Kiss of the Dhampir

By Katrina LaFond

“Kiss of the Dhampir was just utterly amazing. As always, I loved Katrina's characters and the world she created in this novella.... I recommend this to all of my paranormal romance reading friends.” Loves All Things Books

There is a legend: A female dhampir will come, an accomplished vampire killer, a woman of incredible beauty, power and intelligence, who will find her destined mate among the vampires. He will be a man of magnetism, of sensuality and power, enough to match the dhampir, perhaps even stronger. He will be immune to her powers and she will be immune to his. And they will love each other, beyond all doubt, beyond all reason. One will die for the other and the survivor will go on, with all the powers of both, the most powerful being ever to walk the earth.

Marissa was raised by the Daybreak Society to slay vampires, and she excelled at it. She never met a vampire that she couldn’t defeat. Not one ever laid a hand on her, not one ever got a fang into her. She was secure in the knowledge that no vampire could hurt her, and that she was doing what was right. Then, on the night that was supposed to be her happiest, a horrific betrayal shattered her world. On the run from the people who raised her, she continued her calling—hunting and slaying the undead. But when she meets the vampire Gabriel, the attraction between them is immediate and irresistible. Can she ignore a lifetime of training, and everything she believes, to love a vampire?

Excerpt:

“I know you’re there, vampire,” she said, lifting those glowing eyes to the rooftop where he was hiding. “Come to me,” she summoned.

Gabriel realized she was expecting him to fall under her power. He could feel the strong compulsion she’d fed into her voice, but it didn’t take hold of him....

“Vampire!” Marissa called angrily. She stared up at the edge of the building, astounded that the vampire had been able to resist her. Then he stepped over the edge and floated into the alley on an updraft. She caught her breath when he passed into the light from the street lamp. He was amazingly handsome, dark, sensual, his black eyes intense. He was every woman’s fantasy, every woman’s darkest desire, the monster that women wished was hiding in their closet. His powerful body seemed to be relaxed, but she could see the defensive posture, the way his broad shoulders were tensed, his strong arms loose at his sides. His long black hair was moving around his head and shoulders like something alive, and for one crazy moment she wondered what it would feel like to run its silk through her fingers, feel it brushing her skin. She shoved that thought away hastily, afraid to contemplate what it meant....

With just a few steps he was standing inches from her, so close she could feel the power radiating from his body.... He snared her wrist, holding her hand against his face when she would have pulled away, and placed a kiss in her palm.

She shivered, whips of fire dancing up her arm and through her body from that small contact. What was happening to her? This was a vampire, standing directly in front of her, at the full mercy of her Kiss. So why wasn’t she doing anything? Why wasn’t he nothing but a pile of ashes at her feet? Chagrined, she realized that the idea of Gabriel’s body reduced to ashes made her heart stutter. Was it him? Was he using his own powers on her? In the few seconds it took for this to race through her mind, she began to relinquish the energy she’d gathered, feeling it drain from her body, taking the burning heat from her as it went. “What are you doing to me?” she whispered.

He trailed the back of his hand across her cheek and her heart flipped. “I was wondering the same thing,” he admitted.
----
Kiss of the Dhampir is a stand-alone novella. It contains adult situations and some violence, so it is recommended for 18 years old and over.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Katrina LaFond
• Release date: Jul 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301387304

Katrina LaFond

Writing is the ultimate escape from reality. You can read or watch a movie, but you're not truly immersed in another world like you are when you're creating one. When I'm not writing, I'm wishing I was and when I'm writing I'm living another life. There's some of me in every female character who lets me write her story--some more than others, but I'll never tell which ones. In my other lives I'm a sexy vampire, a powerful witch, an independent werewolf or a seductive human. I can be anyone and anything I want, and who wouldn't want to do that? My genre of preference is fantasy romance. I became infatuated with vampires in high school when I read a book about a girl, who'd recently been turned, who allowed herself to die in the first rays of dawn rather than feed on the boy with whom she'd fallen in love. I remember that part vividly because I thought it was the most beautiful depiction of unconditional and unrequited love that I'd ever read. I promptly devoured every book with vampires in it that I could get my hands on (in my age range, of course). At the time I wasn’t interested in romance novels, and eventually I ran out of teen vampire stories, so I tried my hand at writing one. Over the years, my characters and stories have matured with me. At first, the only characters I met were vampires, but eventually, other characters came to me, and I discovered I had a thing for tall, dark and handsome aliens as well. I spend so much time with my characters that they become real to me, and all my friends and family have gotten used to me talking about them that way. Thankfully, if they think I’m crazy, they keep it to themselves. I’ve also been very lucky in love. For 26 years, I’ve been with the same wonderful man who is very tolerant of the fact that I fall in love with the leading men in my books.

Book preview

Kiss of the Dhampir

by Katrina LaFond

copyright 2013 Katrina LaFond

Smashwords Edition

Edited by: Laurie Williams

Cover by Abstractionz

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Table of Contents

Beginning of Book

The Lockwood Chronicles series

Other books by this author

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She was born during the worst storm that Nurse Iris had ever seen. Lighting split the sky and thunder rumbled, shaking the building furiously. It was as though nature itself was protesting her emergence into the world. When they held the baby up so that her dying mother could see her, the woman smiled weakly and reached a shaking hand toward her.

Marissa, she breathed. I’m so sorry. I love you.

Nurse Iris watched the poor woman take her last breath, then cuddled the infant against her chest. Marissa had yet to cry, but her huge blue eyes were surveying the room, giving Iris the chilling feeling that the baby was aware of what was going on around her.

What do we do, doctor? she asked, her voice low.

The doctor took hold of the dead woman’s chin and turned her head, examining the scars on her pale throat. There is no mistaking what did this, he muttered, almost to himself. I can’t understand why the baby is female.

Nurse Iris waited while the doctor leaned closer and squinted at the scars again, touched them, then straightened up. Still, he didn’t answer her.

Doctor?

He glanced at her as though just remembering she was there. Clean her up, he ordered. Feed her. I’ll go speak to Director Reese and see what is to be done.

He pulled his bloody surgical garb off and dropped it on the floor. At the door he glanced back at the dead woman and the unusual baby cradled in Nurse Iris’s arms, then left to go tell the Director. It was not a task he savored. He knew the Director was going to be angry, and that someone would have to pay. The doctor sincerely hoped that it wouldn’t be him.

Director Reece’s office was dark. The doctor knocked once, then went in without being invited. He knew he was expected. The chair was turned away from the desk, its occupant staring out the window at the rain.

So we finally found one, Reece said softly.

I’m sorry, sir, the doctor started, then plunged on. It’s a girl.

Silence followed the doctor’s amazing statement, then the chair turned slowly and Reece stared at him. A girl? he demanded. How is that possible?

I don’t know, sir.

Are you certain of the child’s paternity?

No doubt about it, the doctor asserted. I saw the scars myself.

I’ve never heard of a girl being born from such a union, Reece said softly.

What should we do with her? the doctor asked, amazed that his voice was still steady, even though his entire body was starting to shake.

Reece was silent for a moment. Keep her, he finally answered. We’ll raise her, educate her, and train her as if she was the boy we’d expected. Maybe she’ll surprise us.

The doctor nodded stiffly. Yes sir, he said, and turned to leave.

And doctor?

His blood ran cold, but he turned back. Yes sir?

Next time, you’d better not fail me.

Yes sir. The doctor stepped out of the office and fled.

Reece settled back into his chair, his hands folded thoughtfully in his lap, and contemplated the amazing turn of events. In all his years, he’d never heard of a girl being born under such circumstances. For the innocent baby now nestled comfortably in the care of the Daybreak Society was the daughter of a human woman—and a vampire.

* * * * *

Some members of the Daybreak Society were not aware of the amazing turn of events that had occurred that rainy night. They believed the Society was just what it said it was: a non-profit organization dedicated to helping homeless, destitute and abused women and children. It was a rare institution in late 1890s London, but it was thriving. Director Reece was very influential, and he had dedicated most of his own fortune to the running of the Society.

Then there were the members who knew the secret behind that innocuous cover story—that the Daybreak Society had been founded to fight the undead. The deaths of destitute, homeless and abused women and children were most often the best indicator of vampiric activity because they were often the preferred victims. They were easier to subdue, easier to hide, and usually not missed.

When Marissa’s mother went to the Society for help, she’d unknowingly delivered her daughter into the hands of crusaders. They’d been waiting for one such as Marissa to be born, but usually the child of a vampire and human woman was a boy so no one was quite sure of what to expect from Marissa. Would she have any powers? Would she use them to destroy vampires as a boy would have done? Or would the mere fact that she was female bring disaster to the Society? Still, they accepted Director Reece’s decision without question. His word was law as far as they were concerned. And they also realized that one of her kind was so rare that most would probably never see another born in their lifetimes.

Aside from all that, Marissa was a beautiful baby. She had ebony hair and the bluest eyes most of the Society had ever seen. Her features were delicate, her skin alabaster. She turned out to be a solemn infant, too. She would quietly watching the women work around her, as though she was absorbing everything they did, following their every movement with those crystal eyes. As she grew, she remained so observant and quiet that people would often forget she was in the room and have adult conversations within her hearing, things they would never have said with a child about.

So she grew up, unnoticed and yet the center of attention. Ignored, yet watched more than any girl should be. As promised by Reece, the Society paid for the best tutors that could be found and she was encouraged to stretch her mind, learn everything she could. She was very intelligent and quick to learn. They discovered that she had an affinity for languages, and by the time she was sixteen she could speak three in addition to English. She absorbed any information given to her like a sponge.

At the same time that her mind was being expanded, her body was being trained. From the moment she could walk the Society brought in martial arts experts to teach the toddler. She showed a natural aptitude for that as well, and she quickly became better than most of her tutors, which amazed her caretakers, and yet frightened them as well. Would they be able to control her as she reached adulthood? What if she realized her own power, her own abilities, and rebelled? They were training her to be a killer. Was she their doom? Or would she be their salvation?

Only time would tell.

* * * * *

Marissa was twelve when she went to Nurse Iris in the hours just before dawn. She crawled up onto the bed and shook her surrogate mother violently, demanding that she wake. Nurse Iris sat up quickly. Marissa! she cried. Stop! What is wrong? She caught sight of her young charge’s face and she gasped, shrinking away from the blazing red glow in Marissa’s clear eyes, the fangs flashing at her mouth.

What is wrong with me? Marissa demanded. I feel so weak and I’m desperately thirsty. What’s happening to me?

Nurse Iris gazed at Marissa sadly. She had discussed this possibility with the doctor years before, when she’d first been entrusted with Marissa’s care. There had always been the chance that the girl would inherit her father’s need for blood, and with the onset of puberty the need had obviously manifested within her.

It’s because you’re half vampire, she told Marissa gently. You need blood to survive.

Marissa went pale, her eyes wide with shock. She shook her head, No, she denied. This is not happening. I am not a vampire! She leapt up from the bed and threw herself on the floor, curling into a ball.

Nurse Iris followed her, kneeling beside her shaking body. No, you’re not a vampire, she assured her, stroking Marissa’s hair soothingly. But you will weaken further without blood.

Marissa sniffled and looked up at Nurse Iris. How weak would I get? she asked thinly.

I have no idea, Marissa, she told her honestly. You are unique. We weren’t even certain that you would need blood at all. That is why we never told you of the possibility.

Marissa’s expression hardened. "I don’t need blood, she declared. I will be fine without it."

Nurse Iris watched as Marissa got to her feet and began to walk away. Two steps were all she managed before she swayed and lost her balance, dropping abruptly to her knees. Her shoulders shook as she began to cry again. Nurse Iris crawled to her. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, she whispered, and no one needs to know.

What about the doctor? Marissa asked.

Nurse Iris shook her head. I won’t even tell him. I promise. And she offered her wrist to Marissa. Take what you need.

Marissa stared at Nurse Iris’s delicate wrist, the blue veins visible just beneath the surface of her skin, and she felt the beast within her growl, demanding that she drink. Hesitantly, she took hold of her nurse’s arm and raised it to her lips. Before either could change their mind, she sank her fangs into Nurse Iris’s soft flesh. She didn’t hear the small cry of pain that Nurse Iris hastily stifled. The moment the blood filled her mouth, she was lost. It was the sweetest nectar she’d ever tasted, full of life, full of power. Some small part of her knew that she would never get enough, and she could never drink her fill. Her natural restraint kicked in and she took only a few swallows, letting go of her nurse’s wrist and falling back to the floor as the strength surged through her body. She felt energized, floating on waves of satisfaction, oblivious to everything around her, forgetting even that there was another person in the room.

Nurse Iris wrapped a handkerchief around her wrist to stop the blood, eyeing Marissa speculatively. How do you feel?

Marissa opened languid eyes and gazed at Nurse Iris. Wonderful, she breathed. If this is how vampires feel after feeding, I think I get it.

How can you say that? Nurse Iris demanded, alarmed. Vampires are cold-blooded killers!

Marissa froze, staring at Nurse Iris. I’m sorry, she whispered. She sat up. I’m not turning into a vampire am I?

Nurse Iris took a breath, trying to compose herself. No. I’m sorry Marissa, she said. Of course you’re not. I suppose this reaction is to be expected.

You’re still not going to tell the doctor, right?

I said I wouldn’t, and I won’t.

Marissa went to her and wrapped her arms around her waist. Thank you. I love you, Nurse Iris.

Nurse Iris held Marissa close and dropped a kiss on the top of her dark head. I love you, too.

In the years that followed that fateful night Nurse Iris and Marissa learned that while Marissa needed blood, thankfully it wasn’t much, and it wasn’t often. Nurse Iris was able to keep Marissa’s secret as she promised.

* * * * *

When Marissa was nineteen, Nurse Iris was sent to speak to her. She stood outside Marissa’s door, nervous and scared, tempted to just forget about the whole thing, but orders were orders, and these had come down from the top, from Director Reece himself. Squaring her shoulders, Nurse Iris knocked on the door and opened it slightly. Marissa? May I come in?

Of course, Marissa invited. She put her book aside and sat up to greet the woman she’d always considered her mother.

Nurse Iris stepped into the room and looked around, so proud of her young charge. The room was neat and tidy, no clutter anywhere. The bed was made, pristine and perfect, the crucifix hanging on the wall above it perfectly aligned. Marissa herself was sitting straight and tall, her hair combed neatly, pulled back in a tidy bun. She was wearing a chaste dress, the skirt skimming the floor, the collar buttoned up nearly to her chin. Virginal. Innocent. Nurse Iris’s heart broke at what Marissa was about to endure.

Marissa looked at her, expectation in her crystal blue eyes.

I would like you to run an errand for me, Nurse Iris lied. A carriage is waiting out front for you.

Marissa nodded and stood, reaching for her wrap. She took the folded paper from Nurse Iris and left without opening it. As soon as she’d stepped out the door, Nurse Iris let her tears fall.

Marissa never questioned the errand. She never for a moment wondered why she was being sent out alone or why it was so late. The carriage driver was silent, offering no conversation and inviting none, so she sat quietly beside him. The sun had gone down and after several blocks, Marissa realized they were going away from the shops rather than toward them.

Where are we going? she asked at last.

The driver ignored her as they turned down another deserted street. The buildings along the sidewalks were old and run-down, most of them abandoned. Only a few of the street lamps had been lit and the rest were broken. A chill danced down Marissa’s spine as the carriage rolled to a stop and the driver turned to her.

Get out, he commanded.

Marissa looked around. Here? she asked, her voice shaking. There’s nothing here. What about Nurse Iris’s list?

The driver took her arm and pushed her out of the carriage. Get out, he repeated.

Marissa stumbled onto the sidewalk, tripping over her skirts. Gaining her balance, she turned back to the carriage in confusion but it was already pulling away. Wait! she cried, moving to run after it. The driver gave the horse the whip, and they sped up, leaving Marissa behind. She stopped and stared after it, angry and scared. What was going on? Was the Daybreak Society abandoning her? She looked around and realized she was being watched. She could see shadows in the windows of the buildings around her, probably homeless people, squatters, drawn by the commotion on the street. As quickly as they’d appeared, they were gone, leaving her alone again.

Marissa felt tears threatening and took a deep breath, trying to keep from crying. Now was not the time. She needed to figure out what to do. Walk back, she told herself. No one said she had to stay here. For that matter, no one had told