Psychologist, Kismet Knight decides to humor one of her
patients who claims to have a connection to the underground
vampire world in Denver, Colorado. Midnight's family insist
that she visit Kismet in order to help her withdraw from the
dangerous vampire wannabes she has fallen in with. But as
Kismet continues to treat Midnight, strange events begin to
rock Kismet's predictable and perfect world, especially when
Kismet finds herself strangely attracted to a stranger, who
turns out to be the man Midnight calls their vampire leader.
As Kismet begin to treat Midnight, she deduces that the
young girl has simply found herself caught up in an
illusionary vampire world. As Midnight begins to reveal more
details about the vampire world in Denver, she tells Kismet
about their leader, a mysterious man named Devereux. When
Devereux suddenly appears at Kismet's office, he claims to
be an 800 year old vampire. But Kismet's training as a
psychologist, cause her to believe Devereux and Midnight are
simply mentally unstable. Still, Kismet cannot deny the
power that Devereux has over her. Although she believes the
vampire leader may be dangerous, she cannot control the
powerful attraction which overwhelms her when she is in his
When Devereux asks Kismet to visit his club, what Kismet
witnesses defies logic. After experiencing the seductive but
deadly life of the undead, Kismet is forced to admit that
she has become a vampire shrink. But not all vampires seek
her out for help. In fact, some want only one thing -
Kismet's death. Kismet finds an ally and possible romantic
interest in FBI agent, Alan Stevens. Alan takes an interest
in Kismet's bizarre relationship with the wannabe vampire
community. But Kismet's blood runs cold when she hears that
Alan has been investigating a series of strange murders each
involving victims who were drained of blood. Now one
powerful vampire with a vendetta against Devereux has
targeted Kismet in order to hurt the vampire leader.
Lynda Hilburn has crafted a seductively enthralling vampire
tale vampire lovers will want to devour in one bite.
Devereux is the drop dead gorgeous, romantic vampire all
undead lovers swoon over! Anyone who is a fan of the
Twilight series, will become an instant fan of Lynda
Hilburn. Devereux is sexy and dangerous. He not only seduces
Kismet, but the readers as well. Although there are plenty
of sexy scenes between Kismet and Devereux, Hilburn takes
her novel to the next level by introducing an ancient rival
from Devereux's past who has spent eternity following
Devereux. Addictive, humorous, and sexy, THE VAMPIRE SHRINK
is sure to become a favorite among the vampire genre.
Denver Psychologist Kismet Knight, Ph.D., doesnâ€™t believe
in the paranormal. She especially doesnâ€™t believe in
vampires. So what happens when she finds herself neck-deep
in the vampire underworld?
Kismet is smart, witty and attractive. Sheâ€™s respected in
her field, successful and prosperous. Sheâ€™s followed all
the rules -- done everything right. So, whatâ€™s the problem?
Her life is empty. Thereâ€™s no passion. No vitality. No
That is, until a new client introduces Kismet to the
vampire underworld, and a drop-dead gorgeous, 800-year-old
vampire named Devereux. Kismet isnâ€™t buying the vampire
story, but canâ€™t explain why she has such odd reactions and
feelings whenever Devereux is near. Kismet is soon forced
to open her mind to other possibilities when she is visited
in her office by two angry bloodsuckers, who would like
nothing better than to challenge Devereux by hurting Kismet.
As Kismet gets pulled deeper and deeper into the vampire
subculture, she struggles to hold onto her professional
ideas about what is and isnâ€™t â€śreal.â€ť The more she finds
herself attracted to the charismatic, handsome Devereux,
the more out of control her life becomes.
When one of her clients shows up in her office almost
completely drained of blood, Kismet finds herself immersed
in an ongoing murder investigation. Kismet is questioned by
irreverent, handsome FBI profiler Alan Stevens, who warns
her that vampires are very real. And one is a murderer. A
murder who is after her.
In the midst of all this, Kismet realizes she has feelings
for both the vampire and the profiler, but even though she
cares for each of the men, facing the reality that vampires
exist â€“ along with all the other supernatural insanity she
discovers â€“ is enough of a challenge. For now.
Vampire in the Waiting Room . . .
I met with a few more clients that afternoon and early
evening and had just kicked off my shoes when I heard the
door to the reception area open. I quickly scanned my
appointment book to make sure I hadn't forgotten anyone.
Finding I hadn't, I put my shoes back on and opened my
Sitting in one of the chairs in the waiting room was the
very same gorgeous, blond-haired, leather-clad man I'd seen
outside my building and in Midnight's drawing.
My stomach lurched and I think I gasped out loud.
He stood when I opened the door and it was fluid motion,
as if he had simply willed himself vertical. His body was
all lean muscle radiating some kind of primal power. He
moved elegantly over to me and gave a slight bow of his
head. He offered the kind of smile that made my Inner Nerd
want to fan herself and hide in the closet.
Dressed in black, his snug leather pants, form-fitting
silk T-shirt, and long leather duster gave the impression
of high fashion rather than Harley-Davidsons.
I froze in the doorway with my mouth hanging open,
speechless, staring into the most amazing pair of turquoise
eyes I'd ever seen.
He picked up my hand gently and kissed the back, his
lips soft and silky. "I am Devereux. Is this a good time
for an appointment?"
So many emotions slammed against each other inside me
that I didn't know which one to act on first. Fear decided
to step to the front of the line and my mind began to weigh
options in case the man physically attacked me. He didn't
seem menacing at the moment, but he was much bigger and
stronger than me, and I hadn't spent nearly enough time in
the gym. Hell, I hadn't spent any. Obviously, he had.
My heart raced and I still hadn't formed a coherent
sentence or done anything beyond stare at him like a
zombie. What was happening to me? My eyelids felt as though
they were coated with cement, my jaw sagged open, the air
suddenly became thick, and a sumo wrestler was pounding on
my chest. The normal background white noise acquired a
sharp edge and turned into a persistent buzz, vibrating in
my ears. I felt as if I was in some kind of trance.
"I am very sorry." He took a step back from me and
released my hand. "I have frightened you. That was never my
intention – sometimes I forget how intense we can be.
You must be a keenly sensitive individual. I will endeavor
to control myself. Please accept my sincere apologies."
You will endeavor to control yourself? I'm the one
having the meltdown here.
He lowered his gaze for a moment, and when he met my
eyes again, the tension drained from my muscles and I could
breathe. It felt as though a switch had been thrown and I
was once again in charge of my bodily functions. I could
still hear the hum in my ears, but it had diminished in
volume. I ran my tongue over my very dry lips.
"You did startle me. I wasn't expecting anyone this
"Again, my sincere apologies."
Both times I'd seen this man, he'd caused my anxiety
levels to blast through the roof. I wanted to scream at him
that it was absolutely not acceptable he'd come unannounced
to my office, and that his habit of lurking around me was
going to earn him a trip to the police station. He was
altogether too sure of himself. I wanted him to know he
couldn't just stroll in and expect me to drop everything
and attend to him. No matter how gorgeous he was.
Instead, I swallowed the irritation, opted for whatever
remnants of professional demeanor I could summon, and
said, "Well, Mr. Devereux, why are you here?"
"Just Devereux." He cocked his head and flashed that
godlike smile again. "As I mentioned a moment ago, I had
hoped this would be a good time for our appointment. I
trust Midnight told you I wished to meet with you?"
His voice was unusually pleasant. The timbre of it
flowed through me like a favorite song, as if I were
listening to him with my entire body. He had a lilting
European accent, sounding almost old-fashioned, like he'd
stepped out of another century. Strange how a voice could
be so enticing.
I closed my eyes and sniffed the air. What was that
wonderful aroma? It seemed to hover around him like an
olfactory aura. Maybe he used a special kind of soap or
shampoo, something spicy and masculine and unusual.
He brushed a finger lightly along my arm. "Dr. Knight?"
My eyes flew open and I realized I'd been standing
there, blatantly reveling in his scent, making sniffing
noises. How embarrassing. What the hell is wrong with me?
Come on, Kismet. Talking has always been your strong suit.
Just one word at a time. Concentrate.
"Yes." I cleared my throat. "She did mention that you
might call to set up an appointment. Would you care to
schedule one for later this week?" I inhaled a deep breath
and tried to remain professional.
I was so nervous my stomach contracted, my hands were
sweating, and my knee twitched. I'd always had a fear of
small spaces, and something about this situation gave me
that same closed-in panicky feeling. He had done nothing
obvious to make me afraid, but my entire body felt as if it
was waiting for some other shoe to drop. He radiated
danger. Almost raw power.
"Would it be terribly inconvenient for us to meet now,
since I am here?"
That voice. Maybe he was a hypnotist and he knew how to
use it to put people under. It was so soothing, I could
stand there and listen to it all night.
I felt myself sliding down that slippery slope again and
rallied. I needed to get this guy out of my office before I
made a complete fool of myself.
If I'd known I was going to have a mental breakdown
today, I'd have penciled it into my appointment book.
"I was just leaving. It would be much better if we could
schedule another time—"
He reclaimed the step he'd given up and stated, as if
the outcome was already a foregone conclusion, "I would
appreciate very much the opportunity to speak with you
about Midnight. I am concerned about her."
Through the cotton candy that had taken up residence in
my brain, the voice in my head screamed NO! but my mouth
said, "I guess I could give you a few minutes. Please come
Please come inside? Hey, wait a minute – that
isn't what I meant to say. Where'd that come from?
I backed away from the door, drawing it open so he could
enter, leaving it ajar so he wouldn't be encouraged to make
himself too comfortable.
I was about to invite him to sit down when I noticed
he'd already seated himself in the chair I normally used. I
realized he had no way of knowing that was "my" chair, but
it still annoyed me.
"Would you mind filling out a little paperwork for me?"
Force of habit had me handing him a packet of papers on a
He took it. "My pleasure."
I sat across from him and studied him while he wrote.
His hands were artistic-looking, with recently manicured
nails trimmed close. He had very pale skin with a lovely
translucent sheen to it, which gave him an ageless quality.
It wasn't often that I encountered someone with skin
lighter than mine. His bone structure brought to mind the
word chiseled. Perfect features. Almost too perfect.
Midnight was right: his eyes were extraordinary. They
were indeed aqua and beautifully shaped with long, dark
eyelashes. I was surprised that his eyebrows and eyelashes
were dark because his hair was so light, but the
combination was very appealing.
His thick, lovely hair flowed down over his shoulders to
mid-chest. It looked soft and silky and very touchable. And
his mouth . . . Studying his soft, full, generous lips
caused a visceral reaction in me. I imagined the feel of
them against mine.
What the hell? Take a breath, Kismet. You're in your
office. This is a professional situation. Have you lost
your mind? What you're imagining is beyond inappropriate.
Stop daydreaming about what you want to do to those lips
and pay attention.
As I raised my gaze from his mouth to his eyes, I found
him watching me with an amused expression, apparently
finished with the paperwork. Embarrassment warmed my face
as I reached for the clipboard. For some reason, I couldn't
take my eyes off him long enough to even glance at the
forms he'd filled out.
Why am I acting so weird?
I took a slow breath and struggled to regain control of
myself. "What concerns you about Midnight?"
"Before we speak of that, would you mind if I ask you a
"Well, you can ask. I can't promise I'll answer."
"Do you believe in vampires?"
"What?" Surprise radiated up my spine and I stiffened in
my chair. The buzzing in my ears got louder and I was
suddenly very thirsty.
He toyed with a beautiful antique medallion on a chain
around his neck. "Do you believe what Midnight has been
Okay. Maybe he has a suggestion about how to help
Midnight move beyond her vampire fantasy. He might be
crazy, but maybe he can help.
To steady myself, I stood and walked over to the small
refrigerator in the corner of the room and selected two
bottles of water. I set one of them in front of Devereux,
opened the other for myself, took my seat, and drank deeply.
Breathe. Just breathe. This can't be hot flashes. I'm
"I can't discuss anything that Midnight may or may not
have talked to me about – it's all confidential. But
generally speaking, I can tell you that I've never seen any
evidence to support the existence of vampires or any other
"Ah." The corners of his lips quirked up. "You are a
scientist. Do you wish to see evidence?"
I was getting that claustrophobic feeling again. Maybe
this handsome man really was a nutcase and I'd allowed
myself to be distracted by his obvious assets instead of
following my professional instincts. I switched into the
noticeably calm voice I used to soothe disturbed
clients. "Is it important to you that I believe in
He threw back his head and laughed with pure delight. "I
have never been called insane in such a lovely way ever
before. I can assure you that it is of no importance
whatsoever to me if you believe in vampires or not, but I
think the information could prove useful to you. What if I
told you that everything Midnight has shared with you is
Oh, geez. He's a loon.
"Since we can't talk about anything Midnight might have
said, I can only suggest that you tell me directly what you
want me to know."