Love Reborn

By Tamara Zeegers

Eternal love comes at a price in Tamara Zeegers's heart-pounding new novel, Love Reborn.

Nanach, a three and half thousand year old vampire, receives a sign that her one true love has once again been reborn into this world.

Expecting the dewy face of youth, she is shocked to learn that her love, Dave, is in fact an aging rock star—indicating his presence has been hidden from her by an ancient enemy that has haunted her family for centuries.

As Dave struggles to come to terms with who, and what, Nanach is, she recounts their love story as proof of their eternal connection...a love story that begins in Egypt in the year 1480 BC.

But just as Dave and Nanach resume their centuries-old romance, a tragedy strikes that puts them both in the hands of the one creature who will stop at nothing to destroy everything and everyone Nanach has ever loved.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tamara Zeegers
• Release date: May 29, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301117284

Tamara Zeegers

Tamara Zeegers is a fifty year old bookkeeper, with a huge creative streak. Unfortunately that is not a trait they appreciate in her line of work (strangely they do not look kindly upon creative bookkeeping), so she had to find other ways to satisfy these needs. So drawing and writing became her outlets to vent all this creative energy. Her writing first took the form of song texts and poetry, then progressed to short stories.Her love affair with the United Kingdom, its people and language started at the age of two when her folks started to holiday there every year. Due to her young age she picked up the language with ease. By the time she went to high school she sailed through her English classes.In ninety one she married a Scot. After spending their first six years of marriage in Holland they decided to move to Scotland. She remained in the UK for the next ten years moving from Aberdeen in the north, to Brighton right down south.After a short spell back in the Netherlands she moved back permanently to sunny (well it normally is anyway) Brighton.In Brighton, well Hove actually, surrounded by artists of all descriptions her creative juices were once again flowing. In 2006 she began her first novel and soon after finishing it continued by writing the follow up The Phantom, then the third installment Blood is the Life and the fourth Blood Moon. She has almost finished her fifth installment Blood Sacrifice and will soon be working on the sixth The Custodians.Apart from her vampire novels she also draws her own cover art, portraits of her characters and tattoo designs. She also likes to try her hand at making miniatures in 12th scale.Aware of the huge number of vampire novels already out there, she knew she would have to bring a new dimension to this genre. With her love for ancient history, mythology as well as her pagan roots she began to weave all these different facets together. So unlike most vampires, who are either portrayed as monsters or mystical creatures with an out of control blood lust, she went with a whole different side. Although by no means angels and still dependable on the blood, as well as charismatic, and beautiful to behold, she has put them in the role of protectors of mankind. Turning them into the fabled Anunnaki, the Elohim, the Nephilim, the watchers of men and the god heads of many an ancient culture. So they go from gods, to the fallen ones, from judge to executioner, from power to a fall from grace while they traverse the centuries.

Book preview

First of the vampire chronicles

Love Reborn

Additional books by Tamara Zeegers:

The Phantom

Blood is the life

Blood Moon

Blood Sacrifice

First of the vampire chronicles

Love Reborn

By

Tamara Zeegers

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locations is of course coincidental.

Disclaimer: The material in this book is for mature audiences only and contains graphic sexual content and is intended for those over the age of 18 only.

Copyright © Tamara Zeegers 2006

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1497404185

Acknowledgement

This book is dedicated with special thanks to my parents, Arie and Sylvia Zeegers for believing in me and all their help, my best friends Shan Swart and Pauline Duffy for giving me much needed feedback and turning me into a better writer. To my Physiotherapist Quentin Guichard for making sure I could keep going when sometimes my body did not want to, my fabulous Editor Debz Hobbs-Wyat for all her help and support. And lastly Gem Riley, my number one fan, and yes, I am finishing writing number three my little impatient one.

Connect with Me Online:

www.facebook.com/vampire.chronicles.anunnaki/

tamarazeegers.wixsite.com/vampire-anunnaki

Cover design by Tamara Zeegers

For more art visit: www.deviantart.com/tamarazeegers

1

Hove, present day

The time really has come again, but something is wrong, very wrong indeed, it just cannot be right!

Silently I slid the heavy stone lid from the sarcophagus. I stood up and like a great cat slowly stretched my limbs before I jumped down, landing nimbly on the stone floor. With a flick of my fingers the torches hanging from the walls of the chamber burst into flame. Even though I have no real need for the light, I loved the way the flickering flames danced across the walls.

I stood mesmerised; my body still coated in a film of sweat as I let the images from the dream run through my mind once more. I closed my eyes and felt my face crumpled up as a single tear rolled down my cheek before I took a deep breath and I opened them again.

I hardly ever used this place nowadays. I could still see Jeeves, his eyebrows raised in surprise, when I had told him I would be spending the night down here, but even so, he had readied the room without a word.

I walked towards the far end of the chamber; there I paused in front of the hieroglyphs carved there. My hands moved over them in a caress, applying slight pressure on some of them in a well-remembered sequence. Upon pressing the seventh hieroglyph, one of the huge blocks, which made up the whole of the chamber, slid outwards revealing a long narrow corridor.

With a wave of my hand, the torches in the hallway lit up and those in the chamber behind me, extinguished. As I moved along, the stone behind me soundlessly slid back into place. I repeated the process at the end; this time to reveal a set of stone carved steps. Slowly I sauntered up them.

When I came to the top I stopped and gasped in surprise, there right in front of me was a huge floor to ceiling mirror. Reflected in it was a young woman, her skin as white as marble, her long blond hair framing her face, the length of it cascading down her back, all the way down to her well-rounded bottom.

As I stared at myself, a man appeared behind me; a distinguished forty-two-year-old; dressed stiffly in a suit of charcoal grey, his sharp features softened by his short cut wavy black hair, riddled with grey. Although he looked like efficiency and discretion itself, there was something about the way his eyes sparkled that suggested unexpected youth and mischief.

As he grabbed me by the shoulders, he turned me, this way and that, all the while checking me in the mirror before finally speaking, See my Lady Nanach nothing to mope about; I would kill to look that good at your age.

I felt the corner of my mouth curl into a smile as I looked at him, Well, thank you Jeeves. You sure know how to make a woman feel better.

He looked at me and with a nod replied, I’m full of hidden talents, my Lady. I’m sure Gerard will be pleased I finally mastered this skill.

I had one final look in the mirror, I checked my curves, my slightly rounded belly, and full breasts. How’s your newest boyfriend anyway? I haven’t seen him for a while.

Fine, my Lady and thoroughly exhausted, he replied grinning, I left your dinner on the bed, he said before he gave me a playful slap on my bottom; I giggled as I ran towards my bedroom.

As I entered and turned on the main light, it softly illuminated the huge four-poster bed in the centre of the room. There, tied by his limbs to the posts of the bed, a naked man lay struggling and moaning. His face hidden by a blindfold and a gag, all I could tell was that he had blond hair and a great physique.

Ignoring him, I walked towards my walk-in cupboard, located just off my bedroom, to the left. I took my time as I looked through my silks, linen, and woollen garments, before I finally decided on a simple black dress, Grecian in style. With it in hand I went to my ensuite bathroom, located on the opposite side of my bedroom, where I carefully hung it on one of the cast iron hooks protruding from the wall.

As I turned on the taps to their fullest capacity, I watched the steaming hot water slowly fill the huge bath. Longingly I looked at the water then grumbled under my breath as my captive again began to moan.

Oh, ye Gods, really! Annoyed, I walked back toward the huge wooden bed.

As I grabbed hold of one of the posts, I let my hand run over the smooth surface of the well-polished dark wood. I had fallen in love with the bed and its carvings when I had set eyes on it some five hundred years ago. I loved the size and heavy wooden frame. The wood had been polished a dark reddish brown, almost as if it were on fire.

Slowly I brought my attention back to my captive. I walked around the bed then stopped and removed the blindfold and gag of the man.

What do you want? Are you that eager to die?

He stared at me, the look of anger and fear melting into a look of love and devotion. His struggling and moaning seized instantly.

You’ll have the honour of nourishing me soon enough! Now be a good boy and be quiet until I’m ready for you!

He just continued to stare at me before he nodded his agreement. I turned and sauntered back to my bathroom, my hips swaying sensually.

I turned the taps off, then let my body slowly slide into the water, I sighed with delight as the hot steamy water surrounded me. A shiver of pleasure shuddered through me; the heat made my skin pucker with goose bumps, my nipples hardened as I sucked in my breath.

I tried to ease the tension from my body, forcing myself to relax, but my mind would not let go of the dream. I just could not believe I had dreamt of him, but he was a grown man, how could that be? I had to talk to someone. There really was only one person I trusted with this, so I reached for the cordless phone on the wall above the tub.

With the dream still running through my mind, I dialled the number by heart. As I listened to the phone ringing, I hoped he would be there, knowing he would have risen at least an hour before me. I sighed when I heard the click then the answer machine message, You’ve reached the voicemail of…

My fingers rapidly tapped the side of the bath as I waited for the beep.

Hello P? It’s me, can you come? I… I think it’s happening again. I need you. Well, you know where to find me. I’m still at the same address. I see you soon, okay?

Annoyed I hung up, I had never gotten used to machines, nor telephones, though in this case I could see the merits. In the olden days I would have had to send a messenger and it would have taken at least a week to get an answer. I just hoped he was at home and not on one of his wanderings.

As I slid back into the water, I wrapped my arms around myself and hunched up as I felt a stab of pain to my heart. Then memories began to rush through my head. Try as I might to hold them off, I was sucked into the past. Images of the time I had pleaded with The Council, the pain of being denied, fresh within my mind.

The sheer force of the emotions made me rock gently back and forth in the water. The blank and unemotional face of Itaté flashed into my mind. As I lay there sobbing, the memories of what led to that fateful day came back to me.

2

Paris present day

Jean walked into the building, feeling good about the day’s proceedings. If things went his way a little longer, he stood to gain quite a bit out of the current situation. The house was in darkness as he walked through the hallway. He jumped at the voice coming from the parlour.

And where’ve you been? The man asked, calm and menacing.

He entered, there in the dark they sat, waiting.

I’ve just been attending to some business, that’s all. His cockiness faded fast in their presence.

You were told to be here at sun’s down! We’ve been waiting for over an hour! We do not like to be kept waiting!

Well, no harm done. I’m here now.

Yesss, but for how much longer? The seated woman hissed.

Shh, I’ll deal with him! The man sitting next to her replied.

Impatiently she got up, as she walked past, she punched him hard in the stomach. With a look of satisfaction, she smiled at him as he doubled over trying to catch his breath.

She left them, calling over her shoulder, I’m off for some dinner, you get him under control, or I’ll deal with him next time!

When he heard the front door slam, he slowly straightened.

That was not very smart, or do I have to remind you what became of your associate? The man asked, his voice eerily calm.

I’m sorry man. The deal took longer than I expected. It won’t happen again, really!

The seated figure looked at him as he stood there, his face stern; he motioned for him to take a seat. Quickly he sat, taking one of the armchairs furthest away.

I’m afraid our cloak of the target has slipped; she has called for help. We need to act fast.

So, what is it you wish me to do?

Lead the crew in London and meet up with our man there. The surveillance’s already underway. Just make the necessary arrangements and make sure everything runs smoothly. We’ll inform you of our plans later. We’ve booked you a flight. Need I remind you what’ll happen if you fail us again?

He shook his head, No, I got it, but when will I get the reward you spoke of. Right now, I haven’t got enough out of this deal for all the risks I’ve been taking.

My dear boy, we’ve given you the most precious thing we could give already!

And what’s that, exactly?

Your life, dear boy, you’re still breathing, aren’t you?

He felt the blood drain from his face while got up and tried to zip up his coat with shaking hands.

Your flight is at fourteen-hundred; make sure you don’t miss it!

Sure, whatever, he mumbled as he grabbed the top of the chair to steady himself.

In a blink of an eye the man was in front of him, his hands choking the breath right out of him, in a growl he said, Don’t anger me, boy! I’ve had stronger men than you for breakfast! Do I make myself clear?

The man let go when he with huge eyes gave a little nod. As soon as the man sat back down, he backed out of the room while he rubbed his neck, coughing.

Make sure you close the door on your way out!

He turned and rushed out and closed the door behind him. As he made his way home, he muttered under his breath, Oh shit, what have I gotten into? Oh shit, shit, shit!

3

Midnight, July 11th, 1789, three days before the storming of the Bastille, Paris

The young boy crept through the night-time streets of Paris, careful to try and keep to the shadows to avoid detection. He was to attend his first rebel gathering and although he had a mad grin on his face, his stomach felt tight and queasy. He was well aware that if caught, he would end up in the dreaded Bastille or worse be put to death for even consorting with the people he was about to meet.

When he finally reached the well-hidden door of the building where the gathering would take place, he imitated the pattern he had been memorising since yesterday; careful to make sure the knocks and raps were in the correct order. After a while, the little hatch in the door opened and he was asked for the password.

He immediately whispered, Viva la revolution, an end to oppression, starvation and poverty, power to the people!

The door quickly opened, and he was yanked inside. As he let his eyes adjust to the darkness, the first thing he noticed was a putrid smell. While trying to breathe through his mouth instead of his nose, he was told to follow a man lighting a torch. The sudden brightness momentarily blinded him.

Hurry up, the man said, his voice gruff.

As he caught sight of his new comrade, he nearly turned back. The unpleasant dank odour the building emanated was nothing compared to the horrible rotting smell he was engulfed in as he followed the man deeper into the bowels of the basement. He tried desperately to take slow shallow breaths, but his racing heart was having none of it.

Suddenly the narrow corridor opened into a room with a low ceiling. Here the stench nearly made him vomit and he had to close his eyes for a moment and relax to make sure he would not lose his composure. He really did not want to offend or end up on the wrong side of the hundred or so men and women gathered in the enclosed space. Most of the people there were much older than him and looked street hardy and mean. The air was thick with the smell of stale sweat, tobacco, booze and God knows what kind of ailments the gathered suffered from. Worried what he had got himself into, all was forgotten when the door at the other end of the room opened with a forceful bang.

There he stood; many rumours were already going around Paris about Maximilian Robespierre and the Jacobin club. The rebels saw him as their leader, the man who was going to lead them towards a better and brighter future. The room fell silent, as all waited, to hear him speak.

Slowly Robespierre walked towards the raised platform in front of the gathered crowd. Nervously he twiddled with his spectacles before he spoke, hesitant at first, almost shy, but soon his fervour and fanaticism shone through. All those present, completely silent as they listened to what he had to say. As Robespierre came to his finale, he gave instructions for the planned uprising. Groups of people were given orders and told to leave in ones or twos as not to raise suspicion.

Patiently he waited, eager to find out what the man had in store for him; what part he was to play in the coming events. After an hour, only he and two others remained, He was motioned to come towards the platform. Anxiously he moved closer, while he checked out the other two men. They were both mean looking and muscular, but that was where the similarities ended.

One was stocky and short in stature, with a scar that ran over the right side of his face. His filthy brown hair clumsily tied back with a thong, his face unshaven, his dull blue eyes cruel. He guessed he was around his forties. The man looked at him with disgust at having to be teamed up with him.

The other man was much taller and leaner, although around the same age. His dark blond hair was also tied back, but his pale blue eyes just quietly appraised him. Although the man exuded an eerie calm, he was in no doubt that if action were needed the man would be swift and merciless.

Finally, Robespierre turned his attention to them, Ah, young Étienne, for you I’ve a special mission. It’ll entail two days travel. Are you up for it boy?

Slowly he nodded.

There’s a château about forty miles outside Paris. The woman who lives there calls herself Baroness de Déesse. It’s said she possesses certain abilities. It’s these abilities I wish to acquire… for the sake of the cause of course, Robespierre hastily added, Claude and Louis here will accompany you. They’ll take care of any staff within the estate. I want you to bring the Baroness back here.

Puzzled, he looked at the other two men, I do not understand what possible purpose I would be, as my fighting skills are hardly in the same league as these two gentlemen.

Robespierre looked at the other two men then back at him, It’s not for your fighting skills I’m sending you on this mission boy.

But then what—

Do you think I do this for no reason! Do you think I’m stupid?

Of course not! I would not presume such a thing.

Be calm boy. The reason I need you on this mission is—

The short stocky man started to snigger.

Robespierre gave him a look which silenced him, before he resumed, It is rumoured the Baroness has, let us say a certain appetite for dark haired young boys of a certain age and you my dear boy, fit the bill perfectly.

God, he still doesn’t get it! You’re bait, boy, bait! Claude spat at him, then burst into another fit of laughter as Étienne felt the colour drain from his face.

Be ready to leave at sunrise. Claude and Louis will meet you just outside the city, at the Jolly Rambler Inn, be on time! Robespierre commanded before he spun around and marched out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Étienne, left with his two new partners, turned to the taller man, and asked, How old is this Baroness anyway?

Her age has always been a mystery. I’m Louis by the way, was his short answer.

He felt slightly sick at the idea he had to seduce an old woman, Claude laughed as he looked at him and Étienne was fairly sure he knew what was going through his mind.

Seeing his consternation, Louis was about to tell him something when Claude signalled him to be quiet, You better rush back to your dwellings and catch as much beauty sleep as possible. We’ll be waiting for you at the inn, don’t be late!

Claude shoved him towards the exit where the same foul-smelling man who had shown him in, was waiting. He followed the man back outside, where he gratefully gulped the relatively fresh night air.

Hurriedly he made his way back to his room, quickly and quietly he closed the door behind him. All the way back he had the distinct feeling someone had been following him. He lifted the wooden crossbar and slid it into place, bolting the door. He stood and leant against it as his chest thudded and breathed slowly in and out to calm himself. It must’ve been my imagination. Yes, that’s it! It’s just my nerves.

The barren room only held a rickety bed, a small table, and a single chair. This was the sum of his belongings and none he would miss. Wearily he got into bed and pulled the blanket over himself. Not that the flimsy and worn thing would provide him with much heat. Exhaustion crept over him and before he knew it, sleep had taken hold of him.

4

Paris Charles De Gaulle Airport present day

The airport was noisy and busy, which did not help Jean’s hangover. As soon as he had gotten back to his apartment last night, he had downed a bottle or three of wine trying to calm his nerves. God, he wished he had never got involved, but it had seemed such easy money, at the time. He knew now though, that no money on this earth would make him get involved with the likes of them again. Even his worst nightmares were nothing compared to the mess he had gotten into now.

He should have stuck to his drug dealings, but the woman had approached him one night and drunk as he had been, he had fallen for her guile. Like a pro she had seduced him. At first, he had been flattered to be asked by the likes of her, but things soon got out of hand. He and his partner had been asked to keep tabs on a man living in New York, a woman in Brighton, well Hove and then the deformed one here in Paris.

Yeah, easy money, or so it had seemed, for a while until one night his partner, failed to report in. The next evening, they had visited Jean’s flat. Sweetly the woman had sauntered up to his partner, tutting at him and telling him off as if he had been a bad boy.

You’ve been naughty. I do so dislike disobedience. I’m afraid I must make sure this kind of thing does not happen again!

Yeah and what are you going to do about it, Lady? His friend had asked her, his hand already reaching in his jacket, for the gun he kept there.

Like lightning she had moved and had grabbed the hand with the gun then forced it back. It snapped under the pressure while his screams filled the apartment as her partner calmly went to the door.

I’ll just make sure no one interferes.

Still with his friends broken wrist in her hand, she had turned, Make sure you wipe them!

Of course, my Lady, the man replied before he closed the door and left them.

Jean in shock just stared when she had turned to look at him.

Let this be a lesson for you never to cross me, she said, her eyes sparkled as he watched then she smiled. In total horror he saw her canines lengthen before she savagely pulled his partner towards her then roughly jerked his head back and sunk her teeth into his throat.

With her hand over his mouth to muffle his screams, she stood there as she drained him. Satisfied he had perished, she let go of the body, letting it crash to the floor, before she turned her attention back to him once more. He had just watched in total terror, unable to move.

This is what will happen should you cross me. Do I make myself clear?

He nodded as he stared at her. You, you killed him! his voice sounding more like a shriek.

Well, what was I supposed to do?

What in God’s name are you?

Be quiet boy or I’ll have to dispose of you too!

At that point, the man had entered the flat again. He had glanced at the body on the floor lying there, broken, and drained.

Well, I see you still like to play rough. Let me speak to the boy. I’m sure he’ll be of use. Leave, go, and clean up. I’ll take care of the body.

When she had walked past him, she had patted him on the cheek, Now be a good boy or Mommy will have to come back and you don’t want that now, do you?

He had shaken his head then watched her gracefully glide out of the door, leaving him with the man.

That had been three months ago, three awfully long months, if not for the great deals he had been able to make with their connections, he would have run. He had promised himself though, this was the last job he was doing. His two mates should have rounded off the deal by the time he got back from England. Then he would go, take the money, and run as far as possible and forget any of this was even real.

His flight was boarding, he got up and handed the stewardess his ticket. Shuffling in line, he patiently waited and took a seat at the back, near the window, wanting to use the little time it took for the flight to get there, to sober up. He sat, buckled himself in, popped his glasses on and tried to sleep.

5

Paris July the 12th 1789, early morning

Trying not to make any sound, I concentrated on the wooden beam blocking my way. Soundlessly the beam slid out of its place and settled itself against the wall. I opened the door then quietly slipped inside.

With my superb night vision, the gloom posed no problem for me. Silently I crept towards the bed and gazed down. The sight of the sleeping boy brought a feeling of happiness so intense it almost made my knees buckle. It also brought back memories, memories of a different time, a different place. I could almost taste the sand and feel the hot desert sun. Controlling the intense emotions tumbling through me, I took in every inch of his handsome face, seeing the similarities and noticing the differences.

I knew though I had to get to the matter at hand, so I concentrated and slipped into his thoughts and memories. With a surprised gasp, I found that a part of his mind was closed off to me but was relieved to find our paths would cross sooner than I had anticipated. At least that will solve that problem.

I remembered the last time I introduced myself to him and knew I had to find a way to tell him without scaring him half to death. Ye Gods, he had a knack of getting reborn in turbulent times, it had been five hundred years ago, and the Inquisition had been raging.

I had caught up with Jachin in Spain. His name had been Fransiscus then. I had found him asleep in a garden and not knowing he would not recognise me until we had exchanged blood, I had removed my clothing and had straddled him. Wanting nothing more than to wake him pleasantly, I had not been prepared for his terrified reaction of finding a strange naked woman on top of him. Though the fact he lived in a monastery as a friar in training, might have influenced his reaction somewhat.

This time I would proceed more slowly. I stood quietly watching him while I worked out my plan of action. When I sensed him coming up from his deep slumber, I slipped out and replaced the bolt. Trying to avoid the coming dawn, I hurried back.

6

London present day

Someone shook him, Sir, we’ve landed, sir?

Jean rubbed his eyes; he saw most of the people had already left the plane. He grabbed his bag and rushed off, mumbling his thanks to the stewardess.

He passed through passport control easily enough, having no bags checked in, only carrying his rucksack, he headed towards the exit. He scanned the crowd until he saw a man holding up a piece of paper with his name on it.

As he moved towards him, the man enquired, Jean Troumelo?

Yes.

"I’m to drive you