Of Blood & Moon

By Marissa Farrar

First-of-series paranormal box set!

Discover the worlds of vampires, shifters, dhampyres, and witches with this box set from Marissa Farrar. Find your new book boyfriend and your favorite new series. Almost 200,000 words of dark romance, thrills, and magic.

Alone: The Serenity Series

Caught in a violent and abusive relationship, Serenity thinks there is no escape. 
Upon meeting a stranger, Sebastian, she is shown the possibility of a different future.

Only Sebastian has a dark secret; he is a vampire.

As Serenity’s life takes a terrifying turn, she finds herself drawn into a world she never knew existed; one of murder, love and immortality. She is forced to confront her own weaknesses to save both her own life and that of the vampire she has come to love. But in the end all that matters is; can she find the strength to be Alone?

Autumn’s Blood: The Spirit Shifters Series

In a discreet government facility in Chicago, scientists are trying to unearth the truth behind a group of people who appear to have the ability to shift into the form of animals.

Ensconced among the government officials, Blake Wolfcollar hides the truth of what he is, struggling between his desire to help those he’s a part of, while remaining undercover in his position ...

The last thing Autumn Anderson expects upon starting her new job is the dangerous, sexy man whose touch seems to burn. But an accident unleashes a potential she never knew she held inside her, and Autumn and Blake find themselves on the run.

As their feelings for one another grow, they must fight to preserve the secret that could see the end of them both... 

Twisted Dreams: The Dhampyre Chronicles

Born of a vampire father to a human mother, Elizabeth Bandores’ life was never going to be normal, so she can’t imagine why she thinks starting college will be any different.

Having grown up in the affluent Hollywood Hills of Los Angeles and desperate to escape, she decides on the small college town of Sage Springs. With dreams of being a writer, she joins the college newspaper and is introduced to blond, confident Flynn Matthews, Sage Springs’ rising swim star.

But a carnival has set up in the small town, and the boy running the Waltzer catches her eye. Dark-haired, leather-jacketed Riley is rude, with an air of danger. Elizabeth can’t help but notice him. And when an accident thrusts them together, she discovers he’s noticed her, too.

Sage Springs isn’t the quiet little town Elizabeth had hoped for. The forests bordering the town harbour a dark secret—one some of the residents have been trying to protect, and the leaders of the carnival have set in their sights...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Warwick House Press
• Release date: Sep 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781516373567

Book preview

Chapter One

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The day Serenity Hathaway came to view as the lowest point in her life, also turned out to be the day everything changed.

She’d been fired.

In many ways, losing her job shouldn’t have come as a shock; she’d been hanging onto her position for quite some time. Getting fired wasn’t her fault—but the fact didn’t make her any less terrified of going home to face her husband, Jackson, the ultimate cause of her sudden unemployment.

That had been early afternoon and she’d been walking the streets of downtown Los Angeles since leaving the office, too scared to go home.

The late November breeze chilled her skin and the last of the light slowly bled out of the LA skyline. Her ribs throbbed and the pain in her lower back made her walk with a hunch. Pressing her palm into the small of her back, she moved like an old woman instead of the twenty-eight year old she actually was.

Serenity believed she had control over the pain, envisioning it as a different sense, like sound or color, but today her meditation failed. When she took a break and tried to pee, the pain in her kidneys overwhelmed her and she passed out in the bathroom stall.

Upon regaining consciousness, her boss demanded to know where she’d been for the past two hours. Too embarrassed—too humiliated—to tell him the truth, she lied and told him a late night caused an impromptu nap. He gave her a look containing a mix of disbelief, frustration and anger. Clearly, he didn’t believe her. She’d gone AWOL on the job one too many times and he told her to clear her desk.

A lump constricted her throat and she fought to swallow. The backs of her eyes burned, but she was out of tears. Long ago, she’d learned crying didn’t get her anywhere.

Their only income came from her job. Serenity supported her husband while he worked on a novel. If not for Jackson’s refusal to work, he would never allow her to have a job. After all, he denied her everything else. She had no family left, except for a step-father who’d passed her on to Jackson for him to continue the good work he’d started. Any school friends had given up trying to keep in contact with her.

This afternoon wandering the streets, terrified to go home, was the closest to freedom she’d experienced in many years.

Pain wrapped around her ribs, speared deep into her spine and threatened to cripple her. Serenity stopped on the corner of East and 3rd Street to rummage in her bag. She pulled out a bottle of water, a packet of aspirin and another of paracetamol. She pushed two of each tablet through the foil backing, dropping the small white discs into her palm. Something else she had learned over the years; the two medications worked better together.

Except they didn’t work that afternoon.

Why hadn’t someone noticed her slumped in the locked stall, or checked on her when they realized she’d been missing for hours?

Her colleagues were apathetic toward her. Who wanted a moody, silent associate who never attended any social functions and regularly called in sick? Serenity didn’t blame them for finally losing their patience.

People trickled from the office buildings surrounding her. The tourist crowd had retreated to their hotels after a day of sightseeing and now the residents of LA were leaving their workplaces to head home.

Serenity glanced at her watch. Almost six; Jackson expected her home in the next half hour. Her stomach twisted into a knot of anxiety. Could she get away with not telling him and pretend to leave for work as usual the next day? She toyed with the idea briefly. Jackson called her at work several times a day and he’d discover the truth soon enough. Even if he didn’t, he’d known her the whole of her adult life and would see through her in a moment. Lying to him would only make matters worse.

A coil of anger stirred inside her—at her boss for putting her in this position, at Jackson for controlling her life, but mainly at herself for allowing him to do so.

She wasn’t stupid, Serenity knew what Jackson did to her was wrong. Yet, she always made excuses for him—she wound him up, he didn’t realize how badly he hurt her or, her old favorite, he’d change.

In truth, the excuses hid her fear.

Married to Jackson since the age of eighteen, she had no idea what life would be like on her own. A life where she didn’t have to watch out for the next fist was completely foreign to her.

Jackson’s reaction to her leaving terrified Serenity. He had no qualms about giving her a swift elbow in the kidney if she burned dinner; she didn’t want to imagine what he’d do if she told him she was leaving.

Serenity stopped on the edge of the sidewalk and waited for the lights to change. People gathered either side, closing in, and suddenly her head swam. Despite the cool evening, beads of sweat slicked her palms and her cheeks flushed. She stared in panic at the people flanking her, professional men and women in suits with their perfect lives. Her heart thumped painfully, as though the organ had swollen to twice its size and pounded against the inside of her rib-cage.

She couldn’t stand it, so many bodies pressing on all sides, talking loudly on mobile phones she couldn’t see. Part of her believed they were talking about her, laughing about her to the faceless people on the other end of the line. They gazed at her, judging, wondering how such a pathetic creature was even out here on her own.

Serenity realized she wasn’t going to wait for the lights to change. Stepping out into the road jolted her bruised ribs. Bright sparks of pain speared through her, making her gasp for breath.

Someone blasted their horn but she barely took notice. Instead, she half-stumbled, half-ran across the street.

People stared at her, curiosity and concern creasing their eyes. One woman put out her hand as Serenity passed, Are you okay? she asked, but Serenity shrugged off the kind woman and ran.

Blind to everything around her, she pushed past people, knocking shoulders and elbows as she went. Shouts of protest followed her, but the blood rushing through her ears muffled the sound.

Hey, crazy lady! one man shouted as she stomped on his foot in her effort to get by. Her heart raced and pressure built up inside her head, as if she teetered on the edge of something terrible.

Serenity ducked into an alley. Security lights illuminated the unoccupied space. Large commercial bins stood against the walls and Serenity sank between them, seeking shelter amid their tall plastic sides. She bent over, ignoring the pain, and rested her hands on her thighs. With her head hung, she gasped for breath. Her lower back screamed in agony. Jackson always hit where it hurt the worst and in places no one saw—her kidneys, ribs and the bottom of her spine.

Just a panic attack, she told herself, as the certainty she was about to die faded away with the adrenaline. Nothing to worry about. You’ve had them before.

Slowly, her breathing returned to normal and her heart lost its trippy beat. She’d begun straightening up when the solid weight of a hand touched her shoulder.

Serenity shrieked and leaped away, jarring her poor ribs once again.

I’m sorry, a man’s voice said. I didn’t mean to scare you. I wanted to make sure you were all right.

By scaring me half to death! Quickly, anger replaced the fear and she looked up.

The most beautiful man stood in front of her. Well over six feet tall, dark wavy hair fell across his forehead and curled around his broad throat. The square jaw and wide, generous mouth of a catalogue model graced his features, but his eyes blew her away. She did a double take and something deep inside jolted, like a flick back in time. Despite the darkness, his eyes were almost a fluorescent, bright green.

Green? Not yellow? Hadn’t they been yellow?

She pushed the strange thought away.

I’m sorry, he said again. Did she hear an accent, something European? You seemed to be in distress. Perhaps I can help?

No. I’m fine. Please, just leave me alone.

The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He stepped forward, hand held out.

He fixated those amazing eyes on her, At least let me help you to your feet.

She stared at his hand in mistrust, but couldn’t help glancing at the rest of him. Well-dressed in a smart woolen overcoat and expensive shoes, he gave the impression of someone of importance, of someone who knew his place in the world.

He was everything Serenity wanted to be.

His hand was large, strong and inviting. He certainly didn’t look like a lunatic.

Could this man do much worse than what I’ve got waiting at home?

The anger melted and she found herself incapable of resisting. Instead, she wanted to take his hand, touch the soft, strangely pale skin. Serenity reached out and slipped her small palm into his.

She gasped and would have pulled away if not for the strength of his hand closing around her own.

Cold. He was so cold.

It wasn’t just his temperature catching her breath. His touch fired every synapse in her body and goose bumps prickled her skin, her heart stuttering in her chest. Again, her brain jolted like a static discharge realigned her nerve cells. It felt as though someone had reached in and moved parts of her memory around, as if she’d experienced something she should forget. Black blobs clouded her vision. Her legs folded and the world swam away.

His arms locked beneath her before she fell, his easy strength holding her, and she came back to the surface.

Sorry, she managed, embarrassed. I don’t know...

She tailed off, unsure of what to say.

What were you running from? he asked.

Serenity glanced up at him. Concern softened his eyes and the sight melted her; he was the first person in a long time to show her any kind of compassion.

Myself, she whispered. I was running from myself.

He smiled again. You didn’t get very far.

No. I never do.

She suddenly realized he still held her in his arms, her breasts pressed up against his broad chest, his face inches from her own. He seemed aware of their close proximity at the same moment and stepped away, leaving them both flustered.

Serenity stared down at the ground, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. What had gone through her? Had he somehow reached inside and touched the essence of who she was?

She shook her head slightly, alarmed at her own thoughts. The stress must be too much.

I... I have to go, she managed, pushing past, not trusting herself to look at him again. She sensed him about to reach out to her, but he didn’t and she kept walking. Only when she reached the main street, with its lights and bustle of people, did she dare glance back.

He was gone.

A strange ache of disappointment and relief filled her and she chewed at her lower lip, worrying at a piece of dried skin. Serenity found herself trying to commit his face to memory, to remember how she’d felt when he took her hand. She would bury the moment deep inside and dig it out like an old forgotten favorite teddy or blanket when things got really bad.

The thought made her want to cry but she pressed her lips together and fought the tears. She wouldn’t let herself cry. Not anymore.

It was getting late; Jackson would already be wondering where she was. Hoping to do damage control, she fished in her handbag and found her cell phone. She only had three numbers programmed in; home, work and Jackson’s cell. Hitting home, she put the phone to her ear.

It rang twice before her husband picked up.

Hello?

Hey, honey, she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. I just wanted to let you know I’m going to be a bit late. The traffic is terrible and I couldn’t get on the last bus, it was full of Japanese tourists.

He stayed silent on the other end. Serenity held her breath in anticipation.

How long are you going to be?

She heard the measure in his voice, as though every additional ten minutes would buy her another punch.

Half an hour, she said. Quick as I can.

Air whistled down the phone as he huffed through his nose, something he always did when he was pissed, a bull shown a red flag.

Fine, but hurry up. I’m getting hungry, and he hung up.

Serenity hurried down the road toward her stop, praying the bus wouldn’t take long to arrive. To her relief, the big blue bus trundled down the road toward her and she broke into a trot, ignoring her protesting ribs, desperate not to miss this one.

Making it in plenty of time, she joined the line. There was no hint of the panic attack she had suffered earlier at this same close proximity of a crowd. Strangely, she felt better within herself, as if the nugget of hope she had stored within herself fed her strength.

She flashed her travel card at the driver who barely bothered to check. Passengers filled all of the seats so she grabbed hold of one of the standing poles.

With her free hand, Serenity fingered the thin silver necklace nestled at her throat, the letter ‘S’ hanging from the chain. The necklace was the only present she’d ever received from her mother and she rubbed the cool metal like a good luck charm whenever she grew nervous, which was often.

As the bus pulled away, she caught something out of the corner of her eye. She swung her head around and peered through the bus window. It was as though her eyes sought him out through the crowds, like some part of her deep down knew exactly where to look, exactly where to find him. For there, on the other side of the street in the shadows of a doorway, stood the man who had tried to help.

Watching her.

Chapter Two

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Serenity arrived home over an hour late.

Standing outside her front door, she couldn’t help but admire the little duplex despite the person within. Though the yard was small, she spent what free time she had keeping the window boxes pretty and the space tidy. Jackson’s father died a few years earlier, leaving Jackson a good sum of money and astonishing Serenity, who assumed the man would have drunk any savings away. With his inheritance, Jackson bought the two bed duplex in Glendale, a decent district of LA.

She put the key in the lock and, like a teenager sneaking home from a late night party, turned it as quietly as possible. The door opened with a click. No sounds came from inside; a bad sign. When Jackson relaxed, he put his feet up in front of the television. With the television not on, Serenity knew she’d find him sitting at the kitchen table, brooding with his forearms resting on the surface in front of him.

Serenity hung her bag and coat on the hooks behind the front door. She took a deep breath and tried to ignore her heart. It thumped so hard she thought the organ might burst from her chest.

I can’t do it, she thought. I can’t tell him I got fired. He’ll kill me.

Walking into the kitchen, she found Jackson exactly as she’d pictured him, sitting with his back to her. His narrow shoulders and long back hunched over the table, his too long, light brown hair hiding his neck.

She moved around the table to face him, but he didn’t even raise his eyes to glare at her through his rimless, rectangular glasses.

Jackson wore his glasses most of the time, even though he only needed them to read or for computer work. He liked to appear intelligent and thought the addition did that for him. To anyone else he appeared harmless; a slightly geeky guy. He certainly didn’t fit the look of a wife beater.

Hi honey, she said, trying to make her voice bright. Sorry I’m late. She bent down and kissed his cheek. How was your day? How did the writing go?

She acted overly cheerful, compensating for the dark mood radiating from her spouse.

It was fine, he said still not bothering to look at her. What’s for dinner?

Food had been the furthest thing from her mind, but suddenly the question loomed huge. Giving the wrong answer would be the final spark to his tinder, the thing to ignite his temper.

She gave a smile, the expression false on her face. I thought I’d do us some old fashioned bacon-burgers and fries, maybe with extra cheese?

His shoulders relaxed and she stopped herself breathing a sigh of relief.

As long as you miss out the cheese and fries for yourself. He reached out and slapped her on the backside, a more than playful smack that left her skin stinging. You know how easily you pile on the extra pounds.

The slap made up her mind. She wouldn’t tell him about getting fired.

Serenity opened the refrigerator and pulled out a cold bottle of beer. She cracked the lid off and handed it to Jackson, who took the brew with a faint smile.

Why don’t you go into the living room and make yourself comfortable, she said. Let me do my thing in here.

He was reluctant to leave her. She knew he still hadn’t made up his mind about whether to punish her for being late but she was heading in the right direction and so pressed on.

Go on, hon. You must be exhausted. I understand how hard you work.

I am tired, he admitted. The words just didn’t seem to want to come today.

How much did you get done? Do you have any idea when you’ll be finished?

Jackson raised his face to her, head tilted to one side, his eyes narrowed. Are you giving me a deadline, Serenity?

No... No... Of course not, she tripped over her words. But I know how frustrated you feel when you...

He was on his feet in an instant, his chair crashing to the floor behind him. His face pressed up against hers, breath hot against her skin. His thick fingers wrapped tight around her neck, squeezing. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers dug painfully into her trachea, choking her.

Don’t you fucking tell me what I feel!

He shoved her backward and she fell, crashing into their large, silver trashcan. Trash spilled out on the floor and the can hit the tiles with a reverberating clang. Pain shot up through her ribs, red hot spears of agony, and she instinctively curled up into the fetal position, her arms protecting her head.

Look what you’ve done, he spat, kicking at the spilled contents of the can. I hope you’re going to clean this mess up.

Jackson snatched the beer bottle off the table and stalked out of the room. Within seconds, the roar of the television reached her ears; the rage built up inside of him now released. What she’d said hadn’t mattered; he’d been itching for a fight. Even if she’d stayed utterly silent, he still would have found some reason to hit her.

Despite the pain, part of her was relieved. Maybe now he wouldn’t read the truth in her face? Maybe now he wouldn’t see her secret?

Serenity rolled to her side, cheek pressed against the cold tiles. She stayed there for a moment, waiting for the pain to subside. Slowly, the initial stabbing pain dulled to a familiar ache. She squeezed her eyes shut and prepared for the fresh wave she knew would come as soon as she tried to move again.

I will leave him, she promised herself for the millionth time. I don’t deserve this.

From out of nowhere, the stranger’s face rose in her mind and she remembered the feel of his touch. That was what she wanted. Someone who stirred such intense emotions, it made her gasp for breath, and not because he’d inflicted pain. She cradled the hand her stranger had touched to her body and closed her eyes, recalling every sensation. Something welled up deep inside, a wave rolling through her body, wiping out the pain. Would she see him again?

Panic jolted through her at the idea that she might forget his face or how he’d made her feel. Suddenly, remembering this man was more important than dealing with the abusive husband she remained terrified to walk away from.

Find me again, she whispered to the empty kitchen.

Realizing she had spoken aloud, her cheeks flushed and she worried Jackson may have heard her above the television. How absurd to think the man would give her a second thought, never mind come looking for her.

Feeling stupid, she carefully pushed to her knees and began to gather trash—empty cans, an old cereal packet, a pizza box—toward her. Tomato sauce and bits of pasta from last night’s meal clung to the floor. Sauce stuck to her fingers and she wiped them on the seat of her pants in disgust. Like an old woman, she climbed to her feet, using the wall for support. She righted the big metal bin and proceeded to refill it.

I hope that’s my dinner you’re crashing about making, Jackson shouted from the living room.

It’s coming, she managed weakly, but the coil of anger from earlier raised its head again and lashed its tail. Her body might be weak, but that didn’t mean the woman inside had to be as well.

Things needed to change.

Serenity had been curled up in bed for an hour when she heard Jackson’s heavy footsteps on the stairs. Her whole body tensed, but she forced her muscles to relax and made her breath steady and even, hoping Jackson would think she was asleep.

She listened as he went through his nightly routine in the bathroom; brushed his teeth, washed his face and took a leak. Jackson shed his clothes on his side of the bed. She would be the one to pick them up again in the morning as he slept on regardless.

He slid his warm body in beside her. She faced away from him and he pressed himself up against her back, fitting his knees into the back of hers. He wrapped an arm around her waist and nuzzled her neck.

I’m so sorry, baby, he whispered into her hair. I love you so much. Why do you make me do these things to you?

A mixture of beer and toothpaste scented breath washed over her and the strange combination stoked the fire growing in her belly. She didn’t want him anywhere near her.

Hey, I’m sleeping, she said, trying to move away.

He grabbed her upper arm and he pulled her over to face him. Serenity tensed, her body hard and unwelcoming, but Jackson ignored the physical messages and kissed her face with frantic, hard pecks.

God, you’re so beautiful, he told her.

Jackson, she said, pulling her face away from his. Not tonight. I’m tired.

Shhh, he said and put his hand over her mouth, stopping her words. Her heart picked up a beat and she tried to twist away from him. He climbed on top of her, forcing his knee between her legs, pushing them apart.

Jackson... she protested, her voice muffled beneath his clammy palm. Stop it. The words came out ‘sho-iik’ and he ignored her. She tried to clamp her legs back together, struggling against him.

I love you, he murmured, as though the three words could heal her wounds. You know how much I love you.

He took his hand off her mouth and grabbed hold of her right arm, pinning it behind her head. With more force, he shoved his knee back down, bruising the inside of her thighs.

Jackson! she shouted, fear tainting her voice. I said no. Get off me!

She tried to push him away, but the position he held her in, with one arm above her head and his whole body pinning her down, meant she couldn’t move.

He kissed her again, forcing his mouth on hers, mashing her lips against her teeth. His free arm reached down toward her panties, trying to pull them aside.

Fear raced through her. Would he do it? Would he actually rape her? Jackson was free with his fists, but he’d never stooped so low.

For fuck’s sake, Jackson, she yelled. Get the fuck off me!

For a moment, she thought she’d got through to him, he’d listened to her for once, but then she felt the unnatural way he lifted off her.

Jackson flew away from her, leaving her half-naked and exposed on the bed. He soared backward through the air and crashed into the dresser on the far wall, opposite the end of their bed.

He hit the unit with a sickening crunch and slumped down to the floor, groaning.

Frightened, Serenity sat up, pulling the sheets around her.

Jackson? Tentatively, she called her husband’s name and tugged the sheets tighter around her body. Adrenaline sent blood rushing through her ears, her eyes pricking with tears of fear. What the hell just happened?

She climbed off the bed, taking the sheets with her, and approached her spouse as she would a wounded wild animal. Jackson? Are you all right?

He groaned again and clutched at his lower back.

Serves you right, you fucking bastard, came a spiteful, bitter voice in her head.

Jackson’s eyes flickered, the whites showing unnaturally bright. For a moment, Serenity thought he would pass out cold, but then he bolted upright, his eyes darting back and forth, scouring the bedroom.

Someone was in here, his voice broke. Someone grabbed me and pulled me off you.

She shook her head in confusion. There’s no one else in here, Jackson. It’s only us.

Bravado deflated, his shoulders hunched, his eyes wide. He was as scared as her, but Serenity knew from experience—a scared animal was also a dangerous one.

No. Someone else was here, someone grabbed me. I felt his hands on me. I felt his cold, fucking hands on me!

Cold hands, she remembered. Cold hands and soft, pale skin.

No. It couldn’t be possible! Nevertheless, Serenity found herself looking around the room, half-expecting to see her stranger materialize out of thin air. She caught herself. That was crazy. There was no way someone had gotten in and out of the room without either of them seeing.

Serenity’s face betrayed her; her guilt flickered across her features.

Who is he? Jackson demanded. Some guy you’re screwing? Have you let another man in here?

Her eyes widened with fright, but again the stranger’s face appeared in her mind like a subliminal image on a television screen.

The memory made her pause too long and Jackson seized upon her silence.

You have! he said, incredulous, as though he never truly believed her capable of an affair, despite his constant accusations. You little whore! You’ve been seeing someone else!

It wasn’t a question anymore but a statement.

She shook her head, desperate. No, no, I haven’t. I swear to you.

Jackson’s injuries prevented him from leaping across the room and strangling her. A lump the size of an egg protruded from the back of his head. Reaching up, he tentatively touched the bump. He pulled his hand away, fingertips dark with blood.

The sight of the blood threw him off his rant. She could always rely on Jackson to put his well-being ahead of everything else. I need to get to hospital, he said. I’m hurt. You need to call an ambulance.

Serenity stared at the blood and a sliver of malice slipped down her throat. She wanted to tell him to suck it up. He’d given her far worse injuries and she’d never been able to seek medical help. But years of silence weren’t broken in a day and she held her tongue.

Grateful to be out of Jackson’s company, if only for a minute or two, she left the bedroom and ran downstairs. Crossing the living room to where the phone sat on a side table, she lifted the receiver and dialed 911.

What’s your emergency? asked the tinny voice of the operator.

I need an ambulance.

Can you describe the incident, Ma’am?

My husband’s had an accident in the bedroom, she said and a bark of hysterical laughter almost escaped her. She managed to clamp her mouth shut and the laugh came out as a strange, strangled cough. Images of Jackson in some weird perverted mess with a pair of handcuffs and a candlestick danced through her mind. Hysteria lurked perilously close to the surface but if she gave in, Jackson would kill her.

I was attacked, Jackson shouted, still finding the strength to try and control her actions. Tell them I need the police as well!

For once Serenity ignored him; she gave the operator their address and hung up. Taking a deep breath, she made her way back up to the bedroom.

Jackson, she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. She sounded authoritative, not like herself at all, and her tone made him look up. What are you planning to tell the police? That some invisible intruder attacked you? The first thing they’re going to ask is if you’ve been drinking, which you clearly have, and then they’ll send you for psychiatric tests.

He opened his mouth to protest and shut it again.

Serenity knew he’d been weakened by his injuries, but even this small victory lodged like a powerful rock inside her.

But she had to wonder, what did happen? Jackson didn’t leap backward by himself and she couldn’t ignore the shock on his face. Her husband hadn’t jumped off voluntarily, but she was crazy to think the man she’d met today had somehow saved her and then promptly disappeared.

She found her gaze drifting to the window where the full length drapes lifted and flapped in the breeze.

Something stirred within her; shouting that something wasn’t right. She stared at the window, trying to figure out what nagged her.

Realization dawned.

They never slept with the window open. Jackson always complained about the amount of noise from the road, especially first thing in the morning when everyone else left to go to work or take their children to school. If there was a breeze, it meant the window was open.

Serenity got to her feet and pulled the sheets around her, most of them trailing out behind like the train of a wedding dress.

Serenity? Jackson called out, but she ignored him and continued to the window.

Goosebumps rose on her skin, prickling their way down her naked arms. With a shaking hand, she reached out and touched the thick, cream-colored fabric. Did someone hide behind them, the same someone who had helped her? She paused for a moment, taking a shallow, jittery breath, and then whipped back the drape.

The empty window stood ajar, looking down onto the street below. Serenity frowned and stepped forward, craning her neck to peer out into the night. No solitary figure stood in the street, yet someone must have used the window to enter and leave the room. Did they balance on the ledge, pull the window partially shut behind them, and jump? 

No, she shook her head. Impossible.

Just like it’s impossible how someone threw Jackson across the room without being seen.

Serenity? Jackson said again, irritation coloring his voice. His initial shock faded, he was waking up. Serenity, what the fuck are you doing? Get over here and help me up.

I should leave him there, she thought. I should step over him and walk out the door.

But what she should do and what she did do were two different things. Where would she go? She had no friends or family, and their bank balance would only buy her a couple of nights in a motel. Besides, he would find her. He would find her and he would make her sorry.

I’ll know the right time to go.

For years, she’d told herself something inside would tell her when the time was right to leave. She had no idea when that would be. Maybe she was making excuses to herself—a coward giving herself a get out—but that was how she felt.

Deep down, she hoped someone, somewhere, would find it in their heart to help her. She wasn’t strong enough to walk out on her own.

Reluctantly, she helped her injured husband onto the bed.

Chapter Three

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The ambulance took almost twenty minutes to arrive and by the time the sirens cut through the night air, Serenity stood outside her front gate waiting to usher them in.

She didn’t care about her husband’s state of health, but the longer they took, the more time there was for him to come out of his doped-up stupor and beat the living crap out of her. At least now an ambulance would be ready.

Two men jumped out of the vehicle; a younger one with short dark hair, and a slightly chunky man in his late forties. Serenity didn’t speak, she just showed them up the stairs to the bedroom where Jackson lay on the bed.

What happened? the older of the paramedics asked.

Serenity glanced at Jackson, but he wouldn’t meet her eye.

We were fooling around, he said, his voice dull. I slipped.

The two paramedics took in the sight of her wearing her bathrobe and Jackson in his shorts, and they shared a glance of their own. They would be drinking out on this one tonight. Serenity could hear their voices now, ‘You should’ve seen the state of what this guy’s missus did to him! Must be an animal in bed!’

Screw them, she thought. They don’t know what they’re dealing with.

The older paramedic examined him. Doesn’t look too bad, but we better take you in for observation. Chances are, you’ve got a concussion and will have a headache for a couple of days, but we’d better be sure

Where are you taking him? she asked finally.

Good Sams, the hospital down on Wilshire Boulevard, he said. It’s the closest one to here with an emergency room. He took her question as concern. Don’t worry; you can ride in the back.

Jackson turned to her. You’ll come with me, won’t you, Baby? he asked, turning into a little boy when it suited him. You know how much I hate hospitals.

She forced a smile, Sure.

The ambulance moved silently down the freeway, not needing the siren since Jackson clearly wasn’t about to die anytime soon.

Serenity sat on the narrow bench beside the gurney. The younger of the paramedics, John—according to his name badge—sat opposite her.

Jackson lay between them. He’d fallen into a heavy sleep and still managed to snore, despite the oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth.

Serenity rested her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. She had thrown on a sweater and a pair of jeans before they left, diminishing the scrutiny of the paramedics. Though she avoided the young paramedic’s eye he still attempted to make small talk, resulting in perfunctory one word answers. She didn’t want to be rude—impoliteness wasn’t in her nature—but she couldn’t discuss the weather or the latest Dodgers game when she had so much more on her mind.

With a loud thud, something landed on the roof and the ambulance swerved, pulling into another lane. Serenity lurched to one side as the vehicle fought against the control of the driver. Someone behind them blasted their horn.

What the..? John glanced up at the roof.

The driver got the ambulance back under control and shouted back, You guys all right? I’ve no idea what that was!

A bird? Serenity suggested, thinking one of the big pelicans dropping out of the sky might cause such a big thump.

It didn’t bounce, John said thoughtfully, half to himself. A bird would have bounced.

Whatever landed on the roof had been big, really big. If Serenity thought in the terms of an animal, it would have been closer to a Great Dane than a bird.

They both glanced back up at the roof of the ambulance. Was something still there? Perched, waiting? The interior of the rig seemed to have shrunk down to toy size. A chill ran down Serenity’s back and she saw the paramedic shiver as well.

Not far now, John said, seeming to try to reassure himself as well as her.

She nodded, but said nothing.

Someone was there; both of them felt the presence.

Is it you?

She sent the thought out with every concentration of her soul. God, I’m losing my mind. Why would a man be on the roof of the ambulance? How the hell would he even get there? She must be crazy to be having such thoughts. She probably was—what with all the stress she’d been under—but that didn’t stop her believing.

They pulled into the unloading bay at the hospital. Jackson woke at the vehicle’s change of motion. He tried to roll over, discovered straps held him to the gurney, and went back to sleep.

It’s the bump, John told her, mistaking her worried expression for concern. It’s normal for him to want to sleep.

Serenity started to climb out of the ambulance, but instead of climbing down from the back, she stood up. Ignoring the paramedic’s look of surprise, she hooked her fingers over the edge of the roof and pulled herself up so her elbows took her weight.

Whatever had hit was no longer there but the metal was dented inward. No blood, or feathers, or even fur indicated an animal had landed on the roof, but she hadn’t been looking for that, had she? Instead, she reached out a hand as best she could and traced her fingers across the indentations.

Footprints?

She dropped down to find John staring at her. Anything? he asked.

Serenity smiled and shook her head. Must have been a ghost, she said, wondering if she was so far from the truth.

The paramedics admitted Jackson and a couple of nurses transferred him to another gurney in a shared bay. Three other men occupied the space, ranging from an old man whose fragility was exposed as he slept, to a young guy, not far out of his teens, with tattooed sleeves covering both arms. He too slept, but in the zonked out way people did when they were either sleeping off an overdose of drink or drugs, or a combination of both.

Serenity could do nothing more. The woman at reception gave her a pile of paperwork on a clipboard to fill in and she hugged the board to her chest. She hoped her medical insurance was still valid and her work hadn’t yet notified the company about her being fired. Hopefully, the claim would slip through the net, but if it didn’t she was in even more trouble.

A heavy sigh escaped her and she stood up. The restaurant must still be open, despite the late hour. She desperately needed some caffeine.

Strips of long fluorescent lights lit up the cafeteria with a harsh, unnatural light.

Blocks of tables and benches reminded Serenity of her school canteen, soulless and unloved. Behind the aluminum, heated display cabinet, a tired-looking woman in an apron gave her a half-hearted smile as she walked in. Floor to ceiling windows made up the far wall, giving a view out on a small patch of yard for the hospital residents.

A lone figure sat in the corner of the restaurant, their face turned to the window. Above the person’s head, the fluorescent strip light had blown, and the figure sat in partial darkness.

Serenity’s heart caught in her chest. She didn’t need light to know the person’s identity. Even though she had only spent moments with him, she would recognize the breadth of his shoulders, the angle of his jaw and the curve of his forearms anywhere.

She stopped dead in the middle of the room. Blood rushed through her ears, thumping like horses’ hooves in her head. Adrenaline flowed like water; speeding up her heart, making her hands tremble.

Can I help you, love? the woman behind the counter called to her.

Serenity couldn’t respond. She stood frozen. Part of her wanted to turn and run, the other part of her wanted to fall to her knees and weep, but she stared, inert.

Then he turned, his beautiful eyes focusing on hers, despite the gloom surrounding him, and she found herself able to walk again.

Are you okay? the woman asked. This time Serenity managed to give her a smile and nod of reassurance, but her eyes never left the man sitting by the window.

She walked toward him as though gliding on water. As she approached, he got to his feet.

What are you doing here? she tried to say, but her voice came out as a whisper.

I’m visiting someone.

Oh? A family member? A friend?

It’s good to see you again, he said, not answering her question.

It’s strange seeing you again. Small world, I guess.

He gestured to the seat opposite him. Will you sit with me a while? Allow me to buy you a coffee?

The act seemed so normal in such surreal circumstances and she grasped onto the lifeline he presented.

Coffee, she repeated. Yes, coffee would be good.

He brushed past her as he headed to the counter, sending a thrill of goose bumps up her arm. She stood watching his broad back as he walked away, then sat heavily, her legs weak.

He was here. God, he was here!

She didn’t dare take her eyes off him, fearing he would turn out to be a figment of her over-stressed imagination. As he paid the woman behind the counter, he caught her watching and gave her a smile she wanted to pack up and take home.

He returned with two cups of thick, dark coffee. In her nervousness, she took a sip too quickly and burned her mouth.

Careful, he said with a smile, his green eyes lighting up. The coffee’s hot.

She couldn’t help but smile back. Thanks, I think I figured that one out.

Your husband is here.

The sentence wasn’t a question but she answered with a nod.

What happened? he asked.

He had a... accident. She glanced up at him. For reasons beyond understanding, an underlying current of truth ran beneath their words, but neither of them tapped into it.

The strangeness of the evening made her head hurt. She couldn’t explain what had happened in her bedroom, but she remembered her initial reaction—the face of the man before her, flashing in her mind.

What are you doing here? she asked again.

I needed to make sure you were all right.

His words made her heart race and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. He was here for her.

What happened to my husband? she asked, barely believing the words had left her mouth.

What happened to you?

She looked up, her eyes fierce. Answer the question!

His eyes grew dark under his furrowed brow. He pressed his lips together as though he had to control himself before answering. He didn’t get anything he wasn’t asking for. In my opinion, he got off lightly.

So it was you! Anger bubbled within her. Why ask me? Are you just another controlling man who likes to screw around with a woman’s head?

He sat back, astonished at her fury. Then he leaned forward and took her hand across the table. She caught her breath at the touch of his skin on hers and the anger melted away like a night’s snowfall under the day’s first rays of sun. She saw worry in his face; in the creases at the corners of his eyes, in the lines between his eyebrows.

No, never, he said. I didn’t know how much you had figured out for yourself. I didn’t want to scare you.

Scare me? It’s a bit late for that! she sat back, shaking her head. But how? How did you get into the bedroom? And the ambulance, that was you on the roof?

He nodded.

What are you? An acrobat, or a magician, or... She trailed off, at a loss for ideas. Something? she finished weakly.

Yeah, he lowered his head and a lock of thick black hair fell across his forehead. Something.

But how did you get in and out of the room without us seeing you?

I can’t explain exactly. Try to think of it as a trick of the light, an optical illusion.

She wanted to press further, but she didn’t want to scare him off. His presence was nothing short of a miracle and however he’d managed to perform his ‘tricks’, he’d kept her from being raped by her own husband.

He must have read her thoughts.

You could leave him now. Pack your bags and go.

The thought struck fear into her heart and she hated herself. He was right; she should have left Jackson years ago, but didn’t have the courage. More things came into play than simply packing her bags because he was a bad husband. Things had happened in their marriage, some weren’t Jackson’s fault, and she blamed herself for them. Part of her didn’t blame Jackson for the beatings. Deep down, she felt like she deserved it.

I don’t know how to, she admitted, her cheeks heating with shame. I don’t know how to be alone.

Alone is all I’ve ever been.

They looked up at each other and time stopped. Even though they sat in dim light, his features were more real to her than anything she’d seen before. The gloom cast shadows across his face, making his pale skin jump out from the darkness and his eyes almost glowed. She wanted to reach out and touch the thick lashes framing his eyes, trace her finger along his jawbone, touch the fullness of his lower lip.

How was it possible to want someone so badly when you knew nothing about them?

I will leave him, she said, her voice low. As soon as he is well again, I’ll leave.

He dropped her hand.

Panic rose within her; she was being forced to make a decision she should have made years ago. I don’t even know your name, she said, and you’re asking me to leave my husband.

I’m not asking you to leave your husband for me. I want you to do it for yourself.

He pushed back his chair and stood. For a moment, she thought he would touch her again, place his palm against her cheek. Heat spread from the centre of her chest, flooding down into her belly and coalescing between her legs.

Instead, he took a step away.

I don’t want you to choose because of me. What would you have done if I hadn’t stopped your husband tonight? Would you have let him do what he wanted and then pretended nothing happened?

A lump formed in her throat and her eyes burned with tears. She would never admit it, but he’d called her out. She would have done exactly as he claimed.

I can’t save you, he said. You’re the only one who can do that. With those words burning in her ears, he turned and walked away

Wait, she called out. Please, wait.

He ignored her and kept walking, disappearing through the doorway and into the corridor.

The moment he left the room, the blown light above her head flickered back to life. The tears welling in her eyes trickled down her cheeks and plopped onto the back of her hand.

Her coffee sat cold and untouched.

Chapter Four

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For over two hundred years, Sebastian Bandores survived alone.

He sat on the flat roof of the hospital, tormented by thoughts of the dark-eyed woman. The night sky hung above, thick cloud blocking the stars. In front of him stood the hospital’s emergency helipad, and beyond, the lights of the city shone. On any other night the beauty of the scene before him would block out all emotion but tonight the sight meant nothing.

The vampire stood and walked to the edge of the roof. A wall divided him from the multi-story drop below. He peered over the edge, watching the lights from the cars below move like a procession of tiny fireflies. The height didn’t affect him. Sebastian had no reason to fear the drop. If he jumped now, just stepped off the roof, he would be all right. He wouldn’t hit like a normal person; instead, his body would brace, his legs would take the impact and he would land, cat-like, and unharmed.

Nothing could harm him. He was invincible, immortal.

At least he’d believed as much until the dark-haired woman caught his attention; running through the streets, long hair streaming behind, her eyes so haunted he imagined some terrible, invisible entity chased her.

Sebastian had never been involved with a human before, not since his own human life ended. What was so different about this one? Was it that the desperate, haunted look in her eyes was so similar to the one surely present in his?

She’d seemed trapped, as if whatever tragedy she carried would always be a part of her.

Sebastian understood; the pain he carried forged what he was today. He would never escape what he had become.

He told himself he followed to be sure of her safety. He told himself she might have children and a loving husband waiting for her, but Sebastian knew that wasn’t true. What woman ran with such desperation through the busy streets of LA and had a happy home?

So he followed and saw her hand shaking as she put the key in the lock. He smelled the fear as she walked into the house. By then, he couldn’t bring himself to leave, couldn’t bring himself to walk away.

So he stayed, waited and watched.

When her husband grabbed her by the neck and threw her to the floor, Sebastian fought to not leap through the window and rip the man’s throat out. Only his desire not to interfere with her life held him back.

But still, he didn’t leave.

Sebastian wanted to know this woman. He needed to discover who she was, what drove her.

He couldn’t understand why she stayed with the abusive scum, what prevented her from packing her bags and leaving. Sadness radiated from her. If she was so unhappy, why not do something about it?

Sebastian hadn’t been given a choice of how his own destiny would unfold. The choice had been taken away by someone who thought it all right to be possessive, to take what they wanted at any cost, to own another person.

He wouldn’t do that to her.

Guilt had weighed heavily upon him as he watched her change for bed. He’d been unable to tear his eyes away when she slipped out of her jeans, exposing her long, bare legs. She stood with her back to the window, her arms raised up and pulling her sweater over her head. Her long hair caught in the material before falling in a cascade around her shoulders. Reaching behind, she unhooked the clasps of her bra, revealing her naked back, a long line ending in a simple pair of white cotton panties and the gentle swell of her bottom.

How badly he had wanted to reach out and touch her skin. To lay his head against her chest; feel her warmth and the thud of her heartbeat beneath his ear. The longing gripped him like an addiction and he thought he might lose himself in it; hell, he wanted to lose himself in it. He craved, just for a moment, to forget his nature.

Such desire and need for her.

The only thing he had ever desired so strongly was blood.

Sebastian had watched her husband come to bed and force himself upon her. He watched as she begged him to stop and her pleas were ignored.

Then he could watch no longer.

After two hundred years, he moved beyond the capability of the human eye. Rage descended like a red haze across his vision and he no longer wanted to control it.

He wanted to kill this man, make him pay for harming her, but forced himself to stop.

If he killed her husband, he would only be doing what had been done to him. He would be taking away her choices. By injuring her spouse, he’d hoped the balance of power would shift to her, giving her the strength to leave.

Sebastian had been naive to think she would choose to escape. God, the word ‘naive’ made him laugh. To think that even after two hundred years he could still be such a thing.

He’d meant it when he told her he wasn’t asking her to leave for him. Their being together was impossible, but it didn’t stop him wanting her to be happy. To go through each day knowing some creep tormented her while he remained helpless to do anything, filled him with fury and made his heart ache in some inexplicable way.

Many years had passed since he’d last felt this way. He thought the part of him that knew how to love had died along with his humanity.

Torn between going back to make her change her mind, and leaving for good, he hesitated on the precipice

He needed to leave. The only one who could save her was herself.

Sebastian walked the circumference of the roof until he faced the opposite building.

He lifted his face to the night sky.

Blood hung on the air tonight.

Another of his kind hunted in the city; maybe more than one. Sebastian grew uneasy. Vampires were uncommon and, like other large predators, hunted alone. Their solitary nature made them unnoticeable. Los Angeles was his city; he didn’t need, or want, another of his own moving in on his territory.

Without another thought, he leaped into the night, one leg outstretched, arms raised. He soared through the air, relishing the moment of weightlessness before hitting the concrete roof at a run. The impact jarred his bones, muscles tightened to breaking point, but he felt no pain.

He moved stealthily, leaping from building to building, heading home. If he stayed anywhere near her, he would go back.

Sebastian owned a house in the hills; a luxurious, eight bedroom mansion with a pool and an acre of grounds. He never had any trouble procuring money; rich people—especially those who had grown rich doing something they shouldn’t—left huge amounts of cash in their homes and never reported it stolen. Of course, a few centuries ago acquiring property had been an easier process.  Simply knocking on the owner’s door and offering a disgusting sum of money had sealed the deal. Now he had to deal with ‘identity theft’ and ‘fraud’. Luckily, he’d purchased his house before celebrities decided the hills were the place to live. At least many of those celebrities kept the same timetable he did.

Los Angeles was one place where night-living went completely unnoticed.

Chapter Five

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Serenity lay in bed, fully clothed, waiting for him to come to her.

The nurse at the hospital sent her away from Jackson’s bedside, saying she would be better off at home. She would be more use to her husband by getting some rest.

Sleep, however, eluded her.

An unread book lay discarded at her side and the bedside lamp cast a warm glow across her pillow.

The bedroom window stood wide open. The night’s air hung thick and muggy around her. Jackson always hated to sleep with the window open, so why not? Doing so defied Jackson; at least so she told herself. Serenity refused to admit the real reason for lying in bed with her clothes on at two-thirty in the morning. She ignored how every fiber of her soul listened for her stranger; every tiny creak, scratch, or thump making her leap out of her skin and sit up in anticipation. Her whole body ached for him and the open window invited his presence.

Didn’t she think it strange how she didn’t listen for the doorbell instead? She didn’t want to face the obvious questions, like how he knew where she lived and why he’d been in her house? To any outsider, wouldn’t this man look like a stalker?

Serenity sighed and rolled over, resting her hand beneath her cheek. What was wrong with her? A married woman shouldn’t act this way. No matter how bad the marriage, she’d made a promise when taking her vows, one she had intended to keep.

What about him? a voice whispered in her head. What about Jackson’s vows? Do you think he cares about them when he’s smacking you around?

Serenity clung to the hope that she stayed because she might still love a part of Jackson. If things were good, he made her feel like the most special person in the world, but a long time had passed since he’d instilled such emotions in her.

When she first met Jackson, Serenity thought he was the solution to her problems. She’d been desperate to get out from under her stepfather’s roof and Jackson had told her all she wanted to hear; she was beautiful and he would take care of her. So she moved out from one man’s roof and straight under another’s. At first, everything had been great. He hadn’t laid a finger on her until nearly a year after their wedding day.

The first time happened shortly after their first miscarriage. They had been so excited about the baby, but then she woke up one morning with blood in her underwear—too much blood—and a visit to the doctor confirmed their worst fear, she had lost the baby.

The physician told them miscarriage was normal and gave them some worryingly high statistic how one in every five pregnancies miscarried before twelve weeks. He said losing the baby wasn’t her fault; she couldn’t have done anything to cause or prevent it. Of course, his reassurances didn’t make her feel any better and she replayed the last few weeks over in her mind. Did she lift something heavy? Did she accidently eat something with raw egg?

Serenity kept blaming herself and saw the accusations in Jackson’s eyes. Ruining one of their pans while cooking dinner was enough of an excuse for him to take his loss out on her.

Afterward, he’d been