Vamped Up

By Kristin Miller

“I said stop, Eve.” A dark musky smell emitted from Ruan’s skin. It was possession. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

Eve had spent an entire month begging Ruan to drink from her. To share one of the most erotic experiences a vampire and mundane could share. Yet he’d denied her. Now, there was no turning back “Either drink from me now, proving to yourself that you have the strength to do this, or let me fulfill my personal obligation to your race on my terms.” Stifling a gasp, she punctured her skin with the tip of the blade, then lifted the steel to examine it. Her blood, red and thick, hung on the edge. “That’s only fair, given what we both want, don’t you think?”

With a hollow-sounding groan, Ruan snatched her hand and licked her palm, sending chills exploding through her hand.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Dec 6, 2011
• ISBN: 9780062105219

Kristin Miller

Kristin Miller is the author of the Vampires of Crimson Bay series, a paranormal series featuring a blood war between vampires and shape-shifters, from Avon Impulse. She lives in Northern California with her family.

Book preview

Chapter One

"Trust no one—not even yourself.

Friends can be made enemies just as primal instinct can spoil good intention."

Before Bloodlust: A Prevention Guide

San Francisco

Present Day

DANTE’S BREATH CAME out in thick pants, fogging his mask and wetting his face, as he surveyed every dark inch of the makeshift training center. He moved cautiously, his pistol extended, each step slow and deliberate. It was as cold as a meat locker in here, he thought, as he wiped condensation off his mask. Damn cold, even for January.

The run-down warehouse had a vaulted wood ceiling plastered with layer upon layer of industrial insulation. The floor consisted of busted-up pallets covered with chunks of carpet padding that bunched into large mountains of gray fluff, leaving ample room for an ambush to hide in the shadows. Six-feet-thick concrete walls with no windows and a single roll-up metal door created the perfect place to get a hell of a lot of training done without alerting the neighbors that this was anything but a warehouse.

Nothing out of the ordinary from the outside.

But the three vampires circling within, covered head to toe in black, save for the goggles covering their eyes and noses, were far from ordinary. The other two trainees each had a weapon in their grasp, a gun and a set of throwing knives. Eyes wide with awareness, their pulses pounded out of their chests.

From the left, a flash of movement caught their attention. Dante popped off two quick shots to the wood beams stretching from one side of the warehouse to the other. Two small blades flew off one of the trainee’s fingertips, sinking into the beam with heavy thuds. All eyes tracked the lightning-quick shadow, guns raised, knives at the ready.

Damn, that sucker was good. Dante could barely see his trainer, let alone get a solid bead on him. But, he reminded himself as he double-checked the amount of ammo in his barrel, this is why he came here. Ruan was the best at getting in, staying hidden, and escaping without anyone the wiser. He was uncatchable. Seemingly invisible. And a brainiac to boot. Capable of knowing your next move before you did.

A deadly combo. Especially when he was the one doing the hunting.

Watching shadows slant and stretch as Ruan ran around them in dizzying circles was enough to make Dante a firm believer in the legends he’d heard. Rumor had it he was once nicknamed Ghost for his seemingly supernatural abilities. That he’d infiltrated a therian hotspot all by his lonesome, killed over thirty experienced guards, rescued the kidnapped Primus, and escaped back to his haven before a single report of foul play hit therian radios.

As Ruan toyed with the trainees, making them search frantically this way and that, knowing he was closing in and there was nothing they could do about it, Dante had no doubt the most far-fetched rumors were true.

Ruan made another pass from one mound to another, right in front of Dante. Not ten feet away! Dante fired. The slug sank into the nearest pile of padding, missing Ruan by a fraction of an inch. Still a miss, damn it.

Crouching low and out of sight, Dante followed the path he predicted Ruan to be traveling. Before he could get to the next mound, a shot rang out behind him.

Dante spun, gun ready, his stomach in his throat. The bigger of the two vamps on his team dropped his hand to his stomach and came up with a handful of red paint.

Damn it, he grumbled. I’m out.

As he stalked back to the side wall, Dante took a deep breath. It was two on one now. How hard could it be to find this guy? He’s just a vamp, not a ghost. Just a vamp. Just a . . .

A small, squeaky sound, almost like a silencer tightening, came from a mound close by. Dante dropped flat to his belly, pulling himself around the mound by his elbows. He’d crawled nearly all the way around when he stopped in his tracks, realizing he’d lost sight of the other trainee.

Another loud Pop! shattered the silence.

I’m out! the second trainee shouted, a dejected tone in her scratchy voice.

Shit. One-on-one with the best of the best.

The sound of his own breathing drowned out everything around him. The long drawls in and out, in and out, made Dante more panicked than when he’d heard the gunfire. Not only was his visibility obscured, but he couldn’t hear for shit either. His heartbeat pulsed in his ears and constricted his chest.

Christ, Ruan really was a ghost. And Dante was just a vamp looking for an adrenaline rush. Learning kick-ass rules of the trade were an added bonus. He was clearly outclassed . . . but maybe he could outwit him. Maybe if he played a little dirty, Ruan would underestimate him, giving Dante one clear shot . . .

Dante took a chance—one that was either going to put his red mark on Ruan’s chest or get him harassed for the rest of his extended life.

He stood straight up and walked to the middle of the warehouse. He dropped his gun to the floor, yanked off his mask and flung it aside. Feeling his backup weapon tight on his backside, Dante wondered if he’d even have a chance to draw on Ruan when he showed himself.

If he’d show himself at all. Take the bait, Ghost, take the bait.

All right, Dante called out, searching the mounds for movement, his trigger finger twitching. It’s just you and me now. How ‘bout we do this the old-fashioned way?

All he needed was for Ruan to walk into the open and take the opportunity to go hand-to-hand. He didn’t really want to do combat that way with a trained killer, especially when he’d never been formally trained himself—unless you’d call street fights extending from childhood training. Dante simply planned on drawing the gun on his back so fast that Ruan’s head would spin . . . or rather, cover with paint.

He reached down to his boot to unsheathe the dagger tied to his ankle holster, when he felt Ruan slide up behind him—as quiet and light as air, as ominous as a rolling thunderstorm. Before he could even think about going for the gun, Ruan had a gun barrel jammed into the small of his back and a butcher knife at his throat.

I can go for a little hand-to-hand, Ruan said, a challenge Dante knew the Ghost could win blindfolded . . . with no hands. But I have a feeling you’d surrender, no matter what your weapon. Weakness has nothing to do with the form of combat. It’s a mental disease. And you’re infected.

Ruan released him and stepped back, giving Dante room to be humiliated in front of his peers. Okay, so his genius of a plan didn’t work and turned out not to be so genius after all. But dirty fighting was fighting. No matter how you won. As long as you came out on top . . . and alive . . . that’s all that mattered. He may not have come out on top this time, but there’d be a next time. And when there was . . .

Damn, Ruan, the beastly trainee said, marching to the center of the warehouse, removing his gear. I couldn’t see you. I couldn’t hear you. How did you know where we were?

Simple, Ruan said, his voice flat. I followed your stench.

Smirking, Dante turned . . . and the wide smile was wiped right off his face. Ruan wasn’t at all what he expected.

The bastard was a six-foot wall of solid muscle. His arms were covered with black Under Armour but it wasn’t hard to tell they were ripped like a bodybuilder’s underneath. And his legs! How did he manage to run so fast with leather-clad tree trunks for stompers?

But his sheer size wasn’t what startled Dante the most. He had platinum blonde hair that fell in thick waves to his shoulders. Bright green eyes. A clean-shaven square jaw. Dante wasn’t quite sure what he expected from a vamp with a deadly reputation. Maybe slick black hair, soulless eyes, a heartless spirit, scars? Certainly not this buff pretty boy who could easily pose on the cover of VampGirl.

Damn, compared to Ruan, Dante was almost . . . mild. Certainly not a word he would’ve used to describe himself before tonight. Bold, rough, and hotter than hell, maybe. Mild? Never. What a difference a few inches and twenty pounds of muscle made. Dante had to admit, though, that his short, spiky brown hair and golden eyes gave him a more menacing first impression than the Brad Pitt wannabe standing in front of him.

Only, to his credit, Ruan didn’t look like a wannabe anything. He held his own with an arrogant glare in his eye and a wide, kick-your-ass stance, yet still managed to give off an air of modesty. A paradox that Dante was sure earned the respect of those around him, wherever he went.

Ruan holstered his weapons, of which he seemed to have hundreds, and hung his vest on the side wall, then came back to each of the trainees and gave them a thorough explanation about what they’d done wrong and how to improve.

When he set his eyes on Dante, pressure squeezed his stomach tight. He’d given up, in Ruan’s eyes. Failed when he should’ve kept fighting.

Let’s get it over with already. Dante picked his chin up and waited for the bitch slap of a report card.

You, Ruan began, his voice a rumble of thunder. You surprised me.

In the wake of silence, Dante spoke up. Is that good or bad?

Ruan nodded. Good in theory, as I’m not surprised often, although I still managed to get the jump on you. I could sense your fear escalating with each shot fired on the other trainees. I knew that fear would cause you to do something irrational. When you stood up, it didn’t take but two seconds for me to slip into the dark and steal behind you. Next time you try to lure someone out like that, have someone on your side who’s waiting for your enemy to be brought out into the open. You always need to have someone watching your back, ready to make the kill shot.

From out of nowhere a shot fired. The trainees’ mouths dropped as their eyes scanned the darkness behind Ruan. When he turned to face the hidden foe who’d shot him in the back, Dante got a good look at the mark. Dead-center on Ruan’s spinal cord was a blue paint slug, splattered into a perfect starburst.

Fellas, Ruan chuckled. I’d like to introduce you to my life mate, Eve Monroe.

Ah, shit. What were the chances he’d run into her in a place like this?

The long barrel of a gun extended from a distant shadow on the far side of the warehouse, followed by a delicate hand and one blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman, Eve . . . his boss.

Damn, it had to be her, didn’t it? He couldn’t go anywhere lately without running into someone from his past. Now, it seemed, he was starting to run circles around his present crowd, too. Just his luck. Last semester Dante had taken a position as an assistant at Crimson Bay University. It wasn’t much, but it kept his mind busy—one of the things he needed to stay alive with his sanity intact. The other thing that kept his ticker kickin’—the reason he sought out Ruan and his training facility—was adrenaline. He never would have guessed Ruan and Eve would be a thing.

He kept his head low. He really didn’t feel like being asked a shitload of questions. Not now.

With a determined stride, Eve marched toward the group, wearing jeans and a Crimson Bay University hoodie like it was evening attire. In the classroom on CBU’s campus Dante had known her to be feminine, yet professional. In the warehouse, holding a paint ball gun, she was strong. Lethal, maybe, if the gun were real. How’d Ruan convince her to become involved in this? Dante wondered. Eve was a mundane—a human with no vampire blood. Wasn’t she worried about what a group of vamps might do to her? Wasn’t Ruan?

The closer she got to the group, the lower Dante shifted his gaze. He sank into the shadow of a nearby post and prayed to God she wouldn’t notice him.

Rubbing his back mockingly, one of the trainees snorted. If that’s what life mates will do to ya, I think I’ll fare better on my own, thank you very much.

Eve slid to Ruan’s side, a smug look of satisfaction on her face. So what were you saying about having someone watch your back at all times?

Ruan snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, right against the wide span of his chest. She fit well there, Dante realized, as she gazed up into Ruan’s eyes and gave him a loving squeeze.

The air in the room crackled from their intensity. It was as if they were in some distant place. Alone. Pulled to each other like complimentary magnets. Without three trainees staring at them in shocked silence.

All right, Ruan said, palming Eve’s hip and pulling her as close as she could be without jumping his bones. His knee shoved between her legs as he swung her in front of him. Lesson’s over, he said, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from the seductress in his grasp. Tonight we learned two valuable lessons. The first, that you can’t turn your back for a second. Not a single one. That may be all the time the enemy needs to hone in and take advantage of an already complicated situation. Second, women are evil, mischievous creatures who will do whatever they can to mess up perfectly good lessons.

Scrunching her face up, Eve pinched him in the side, then turned to bump him with her hip. He laughed and pinched her back, a low, protective growl coming from his chest.

Time to leave the love bats alone before he lost his O+ lunch.

Next time we meet at a public place, Ruan growled. Mirage night club, downtown San Francisco. Reconnaissance will be key. Same time.

Nodding, they filed out of the warehouse. Ruan closed and locked the door behind them.

Overall, failure or not, Dante’d had a great night. He’d felt the rush of adrenaline like he was in the heat of battle; all from an exercise in an outfitted industrial warehouse. Spikes of adrenaline warmed his core. And no one had ended up with a busted nose. Success all around.

He’d learned more in one night from Ruan than from countless hours studying the Vampire/Elder Protection Manual he received upon Induction into his new khiss.

More than that—he’d learned invaluable knowledge from the best.

How to track down and get into the mind of a ghost.

As he stuck the key into the door of his black 1969 Camaro, he gave the warehouse a sideways glance. He had a feeling whatever was going on inside the soundproof facility was about to get a hell of a lot more heated than an ambush with paint slugs and throwing knives.

Chapter Two

If God had meant vampires to run with mundanes, he would’ve given us cuter shoes instead of sharper teeth.

Elder Wives’ Tale

YOU COULD’VE GOTTEN hurt. Ruan locked the warehouse door and stalked back to Eve, circling his arms around her waist the second she was within reach. Pressed against him, he could feel the subtle, tantalizing curves of her body. Pick up on the hints of rose hips and jasmine in her shampoo. She was clean. Soft. Pure. Enough to drive a vamp sick with need. I thought I told you to stay in my office.

Is that what you call the room back there? Her thumb hitched over her shoulder. An office? Looks more like a dusty weapons locker to me.

She was partly right. Ruan didn’t spend much time in there other than stocking up for a night out—there was no point in keeping it up. The place was loaded with all the essentials: guns, knives, grenades, ammo belts, stakes, first aid kits. The usual. It was, however, where he paid his bills. And to his credit, the walls were full of dusty old volumes of Vampire Lore and Therian History books.

Okay, so maybe they were both right—an office on steroids.

Gripping Eve tighter, Ruan mirrored her, step by careful step, until he had her backed against a large support beam in the center of the room. She gasped when he thrust against her hips with a little too much enthusiasm. He would’ve been worried he hurt her, but her light eyes sparkled with desire.

You shouldn’t have come out while they were still here, my love. It wasn’t safe.

Her hands grazed up and down his back. He arched in approval as heat flooded his body. Looks to me like you were the one sporting the blue paint tonight. Didn’t think I could shoot, huh?

Nope, he lied. After being with her for four of the most tumultuous weeks of their lives, there was nothing he didn’t think she could do anymore. Not if the prey jumped up and bit that tight little ass of yours.

Then you shouldn’t have left me so long. I was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten about me. Her teasing pout pulled into a smile that made his heart shift awkwardly in his chest. Are you planning to finish what we started earlier or am I going to have to crawl into bed by myself again?

He hated leaving her at night, curled into the sheets of their bed. But he didn’t have much choice. Forcing himself to stay up during the day only meant he was apartment-bound. Not a lick of fun when the only thing showing on CrimsonTV late-day was Days of Our Eternities and Guiding Night. No, staying up at night was a must, although watching her sleep by herself was killer.

At least they had these few hours to be together. When the sun set, before she had to hit the hay for work in the morning. Someday, when he provided enough that she didn’t have to work, they could spend more time together. Night and day. For now their time was precious. Passionately, wildly, impulsively precious.

Cupping her face, Ruan kissed her square on the mouth, then drew back to take in the breathtaking features of her face. Her petite button nose begged to be kissed. Her unique eyes—the right hazel, the left muted blue—revealed more brilliance than priceless speckled jewels. Her silky blonde hair was sleek and straight, tied back into a ponytail. And her lips—those soft, pouty, irresistible lips—anywhere beyond two breaths away was too far from them. She felt so incredible in his arms. So perfect. How could she even think he’d forget her? You didn’t leave my mind for a second.

She smiled, a playful gleam in her eye. Then what are you waiting for?

He ran his fingers around the curve of her neck and dragged her mouth to his. Her lips parted for him; slipping inside, he twisted his tongue along hers, languidly first, then with more urgency, taking what she offered. Need scorched through his veins, depleting the blood flow from his brain, tunneling it straight south to his groin.

Hot, fevered strokes of her tongue sparked something deep within him. The primal need to take her, here and now, against this post, on the tattered wood floor, against the mounds of carpet padding. In the office . . . weapons room . . . whatever. Wherever.

Ruan popped open the fly of her jeans and slid them to the floor, her lace panties in tow. His mouth devoured hers. She whimpered into him when he pressed against her, palming her breasts over her clothes. He could sense her lust like it was his own. Desire rising until it choked her breath, weakening her knees. It was like throwing oil on a raging inferno.

She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

With a jerk, he hiked up her leg and wrapped it around his waist. He ran his hand the length of her smooth thigh, down, around, and underneath, the ache in his stomach clenching into a fist as he found her wet center. Good Lord, she was so wet. Hot. Scorching.

He needed to drown in her warmth before the animal part of him took complete control, forcing him to do something he’d regret. No matter how difficult it was, he needed to be careful. He couldn’t completely surrender to pleasure. He was on a slippery slope with Eve.

Like every other time they’d been intimate, the insatiable need to drink her blood triggered a chemical chain of events in his body. His fangs hummed, dropping into place. His veins throbbed in greedy anticipation. His mouth ached to suck at her vein, draining her dry, as much as his cock screamed to thrust inside her, filling her up.

The willpower to keep his fangs on lockdown diminished each blood-pumping second.

Unable to stop the heady progression, Ruan slid his finger inside her. He groaned, feeling her clenching around him. She breathed little sighs of pleasure with each gentle stroke, arching against the beam at her back.

He wanted more. Had to have more.

As he pulled back, open-mouthed, struggling for air, she took the opportunity to tug his shirt up and over his head. He tossed it to the floor and returned the favor with her sweatshirt. Near frantic, pulse through the roof, he wrestled out of his jeans, then dove into her mouth again, his hands griping the soft round of her bottom, her plump breasts, then palming the flat span of her stomach.

You’re hard as a rock, she sighed against him, sliding a hand down to his straining erection. Oh, God.

He moaned as her tiny hand stroked him. The pressure in his head was too great. The war inside him too loud. Take her. Plunge inside. Claim her. Drink her blood. Drain her dry. Keep her safe. Let go. Stay close. Stay back.

God, what was she doing to him? He had to taste some part of her or he’d burst.

Detaching from the sinful perfection of her mouth and the touch of her hand, Ruan lowered his head to her breasts; perfectly rounded mountains of pink flesh, begging to be sucked and pinched, licked and bit. He raked his fingers across her bottom. Dug into the soft flesh. Licked a slow, thick trail from the bottom of her breast to her nipple, then suckled it right into his mouth.

Eve tangled her fingers through his hair, taking in short, sharp breaths with every nip and mock bite. Ruan could hear the speed of her pulse, could see the fluttering of her vein on her jugular above him. More than that . . . he could feel the rush of hot blood through her veins.

He swallowed down the bloodlust spiking in his core, urging him to bite through her breast and suck the blood pulsing just beneath the pale sheath of her skin.

He rose up to meet her face. He’d always been able to stop himself from feeding by gazing into her heavenly eyes. No matter what, he wouldn’t . . . couldn’t . . . feed from her. It would put everything he stood for into jeopardy. Vampires didn’t hurt humans. They protected them. Cared for them.

And he was head over heels in love with Eve. Would do anything to save her from a vampire selfishly digging his fangs into her—even if they were his own.

Except when he met Eve’s eyes, the tender look he’d counted on was long gone. All that remained was liquid desire swirling in the depths of her dual-colored irises. Her complexion was pale. Her breathing jagged. She was close to losing control.

And in no way, shape, or form able to help him gain his.

Put your mouth on me, she breathed, her fingers roped in his hair.

It didn’t take two heartbeats for Ruan to grab her waist and lower her to the floor. He stretched her out before him and spread her legs wide. With little control left in his trembling body, Ruan drove his tongue into her. Her hips bucked. He laid a hand flat on her stomach, pressed her down, and swirled his tongue like a lust-driven madman on a feeding frenzy.

Licking up and down her center with cruelly wide strokes, Ruan gazed up the length of her body. Her legs were curved at his ears, her back arching high, her breasts rising up, her mouth gaping open.

Holy hell, he was about to lose it just from making her come.

As the first wave of her orgasm hit, she reared up. His tongue flittered in and out of her faster. Harder. Hotter. She screamed. Her racing pulse and the sudden rush of blood to her core made his eyesight double over.

He pulled back, his own climax a touch away, his fangs pulsing with exhilaration.

In a heartflicker, passion flamed to unbridled bloodlust.

For the second time in his life, the vampire in Ruan reigned, silencing the man within. Wild with hunger, Ruan rubbed the silken gloss from her pleasure onto her inner thigh. Sank his fangs into her wet meat. Took the hardest, most erotic draw of his life.

And for the second time in his life, he regretted it—the moment Eve howled in pain.

Chapter Three

Every vamp falls off the wagon . . . it’s whether or not we get back on that defines us.

Biting Back Against Our True Nature by Lara Vanquist

WOULD YOU SLOW down? Eve felt like a child being dragged to a time-out chair for a punishment that didn’t fit the crime. Ruan had her wrist grasped in his iron-claw hands, pulling her down the long hall to their apartment. It’s not that she didn’t want to get somewhere warm where she could get cleaned up—no one enjoyed being covered in cold, dried blood—she’d just rather do it at a normal pace. Not at the grueling half-run they’d just made from his Tahoe into the apartment building.

Once you get cleaned up, you’ll be fine, Ruan said, in some sort of trance. I knew I should’ve installed plumbing in that damn warehouse. I would’ve been able to wash you off and clean you up properly. Are you all right? Are you cold? Frantic, he glanced down at the blood stains on her bare legs. I drove here as fast as I could. You’ll be washed up in a minute. Just hold on, baby.

I told you, I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt. Eve closed the front flaps of the leather trench coat he’d draped around her shoulders. You’re making a bigger deal out of this than it is.

She loved wearing Ruan’s clothes, although not necessarily under these circumstances. She liked the feel of drowning in all the fabric. He was so much larger than she was. She could get lost in all the room. She loved the subtle undercurrents of the scent that had become him: husky and protective, spicy and all male. And there was something strangely erotic knowing she was naked underneath. Walking from his Tahoe, the cool winter breeze had floated beneath the coat, chilling her legs. It’d felt refreshing. Free.

Ruan hadn’t allowed her time to put her clothes back on after he bit her. He’d grabbed his coat, covered her up, scrambled to dress himself, and rushed her out of the warehouse like it was on fire.

Now, as they rounded the corner to their apartment, he was still rushing.

Would you calm down? You’re acting like a raving lunatic. She tugged her wrist out of his grasp. It’s just a little blood and you’re starting to hurt my wrist.

His gaze snapped to hers, surprise in his eyes, like he hadn’t realized his grip was too tight. Like he suddenly knew he’d be leaving finger marks in her skin, and felt remorse instantly. Emerald eyes blazing in the dim lights of the hall, Ruan dropped her hand.

He shoved the key into the lock and rammed the door open, then palmed the small of her back and guided her through. He kicked the door shut behind him and ushered her straight into the bathroom.

Feeling like she was caught in a stampede, pushed this way and that without actually being man-handled, Eve stopped in the dead center of their sizeable bathroom. She heeled off her shoes and kicked them under the counter, then stood as close to the sink as possible so she’d be out of his way. The tile floor was unnaturally cold on her feet, the air sweet with hints of the lavender candles she’d lit earlier lingering about.

Pulling back the black shower curtain, Ruan started the water. Bustled around her, mumbling about soap and disinfectant, and the poor water heater in the building. Checked the water temperature twice. Swept by to get a towel from the cherrywood cabinets behind her. Brushed past to reach for amber soap in a side drawer, then tossed it onto the gray marble countertop.

Meanwhile, she got a good look at herself in the lightly-steamed, gold-rimmed mirror.

Man, she really did look a fright.

Her hair was tugged out of its ponytail with fuzzy chunks of carpet padding smashed in everywhere. She had smudge marks on her neck from where Ruan had passionately crushed his lips to her skin and sucked a little too hard. She was sure those same possessive marks would cover her body and it didn’t bother her one bit. Her lips were swollen and pale from kissing. Her skin flushed red.

She felt great. Physically spent from mind-blowing sex in a carpet