Blood Intermingled: The Laurent Blood Legacy, #3

By Evelyn Lederman

Should he offer immortality to a suicidal woman?

After a vicious attack, Elizabeth Davis attempted to take her life twice. Every time she closes her eyes, her nightmare returns. While visiting her grandmother, she encounters a man who wants to bring light into both of their lives. Can she leave her trauma behind and begin a new life?

Darrason Rainfroy has been a vampire since Vikings raided the English and French coasts. The Laurent blood legacy would allow him to once again walk in the sun. When he meets the soul mate required to activate the spell, things become complicated as she struggles with the decision to end her life or become an immortal.

Will their love be substantial enough to activate the blood legacy?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evelyn Lederman
• Release date: Feb 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393046387

Book preview

Chapter One

Elizabeth Davis looked in the mirror and wished the Earth would swallow her. Unfortunately, there weren’t any sinkholes in this part of Collier County, Florida. She’d have to find another way of coping outside of being a leading character in a disaster movie.

Her brevity this evening, like most nights, didn’t sound genuine. It proved hard enough during the day to project a sunny disposition. The effort it took to appear happy weighed her down. Living shouldn’t have to take so much effort.

Instead of staring at her former athletic body, she’d become nothing but a skeleton with flesh. She didn’t have anorexia nervosa because she didn’t fear becoming fat. Her depression had led to the extreme weight loss. Nothing she or her grandmother tried stimulated her appetite. Even her favorite dishes held no appeal. Threats of being hospitalized scared her into eating what little she could stomach.

She put on a turtleneck sweater although tonight’s unseasonably hot weather didn’t warrant dressing in such a fashion. The long sleeves and high neck covered the physical scars she didn’t want displayed. Looks of pity and concern only dampened her already dark mood. A charcoal colored shift completed her ensemble. Her weight loss would be less obvious wearing the outfit.

Elizabeth glanced at the fresh flowers her grandmother placed in her room daily. Even their beauty didn’t inspire her. Thoughts that someone else would have enjoyed them entered her mind with each delivery. Her grandmother’s money could be better spent. She thought of the Wayne’s World sketches where the two leading characters cried We’re not worthy!

It had been a mistake accepting an invitation to join her best friend for drinks. The request had been more of a guilt trip than a true invite. Marsha had ganged up with her grandmother, forcing her to agree. She could use a drink, but not the company or a crowded bar.

Her cell phone vibrated, performing a little dance on her dresser. Marsha’s name flashed on the screen. She reached for the phone hoping her friend needed to cancel their plans for the evening.

Hey, Marsha, she greeted her friend with feigned enthusiasm.

Elizabeth crossed her fingers hoping she’d been correct about the reason for Marsha’s call. She wasn’t ready to leave the safety of her grandmother’s home. Curling up on her bed and enjoying her solitude sounded healthier than dealing with the paranoia of re-entering society. When she felt ready, she’d contact Marsha and they’d reschedule their outing.

I thought we’d walk to Old Town tonight, Marsha said. It seems crazy to pull a car out and find a parking spot when we could walk the eight blocks. Besides, neither of us would want to be the designated driver tonight.

Her friend referred to the stretch of 3rd Street South consisting of restaurants, stores, and financial institutions. Even with parking garages, this time of year finding a place would be challenging. High season caused the area to swell past capacity.

She struggled with whether it made sense to try to weasel out of their plans or go for a quick drink. It seemed easier to come up with an excuse to leave after the first round. Men were drawn to Marsha and the thought of sharing a table with a male on the prowl caused her stomach to roll.

The memory of one particular man caused a shiver to run down her spine. He nightly entered her dreams, making them nightmares. She didn’t bother to cover up the dark circles under her eyes caused by a lack of sleep.

Sounds good, I’ll leave in about fifteen minutes. Elizabeth blurted out the words and ended the call before she fell apart.

Unsteady hands placed the phone back on the dresser. She took several cleansing breaths, hoping to forestall the anxiety attack. Things couldn’t continue this way.

His nostrils flared at the scent of blood. In Darrason Rainfroy’s almost fourteen-hundred-year existence, he’d never smelled anything that quite compared. If blood could carry the bouquet of flowers, this crimson ambrosia did.

He walked into the crowded bar where the sweet aroma originated. His eyes scouted each beautiful woman, hoping his quest would end before one of the heavenly creatures. In all likelihood, the being who possessed the blood wouldn’t have an exterior to match the magic of his or her scent.

The usual reek of human perspiration and perfume was barely detectable. Even as he rubbed past bodies, their particular odors didn’t impact his quest.

Everyone from young professionals to retirees who wintered in Naples, Florida mingled around the bar and populated the tables. The crowd was dressed to impress. He felt out of place in his jeans and floral short-sleeved shirt. Granted, it wasn’t how anyone in the establishment would expect a vampire to dress.

It amazed him how this place differed from the Norway of his youth. The cold, unforgiving land caused his people to raid settlements farther south in Britain and France. Why toil in frozen fields when stores of grain could be stolen? The wealth surrounding him reflected what his world had evolved into. He often changed his name, but in most instances, he now thought of himself as Darren.

He marveled at the women around him. Naples must possess more plastic surgeons per capita than anywhere in the United States. Plump, kissable lips bounded around him. He cringed at the thought of shooting fat into them to get the desired effect. There was an absence of double chins and wrinkles around their eyes.

Because of the beauty around him, Darren’s eyes landed on the only woman who didn’t stand out. He could barely decipher any details about her face. Her hair acted as camouflage, as well as the thick glasses resting on her nose. This woman didn’t possess an ounce of vanity. Perhaps that was what attracted him to her.

The closer he got to his target, the stronger the alluring scent became. It didn’t take long to validate she excreted what he could only call an aphrodisiac to vampires.

He couldn’t walk away, even if that had been his desire.

May I join you? he asked.

Her companion, a beautiful redhead, reacted to his inquiry. The woman who lured him into the bar continued to stare at her drink. He longed to know the color of her eyes, but would have to be patient.

That would be lovely, the redhead answered, luring his attention back to her. Especially if you’ll buy the next round. We’re celebrating.

Darren took the seat next to the friendly woman. He wasn’t put off that neither had bothered to introduce themselves. Rather than force a conversation, Darren signaled for their waitress to join them.

They’ll have another round and I’ll have a glass of your house merlot. After the waitress hurried off, he directed his attention to the woman who still hadn’t acknowledged his presence. I’m Darren, by the way.

He hadn’t used his given name for some time. As of late, he introduced himself to strangers as Tom. For whatever reason, he didn’t want to lie to either woman.

I’m Marsha and this is Elizabeth, the redhead shared.

Elizabeth ran her finger down her half-empty glass. Her digit left a line through the condensation. He smiled at her attempt to distract herself, allowing her to continue to ignore her unwanted guest. Over the years, he learned to be patient.

Marsha’s light auburn hair shimmered in the artificial light. It presented a sharp contrast to Elizabeth’s dull medium-brown hair. Something weighed down her tresses as if she hadn’t shampooed in weeks. Did she purposely try to be unattractive? He had to admit, the woman intrigued him.

I should check on my grandmother. Elizabeth stood and grabbed her purse, ready to make her escape.

Darren claimed her wrist as she attempted to pass. An electrical charge resulted from their touch. Startled baby blues focused on him for the first time. There was something familiar about her eyes.

He took in a deep breath as he reacted to her extraordinary, makeup free face. It would only be described as stunning. He couldn’t understand why she’d go to such lengths to hide her exquisiteness.

Shaken, Elizabeth reclaimed her chair. All color had drained from her face. She took possession of her glass and took several healthy gulps, downing the remainder of her drink. Had she felt the same electrical charge as he experienced?

Are you all right, Lizzy? Marsha asked. The use of a nickname indicated their close relationship, especially since she’d introduced her using the full given name.

Elizabeth nodded, muttering something about static electricity.

What happened between them could only be described as life-altering regardless of how Elizabeth tried to justify the result of their first touch.

Everything about Elizabeth was off. Where the majority of the bar’s customers showed off their Florida tans, the woman before him was covered from head to toe. She might as well be the ugly duckling in a pond of swans, but only he could see her true beauty.

Marsha’s upper arm brushed against his as she pulled back her shoulders for the third time to accentuate the size of her breasts. Darren took pains not to let his eyes wander in their direction. As it was, her breasts spilled out of her dress. Elizabeth’s baggy clothing didn’t provide a clue to the size of her chest. He looked forward to his own explorations of what lay beneath the flowing material.

Not having forgotten Marsha’s earlier comment, Darren asked, What are you girls celebrating?

He figured women in their early twenties wouldn’t mind being referred to in such a manner. His guests were barely out of their teens. Over the centuries, he’d become quite keen at determining people’s ages. These girls still possessed youth’s blush.

Marsha’s raised finger indicated he should wait for his answer as she finished off her drink since the waitress had returned with another round. From the scent, they both drank a well-whiskey with a citrus-flavored soda.

His wine was placed before him. He’d use mind control on both girls to convince them he drank his merlot. In the fourteen hundred years of his existence as a vampire, he’d mastered the technique. Human brains were easy to manipulate.

Lizzy and I have spent winter breaks together here since we were five, Marsha explained. Our grandmothers have been neighbors since mine became a snowbird. I haven’t seen Lizzy in two years.

Darren watched as Marsha’s demeanor changed. Worry lines were now evident on her forehead. The party girl disappeared and a concerned friend emerged. Whatever had kept them apart must have been related to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth felt Darren’s eyes land on her again. But this time, his penetrating gaze unnerved her. It felt as if her secrets were slowly being exposed.

Even though she knew it was all in her mind, her slashed wrists itched. Without thought, she pulled down her sleeves. The scars weren’t exposed, but she felt naked under his scrutiny.

Her body still tingled from his touch. When her knees threatened to give way, her escape became impossible. It wasn’t her typical reaction to a man laying his hands on her.

But nothing about this man could be called ordinary. He could grace the cover of any romance novel with his dark, smoldering looks. She liked when men dressed in black, but Darren brought a whole new definition to bad-boy sexy.

His nearly-black blue eyes were in contrast to his dark copper blond hair and ultra-fair complexion. He bore a slight resemblance to the actor who played Eric on True Blood. He appeared to be as tall as the actor as well. But in a side-by-side comparison, the man before her would win hands down. She fought the immediate physical attraction, wanting to push him away.

He didn’t have to know why she’d been absent from Marsha’s life for two years. Or how the nightmare of her attack replayed itself every time she closed her eyes. It was none of his damned business. She should have turned down her friend’s invitation to meet for drinks. She felt targeted being out in public.

The only place she’d felt safe the last two years had been in her grandmother’s house. There were no whispers behind her back, no overt recommendations she see a shrink. At Granny’s, it felt as if her life hadn’t taken such a drastic turn. To Rachel Berkley, her grandmother, only one person mattered. Rachel Berkley. Despite her grandmother’s self-centered personality, Elizabeth knew she loved her.

For as long as she could remember, Granny had been mad at the world. Elizabeth wasn’t sure if she was born that way or had her own traumatic event that veered her off course. If that had been the case, she didn’t speak of it.

Rachel was a piece of work, but Elizabeth adored her more than any living being. Granny had been impacted by several failed marriages and a daughter who didn’t speak to her. Her grandmother didn’t fuss if Elizabeth didn’t want to socialize.

The only difficulty living with her grandmother the last eighteen months were the disapproving looks she’d get from the old woman. To Rachel, one’s appearance was of the utmost importance. God knew, she’d spent a fortune on plastic surgery. She looked in her mid-fifties when in reality she’d just celebrated her seventy-ninth birthday.

Marsha got into medical school, Elizabeth commented, wanting to drive the conversation in her friend’s direction. She didn’t want her incident to be discussed. Beauty and brains. You could do worse.

She normally didn’t play matchmaker, but there was something about Darren that made her nervous. He’d join them to pick up Marsha. This time around, he wouldn’t have to find a means to get rid of the third wheel.

Yet he’d reached out to stop her from leaving. His gaze rarely left her. Maybe he was the type of man who liked to figure out mysteries. She had no desire to be this evening’s entertainment.

Listen, I’ve had enough to drink and you haven’t touched your wine. His head jerked in response to her comment. If possible, his glare intensified.

Feeling uncomfortable, her eyes shifted to Marsha. Her friend’s face distorted with a frown.

What are you talking about? Marsha questioned, looking at her as if she were crazy. Darren finished his wine. The glass is empty.

Confusion further soured her mood. What type of game were they playing? Was this some kind of set up to prove she was more than suicidal? What had happened to Marsha the last two years?

Marsha blinked several times and then rubbed her eyes. She reached for her drink and finished off her third round.

I could have sworn— Marsha shook her head and ran a hand across her forehead. Maybe I’ve had too much to drink. We should head home.

Darren waved down the waitress and handed her a hundred-dollar bill from his fat billfold. Keep the change, he said to the startled waitress. It’s my treat, ladies. I seldom get the opportunity to spend the evening with two lovely creatures. May I call you a cab?

Elizabeth rose and dedicated her full attention to make sure Marsha could stand without falling on her face. Her friend’s misjudging Darren’s glass as empty disturbed her. Marsha could usually hold her liquor.

That won’t be necessary, Elizabeth replied. Our grandmothers live within walking distance.

He stood and offered a hand to an unsteady Marsha. Let me escort you home. I live a short distance away as well.

Marsha shook off Darren’s assistance. I need to use the restroom. I’ll meet you both out front.

Elizabeth had been about to insist she accompany her when her friend took off running, her hand covering her mouth.

She’s usually not a cheap date, Elizabeth commented. It wasn’t necessary to explain about their raiding each of their grandmother’s liquor cabinets when they were adolescents. At twenty-two, she’d only been able to drink legally in Florida the past year.

As he accompanied her to the restaurant’s entrance, she noted the number of women who stared as they