Tempted by a Vampire: Immortal Hearts of San Francisco, #1

By Susan Griscom

Love lurks right around the corner...but it might be too dangerous to pursue.

Everything is just the way Maggie has always imagined it would be with a new job and a new apartment in San Francisco and the best roommate anyone could ever want, her BFF. Everything is perfect…until her gaze catches the sexy as sin lead singer of the rock band that performs weekly at an elite nightclub and suddenly her whole world is turned upside down.

Cian is a heartthrob rock star—and a vampire. He's every woman's dream, except he enjoys his single life in San Francisco, and has no desire to change…. until he meets a human woman he can't resist. The scent of Magdalena's blood has him completely undone, and he begins to question his felicitous existence when his desire for her grows out of control.

A powerful temptation ignites a sizzling passion until a threat from Cian's past wreaks havoc on their lives. Will he be able to resist the temptation in order to save her life?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Griscom
• Release date: Oct 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781386007326

Susan Griscom

About Susan Griscom I grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania, spending most of my time daydreaming or playing around in the mud. I grew out of the mud play, well, most of the time, a good soak in the mud is always fun. I still daydream often and sometimes my daydreams interrupt my daydreams. So I write to remember them. If I didn't write, I think my mind would explode from an overload of fantasy and weirdness. To the annoyance of my friends and family, my characters sometimes become a part of my world. During my childhood, I would frequently get in trouble in school for daydreaming. Eventually, my vivid imagination paid off and I had the privilege of writing and co-directing my sixth-grade class play--a dreadful disaster, though not from my writing, of course. I'm pretty sure it was the acting. I enjoy writing about characters living in small quaint towns and tend to lean toward the unusual and edgy. My paranormal playing field delves into a different milieu, abandoning vampires and werewolves, but not discounting them. Someday I might like to write a novel about vamps and those furry creatures. But for now I like the bizarre mixed with romance. A strong hero or heroine confronted with extraordinary forces of nature, powers and capabilities gets my blood running hot, as does a steamy contemporary romantic suspense. Find out more about Susan Griscom by visiting her website. http://susangriscom.com Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/SMGriscom Follow Susan on Twitter: https://twitter.com/SusanGriscom

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Cian

---

Blood is the life force of every animal.

I closed my eyes and let that sentiment titillate me as the sweet taste of smooth skin settled on my taste buds and sizzled down my throat, igniting a million charges of heat as visions of liquid gratification infused my mind like a raging waterfall.

My tongue skimmed down her neck and her heartbeat quickened against my chest and her fingernails embedded marks into my skin, causing a euphoric pain I relished.

I tangled my fingers in her long, blonde hair that smelled like strawberries. Inhaling the seraphic fragrance, I dropped my hands to her legs, rubbed my palms up her long shapely thighs and squeezed her cheeks, lifting her up for a better angle. Her mouth was kissable, and I pressed my lips firmly against hers, tasting every bit of sweetness she had to offer. Moving to her neck, I pressed gentle kisses against her vein, and she tilted her head to the side.

Perfect.

This won’t hurt, I promised then pierced my fangs into her neck, sinking them deep and letting her sweet nectar flow into my mouth.

She quivered against me as the titillating sensation of having her blood sucked gently from her vein cast her over the edge into a pleasurable state of euphoria.

I didn’t want to drain her, didn’t want to hurt her in any way. Her blood filled me with renewed strength and energy and when I had my fill I stopped sucking and licked the wounds closed with the tip of my tongue.

Thank you, I said.

You’re welcome. She smiled.

I straightened a few strands of her hair that stuck up from where I’d pressed her against the wall. You will remember spending a wonderful evening with a date. Experiencing the greatest pleasure imaginable. And you will recall that you are very tired and then will decide to return home early, take a shower, and head to bed.

She blinked, the glazed state of compulsion evident in her eyes.

She yawned. I feel like I could sleep for days, she mumbled to herself as she headed out of the alley toward the sidewalk in front of her apartment.

I waited until she’d turned the corner and then I strolled out of the alley.

I was coming off a three-day jamming session. We all were. We all being the band—Gage, Elvis, my brother Lane, and myself. Music coursed through our souls like a raging river and work binges were frequent occurrences when we got in these creative moods, but this time, it left me feeling a bit enervated.

On the way to the club where we performed each week, I’d asked Ari, our driver and human confidant, to pull over, needing to get out and stretch my legs. But now, now that I was out here, I noticed the city seemed rather calm for a Saturday night. The air stilled as though something major was about to happen. My bones twitched, and I grew antsy as a sentience floated through my mind, warning of change. What sort of change I had no idea.

I walked toward the club where we performed, passing a few small restaurants and bars along the way. That brief liaison left me feeling a bit better, but I was still on edge.

As I rounded the corner in front of Club Royal, my gaze caught and held the penetrating stare of what had to be a goddess straight from heaven, stopping me in my tracks. Through the window of my favorite small but quaint Italian restaurant, a gorgeous and well-toned woman studiously watched me as I stood staring at her. She sat with another woman, sipping from a martini glass. Her unpretentious demeanor was alluring the way her gaze flicked down to the drink in front of her then back up to me. As I began to walk again, my cock twitched, immediately followed by a restless ache. Everything about her was sexy, and I knew that the brief encounter a few moments ago had been nothing more than an aphrodisiac.

The temptation to go back and approach her and introduce myself was almost overwhelming, but I didn’t have time.

Besides, what would I say?

Hey, I noticed you from the sidewalk and couldn’t resist your beauty. By the way, want to fuck?

Something told me this woman wouldn’t be so easily seduced, which made me want to pursue her even more. There was something about her eyes that drew me, the way she blinked slowly, gracefully, as she stared at me. God, I wanted to stay and learn more about her. What if I never saw her again? Could I simply let this moment pass by without even a short hello?

Loud chatter caught my attention from down the street. The line outside the club was getting long, which meant I was running out of time.

Gage’s words slammed into my head.

Make it a quickie. We go on in forty minutes!

The guys would kick my ass if I left them to set up without me.

CHAPTER 2

Magdalena

---

An intense, sexy gaze locked with mine as a man with a hot body slipped around the corner of the building. I didn’t think I’d ever seen anyone so beautiful before.

This was bad news.

Having recently ended a two-year relationship with my boyfriend, Kellen. It seemed I had a lot of catching up to do. So many hotties, so much time to make up. From what I’d just seen, I’d guess San Francisco had some of the best.

I sighed, missing him. No. Not missing Kellen. Kellen had done the unthinkable. I didn’t miss him, but I did miss being in a relationship. Having a boyfriend meant I always had a date, especially for evenings such as tonight. I felt too vulnerable. I wasn’t used to the single life. Not like my best friend and roommate, V. And seeing that gorgeous guy outside made me lonely, left me wanting.

Let’s have another drink. Vanessa waved at the waiter. He glanced our way and nodded, holding up his finger then proceeded to write down an order for the table he was currently standing in front of.

If I knew what was best for me, I’d forgo the drink and head home to unpack the gazillion boxes practically littering every inch of our new apartment. That might keep me out of trouble.

Vanessa, maybe we should go home and get the place put together, I said as I stood.

We can’t leave, Mags. Vanessa tugged my arm and yanked my small, five-foot, two-inch frame back into the chair. A very uncomfortable chair I might add. The kind with little hollow squares made of metal and no cushion to soften the seat. I didn’t exactly possess the plumpest rear end in the world, and I was positive that the back of my thighs resembled a waffle iron, indented with ugly squares that would take hours to go away. Really, Vanessa, I think we’ve had enough.

"We can’t go home yet. This is our first night in the city. Home, here in the city. Doesn’t that sound great? Vanessa hummed out the word home" as though she’d never had one before. We’d both come from middle-class families in the Bay Area. Vanessa and I had been college roommates at Chico State and had been planning to move to San Francisco ever since our freshman year. Now that we’d graduated and had both managed, by some miracle, to score decent paying jobs in the city—mine in journalism, hers in graphic design—our dreams had finally become a reality.

It sounds wonderful, I agreed wholeheartedly.

We didn’t move to San Francisco so we could sit in our apartment every night. It’s only seven-thirty, Vanessa continued.

No, of course not. I know. It’s been a long day moving all those boxes in, and exhaustion has caught up with me. I’m more tired than I thought I would be. I’d love to go back and put my feet up. Maybe relax and take a long bubble bath in that big, jetted bathtub we have. We’re going to be living here. We can come out another night.

But we’re celebrating. She pouted. "And it’s Saturday night. Besides, we haven’t eaten yet. Plus, I want to go to that club we passed by earlier. The one down the street that has the live band. I was hoping you’d loosen up a bit after that martini. Why are you so uptight anyway? It’s not like you. Is it because of Kellen? Seriously, Maggie, you need to move on. Forget that slimeball."

Kellen had been my boyfriend since my junior year at Chico State University. He’d found an awesome job in Sacramento working at the mayor’s office. He wanted to be a politician. His dream was to be President of the United States. He had high ambitions, to say the least; ambitions that apparently led him up the thighs of one of his co-workers.

When I’d discovered their affair, I immediately broke things off with him. Of course, he’d said it was a one-time fling, something he needed to get out of his system and swore he’d never do it again. He’d begged me to forgive him and not move to the city, so far away from him. I glanced at V as she grabbed the last olive out of her glass and popped it into her mouth. It has nothing to do with Kellen. I’m just tired.

Well, I’m not going home yet. You can go, but I’m not spending my first Saturday night in the city watching some lame movie on TV. Besides, we got all dressed up tonight.

She was right, we had. She wore her new black dress. It was trimmed with black lace and had a see-through mesh mid-drift. The décolletage dipped nearly to her navel. She’d even curled her long, pink-tipped blonde hair, and the way it flowed over her shoulders with the tips dipping into the valley between her breasts was so pretty. Super sexy. My dress wasn’t quite as risqué, but equally sexy in my opinion. The silver, silky material shimmered and required a strapless demi-bra that boosted the cleavage the dress revealed. It was form-fitting and hugged my body maybe a little too tightly. My dress was extremely short, much shorter than I normally felt comfortable in, but I’d bought it anyway at V’s insistence. We’d purchased the dresses last week, right after we’d signed the papers for the lease of the apartment.

Vanessa knew I’d cave. What kind of person would I be if I left my best friend alone at a restaurant in San Francisco on our first night living here, to then walk home by herself after a night of drinking and dancing? Too many horrible scenarios came flooding into my mind. Anyone walking home alone after midnight was potential rape bait for some scuzzy pervert.

So, I relented.

All right, all right. We’ll check out the band, but please don’t wake me before noon tomorrow. Okay?

Deal. Two more dirty martinis, Vanessa said to the waiter as he paused at our table. He nodded with a smile that could melt the snowcaps off Mount Everest. Extra dirty, she added. God, he’s adorable, isn’t he?

I nodded, but I couldn’t get my mind off the sexy man who’d captured my attention a while ago.

We drank the martinis and giggled through a shared plate of calamari then headed down the street to the club.

On our way, we passed by a sidewalk sign that proclaimed Psychic Readings with an arrow pointing to a black metal door leading into a two-story townhouse. I think we need to check this out. Don’t you? V said.

Oh, I don’t know.

Mags, stop being so…Mags.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Nothing. Sometimes you can be too…safe. C’mon, let’s live a little and be adventurous. Her green eyes gleamed with excitement.

I rolled my eyes. Okay. What harm could there be? I didn’t believe in psychics or even magic. It was probably some little old lady who needed a few extra bucks to get her through until her next social security check came in, sitting at a round table with a black cloth draped over it. I could help out with that. After all, I had a brand-new career at Channel Seven News starting on Monday.

Vanessa opened the door. A long, narrow stairway leading up to the second floor was on the left, and another one led down. Another sign, Madam Fontaine’s Psychic Readings – Downstairs was posted on the wall.

The stairway was quite ominous and creepy. Very apropos. I grabbed Vanessa’s hand and let her lead the way. Worn, frayed carpet edged our path as we made our way down the steep, dark steps.

Another small, black and white sign on the door read, Come In.

Vanessa looked at me and turned the knob. The door creaked as she opened it.

Five seconds later, a woman—nothing like the little old lady who needed some extra cash that I’d pictured—walked into the room. She wore a low-cut top, revealing some awesome tattoos of birds and music. Her dark hair sparkled with trinkets and flowed over bare shoulders. More colorful tattoos decorated each of her arms; some were very pretty. If I had to guess, I’d say she was about thirty-two.

Welcome. I’m Tessa Fontaine.

Tessa was tall, hot, and beautiful. I suddenly felt self-conscious of my squatty shortness. That happened a lot whenever I was around tall women. I’d become used to Vanessa but always seemed to get a little overwhelmed whenever there was more than one tall lady around me at the same time. My high heels didn’t provide as much height as I’d like.

I’m Vanessa, and this is Mags. Maggie. Vanessa shoved me in front of her. I gave her a sarcastic thanks-a-whole-hell-of-a-lot-friend glance and smiled timidly at Madam Fontaine.

Tessa took my hand. Come with me, Maggie. Is Maggie short for something else? I will tell you everything you need to know.

I…uh, I don’t need to know anything… V’s hands shoved at my shoulders, coaxing me to follow Tessa, and I tripped over my own two feet. Somehow, I managed to catch myself without flailing uncontrollably and slamming into the psychic’s tattooed bare back. And it’s just Maggie. We didn’t really need to go into all the history surrounding the name Magdalena, or the fact that my parents thought it would be sweet to give their little girl a designation that meant rare beauty. Something I’d always thought I had a difficult time living up to.

Please, sit. Tessa pointed to a chair positioned at a small round table covered with a black, satiny material. At least my ideas of that turned out to be correct.

Madam Fontaine—Tessa—sat across from me, and Vanessa took a seat by the wall behind me.

Twenty dollars, Tessa said, holding out her hand. I reached into my purse and pulled out one of the three twenty-dollar bills I had in there.

She placed the money in a box behind her and took my hands in hers. You’ve never been in love. This was a statement, not a question. I opened my mouth to protest because I had been in love with Kellen for the past two years. Just because we’d broken up didn’t mean I suddenly stopped having feelings for the guy. Though, at the moment, I wasn’t sure if those feelings could be classified as love. Hurt came more to mind than love. Kellen had hurt me and what he did was unforgivable. So maybe Madam Fontaine was a bit more intuitive than most after all…

Hmmm…you will live a very long life.

I almost laughed. That sounded like something all psychics would start with.

No, wait, she hesitated. Long, yes, but… She shook her head.

What?

Someone dark is about to enter your life. You are about to fall, she continued. Something is going to break. A relationship? Not a loved one. Not a friend, she assured when Vanessa made some sort of gasping sound behind me. No. Something has already broken. Falling is inevitable, though.

Falling?

She shook her head and made a shushing sound. Falling under.

Falling under what? I asked.

Falling under temptation.

Temptation of what? I asked.

That is all I see. I can’t tell you something I don’t see.

What about the dark person who is about to enter her life? Vanessa asked.

I lost sight of him. I’m sorry. Tessa shook her head again.

This was ridiculous.

What? How could you lose sight? You’re making this up, right?

"No. I don’t make things up. I only tell you what I see. My visions are not always clear, or rather, translatable, but they are always true. Do you want me to read yours?" This last statement she addressed to V.

Why not? My friend smirked.

Vanessa and I traded seats, and Vanessa paid her twenty dollars. Tessa went on to tell her that she too would live a long life, but without the added hesitation the psychic had done with me. Vanessa would have a prosperous career and a happy marriage. Madam Fontaine had even added two kids to V’s fortune. It seemed that Vanessa’s life was to be very mundane. Everything I’d ever wanted.

After the disastrous reading that—if I believed in that stuff—would probably ruin not only my night but also my entire life, we finally resumed our trek down the hill to Club Royal. The additional martini had given me a second wind, and I was now ready for some fun and music.

Crap, there’s a line. C’mon. V tugged my arm, and we picked up the pace to a slow jog, which was no small feat in four-inch heels. When you were as short as I was, high heels were your best friend, especially when your real best friend was five-eight.

The black wall we stood beside in the line made the street seem dark and somewhat scary. Various etchings of symbols that I didn’t recognize graced the side of the wall. I was anxious to get off the street and get inside, but at the same time a little apprehensive about going in at all.

We stood in line for about three minutes when a rather large, muscle-bound guy in a dark sports coat and pants walked up to us. A small, curly wire connected to an earpiece dangled from his left ear.

You two, come with me, he ordered.

Vanessa and I looked at each other then back at the man.

It’s safe. You’ve been bumped up to the front of the line.

We followed the guy inside, and he led us to a small round table right in front of the stage.

Enjoy, he said,