Final Choices

By Lydia Parks

Nathan Cotton Book 5 - Terra's temporary new partner is a gorgeous cop from LA, and she wonders how long she can resist his charm. He seems intent on getting to know her better. But why does she think about Nathan when she's in Austin's arms?

• Language: English
• Publisher: eXtasy Books Inc
• Release date: Apr 2, 2010
• ISBN: 9781554105601

Lydia Parks

Lydia Parks grew up in New Orleans, the home of Dixieland jazz, Creole cooking and thrilling ghost stories. Although she moved from her hometown years ago, Lydia carries an appreciation for the romantically mysterious city in her heart. After running off to Alaska to enjoy a taste of the Wild West pipeline days, Lydia returned to the Lower 48 and earned a master's degree in engineering. She has lived all over the United States, from Mississippi to Alaska, and has even worked an assignment in Siberia. While moving around, she stumbled onto the joy of her life: writing. Lydia lives in New Mexico with her own personal hero, and writes sexy vampires and shape-shifters for Harlequin and Kensington Books. Her vampire novel Addicted is a finalist in the 2008 Romantic Times Reviewers Choice awards. Lydia loves to hear from readers via her email: [e-mail]

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Final Choices

Copyright © 2005 Lydia Parks

ISBN: 1-55410-560-9

Cover art and design by Martine Jardin

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by eXtasy Books

www.Extasybooks.com

Smashwords Edition

Chapter One

When Nathan woke, he didn’t simply open his eyes and leisurely stretch. Instead, he sprang from his bed and flattened himself against the basement wall. His heart would have pounded, had it any inclination to beat at all.

He sniffed the air and listened, but found no hint of what had awakened him so abruptly. No burning buildings or angry mobs. No thieves sneaking through the darkness. He heard only relative silence in his house, and nothing more ominous than a stray cat yowling outside as it turned over a garbage can. Deciding there was no real threat and chiding himself for his ridiculous reaction, he relaxed and made his way to the bathroom, shedding clothing in preparation for a warm shower.

Sometimes, in the late evening just before the sun’s rays completely disappeared, Nathan had dreams of a sort—or more accurately, perhaps, distorted memories. These tended to have ill effects on his humor, but usually wore off within a few minutes. This time, however, in spite of having no memory of dreams, his humor remained foul as he dressed and climbed the stairs to his kitchen.

With summer in full swing, he knew the air would be hot and humid, even after dark. The temperature wouldn’t bother him, but he found the scent of so much human sweat distracting. And the hospital would be filled to overflowing with injuries inflicted by one short-tempered person onto another.

Nathan stopped in front of his living room window and sighed. He had no choice but to go out; he’d have no nourishment left by sunrise and despised the thought of going to bed hungry.

Two pints of O-positive improved his disposition to some extent. He slipped on a light jacket and walked out into the Atlanta night.

He had plenty of time before he was due at the hospital, not that timeliness really mattered. If he were late, he’d simply convince those around him that he’d been there all along. He’d also arrange it so that after he left they’d think they’d just seen him if anyone asked.

As he strolled, Nathan listened to the sounds of Atlanta at night. Sirens screamed, children squealed and cried, car engines roared, and in dark corners, whispered deals were made, exchanging money for drugs and sex. Amid the noises of humans were those of nature. An owl hooted from his perch on a rooftop, a small colony of bats winged overhead after insects, singing their high-pitched songs in eerie harmony, and the wind whipped leaves in the tops of oaks.

Just as he felt his spirits lifting, he caught another sound—footsteps paced to match his own.

Nathan stopped.

The footsteps also stopped.

He turned but saw no sign of anyone behind him.

Listening, he walked on until the footsteps matched his own again, then he used his preternatural speed to disappear behind the closest tree.

Still, he saw no one, and the footsteps following him fell silent.

The strange thing was that he felt nothing. A mortal wouldn’t have the reflexes to disappear so quickly, and a vampire would leave an impression that only another vampire could sense.

There was no vampire in the area.

Could he be imaging things? Were the sounds he heard somehow echoes of his own footsteps?

Nathan waited for an hour, but no one appeared. Returning to his path, he continued to the hospital without recurrence, his senses heightened. By the time he arrived, his temper was nastier than it had been when he’d arisen.

Squinting against the intrusion of fluorescent lights, he hurried through the front door of the emergency room, only to be assaulted by the head nurse, Sharon Freeman, as soon as he approached the desk.

Look, Nathan, Sharon said, if you can’t bother to show up on time—

Nathan leaned close to the woman and glared as he shoved his thoughts forward. "I was on time," he growled.

Sharon Freeman fell backwards to the floor and stared up at him.

Nathan frowned. He hadn’t meant to be so forceful, and started to offer her a hand up when an orderly grabbed his arm. Come on, we’ve got a line.

Nathan withdrew his arm from the young man’s grip and then followed him down the hall to the lab where a dozen patients sat on benches, waiting to have blood removed from their veins either as donations or for testing.

Richard, isn’t it? He turned to the orderly.

Yeah. Look, you start the needles and I’ll label bottles.

Nathan glanced around. It was fortunate that he’d fortified himself before leaving home, or withdrawing blood from so many people in the conventional manner might prove difficult. As it was, his fangs began to ache a little.

"Yes, Richard. Bring out the bottles, and perhaps a few extra bags. I believe some of these people may wish to