About the Book
I've pretended to be human for a century. Surely the next month shouldn’t be a problem?
Reign Tryst is a vampire, and like most vampires who are of a certain age, ahem, give or take a century, he’s grown bored. Restless.
He’s been there, seen it all, and little excites him anymore.
Except… the very off-limits, very human young assistant he hires to curate his personal library, Tressa Porter. Long-dormant feelings he hasn’t felt in ages spring to life. How very curious.
He’s never needed anything like the sudden and demanding need he has to taste her.
Reign has a life-or-death decision to make—deny his instincts and send her away, or satisfy his cravings, and hope he doesn’t destroy the one thing he holds most precious of all.
Chapter 1
Reign
“You’re pouting…” My brother, Alastair, studies me over the rim of a glass of whiskey. “…Again.”
I suppress the urge to end him, but only barely. “I say this with all due love and respect, but kindly screw off, would you?”
Alastair rolls his eyes at my attempt at mockery. “I know what will cheer you up,” he says, fighting off a wolfish grin.
Instinctually, I know that whatever is on his mind will not, in fact, cheer me up, but I humor him nonetheless, because Alastair is my younger brother, and I love him. The jackass.
“What’s that?”
“A visit to the local establishment.” His mouth curls into full-fledged smile, and his blue eyes sparkle with amusement.
“I’m not going to that whorehouse again.” With an annoyed sigh, I rub at my temples. A headache is forming, which is weird, because I’m not even sure that vampires can get headaches. Yet here we are.
“The term whorehouse is so… 1850.” Alastair hesitates, swirling the liquid around his glass. “And you need to get out more. Partake in some female company. Slake your thirst once in a while. This isn’t healthy, you know.”
Bored, restless, and all kinds of annoyed, I rise to my feet and cross the room to gaze out the second-story window which looks down on rows and rows of tidy hedges that are beginning to wilt a little around the edges in the hot summer sun.
I like being home. I value privacy and silence, and I’m not nearly as destitute as my brother likes to think. I have any number of friends who will come over if I only call. At least, I think I do. It has been a while since I’ve been in contact with any of them. I wonder where my cell phone is. Probably in a drawer somewhere. Surely dead again. I can’t seem to get the hang of charging it. Or using it. Hundred-year-old habits die hard, it seems.
Ever since my hundred and fiftieth birthday last year I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about my life, and what I am doing with it. All of my talents are of the bloodsucking and bedroom variety. What knowledge or virtue I’ve contributed to society, I can’t tell you.
“Come on, Reign. Don’t you ever want to get out of this dusty old mansion and go out hunting for something lively?”
Hunting? I consider for a moment that maybe he’s right. That maybe some recessed part of me misses it. But instead of longing, I find only indifference.
Releasing a long sigh, I run my fingertips along the spines of the stack of books that have yet to be reshelved in my library.
“Is there a point to this conversation, Alastair?”
Knocking back the final sip of whiskey in his glass, he meets my eyes. “My point is, a man cannot survive on solitude alone. Where is your passion? Your fire? Your lust for life? You can’t keep yourself locked up in your dungeon all the time like a big, bad monster.”
My mountaintop estate is hardly a dungeon. I’ve tried it all, living in the city. All the lights, all the people coming and going. The energy of it. It is nice, until it isn’t.
Then, I retreat to the country, the solitude and peace... now I regularly alternate between the two, which is a necessity moving every few years, so the people around me don’t become suspicious that I never age, though now that vampirism is out in the mainstream, the need for that has diminished.
“I’m going to take a nap,” I announce on my way out of the library. Basically, I expend an excessive amount of energy babysitting my brother, making sure he doesn’t kill anyone. It’s not exactly a walk in the park.
Mrs. Potts is supposed to have hired an assistant to curate my personal library. I wonder what happened to that plan, or if she’s having trouble finding qualified applicants. I make a mental note to ask her about this later as Alastair follows me down the hall.
At the door to my private master wing, I pause, and turn to face Alastair. The fluffy duvet and inviting linens of my dark bedroom are calling my name, and I’m done with his inquisition for today.
“I appreciate your concern, but I promise I’m okay.”
His bright, blue eyes meet my own, and he slowly shakes his head. “You might think you’re okay, but I know you better than you know yourself. You’re bored. You need something new. Fresh meat,” he emphasizes with a jaunty wink.
“Goodbye, Alastair,” I say in a bored tone. Mrs. Potts appears in the hallway as I watch Alastair descend the stairs. “Have fun at the whorehouse,” I call out.
Alastair’s retreating form stiffens before haltingly continuing, even though Mrs. Potts won’t bat an eyelash. She’s heard much worse leave my lips during the past eight years she’s worked for me. But I know my brother, and he likes to maintain the presence of a gentlemanly façade, so I take satisfaction in knowing I’ve just blown that façade to shit. Call me cynical.
But I’m tired. Exhausted, really. Living a lie for the past century and a half will do that to a man, I suppose. Well, I’m not a man. Yes, I have all the man parts in all the atomically correct man-places, but technically, I’m a lot more than a mere man. Superhuman strength, speed, and power, along with an insatiable lust for human blood….
Yes, I’m a vampire, but in the last dozen years the v-word has lost its luster. Ever since one boisterous and vocal group of teenagers start protesting against the mistreatment of vampires, a frenzy seems to have caught on. In cities all around the country, people are joining in on the movement.
The sentiment has spread to Canada, Australia, Germany, and others. Turn on the news on any given evening, and the humane treatment of vampires is sure to be a segment.
Accepting vampires into society and out of the dark shadows in which we previously have lurked is becoming a thing.
I’m still not sure how I feel about that.
I like shadows.
I like darkness.
I like my drafty mansion and the privacy it affords me.
And despite what my brother thinks, I like sinking my fangs into the occasional consenting human to satisfy my dark cravings. I just don’t need to visit a whorehouse to do it.
Finally, I turn to Mrs. Potts who’s been waiting patiently for me to finish with my brother. “Whatever it is, it’s going to have to wait. I’m tired.” I pull the cotton sweater off over my head and drop it into the laundry basket in her arms. “I’m going to nap.”
She gives her head a shake, and her neatly trimmed gray hair swings back and forth. “Not right now you’re not. Miss Porter is here.”