|Fourth novel in the Sabrina Strong series|
due out in May 2014
About dang time...
--and I was thinking I need to give you all a preview, let you get to know the characters, or re-acquaint you with some of them. Because of the way I've written this book, you will get to see inside my main characters, Vasyl, Bill, Tremayne, and Rick, the leprechaun, plus a few more as well.
Today let us take a look at Bjorn Tremayne. You know, he's become a rogue? And his scrambling to keep whatever wealth he has left from being frozen by the new master of the realm. Well, let us just have a peek, shall we? Bjorn has just come back from his night of feeding. He's managed to talk/scare Sabrina into coming with him, in order to stay ahead of demons who are after her (she has a bounty on her head).
“So, you didn't answer me. How did your night go? Or do I want to know?” Rick said from his spot on the couch, feet on the coffee table. He turned down the volume of the television with the remote.
Bjorn shot a frown at the leprechaun's feet, then softened. This wasn't his place... Why should I give a fuck if Rick is comfortable?
“It was nearly a bust,” he said on a heavy sigh, running thick fingers through his hair. He paused near the kitchenette. Frustration from the need to feed and have sex with the woman he'd captured—but couldn't because all hell had let loose—had him wanting to rage on someone, and the only available person was the leprechaun. Could life suck more right now?
Brown eyes stared up at him. Leprechauns and vampires did not mix well. His decision to bring Rick along at all was because he was the only magical creature he could cajole and bribe to do what he needed. So far, things were going fine. He reminded himself it would take time.
Rick flicked off the TV. “Really? Why? What happened?”
Bjorn stared a few more seconds at him. Making up his mind to tell him, he walked over and settled into an arm chair. Leaning forward, fingers laced between his knees he said, “You ever hear of someone named Priscus?”
“No. What is that? A man or a woman?” Rick asked, frowning.
“A man. Or he looks to be a man, but what he is exactly, I don't know.”
“Wow. No kidding? But no, never heard of any one by that name.”
“How about an albino?”
“An albino?” Rick drew his feet off the coffee table and sat up with a concerned look on his face. His feet couldn't quite reach the floor and hung about four inches above the green carpet.
“Does that ring any bells?”
“What was he? Another vampire?”
“No. Not precisely. Not like me, anyway. He wanted to know if I was going to drain the woman I'd captured.”
“Why? Did he want to share?”
“No. Not in the way a vampire shares a meal. He said he was going to feed on her life force—I took it to mean her soul. He wanted to know if I was going to drain her so that he could feed on her soul.”
Bjorn rubbed the back of his neck, long blond hair falling down into his face until he tossed it back. “And then, when someone came along, he vanished.” He shook his head. “I've never met up with anything like him before. He moved faster than a vampire. Even I couldn't see when he moved from one position to the next. So, most of the time, he held very still, as though he wanted me to be able to see and speak to him.”
“You've never heard of such a thing?”
“No, but I can make some calls in the morning,” Rick said.
Bjorn nodded. “I'll take watch. You go and get some sleep. In the morning, you take Sabrina over to that restaurant and get some breakfast. I'll leave some cash for you for meals and buy something at the gift shop, if you want.”
“Alright.” Rick slowly slid off the couch. “You have some destination in mind? I mean we aren't just wandering nomads, are we?”
“I'm working on that,” Bjorn said. “I'll let you know. For now, just get some sleep. You're on duty all day tomorrow.”
“Right. Good night,” Rick said as he slipped off the couch. He made his way across the room.
Bjorn sat back in the chair, wondering where Nicolas was at the moment. In his own suite, he supposed, in his robe and either drinking Real Red, or had one of his paramours handy.
“Five of her very elite arrived today.”
“Five? All vampires?”
“Do we know them?”
“One of them is J.C. Durmont. The others are lesser in rank, but notoriously deadly.”
Bjorn's lips curled. JC Durmont was a heavy in his brother's select sentinel. A 215 year old vampire who was—had been—his brother's right hand man. He stood six-seven, looked like an ogre, and was built like an oak door—he was the same thickness from his huge feet to his huge head. One thick brow caterpillared across a heavy brow. What he lacked in intelligence he more than made up in brutish strength. Automatically, the memory of the one time he'd challenged JC to a sparring match to see what he was made of came to the forefront. The bastard had nearly killed him—he was enormously strong and had Tremayne pinned with his razor-like teeth embedded into his chest (for some reason the idiot like to bite the chest—which was the only thing that had saved Tremayne—his teeth would have sawed his head off if he'd bitten him in the neck), and Erik, who controlled JC, held off telling the ogre to stop, just to prolong his embarrassment, and teach him a “lesson” in who had the stronger sentinels. Tremayne had to cry uncle before Erik would call his dog off.
JC was Ilona's lap dog now. How the hell had this happened?
“This is not good news,” Bjorn said out loud.
“She is calling you an outlaw,” Nicolas added. “She's making it a public statement to the Powers that Be.”
“Well, fuck.” Tremayne shifted in his chair. To be labeled an outlaw meant that she had the right to legally—within vampire law—freeze his assets (those in the United States). He would have to act and fast.
“What is it you wish to do, Sire?”
Tremayne closed his eyes and breathed out, counting to ten. It helped to hold back the scream of rage he wanted to make. He didn't want to wake or alarm his companions. “You remain stationed as you are. I'm going ahead with plan A.” As he had been doing, and so far everything was going smoothly.
“Is she with you?”
“Yes. Of course.” Tremayne's brow flicked slightly at the way Nicolas had avoided using her name. So, Nicolas no longer brooded over the sibyl. Sabrina was now a “she” to him. Had he written her off that easily? I wonder. For Nicolas to become worked up about any female—human or vampire—was unusual. But then she was the sibyl. Nicolas had desired Sabrina to be his, before they knew what she was. Tremayne wanted Sabrina, and denied Nicolas to make any move on her. Once Tremayne learned she was the sibyl—well, only a master could rightfully claim her. The fact that Vasyl had swooped in before Tremayne was a big annoyance. So, he'd concocted a plan. So far the plan had worked. Getting Vasyl away from the house, using a distraction, had been his idea from the beginning. No need to involve anyone, except his minions who did his bidding.
“How did you get her away from him?” Nicolas asked, pulling Tremayne out of his thoughts.
“Sent in my sentinels.”
“All of them?”
“Of course. Vasyl is as strong as I.” He knew that a few of his minions had given their lives for him, which is part of a sentinel's job. It was enough of a distraction to hold Vasyl at bay, while Tremayne took Sabrina away. Three had perished—he'd gotten a text earlier about it—that left him with ten in his sentential. They had done their job.
A yawn escaped Bjorn, and he closed his cell phone. The drive had been tedious, and now these last minute details to take care of, trying to avoid being left penniless when Ilona worked toward a take-over because he was deemed a “rogue”, had drained him the rest of the way. A nap was long overdue.
Long steps took him into the hall. He paused, looking down the hall where his two humans bunked. Correction, one leprechaun, and one V.I.P. Was she was asleep? He closed his eyes, reached out and was able to ascertain she was into REM. Good. I came too close. Too damned close. He had to stay away from her—not touch her like that again. At least not yet. He had to keep telling himself her blood was off-limits, as much as he longed for it.
How he would do that, while sitting right next to her, as he drove eight-hundred miles, and not want her so badly he could go mad, was beyond him.
Well, you see what I mean? He's getting in a little deeper as he goes along. Sabrina's blood is something he can't keep his mind off of--well, that and having sex with her, something he has been wanting to address for a long, long while, and he thinks he's got a perfect plan. Do you wonder if he can have his way with her, and not kill her, this time? Not only that, he will have to out-wit the Mystic Ring, which can thwart most vampire thralls. Hmmmm....
Vampire Caprice will be out this month--we are crossing our fingers!