Sara Humphreys: Vampire Trouble

Fury shot up Shane’s back at the increasingly violent scene, and any restraint he felt shattered when he got a glimpse of the woman’s face. A pair of terrified and familiar lavender-blue eyes locked with his just before she was dragged into the alley. Maya.

Rage consumed him as Maya’s desperate pleas from one of the darkest corners of the city filled his head. Shane bellowed ferociously and flew out of the shadows toward the tortured cries for help. He tore ahead, expecting to find Maya with her attacker, but the tunnel of darkness seemed to go on forever.

Shane flew faster, extended his sonar-like senses in search of Maya and her whimpering calls, but all he found was a limitless void. The tunnel of darkness went on forever, with no end in sight. No sign of Maya, the city, or the bastard who attacked her. Nothing except screams in the dark.

Shane woke with a start and leaped from his bed with Maya’s name on his lips. Body tense, senses alert, and eyes wild, he stood motionless in the sparsely furnished but familiar bedroom, attempting to regain his bearings. He was no longer flying through darkness surrounded by Maya’s pain but standing alone in his studio apartment and very much awake.

Shane went to the bathroom and switched on the shower, waiting for it to become almost painfully hot. As he stood with his fingers under the steaming streams of water, anger flared at the memory of what he witnessed. Doug Paxton, Olivia’s mate and the other Czar of New York, had told Shane that Maya was brutalized on the last night of her human life, but nothing could have prepared Shane for what he saw in the dream. Knowing about it was one thing. Witnessing it and not being able to stop it—well, that was entirely another.

The empty glass bottle skittered across the mahogany bar and the beer, slick with condensation, slid easily into Maya’s hand. She winked at the handsome, young human male when he slapped down a twenty-dollar bill with black-painted fingernails and a cocky smirk. Maya made quick work of getting him a fresh drink while giving him the coquettish looks she knew he wanted.

Tonight’s boy toy was big, studly, arrogant, horny, and not the sharpest tool in the shed. Just the way she liked them. Maya tended to the two other customers at her end of the bar but didn’t miss the scolding look from Trixie, the other bartender.

Lay off, would ya? Trixie’s voice touched Maya’s mind with the familiar ease of a fellow coven member. Her coworker glanced over her shoulder and nodded toward Olivia, who was the head of their coven, their maker, and owner of the nightclub. Olivia was making her rounds before closing and like always, she kept one eye on Maya.

You know how much Olivia hates it when youmesswiththecustomers. Trixie’s voice, edged with irritation, filled Maya’s head.

Jeez, I’m not a child, Trixie . Maya’s voice touched Trixie’s mind with an exasperated sigh, and she rolled her eyes. Leave me alone and mind your own business.

Yeah? Then you leave him alone. Trixie kept their telepathic conversation moving while tending the three customers at the other end of the bar. Come on, girl. Olivia is gonna fucking flip out if you try to feed on this guy. No more live feeds from any customers at The Coven, remember? Like it or lump it. That’s the new rule, and it’s not that new. It’s been almost six months, so I don’t know why you’re looking to break it and catch a world of shit.

Yeah? Maya flipped her long, blond hair over a bare shoulder and shot Trixie a narrow-eyed look. Well, maybe I’m sick of the rules and having everyone in my business.

Maya slammed her mind shut, preventing any further communication, which clearly annoyed Trixie. She flipped Maya the bird with a ring-studded hand and shook her head disapprovingly. Maya was so aggravated, she wanted to fly over there and yank Trixie’s pink, spiked hair right out of her head. For a girl who looked like a punk-rock rebel, Trixie was sure stuck on following the rules—and unfortunately, even in the world of vampires, there were rules and limitations.

Can’t go in the sun or risk turning to dust.

No more sterling silver jewelry because it burns like a bitch.

No feeding on customers from the club.

Blah, blah, blah.

Maya was getting sick and tired of other vampires telling her what to do at every turn. It was starting to make her crazy. So what if she liked to play with human men? She fed on them and teased them a little. She took them right to the brink of sex and then denied them the one thing they wanted—but she never hurt them. Hell, after she glamoured them, they never even remembered being with her.

Like all live feeds, Maya absorbed blood memories of her prey, and every time it confirmed her suspicions about what kind of men they were. She had a knack for picking boys who liked to hurt girls, and their blood memories always proved what her gut instinct told her. Most of the men she fed on thrived on dominating women in and out of the bedroom.

In her experience, all men wanted sex and most were driven by lust and desire. The majority of the guys Maya toyed with had used violence at some point in their lives to get sexual gratification. Sex and sexual power were all they wanted, and Maya swore she would never give that to another man again.

Nor would she let anyone take it.

Maya didn’t want to kill these men or even hurt them. She simply wanted to know she had control and possessed power she’d never had as a human woman. None of the men she had dallied with had any real memories of their time with her, but Maya did—and it was the only thing that helped quiet the nightmares.

After Olivia turned Maya, she told her that within the first ten years of being changed, all vampires stop dreaming. Maya couldn’t wait for that particular part of being a vamp to kick in because she was still having dreams.

Well, not dreams exactly. They were more like nightmares.

She let out a short laugh and punched buttons on the touch screen of the register. Dreams? Far from it. The dreams she had as a human would have been a welcome respite from the dark, frightening memory that haunted her sleep more days than she cared to count.

Maya’s final mortal night, the last terrifying minutes before she died, replayed when she slept. No matter what she did, regardless of how much she begged and pleaded, her attacker didn’t stop. In fact, her cries seemed to excite him more. No one heard her screams for help or her whimpering pleas from the alley, at least not until it was too late.

That’s where Olivia had found her five years ago. Raped, beaten, and a heartbeat away from death in the alley behind the club. Left there like garbage by a man who treated her like less than nothing. He was like so many other men who passed through this club night after night, looking for a woman to use and abuse with no second thoughts, no remorse.

During the first few days after Maya was turned, she didn’t remember what had happened. In fact, most of her human life was a fuzzy blur. But about a week after she became a vamp, the nightmares started and horrifying terror came with them. She never felt safe, but more than anything else, she loathed feeling like a victim.

Before Maya moved into her own apartment beneath the club, she’d stayed in the guest room of Olivia’s place. Some nights Maya’s cries woke her maker and she would come running. Olivia would always ask Maya about the dream, but she’d pretend that she couldn’t remember and insist it was nothing.

To speak of it with anyone would only feed the fear. The only thing that helped ease Maya’s anxiety and gave her some semblance of control was to dominate the human boys who attempted to seduce her. Sometimes, it would even keep the nightmare away for a sleep or two, but eventually the dark memory always came back.