A Vampire's Gift Read online

  A Vampire's Gift

  ML Guida

  Buffalo Mountain Press

  Copyright © 2018 by ML Guida

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Character Tidbits

  A Vampire’s Vow

  About the Author

  Also by ML Guida

  Prologue

  Ireland 1641

  Hot, blazing, fire devoured Eleanor Byrne’s sweet home. Black and white smoke billowed into the midnight sky and blocked out the silver moon. The thatched roof collapsed, bringing down her mother’s beloved brick fireplace.

  Sizzling sparks landed on Eleanor’s arm. Pain burned into her flesh. Tears blurred her eyes and rolled down her bruised cheeks. Sweat drenched her as if she was melting into butter.

  She couldn’t move.

  She was dying.

  She inhaled a metallic smell––blood. Her blood. Her family’s blood.

  Her mother, father, and twin brothers were only a few feet from her, lying side-by-side on the frosted grass. Their lifeless eyes stared into the flames. Dirt and blood were smeared on their faces and the wind blew their dark hair. Her brothers had only been ten years old.

  Their terrified screams still echoed in her head.

  She choked on the fumes. She couldn’t breathe. Pain throbbed in her chest and between her legs. Five men had taken turns with her.

  Making her poor father watch.

  He’d pleaded for them to stop, but they’d only laughed.

  She closed her eyes.

  God, please let me die.

  Heavy footsteps crunched on the ground. Her heart stilled. More tears trickled down her cheeks.

  They’re back––Emmet Carver and his perverted gang.

  Eleanor held her breath, waiting for more pain, more humiliation, more horror.

  A presence hovered over her.

  “No.” Blood sprayed from her lips. Her voice was barely a whisper, and it was all she could muster.

  “Easy, lass.” A husky male voice made her tremble. Another Sassenach, but unlike Emmet Carver’s, his was smooth and glossy like a lazy river.

  She tried to talk, but only the sound she made was her teeth chattering.

  He knelt. “Shhhh, I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She shivered uncontrollably.

  He removed his long coat, casting it over her. The glow of the fire flickered on his face.

  She frowned. He wasn’t one of Emmet’s men. She had never seen him before and would have remembered someone so handsome. He had high cheekbones, a straight nose, and a strong square chin. Long black hair graced his broad shoulders.

  He brushed her hair back. His dark brown eyes held her gaze. “Who did this to you?”

  She licked her dry lips. “Emmet, Emmet Carver.” Her tone was frostier and crueler than the winds screaming over the cliffs of Moher.

  “I’m sorry.” He lowered his head. “’Tis because of me this happened.”

  “Why?” Her voice was a strangled gasp.

  He kissed her sweating forehead. “Your father was protecting me.”

  His lips sent warmth flowing through her.

  “I donna…donna understand.” With his broad shoulders and muscular arms, the man didn’t look as if he needed protecting.

  He reached out his hand.

  She sucked in gulps of air. Her heart quivered violently.

  “I promise I won’t hurt you.” He put his hand close to her nose, and she inhaled leather and horse. He furrowed his brows. “You are near death.” He pushed hair out of her hot face, and his touch was gentle and kind. “I can offer you a chance to repay Emmet for what he has done to you, your family, and your home. Or you can die in peace and join your family in the next realm while Emmet lives, the choice is yours.”

  Hate burned on the back of her throat. “How?” A coughing fit gripped her, and she spewed blood. Her vision clouded, and she fought harder and harder to breathe.

  “My name is Janus Morano, and I am a vampire.”

  A vampire? Had she descended into hell for failing to defend her virtue?

  “Will you accept my gift?”

  Behind him, her father’s clenched hand lay unmoving on the grass. Her mother’s hair flew across her face––her battered and bruised face unrecognizable.

  But it was her brother’s terrified eyes and mutilated bodies that sent hate churning in her gut.

  Something grew inside her. Something that sent her heart racing. Something that spelled vengeance.

  “I want revenge.” Eleanor stared into his glowing red eyes. The power of uttering those words flushed strength through her veins to live…

  Chapter 1

  Summer Present Day, Frisco, Colorado

  Eleanor Byrne ran down the deserted street. Pain throbbed in her arm, and blood dripped down her sleeve. Her heart threatened to squeeze through her ribs.

  She couldn’t believe the damn vampire killer had nicked her with his blade, coated with hallowed mud. She hadn’t seen a Templar blade like that since Ireland. Not ever since Emmet Carver murdered her family. Luckily, she had built a resistance over the years against hallowed mud, but it wasn’t enough against a Templar blade. Her muscles tightened, and her vision blurred. The street and buildings went in and out of focus.

  Donna pass out.

  She glanced over her shoulder. The chubby killer hurried after her, taking two strides at a time compared to her small ones. Death reflected in his green eyes.

  She drew on her vampire speed, but it was pointless. She panted loudly, her breath echoing in her ears. Her wobbly legs could barely move and her feet dragged as if sinking into a snowbank. Any minute he’d overtake her.

  Gogogogogogo

  Her heart beat harder. Terror thumped between her temples. Nausea gripped her stomach.

  She needed blood. Lots of blood.

  She glanced over her shoulder.

  He was gaining.

  Only three blocks away. Two blocks away. One block away.

  The blade in his hand glittered.

  Fear crawled up her throat.

  She turned and slammed into a brick wall and stumbled. Strong hands gripped her and kept her from falling down.

  Panic filled her and she struggled, kicking her feet. “Let me go.”

  “Easy beautiful. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She stopped panting and struggling, and stared into the darkest midnight blue eyes she’d ever seen. He lifted her to her feet.

  A shirtless man clasped her arm firmly, but gently. “Hey, are you all right?” His long dark hair flared over his massive shoulders.

  “No… Please…please…help me.”

  He followed her gaze.

  Her pursuer was only a few feet away. For a heavy-set boy, he was tall, but shorter than her rescuer. He waved his arm. “Get away from her. She’s a vampire.”

  The handsome man shoved her behind him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Her pursuer slowed down, bu
t he never took his green eyes off Eleanor. “I know it sounds crazy.” He pointed right at her. “But it’s the truth. She’s going to rip your throat out.”

  Puh-lease. She hadn’t ripped anyone’s throat except for Emmet Carver. He’d deserved it for what he’d done to her and her family.

  “Are you hallucinating?”

  Eleanor peeked behind the man’s broad back.

  “She’s a killer.” Her would-be murderer reached for her. “Look, she’s almost dead.”

  Eleanor put her hand on the man’s back to steady herself, but her legs refused to obey. She swayed and fell onto her hands and knees, the tips of her fingernails dragging down the man’s flesh.

  “Let me finish her––”

  Suddenly, her rescuer punched the young would-be vampire killer in the face, lifting him off the ground. He was sprawled out on the pavement. Blood dripped down his nose.

  She stared at the blood. The hunger consumed her. Her fangs lengthened and she licked her lips. Running footsteps distracted her. A group of men headed straight from them, yelling.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Jayden, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine, Desmond. Justin, have your bouncers call the cops.”

  “Sure. Is she okay?”

  Eleanor couldn’t make out who was saying what. The men surrounded her. All she saw were a pair of athletic shoes, a pair of black cowboy boots, and a pair of loafers.

  “You’re safe now, sweetheart.” The handsome man lifted her into his arms.

  She leaned her head against his chest. He smelled fresh––pine with a hint of lemon and sage.

  But it was the smell of his blood that made her shake with hunger. He was slick with sweat. She wanted to lick him, then sink her teeth into his flesh, but she clamped her mouth shut.

  He carried her into a nearby bar. Beer and sweat clung in the air. “What’s your name?”

  “Eleanor. Eleanor Byrne.” Her voice was strained as she battled not to give into her instincts.

  He set her down in a bright light bathroom.

  She winced and closed her eyes.

  He examined her bleeding arm gently and frowned. “It doesn’t look deep, but you probably need to go to the hospital and have it stitched.” He grabbed some paper towels and wet them. “I’m Jayden Kye.”

  She squinted through the blaring light. She sucked in her breath. Jayden was movie-star handsome. Men hadn’t turned her head for centuries, but he did. Dark eyelashes emphasized those deep-set eyes. His shadow beard reminded her of a pirate.

  “I’m fine.” A definite lie, but she couldn’t tell him the truth. Her skin was overstretched and her veins thinned as if every drop of moisture was being sucked out of her. The Templar blade and the hallowed mud were slowly turning her into a skeleton. She was dying.

  “Yeah, sure you will.” He dabbed her wound with the paper towels. “This isn’t going to stop the bleeding.” His voice was so gentle, so calming.

  But he was so close, too close. His heart was pounding, sending blood roaring through his veins. She could smell it.

  A jolt of hunger shot through her, knotting her gut, and drying out her throat.

  Self-preservation took over. She pulled on the last of her remaining strength and drew on her vampire’s magnetism.

  “I don’t what…”

  She touched his hand. His voice trailed off. Tingles swept through her. His beautiful eyes turned dull.

  She hated doing this to Jayden, but she was draining fast. Janus had taught her to put her victims into a trance, take what she needed, and then erase their memories.

  Jayden dropped to his knees, and the paper towels slowly fell out of his hand. Drool rolled down the corner of his mouth. Eleanor lowered her head, unable to look into his eyes.

  She pushed his hair back from his neck with her shaking hand. The hunger pumped through her like a runaway train. Dreading what she was about to do, she tilted her head back, then sunk her fangs deep into his flesh. His blood was hot, savory, and spicy. His salty skin made her want to lick every inch of him.

  But she wasn’t greedy.

  She sucked hard and grabbed his thick shoulders, digging her nails into his flesh. Their hearts beat as one. Strength flowed through her. The anguish gripping her slowly diminished.

  She licked his hot neck and rested her forehead on his. “I’m sorry.” Her low voice was heavy with guilt. Jayden had protected her from the wanna-be vampire killer and how did she repay him? By stealing his blood.

  Voices and footsteps echoed down the hall. She had to get out of here.

  She didn’t know why, but she kissed him. He was frozen and didn’t respond. She was surprised at her disappointment. What was she thinking? Seduction was out of the question. Ever since that horrible night, men hadn’t been on her radar. She hadn’t even been with a man for over fifty years. Hadn’t even wanted to kiss a man.

  Until now.

  She glanced at her arm. The bleeding had stopped. Human blood was a fast healer. But she needed more.

  “Good-bye hero.” She gave him another kiss, wanting to savor his spicy taste. “Thank you for saving my life.”

  Jayden stared straight ahead, lost in a trance. She had no idea why she was thanking him, since he couldn’t hear her, nor would he remember her.

  But she’d remember him.

  Well, maybe she’d take one more thing from him. She couldn’t resist and licked his chest. Oh, God, he tasted like salty caramel.

  The voices were louder. Men were right outside the door. She stood up fast. Her heart was beating fiercely, blood storming through her veins.

  “Desmond, where did your nephew get that Irish blade?”

  No, it couldn’t be.

  “It’s a family Carver heirloom. Been in the family for years.”

  Eleanor shook uncontrollably. The boy chasing her had been related to Emmet Carver. The nightmare gripped her and the room spun around her. Dirty hands were on her, scratching her. Foul breath brushing against her skin.

  She put her hands over her ears as if to block out the memory.

  The doorknob turned.

  Chills raced down her back.

  “We’re close to finding where the vampire bitch lives.”

  “Keep your damn nephew on a leash.”

  The door opened. Using vampire speed, Eleanor flashed out of the bathroom, her shoes barely touching the floor. Terror made her faster than she ever had been before. Her heart was in her throat.

  One of the men had a dreaded tattoo on his shaved head—a dagger stabbing an opened mouth skull with long incisors. The mark of a vampire killer.

  Chapter 2

  Few weeks before Christmas, Frisco, CO

  Jayden had two things on his mind––Eleanor and his brother. Eleanor had turned his head. He’d hunted for her, but couldn’t find anything on the net about her. He gritted his teeth. Maybe she’d given him a false name. The woman definitely had secrets.

  But she wasn’t the one haunting him. He stared at his glass of wine. “It’s my fault he’s dead.” He drained the glass and slammed it onto the wooden table.

  “Be careful, that was your grandmother’s.” His mother, Lucy Kye, examined the crystal with a critical eye. “And you’re wrong, Jayden. It’s not your fault.” Her voice was weary as if she were tired of this argument.

  But who could blame her? She hadn’t been the same since Jacob had died. She had dark circles under her green eyes and her cheeks had lost their rosiness. Her attire now consisted of sweats and tennis shoes instead of slacks and pressed shirts. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed. He wished he could turn back the calendar and stop his brother from fracturing their mother’s heart.

  “Saying that doesn’t mean it’s true.” Jayden’s voice slurred. He could feel the eyes of his father’s portrait on the back of his head. He shivered.

  His mother raised her eyebrow. “How many glasses have you had?”

  “Not nearly enough.” He
was tired of living here, tired of bearing her pain, tired of burying his.

  “Jayden, you’ve got to quit blaming yourself.” Usually she straightened her curly strawberry blond hair but lately she let it dry as it wanted. Waves of unruly curls stuck out everywhere as if she were a flower child from the nineteen sixties. She shoved a loose strand behind her ear. “Jacob was always headstrong.”

  “We are both headstrong––or I should say were.” His voice faded.

  Stubbornness and arrogance had run deep with him and Jacob. They were cut from the same gene. Twins. Neither would bend. Neither would admit when they were wrong. Neither would think of consequences before they acted.

  And right after New Year’s, it took a turn for the worse.

  He grabbed the bottle of wine and refilled his goblet. His mother gave him a-you-better-stop-drinking glare. He didn’t care. He wished his mother had something stronger, but this was his parents’ cabin in Frisco, not his, and they only stocked wine.

  His mother fiddled with her sweater, which she always did when she was nervous. “Jacob should have listened to you. If he had, he might not have died.”

  “If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t be rotting in a grave four weeks before Christmas.” His voice came out louder than he wanted, and the drunken words stuck in his closed throat.

  Her face blanched. His gut twisted into tiny knots. Why did he keep doing this to her? Sometimes he resented her so much, but he couldn’t figure out why. He had to get out of here before he did or said something stupid.

  He staggered to the closet. The hallway churned in circles. He closed his eyes and put his hand on the wall to steady himself. He sucked in deep breaths, then opened his eyes. His fuzzy brain had enough wits for him to snatch his jacket and gloves.