Michele Hauf - The Vampire's Fall

Zen’s mouth landed on Blade’s with graceful precision.

He grabbed her arms to push her away. Not expecting a kiss, he’d been blindsided. And when he wanted to shove her off and march out of the room, he suddenly relaxed his grip on her arms and leaned into the kiss.

And then he leaned in a little more.

He pulled her closer, sliding a hand up her back to keep her there. Her mouth fit his like no other woman’s had. She felt … not so much right, but rather as if she’d found something and did not want to again lose it. A missing piece to her puzzle? Despite being unable to remember things about herself, she’d certainly not lost the skill of delivering a kiss.

Blade moaned deep in his throat and then opened her mouth with his and slid his tongue inside her heated kiss. She felt impossibly exquisite. She smelled like honey and her body was warm and supple against his. A sweet thing.

And that was the kicker. Her scent did not allude to her identity. What was she? And worse, could whatever she was be bad for him?

MICHELE HAUFhas been writing romance, action-adventure and fantasy stories for more than twenty years. France, musketeers, vampires and faeries feature in her stories. And if she followed the adage “write what you know,” all her stories would have snow in them. Fortunately, she steps beyond her comfort zone and writes about countries and creatures she has never seen. Find her on Facebook, Twitter and at michelehauf.com. You can also write to her at PO Box 23, Anoka, MN 55303, USA.

The Vampire’s Fall

Michele Hauf

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Cover

Introduction Zen’s mouth landed on Blade’s with graceful precision. He grabbed her arms to push her away. Not expecting a kiss, he’d been blindsided. And when he wanted to shove her off and march out of the room, he suddenly relaxed his grip on her arms and leaned into the kiss. And then he leaned in a little more. He pulled her closer, sliding a hand up her back to keep her there. Her mouth fit his like no other woman’s had. She felt … not so much right, but rather as if she’d found something and did not want to again lose it. A missing piece to her puzzle? Despite being unable to remember things about herself, she’d certainly not lost the skill of delivering a kiss. Blade moaned deep in his throat and then opened her mouth with his and slid his tongue inside her heated kiss. She felt impossibly exquisite. She smelled like honey and her body was warm and supple against his. A sweet thing. And that was the kicker. Her scent did not allude to her identity. What was she? And worse, could whatever she was be bad for him?

About the Author MICHELE HAUF has been writing romance, action-adventure and fantasy stories for more than twenty years. France, musketeers, vampires and faeries feature in her stories. And if she followed the adage “write what you know,” all her stories would have snow in them. Fortunately, she steps beyond her comfort zone and writes about countries and creatures she has never seen. Find her on Facebook, Twitter and at michelehauf.com . You can also write to her at PO Box 23, Anoka, MN 55303, USA.

Title Page The Vampire’s Fall Michele Hauf www.millsandboon.co.uk

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

It wasn’t often Blade Saint-Pierre walked through the Darkwood without a purpose—or a weapon. Tonight he’d craved the exhilaration of awareness that always accompanied such a venture. Instincts on alert and every muscle in his body strung tightly, he closed his wings against his back as, barefoot, he strode toward the clearing that opened to a mossy bed edging a stream.

A dark forest of no return, the massive acreage edged his property. The Darkwood was a no-man’s-land that was principally Faery, but as well, a place for all breeds to congregate. It provided respite for those who could not walk amongst humans. A wayside stop for those paranormals traveling this realm that wished to take a breath before meeting the challenge of humans.

No humans dared enter the forest, for rumors told it was haunted and that the former residents of Blade’s property—the original 1910 mansion had been razed—had killed themselves after hearing voices tell them to cut out their hearts.

Great rumor, Blade thought. It helped him maintain his privacy. It wasn’t at all true. But it worked for him. Though he respected the boundaries of the Darkwood and only entered it with a certain reverence and much caution. Even then, he only stayed so long as his comfort level allowed.

Rumors told that people went into the Darkwood and they never came out. Deer, squirrels and wildlife? They didn’t exist within the dark thickness of evil that formed the murky wood.

Blade smirked as a squirrel scampered past him, its goal, the stream. And at that reminder that all was not as it seemed—or was rumored to be—he let down his shoulders and knelt on a mossy stone, pressing his fingers into the thick, verdant frosting. For the moment, he connected with it all. The grass, stones and trees. All creatures small and large whose heartbeats he could sense. The atoms that formed his body were the same atoms that formed nature, the very air, earth and flora.

How blessed was he?

You are alive. You have survived. Move on, yes?

He was trying.

While principally considered vampire, Blade had also his mother’s faery genetics coursing within his system. His black wings were not so faery-like, and the leathery edges were serrated and sharp, as if demonic. He didn’t mention his faery side to others. It was his dark beast, which craved unnatural tastes, such as demon blood, that others knew about—if they knew at all.

Blade honored all of nature’s creatures, including those breeds considered monsters by humans who would believe in myth. And yet, he hated demons. That a part of him looked similar to the creatures disturbed him. His wings shamed him and defined him as different. And different amongst the varied species was not always a saving grace.

Such a difference had attracted cruelty to his life.

He’d kept to himself over the past year. To the point that his brothers and sister had begun to call him a hermit. The quiet one.

He’d always been quiet. More in tune with nature than with what was going on with the human realm. The cruelty that his difference had attracted? He’d suffered torture a year ago. And following that, he had hidden away. Not wanting to show his face, his scars, to anyone. Not wanting to put himself out in a world that could attack at any moment.

For if attacked, he would retaliate.

He didn’t wish to harm others. Unless it was necessary.

He’d almost mastered the hermit role until last month when an old man filling his rusty 1970s Ford at the gas station had asked him if he’d any carpentry skills. Reluctantly, Blade had nodded and stepped outside his self-imposed prison of comfort. He’d been helping the elderly with small projects in and about their homes for a couple weeks now, and...it did feel good.

Life was beginning to look up.