Vampires Dead Ahead

273 Pages·2011·1.1 MB·English

by  McCray Cheyenne

Table of Contents

Title Page
PROLOGUE
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
WELCOME TO NEW YORK CITY’S UNDERWORLD
St. Martin’s Paperbacks Titles By CHEYENNE McCRAY
Praise for these other novels from New York Times bestselling author
CHEYENNE McCRAY
FOR CHEYENNE’S READERS
Copyright Page
To Mom, with love from your darling dotter.
’Tis now the very witching time of night,
When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world: now could I drink hot blood,
And do such bitter business as the day
Would quake to look on.
—Hamlet, William Shakespeare (1564–1616)
PROLOGUE

It was a night made for danger. A night made for passion.
A night made just for her.
The sports coupe hugged the street as Monique took the steep San Francisco
hill a little too fast. She loved to drive the silver Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG. It
was impossible to beat human technology despite the norms’ lack of magic.
Among the Light Elves, Monique was a being of great magic, but she still
enjoyed human innovations. Why simply use the transference when she could
enjoy the power of her vehicle, the sleek elegance of it.
Tonight she needed an outlet, and flying through nighttime traffic in this
fashion was one of her favorite ways to relax. What she had planned next was an
even more exciting way to let herself go.
It was a chilly January night, a trying night, and the Vampire tragedy she had
come upon in the Haight-Ashbury district had topped it off quite unpleasantly.
The Soothsayers still had the crime scene frozen until the Paranorm Task Force
cleaned up any paranormal aspects of the crime and wiped out the memories of
any human witnesses.
What a great asset to have when trying to keep the general population from
freaking out at some of the bizarre sights they saw when paranorms were
inhabiting the city with them. Humans would never understand. How could
they?
Monique had barely made it back to her home in time to change into a short,
strapless little red dress with a matching jacket that had a mandarin collar. She
added decadently high red heels. At her throat and on her ears, wrists, and
fingers were glittering diamonds and rubies mined, fashioned, and warded in the
belowground realm of the Dark Elves, in Otherworld.
Males of every race of beings loved her exotic looks. She’d let her long dark
curls float free around her face, hiding the delicate points of her ears.
Light Elves were generally apathetic when it came to norms and paranorms
alike. She and Rodán, however, were among the rare few who believed that their
people had a duty to protect those who could not protect themselves. And that
included all paranorms as well as norms.
The majority of U.S. Proctors left most of the dirty work to the Night
Trackers. Monique preferred hands-on leadership. That practice and the power
of her magic were two reasons she made such a good Proctor and why she was
chosen to lead all Peacekeepers in San Francisco. It is also why she had the
respect of the Trackers who worked under her.
Her cell phone purred through the speakers in her car. She glanced at the
navigation screen as the caller identification came up. She recognized the
number as Rodriguez’s.
“Answer,” she said out loud, and when she heard the soft click she said to her
lead Tracker, “Hi, Michael.”
“The cleanup on Haight is finished.” Rodriguez’s voice was deep and smooth,
like warm caramel, one of her favorite human treats. If she weren’t Rodriguez’s
Proctor, she’d have had the Shifter male in her bed already.
Monique pushed a handful of curls over her shoulder. “Anything else to
report?”
She heard the shrug in Rodriguez’s voice. “The usual. Harley and Jonathan
had to rein in a few rogue Werewolves.” Monique glanced up at the full moon as
he spoke. “Lee ended up with two of the beasts on her hands.”
Monique swung the car around a corner and reached the St. Francis Hotel in
Union Square. “Great job tonight, every one of you.”
Rodriguez gave a low laugh. “That’s what you always say, Mo.”
“Because I have the best Trackers a Proctor could hope for.” Monique smiled,
but it faded as she narrowed her brows in concentration. “Let everyone know
we’re meeting tomorrow night before you head out to track.”
“You’ve got it,” he said. “Sweet dreams, Mo.”
“I’d wish the same for you,” she said, “but I have a feeling you have other
things in mind.” Like she did. “Have fun.”
As Rodriguez ended the call, Monique turned the car into the parking garage
of the St. Francis and pulled up to the curb just outside the rear entrance. She
opened the sports car’s doors and slipped out her long legs while allowing the
attendant to assist her in stepping into the cold.
Being Elvin she was naturally protected from changes in temperature and
from the generally cool environment of San Francisco. She barely noticed the
chill night air as it brushed her skin.
She tipped the man before he valet-parked her car, then gave a slight
inclination of her head to the doorman as he held the glass door open for her.
A brief feeling of guilt made her hesitate when she reached the opulent hotel
lobby. How could she have such a fetish, to be with a Vampire?
Not a real Vampire, of course. She would never choose to be with an actual
Vampire, with any being so inherently evil as those creatures.
But the feeling it gave her to role-play … the feeling of danger and the
forbidden. Like a human with a drug addiction, she needed this. Wanted this.
Monique inhaled, raised her chin, and headed toward the bank of elevators.
Nothing wrong with fantasies that didn’t cross the line. She only enjoyed human
men dressed up like Vampires.
The males the agency set her up with regularly were so realistic, down to their
scent of dirt and age. It had to be a special cologne designed to make the whole
experience that much more intense and satisfying. Whatever it was, it added to
the incredible intoxication she felt from these connections.
Before she pressed the button for the elevator, she drew a heavy cream-
colored envelope out of her clutch. Inside the envelope was a keycard as well as
a piece of stationery inscribed with a room number. She didn’t really need to, but
she checked the paper again.
Every one of these nights she indulged in something different. Sometimes the
evening started at a hotel bar or maybe a coffee shop. At a seemingly chance
meeting, she would be approached and engaged in conversation. She loved the
natural, realistic cat-and-mouse game that ultimately ended in a luxurious hotel
room with her satisfying her lust.
Tonight was different. She was to go directly to a room. Would there be
instructions? Perhaps a “bellman” dropping by for assistance.
The last time she’d been in the St. Francis was some time ago, and she was
pleased to find that tonight’s room was in the original section of the hotel. She
loved the decor reminiscent of the hotel’s beginnings.
Who would it be? She gave a little shiver as she thought of the male who had
played Vampire to her last night. It was never the same male who she was set up
with, though. Too bad, because last night had been amazing, as she had told the
agency. It was so realistic down to the moment when he’d bitten her. She’d felt
like she’d been taken by a true Vampire.
Naughty Mo, she chided herself.
Elves were elegant, always moving with the fluid grace inherent to their race.
Her heels didn’t make a whisper of a sound as she stepped out of the elevator
and walked toward the suite that had been arranged for her. When she reached
the door, she smiled then slipped the keycard into its slot, heard the click, and
pushed open the door.
The room was dark save for candle flames flickering from every surface. The
suite had the heady, sweet smell of roses. Candlelight reflected off at least a
dozen vases filled with roses of every color imaginable.
She wasn’t Drow, of course—the Dark Elves who lived belowground—so her
vision wasn’t as acute in the darkness as theirs was. Still, she had little problem
taking in everything in the room with a glance.
Including the man standing in the shadows to her right. A man dressed in a
dark suit, his long black hair flowing over his shoulders but drawn away from
his face so that she saw the hard angles and planes of his pale features.
Her breath caught when her gaze met his, and she was immediately lost in the
depth of his glittering black eyes. It was the same man she’d been with last
night. That never happened because she always insisted on variety. She didn’t
know this male’s name and he didn’t know hers. It was the way she preferred it.
“I cannot say that I am not pleased it’s you,” she said as she set her red satin
clutch on the velvet cushion of a chair near the door. “I enjoyed last night very
much.”
The thrill of her first encounter with him caused a tingling low in her belly.
The night had started out in an exclusive club, with him approaching her as a
stranger might. It had ended beyond her expectations at the St. Regis Hotel.
The man smiled, and fangs flashed in the candlelight. So realistic.
“I am pleased as well.” He moved toward her as he spoke then took her hands
in his when he reached her. He dipped his head and kissed her cheek. “It is most
welcome to be in your company once again.”
He even sounded formal, as if he were as old as his scent. If he was a true
Vampire, he might have been a Master.
The male held her at arm’s length and studied her face, lingering at her brown
eyes. A little shiver ran through her as he slowly looked down, pausing at her
throat before continuing. He trailed his gaze over her firm breasts, the taper at
her waist, and down the length of her bare legs to her feet, which were still clad
in the high heels. Last night he had wanted her to leave on the stiletto shoes
she’d worn.
What would he want tonight? She knew what she wanted.
When his eyes met hers again, she swallowed. His gaze immediately dropped
to her throat again. She could almost feel his fangs sliding into the vein that
pulsed there now, throbbing for his attention.
“I’m going to take you someplace you will love.” His voice was husky as he
moved toward her, so close his chest brushed hers.
She tilted her head. “We’re not staying here?”
“I have something special planned for you.” He bent and scraped his fangs
down the column of her throat before letting them rest at the vein that pulsed,
begging for him. His voice was deep, mesmerizing. “Dare to go with me?”
Monique let out a soft moan. Her thoughts clouded with desire. “Yes.” Her
own voice sounded husky. “I’m ready.”

Monique peered at the house through the window of the male’s black BMW. He
had pulled into the driveway of an incredible Queen Anne Victorian home in
Pacific Heights, one of the oldest and most affluent parts of San Francisco.