Heather Graham - Night of the Vampires

Praise for the novels of New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham writing as Shannon Drake

“Drake constructs a well-drawn plot and provides plenty

of sexual tension and romantic encounters as well

as exotic scenery.”

—Publishers Weekly on The Pirate Bride

“Bestselling author Drake…keeps Ally’s relationship

with her aunts and godparents playful, forming an

intriguing contrast with the grim progress of the murder

probe, while satisfying romantic progress and rising

suspense keep the book running on all cylinders.”

—Publishers Weekly on Beguiled

“Drake is an expert storyteller who keeps the reader

enthralled with a fast-paced story peopled with

wonderful characters.”

—RT Book Reviews on Reckless

“[Shannon Drake] captures readers’ hearts with her own

special brand of magic.”

—Affaire de Coeur on No Other Woman

“Bringing back the terrific heroes and heroines from

her previous titles, Drake gives The Awakening an extra-special touch. Her expert craftsmanship and true mastery of the eerie shine through!” —RT Book Reviews

“Well-researched and thoroughly entertaining”

—Publishers Weekly on Knight Triumphant

Heather Graham

www.millsandboon.co.uk

With lots of love and all best wishes to an extraordinary group

of up and coming authors—Jodine Turner, Tabitha Bird,

Karisa Hatfield, Autumn Dawson, Lynn Brown, Sharon Duncan,

and Leslie Bard. My “girls” from New Orleans!

THERE WAS JUST something about the man.

Kim knew it from the moment she first laid eyes on him.

It was just turning from summer to fall, and the day was beginning to die. Dust dazzled in the streaks of color that still formed the sky as the sun sank, while, already, the bountiful full moon was starting to peek out and rise into what would become a velvet and star-studded night.

He was the most unusual man. Even motionless, he compelled attention—she had simply known he was there the minute he had come to stand beneath the gnarled oaks. His stature was impressive, his very stillness somehow provocative.

There was a sadness about him, a melancholy, really, that drew Kim Forrester in despite the amazing bounty of handsome, wealthy and eligible bachelors in the room. He was tall—certainly a plus—extremely fine in physical appearance and with the requisite broad shoulders offsetting a lean waist. His hair was smooth and dark, his face clean shaven. He wore an elegant gray evening frock coat with a crimson brocade vest and a fine, matching stovepipe hat.

Something undeniable informed his movement. Sleek, like a great cat. Fluid, as if he were filled with confidence. This was strange, because Kim did not know him, and she knew most of the young bucks here, the sons of the most affluent men in the affluent community of exceptionally fine houses along the battery of Charleston, South Carolina.

“I do declare!” Marybelle Claiborne said, whisking her fan a thousand miles an hour. “That gentleman, why, he is just scrumptious! So darkly dangerous, mysterious, and—downright alluring!”

“He’s not from here,” Alice Payne said, sniffing, her nose in the air. “I’ve heard there’s something quite scandalous and horrible in his past!”

Alice Payne was known for her darling and elegant button nose. In Kim’s silent opinion, it gave her the appearance of a little piglet. Adorable, but a piglet all the same.

Kim forced a smile. She’d promised there would be no scenes here. In her mind, the balls were mindless endeavors where parents tried to sell off their daughters like chattel, hoping for the highest prices and the very best family alliances. Ah, and alas, so much for the pride of America, the people who would not bow down before kings! Here, there was a new king, and it didn’t even have a soul: cotton. Sugar, of course, was in the royal court, and land meant everything. It provided a palace for the king.

“So seductive, yes, and scandalous. Why? We don’t know, do we? And that’s part of what makes him scandalous! They say that he’s from Texas, that he’s wealthy beyond measure,” Julia Lee chimed in. She winked. “He’s given the other fellows a run for their money. I believe he’s come here with Lieutenant Weston, and I believe that the lieutenant befriended him at a cattle sale. Business has brought him to Charleston. And we are, of course, my darlings, known for our Southern hospitality! ” She rolled her large blue eyes.

As they watched the distant figure, Benton McTavish strode out to where the young ladies stood, sheltered by the leaves of a giant oak. He greeted them all with a swaggering bow and the tilt of his hat. “Afternoon, ladies. If you’re gathered here in number for fear of the newcomers amidst our group, let me assure you. We of your community—”

He meant social rank, Kim was certain!

“—will absolutely assure that no harm will come to the damsels of Charleston!”

Kim looked away, teeth gritting. Benton McTavish never lifted a finger to do an honest moment’s work. He rode to the hounds, drank brandy and smoked cigars and pretended to know about his father’s business. Proud as a peacock over his sexual prowess, it was rumored he had already sired several children with one of the beautiful young slaves on his father’s plantation. She wondered how the poor thing bore his attentions, but she knew as well that the woman had no choice. She hoped that at least she received lighter household duties in exchange for those she was forced to perform upon her back.

“Why, Benton, we’d never be afraid, not with big, strong fellows like you around,” Alice said, slipping her arm through his.

Kim turned around, pretending great interest in the golden color of an oak leaf, lest she look straight at Benton and gag.

“Shall we, ladies? A true pleasure to escort you all in! I do believe that our supper is about to be served.”

Kim hung back. She watched them go, wondering if, when they noticed that she wasn’t with them, they would then discuss her as freely and maliciously as they had the stranger. As hard as her mother might try—as successful as she’d been in seducing Kim’s very rich stepfather—Kim would never be among these elite. She was from the Caribbean, not Charleston, and her beauty seemed a curse, a cautionary tale about the seduction of good men, and nothing more.

It was thus that she was standing when the man came to her at last.

He smiled ruefully, and seemed to realize that she was here and yet far away, and among the crowd yet not of it.

“Miss, you seem at a loss. May I escort you in?”

His voice was rich, deep, cultured and bore an accent of the Deep South. The sound of it was like a sweep of honey into her bones. His eyes were darker than ebony and yet seemed to have a glow brighter than hell’s fire.

“Forgive me. My name is Fox. I’m here at the urging of a Lieutenant Weston. I don’t mean to be rude or impertinent in any way.”

Kim found herself smiling. Of course not—not with that accent. He had been born and bred to play the game .

Her smile faded, and she frowned. A chill, and then a rush of heat flashed through her.

Fear.

She knew .

She knew because of her mother. Her mother, who had been raised in the Caribbean, who had been the grandchild of—