and led her out of the room. “Sota, I thought I had to meet with my fans—what are
doing, man?”
“Change of plans. We"ll discuss it in the limo.”
“Well, what happened? Why are we rushing?” As aggravating as she knew it
was, she couldn"t stop asking questions. Something wasn"t right.
While trying to keep up with Sota"s rapid pace, Rayne turned and glanced
back at Carrie. The security men were leading her down the hall, in the opposite
direction.
Sudden anxiety slammed into her. “Wait, Carrie! Carrie!” But she was too
far away to hear her around the noise of the fans. “What the hell is going on, Sota?”
Rayne asked, consumed with distress.
“Uh, nothing to be concerned about. Paul called, gave the orders for you to
be out of the building at a certain time. That"s all.”
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He was lying. The furious twitching of his jaw muscles told her so.
Something had spazzed him out, probably the same something that had her guts
about to leap out of her stomach.
They moved swiftly through the back door of the building. The cool night
air kissed her face, but it wasn"t enough to calm the alarm in her heart.
“Uh-uh, you"re scaring me.” She jerked her arm out of his grasp.
He stopped, wiped his hand down his face and pushed out a hard breath.
“Rayne…”
She folded her arms under her breasts and pursed her lips. “We"re not taking
another step „til you tell me what"s going on. „Cause this all-of-sudden-running-
for-our-lives crap is scaring the piss out of me. Talk.”
A forced smile crossed his face. “I didn"t mean to scare you, baby girl.
Everything"s cool, okay. There"s just a little glitch in the plans. It happens
sometimes.”
“Huh? What sometimes you talking about Sota? You acting like this is
something we do on a regular basis. Naw man…” She shook her head and leered
toward the building. “This doesn"t feel right. And I don"t like to dip out on my fans
like this. You know that.”
He patted her shoulder. “Don"t worry, Paul"s got it all covered. They"re
getting autographed pictures, shirts, hats, DVD of your videos, your new album
45
before it hits the stores—all of the Rayne fan accessories and whatnot,” he
rambled off. “Believe me, they won"t be disappointed.”
She nibbled on the ball of her tongue ring and stared at him, trying to read
what was behind his phony display of calmness. “You"re hiding some—”
Halting her in midsentence, a scent sliced through the air like a hot knife
and stole her ability to speak. Her eyes stretched wide and her nostrils flared. An
aroma so sweet compelled her to tilt her face to the sky and deeply inhale. The
playful zephyr made it faint, but it was still there, teasing her.
“What"s that smell?” she murmured, advancing against her will. Spellbound,
she walked right into Sota"s massive frame.
He took hold of her shoulders and held her back. “Wha, what does it smell
like?” he asked, his tone anxious and hurried.
“It"s like, I don"t know,” she stammered without dropping her eyes from the
dark clouded sky. “Ooo, it"s like…” The fragrance swirled around her like
stimulating ribbons, cooing her body in an erotic play. “Wow.”
“Tell me, Rayne.”
Soon, the aroma faded and gave way to a new scent, one that made her sick
to her stomach. “Eww, what the—did you fart?” Covering her nose and mouth, she
scurried away from him. “That"s nasty, brah. You could"ve warned me. My mouth
was open.”
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“Noo,” he groaned.
She was prepared to call him a liar when he bristled. Before he glared up at
the sky, she could"ve sworn she saw his bright brown eyes cloud black. He took
hold of her arm and rushed her toward the limo.
“Time to go.”
Carrie slammed the door to her Honda, started the ignition and sped out of
the arena"s parking lot, leaving a cloud of smoke behind her. A voice within told
her to take her ass home, but she needed a drink, something strong, something to get
her mind off of Rayne.
At the same time, they were noticed in the music industry, but the hot shot
producer only wanted Rayne. Still to this day Carrie didn"t understand why. She
sang better than Rayne, even looked better than her, but that cockhead chose her
big ass just because she could write a few songs and do a few fancy dance moves.
What-the-fuck-eva.
Clenching her teeth, she accelerated and sped onto the highway. She turned
on the radio, and just as quickly turned it off when one of Rayne"s songs came
blaring from the speakers.
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She shot past a semi and slid onto the exit lane, heading to a club she used
to frequent when she"d visit her cousins in Miami.
Once in the club, the reggae rhythm spiraled through her body and made her
hips rock on their own accord. She pushed through the crowd, parched for the
drink she so desperately needed. Caught in the mass of writhing bodies, she found
an empty spot to occupy at the bar.
Sean Paul"s Jamaican slur took over the sound system and drew excited
squeals from a group of women, who ran out to join the crowd.
Hell yeah! That was her jam too, but she wasn"t about to break a sweat
without having a drink first.
She licked her lips, played with her hair, and watched the cute bartender
make his way down to her end. Without asking for her order, he set a Red Stripe
in front of her. Confused, she looked at him with a raised brow. He simply smiled
and pointed toward the other end of the bar where a guy sat in the corner, staring
at her.
Smiling, she nodded to the bartender, grabbed the beer and headed down to
the mysterious gentleman. This brother was gorgeous with his smooth, dark
chocolate tone and long, glossy dreads. A set of sexy lips curved up to greet her
and bold brown eyes scanned her frame from head to toe.
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“Thanks for the beer. It"s like you read my mind,” she purred in his ear,
rubbing her breasts across his muscled arm.
He stood and led her out to the dance floor. He drew her into his arms and
moved his hips against hers. The sexy reggae groove made her insides pulse.
Ecstasy consumed her when he slid one of his huge hands down to her
behind and squeezed. This man wasn"t playing games. He was out for a little
pleasure tonight and from the way he looked at her, he"d do it right here on the
dance floor if she"d let him.
Hm, she could deal with that.
Holding his unwavering eyes, Carrie grabbed onto his shoulder, leaned back
and ground her crotch against him, moving to the thump of the beat. His loud
groan sifted over the music. He pulled her thigh up to his waist, dipped down, and
rolled his pelvis back up. His beefy length brushed across her hardened clit
through her skin tight jeans. Uncontainable tremors shot through her core.
“Wanna go back to my place?” His unusually deep voice boomed in her ear
and rattled every nerve in her body.
Wit
hout a second thought, she nodded.
She didn"t remember getting into his car, nor leaving the club. It seemed like
no time had passed when they walked through the front door of his place.
49
Before she could gather her wits for what was about to go down, he
slammed the door, pushed her against it and started ripping at her clothes. Her
blouse was quickly discarded and her bra torn completely off.
She stiffened. His aggressiveness was scary. The lust she felt back at the
club vanished. Now, all she wanted to do was get away from him, but couldn"t
move an inch because his hard body had her pinned.
Growling like an animal, his mouth attacked her dark nipple. He sucked
hard, too hard. He sucked on her so damn hard; she thought he would suck the
skin right off of her breast. She cried out, and with all of her strength shoved him
back. She pressed her hand to her aching mound and scurried away from him.
“That hurt goddammit!” she exclaimed.
Carrie peered down at her breast and gasped at the sight. Spots of blood
dotted the torn skin of her areola. Shocked, she looked up at him just in time to
witness a devious grin twist his lips.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
His smiled widened as blood dripping fangs lowered from his mouth. The
pupils of his eyes turned bright green. A thunderous roar leaped from his chest.
In fear, she dashed toward the door.
A huge hand grabbed her arm and the other closed around her neck.
“Highness, why would you run from me?”
50
A foul scent seeped from his skin. Her eyes watered. She tried to scream, but
her throat burned on the attempt.
Smoky, leathery wings sprouted out behind him, and then something
pierced her gut. The color red melted over her eyes.
“You will give me your blood, Dragon Queen!”
51
Chapter Two
The Demon Slayer
Father Shannon slapped the newspaper on his desk in the church"s study,
rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and rubbed his temples. There was no
calming his troubled nerves, no soothing balm for the sadness that strained his
heart, and no hope for the women who had gone missing.
Sister Agnes eased into the study, a carafe in hand. “The numbers are rising,”
she informed as she filled his glass with water. “And they have no leads.” Distress
lined her round face.
He retrieved the glass and took a long sip to wet his dry mouth. Yes, he was
very aware of the rising numbers. Deep in his gut he knew there was no chance of
them being found alive. They hadn"t been kidnapped by a gang of psychotic men
and held prisoner against their will. No, these women were being murdered, in the
most horrific way possible. The smell of the victim"s blood lingering in the air told
him so.
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Sighing heavily, he clutched the thick silver cross around his neck and
glanced at Sister Agnes, who stared at him from across the desk, as if waiting on
him to reveal the terrible truth.
“I have a feeling this is going to get worse, Father.”
Indeed it would. “We must have faith,” was all he could utter to ease her
worried mind.
Briefly closing his eyes, he inhaled. A familiar scent assaulted his senses.
Fresh blood had been spilled. He shot up from the chair, grabbed his keys and
headed for the door.
The clacking of Sister Agnes"s foot falls echoed through the corridor as she
trotted behind him. “Father, where are you going at this late hour?”
Dipping his head, he stopped and turned to face her. “I"m going to go see a
friend. Hopefully, he"ll have some additional information on the disappearances.”
He spun on his heel and made his way through the congregation hall.
“But, but why Father? What can you do with this information? You"re not a
policeman. You"re just a priest.”
Just a priest. He paused at the double doors. “You are correct sister. I can"t do
much, but in my heart, I believe he can.” He unlocked the doors and pulled one
open. “Secure the door behind me please.”
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Father Shannon eyed his surroundings as he made his way to his car. Once
settled behind the wheel, he took in a deep breath and said a silent prayer he
would agree to meet with him on such short notice.
“I need to speak with you in person. This is urgent.”
His knuckles became white nubs as he gripped the steering wheel tightly
and waited. After about ten minutes without a response, he pushed out a hard
breath, and prepared to exit the car when he felt the light tap on his psyche.
Oh, thank you Lord!
Relief flooded him when his mysterious voice entered his mind. “Meet me at
the mansion. I will prepare for your arrival.”
It was a two hour drive from the church to the mansion, a journey he hoped
wouldn"t be in vain. His vestment brushed along the cobblestone walkway as he
approached the entrance. Right when he reached out to knock, the maid opened
the door. He looked down at the short Latin woman and offered her a pleasant
smile.
“Ah, Padre Shannon, it"s good to see you again. Follow me. Señor Bithanos is
waiting for you in the great room.”
Her small feet treaded speedily across the glossy cream and gold tiles. He
had to take extra long strides to keep up with her rapid pace. As they made their
54
way through the impressive abode, he tried not to be distracted by the rows of
large granite columns, spiraled in colors of deep red and gold, reaching toward the
high vaulted ceiling. Nor was he able to resist a peek at the finely dated treasures
displayed in glass cases, accenting the wide corridor.
The owner of the estate had exquisite taste.
Once they arrived at the set of Mahogany stained double doors, she pushed
them open and pointed toward two large, reddish-brown Victorian arm chairs
facing the fireplace.
He bowed politely and entered the extravagant room. Subconsciously, he
eyed the lavish furnishings and museum quality paintings. The hum of Mozart
flowed through the air accentuating the 18th century styled space with a classical
flair.
He eased over to one of the chairs and took a seat. Clasping his hands
together, he said a silent prayer and waited for the host to arrive. After a few
moments, a fire blazed to life inside the wide hearth.
“It"s been a long time, Father Shannon.” The deep, baritone voice flowed
with the melody of the symphony drifting from the unseen speakers.
“Yes it has, Demetri.” He turned his attention to the empty chair.
55
A pair of mysterious turquoise eyes appeared first, hovering in the air like
two small light bulbs. Slowly, Demetri materialized, absorbing particles out of the
air, forming from dust right before his eyes.
As usual, Demetri was dressed to suit himself; a navy blue, pin-striped three
piece suit, a gold button down shirt and a pair of sparkling cufflinks. Poised like a
true gentleman, his long, jet black mane fell over his shoulders.
A glass of deep crimson liquid in hand, he smiled, flashing a glimpse of fang.
“Would you li
ke a glass of wine, Father?” Without waiting for an answer, he
snapped his fingers. “Chateau Lafite Bordeaux 1787.”
A glass appeared before him and wavered in the air. Pleased to accept,
Father Shannon retrieved the glass and took a sip of the intensely bold liquid, aged
to perfection. “You know why I"m here.”
“Yes, I do.” Demetri placed his glass on the small cherry wood table next to
the chair. “But you are not to rush. Drink your wine. Gather your thoughts. And
then, we shall talk.”
Father Shannon nodded, and fell silent for a long moment, allowing the
classical music to wash over him. It was interesting how a soothing tune could
calm the most troubled mind. All doubts and uncertainties drained from his
thoughts, until he glanced over at Demetri.
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The creature sat patiently watching him, his skin flushed and a spark of
something perilous dancing in his unnatural eyes. Blood lust.
“Have you fed tonight?”
With a quirked brow, Demetri chuckled. “Why ask a question when you
already know the answer, priest?”
Yes, that was a stupid question to ask a vampire and he felt a bit ridiculous
for doing so, but he had his reasons for asking.
In all the years of knowing Demetri, he"d found this particular vampire
didn"t need to feed every night. Because of his age, he could go for months without
indulging in human or animal blood, but then again, his hunger was unlike the rest
of his kind. Evil, sinful blood sated his appetite.
Nevertheless, it didn"t matter the intent. Whether the victim was evil or not,
a kill was still a kill.
“You know, humans can always redeem themselves. God created them that
way. They were given free will to make mistakes, learn from them, and then seek a
life of righteousness.” His voice rose and fell, giving depth to the meaning of his
words. “Give them the chance to choose, Demetri. You have the power to do this.
Then once the choice is given to them, they can be drawn from the darkness and
set on the glorious road to walk the path of God.”
57
A slow smile spread across Demetri"s face. “And it is your job to get them on