Stolen Bloodline

By Mishka Jenkins

Stolen away from her humdrum life, Imogen is thrown into a dark world where the creatures from tales are not only real, but rule the realm.

Vampires.

In this world of dark, moonlight is Imogen’s only source of safety, but the moon’s glow reveals a lot more than she ever realised. She soon learns her heritage and bloodline are what put her in danger, and the reason these vampires are keeping her hostage. But with a father who doesn’t even care enough to call, how was she supposed to know?

Held captive by the vampire leader, Bane, and his brother, Caden, Imogen must find a way to keep herself alive. Yet, the longer she remains, the more she wonders whether those she feared are the ones she should trust, as new truths continue to shine through.

When Bane shows Imogen that life in a world of dark can be more enlightening than her own sunlit realm, it seems that, though he may have stolen her from home, she risks him stealing her heart as well.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mishka Jenkins
• Release date: May 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311117274

Mishka Jenkins

Mishka Jenkins lives in the UK with her family and fluffy muse, a rough collie called Harliquin, who she couldn't write without.Mishka has a penchant for writing love stories in a variety of exciting genres, and plans to keep writing them for as long as she can type.

Book preview

Stolen Bloodline

By Mishka Jenkins

Dedicated to all those who gave me support- family, friends and bloggers alike.

I couldn’t have come this far without you.

Thank you.

Stolen Bloodline

By Mishka Jenkins

Copyright 2014 by Mishka Jenkins

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, copied or distributed for commercial or non-commercial uses. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter One

"Once upon a time, though not so long ago as some would wish-"

"Is this going to be another one of your fairytales, mum?" Imogen groaned as she settled under her duvet. Her mother smiled, warmth glimmering in her green eyes and ran her fingers over Imogen’s curly, dark blonde hair.

"Hush, she soothed. Just listen. One day you will be glad you tolerated my tales."

The young girl rolled her eyes. Fine. To Imogen, being twelve years of age obviously made her too old to continue with the many bedtime stories her mother told her. Especially as they were the same ones repeated over and over every night. Yet Imogen snuggled into bed and listened intently, her mother’s loving presence was enough to make her withstand the tale she’d heard many times, over her young years.

"There was an army of creatures powerful and fearsome. Her mother held a mischievous gleam in her eye as Imogen began to realise she had never heard this story before. With great speed and strength and even the ability to read your innermost thoughts. She touched a finger to her daughter’s temple which made Imogen let out a squeal of amusement. Powerful they were, and vengeful."

"Venge-what?" Imogen wrinkled her nose in confusion, never having heard the word. Her mother shook her head as though it was not even a word she’d meant to say. Ignoring her daughter’s query, she continued.

"They live on blood and fear. Oh yes, my sweet, fear can make them even stronger. Her tale had turned into a warning and Imogen fidgeted in her bed. Always they are looking to enter the world of humans, wanting to feed from them and become stronger."

"Why?" Imogen asked. Her mother tensed and hesitated, her expression softening to sympathy.

"Because humans are not always as morally superior as they claim to be-"

"Ava! Imogen’s father barked from the doorway to his wife. Imogen’s mother looked at him, her gaze narrowing and hardening. It had been impossible to ignore the arguments and fights that had increased between her parents of late. That is enough. She is too young."

"She needs to know, Lucas," Ava replied.

"She needs to know nothing," he stated, his arms crossed over his chest, not once looking to his daughter. Ava sighed and looked back at her daughter, her smile returning but not reaching her eyes.

"Good night, my sweet." She leaned forward and kissed Imogen on the forehead, the simple gesture light and full of sadness. As she made to stand Imogen caught her hand.

"What are these monsters, mum?" Imogen felt a shiver of terror pass over her.

Ava glanced to her husband and then back to Imogen. Vampires.

Imogen was jolted awake by the train’s brakes screeching along the tracks and the carriage slowing to a halt. It was lucky that it had been so loud, as this was her stop and Imogen had been so deep in dreams of her childhood memories she would have missed it. Shuffling through the other passengers that were all jostling to find a space on the public transport, she finally managed to alight. She took a deep breath of air and smiled, happy to be free of so many people.

It was not far from the train station to her apartment and Imogen jogged most of the way there. Her day at work had been tedious, as they always were. Three years of studying history to get a job as a front desk, pencil-pushing receptionist at a clock museum. Clocks! Imogen was sure there was some kind of pun about wasting her time in the position, but she couldn’t even muster the energy to think of it.

It was a dry evening, but the winter meant the sun was already setting over the city, dipping behind the tall, brooding concrete skyscrapers. Imogen’s heels clicked over the path as she set a hurried pace to her building, inside it was a warm barrier against the chill air that was beginning to settle.

Imogen’s apartment was small but just the right size for her; the smaller it was the less she had to tidy, which suited her just fine. Throwing off her jacket and bag, she rushed to the bedroom. She had just over an hour to get herself polished up to meet the standards of her friends. They had asked for Imogen to go out to a new club with them which wasn’t really Imogen’s scene, so when she declined they insisted, which meant dragging her out whether she liked it or not.

It had been a long time since Imogen had been out with her friends. She found it exhausting to be around friends who had achieved all of their dreams, careers and marriages, whilst she still felt like she was nineteen years old and in college with big aspirations but life not wanting to give her a chance. Imogen sighed and picked up the outfit she’d decided to wear: a pair of dark blue boot cut jeans and a burgundy blouse over a red t-shirt. It was stylish but casual and when paired with heels and some sparkling gold jewellery, she was sure it would be enough to get her into the club.

Sitting at her mirror, Imogen began to tidy her hair, the thick waves of dark blonde sticking out at angles as she tried to pull it into a simple pony tail. It was an odd colour, as though her genes couldn’t decide between her mother’s fair hair or her father’s dark brown, though they had decided rather stubbornly on making her eyes the boring, light hazel of her father, rather than the dazzling green of her mother‘s. Imogen’s pale skin and plain features were also courtesy of her father, it seemed.

Imogen’s heart strained at the thought of her parents, the memory she’d had on the train had haunted her for many years. It had been the last night she’d seen her mother before she’d died and it was hard not to think of the moment her father had told her of her mother’s passing.

‘She’s gone, Imogen,’ he’d said flatly, no sorrow or comfort in his face. Imogen had not understood until the, ‘Sympathies’ and, ‘Sorry for your loss’ cards began to arrive. After that it had just been her and Lucas, a combination which didn’t suit either of them and worsened the longer they spent together. Imogen never seemed enough for him, like he had expected something else of a child and forever wore a look of disappointment when around her. Lucas was never harsh with her or abusive; it was just his lack of care and want of her that hurt. Over the years Imogen had learnt that was just how her father was. At seventeen she left for college and then onto university. They never talked again.

Imogen shook her head to clear it of painful thoughts and concentrated on getting ready for her night out. She was now thankful for her friends’ persistence, Imogen was in desperate need of something to distract her from all the resurfacing memories she thought she’d buried long ago.

* * *

Imogen had been designated as driver that evening, not an unusual occurrence where her alcohol-fuelled friends were concerned.

It’s gonna be fun, Immy! Sarah, Imogen’s closest friend, cheered as she smeared on some bright pink lipstick. Imogen tried not to cringe at the nickname her friends had bestowed on her, she didn’t like it, but the more she protested the more they would use it.

You never know who you might meet, Haley remarked, twisting down her top to show more of her ample cleavage. Imogen ignored the pang of envy that flared within her, knowing her tall, slim frame didn’t hold any presence against the womanly, ample figure of her friend. Imogen rolled her eyes and held back a sigh at their response.

I guess you’re right. Imogen said. I’ve always dreamed of a one-night stand with some guy who can’t remember my name in the morning. There was so much sarcasm in her words that they practically dripped from her mouth and stained her lips, yet her friends were oblivious to it. Instead they grinned at the idea, their eyes brightening at the mere prospect of meeting some stranger for an exciting, once-in-a-lifetime encounter.

The club was not the barrels of fun her friends had promised, in fact, it was far from it. The open plan room was lit by some rather disjointing strobe lighting. A long, shiny topped bar ran the length of the back wall, though it wasn’t visible due to the crowd that buzzed in front of it. Tables and seats were spread so as they encircled the dance floor in the middle, reminding Imogen of a modern day Roman arena. The likeness also seemed to apply to the people as the men and women danced in a frenzied manner, not dissimilar to gladiator fights; except maybe without the blood and death. Imogen sat at the table they’d managed to secure and pushed herself back into the padded seat as much as possible, hoping it might at any moment swallow her whole, and she would have been grateful for it.

Flickers of electric, red strobe lighting sliced through the darkness and Imogen lost sight of her friends as they mingled with the rest of the excited crowds on the dance floor. As her gaze drifted over the dancing mass she caught a glimmer deep in the darkness on the opposite side of the room. She squinted through the dark and the flash appeared again, like a glint of a jewel within the shadow. When Imogen’s vision began to adjust she saw that it was no jewel but a pair of eyes. The eyes were staring into hers and for a long while all she could see was the bright intensity of their gaze. After a moment a figure began to appear around the stare, as though it emerged out of the shadow. Along with the gaze there was now the distinct shape of a thin smile, it sent a shiver through her and she couldn’t tell if it was from fright or excitement. The figure rose with slow, fluid moves and slinked closer, yet Imogen could only see flashes as the red lights caught them, giving whoever it was the illusion that they had moved twenty feet in the blink of an eye.

Before Imogen’s mind had time to catch up, the stranger was stood before her and she stared at him, her mouth falling open in disbelief at the eyes that had