night had not left him.
Alex cursed beneath his breath, hoping that he could
muster enough control by the morning to pass his
psychological review tomorrow. He had been itching to get
back into the field for months. If the DEA psychologist
picked up on the vibes from his nightmare, Alex was worried
that the shrink wouldn't clear him for undercover duty.
Who could trust an agent in the field who worried that
vampires roamed the darkness?
He had to get a grip, he told himself, lying back down
and willing himself to go back to sleep. An untroubled sleep
free of the nightmare of the failed mission and the monsters
that haunted his nights.
But even as he was finally able to drift off, the vision
of her face–both vampire and mortal–wove itself
into his subconscious, leaving him to wonder if he maybe
wasn't losing his sanity.
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 Calling / Reborn
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