Dark Wine at Dawn (A Hill Vampire

Novel Book 9) Jenna Barwin

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Contents

1. Copyright and Disclaimer

2. About Dark Wine at Dawn
3. Join Jenna Barwin's VIP Readers
4. 1. The Challenge
5. 2. Anger Management
6. 3. Reconciliation
7. 4. His Choice
8. 5. New Job Complications
9. 6. The Offer
10. 7. Plans Change
11. 8. Dead Bodies Seem to Follow Her
12. 9. Confidential
13. 10. The Ex-Boyfriend
14. 11. Divided Loyalties
15. 12. Unwelcomed Interruptions
16. 13. Still Not Ready
17. 14. Impossible Accusations
18. 15. Unwarranted Interrogation
19. 16. Vengeance
20. 17. Quick Switch
21. 18. New Directions
22. 19. Resigned to the Inevitable
23. 20. Good News, Bad News
24. 21. Lead, Follow, or Shut Up
25. 22. Hope
26. 23. A Gift
27. 24. Trepidation
28. 25. Third Time’s the Charm
29. 26. Mortal Demands
30. 27. Immortal Demands
31. 28. Holding the Line
32. 29. Twisted Tales
33. 30. We’re Through
34. 31. Letting Go
35. 32. Unwelcomed Sleep
36. 33. Killer Instincts
37. 34. What a Headache
38. 35. Horrorfest Videoconference
39. 36. Winging It
40. 37. Digging Deeper
41. 38. Retreat
42. 39. The Hunt
43. 40. Don’t Lose Him
44. 41. Oops
45. 42. Moonset
46. 43. The Chase is On
47. 44. He Who Helps Himself
48. 45. Turning the Tables
49. 46. Dealing the Cards
50. 47. Betrayal…Maybe
51. 48. Laid Bare
52. 49. Hunger
53. 50. Reunited
54. 51. Cutting a Deal
55. 52. Against Common Sense
56. 53. Life or Death
57. 54. The Gambit
58. 55. No Means No
59. 56. Consequences
60. 57. The Truth
61. 58. More Unpleasant Surprises
62. 59. Frying Pan
63. 60. Into the Fire
64. 61. Roasting
65. 62. On the Carving Board
66. 63. Clear Your Desk
67. 64. Wake Up and Smell the Coffee
68. 65. Surprise Visitors
69. 66. Vacation, Finally
70. Also by Jenna Barwin
71. Acknowledgments and Dedications
Dark Wine at Dawn by Jenna Barwin

Copyright © 2023 Jenna Barwin. All rights reserved.

This book or any portion of it may not be reproduced in any form or by any means, or used
in any manner whatsoever, without the express written permission of the publisher or
author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, public entities, products, places,
events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a
fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, public
entities, locales, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks,
product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective
owners, and are used only for reference. Opinions of the characters are not necessarily
those of the author.

Printed in the United States of America

First printing & ebook edition, 2023

Hidden Depths Publishing

Dana Point, California
www.hiddendepthspublishing.com

Cover design: Covers by Christian (Christian Bentulan)

Images used under license from Stock.adobe.com and Shutterstock.com and Jacob Lund
Photography ApS
Cover art is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted in the cover is a model or
artist’s creation.

Editing team: Katrina Diaz-Arnold, Refine Editing, LLC; Trenda K. Lundin, It’s Your Story
Content Editing; Arran McNicol, Editing 720.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023906564

eBook ISBN 978-1-952755-11-8

Print 978-1-952755-12-5

1) Paranormal Romance 2) Urban Fantasy Romance 3) Vampire Romance 4) Vampire

Mystery 5) Vampire Suspense 6) Paranormal Romantic Suspense 7) Romantic Fantasy

V1.0
 About Dark Wine at Dawn
How many ways can a Christmas vacation go wrong?
On their first vacation together, Henry and Cerissa travel to the
New York so Henry may renew the vampire bond with his maker,
Anne-Louise—he has no choice in the matter—but after the bond’s
renewed, he plans to spend two weeks playing tourist with Cerissa.
But when Anne-Louise offers him a way to escape the maker-child
bond forever, what she demands in exchange for his release is
beyond the pale, and it turns Henry and Cerissa’s much-needed
vacation into a battleground.
To make matters worse, mortals start popping up dead—and
staying that way. Based on circumstantial evidence, the security
chief for the New York vampires arrests both Henry and Anne-Louise
for conspiracy to murder.
Cerissa must move into overdrive and use her skills analyzing
vampire DNA to prove Henry’s innocence. Because if she doesn’t
succeed before dawn arrives, this trip to New York may be his last.
 Praise for Dark Wine at Dawn
“Immortal shenanigans at their finest! What a ride!”
~InD’tale Magazine
“A tantalizing murder/mystery with a vampirish slant. Everything is
there that readers of vampire novels love. It’s sexy, it’s exciting, and
it’s unpredictable.”
~The Wishing Shelf
“Dark Wine at Dawn hurls WOW moments across its pages like the
whale that unexpectedly breaches beside your boat, nearly throwing
you overboard. I actually shrieked out loud twice.”
~Shari Bonin-Pratt’s Ink Flare
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Chapter 1
The Challenge
NEW YORK COLLECTIVE—EARLY DECEMBER

Snow fell gently, blanketing the balcony on the tenth floor of the
mid-Manhattan high-rise, the late dusk sky obscured with clouds, the
magenta fading to deep grays. From the living room couch, Cerissa
Patel watched a blue jay land on the balcony rail and steal the last
peanut she’d left out for the birds.
Instead of staring at the skyline, she could be reading, watching
television, or doing just about anything other than obsessing over
what was happening twelve floors above her.
But her mind wouldn’t cooperate, so she sipped on her glass of
Cabernet and stared out the balcony’s floor-to-ceiling window,
focused on the hodgepodge view of skyscrapers pressed close
together—some shorter ones made of old tawny bricks, some taller
ones of glass and steel, with the Empire State Building and its art
deco style and iconic spire in the distance. All the buildings were lit
up against the night sky.
Despite the stately view, her mind immediately shot back to the
problem worrying her: Why hasn’t Henry returned?
For this trip, she and her fiancé shared the richly appointed one-
bedroom apartment. The elegant lodgings, part of the guest floor at
the New York Collective, were courtesy of Anne-Louise. Cerissa took
another sip of wine and tried to relax while she waited for Henry to
finish his visit with his maker.
So far, he’d been gone longer than he should have been.
Although Enrique Bautista Vasquez—Henry to his close friends—
was over two hundred years old, Anne-Louise refused to let the
blood bond between them die and insisted on biting him multiple
times a year to keep the maker-child connection alive.
To limit the interruptions her demands made on their life together,
Henry and Cerissa had cut a deal with her. In exchange for only
taking his blood twice annually, Henry would build a house on his
property in California, so when Anne-Louise visited Sierra Escondida,
she could lodge there.
 Until construction on the new dwelling finished, Henry preferred to
travel to New York to see his maker. Cerissa had joined him for this
trip, having planned events for a fun two-week vacation. Now, she
waited for him to return from Anne-Louise’s second feeding of the
calendar year, so they could finally begin their exploration of the city
together.
Despite the relaxing evening view and the promise of a fun
vacation, irritation rode her. Obsessing over the situation wasn’t
helping. She did her best to accept the fact Anne-Louise wouldn’t let
go. But the longer she waited, the more her worry grew. Her
growling stomach, hungry for dinner, didn’t help either.
The front door flew open. “Esa puta! Ahora todo se va a la
mierda.”
Startled, Cerissa jumped to her feet and set the half-drunk
wineglass on the coffee table, almost toppling it. Henry calling his
maker a whore, and complaining that it was all going to shit,
whatever “it” was, couldn’t be good. “Quique—”
His already expanded pupils blew wider, turning his normally
bourbon-brown beauties almost solid black. “I will not spend a
minute longer in the Collective’s building. We are leaving. Pack.
Now.”
To say Henry and Anne-Louise didn’t always get along was an
understatement, but this was far more anger on his part than
Cerissa had seen before.
Her bestie, Karen, had warned her that joining Henry while he
visited his maker might be a bad idea. But she’d wanted to see New
York at Christmas. The city was so beautiful, so magical, so
exhilarating all lit up and decorated for the holiday. So, she’d
embarked on the cross-country trip with her eyes wide open.
That didn’t mean she’d tolerate being Henry’s whipping girl.
“Wait a minute. You don’t give orders, remember?” She eyed him
in his dark charcoal wool suit, the stark white dress shirt unbuttoned
at the top, his long ebony hair tied back—and fang marks absent
from his bare, sensual throat. “What happened?”
“Anne-Louise went too far this time. Please, pack.”
 That answer wasn’t satisfactory at all. His vague reply failed to
explain the sudden change in plans. “Did you at least renew the
blood bond?”
He shook his head vigorously, and his ponytail whipped with the
motion. “No. It doesn’t matter. I refuse to spend one more night
here. Not as her guest.”
Damn. “If we leave now, when will you renew the bond? You were
supposed to get the bite done tonight, so we don’t have to see her
again until next year.”
“I will figure it out later.” He marched into the bedroom, tossed his
suitcase onto the bed, and started taking his clothes from the closet.
She shivered. The Alatus Lux crystal embedded in Henry’s wrist
connected their emotions as sensations, and his anger chilled her.
She followed and touched his arm to regain his attention, hoping
the contact would calm him without using her aura. “We can’t leave
—we need some place to stay for tonight. It’s four weeks before
Christmas. Everything’s booked. But if you can find us a hotel to
move to, I’ll pack and go with you. But until you have a solid plan,
I’m not packing.”
“We have no need of a hotel. Only a plane.”
“It’s too late in the evening for you to fly us to California and
arrive before dawn—”
“On the contrary. My plane is being made ready as we speak. If
we leave now for La Guardia airport, we will reach Sierra Escondida
before sunrise.”
She inhaled a breath. He’d dressed in the handsome suit so they
could go out together as soon as he returned. “But I haven’t had
dinner. I was waiting for you to return, for your company. And… I
wanted to see New York at Christmas—all the lights and ice skating.
We even took lessons so we could skate together.”
“We can skate another time.”
“Henry, I scheduled two weeks off work to be here with you.
Think about this. Talk to me. Besides, you can’t pilot the plane when
you’re this angry. It’s not safe.”
He growled angrily. Growled.
 He’d never growled at her before. In her presence, maybe, but not
at her.
Accompanying the growl, he glowered, his expression turning
darker.
That was it. She refused to stay there one minute longer. After
grabbing her coat, purse, and the cute little mink-colored fake-fur
hat Karen had talked her into buying, she marched to the front door.
In a whoosh, Henry blocked her from reaching her objective. He
pointed at the bedroom door. “You aren’t leaving. Go pack.”
“No. You can come with me to Katie O’Leary’s restaurant, and we
can talk, or you can wait here while I go out for dinner. I’ll be back
in two hours.”
He growled again.
She felt like thumping his chest and saying, “Bad dog,” but didn’t.
Instead, she looked him in the eyes and said, “Stop that right now.”
In response, he leaned against the front door, arms crossed,
gripping his biceps and tapping one finger.
“Henry, you’re being childish.”
“I am not being childish. I’m your mate. You should honor my
wishes in this.”
“Clearly, Anne-Louise got under your skin and you’re reacting. I
won’t honor wishes you haven’t fully explained to me. Now come
with me, and we can discuss whatever is bothering you over dinner,
or wait here alone—but either way, quit blocking the door.”
He didn’t move.
She refused to stay and pander to his mood. Brushing her sleeve
back, she opened her watch crystal, tapped the face, and flashed to
the hallway outside the apartment. Using Lux technology was a
calculated risk, but the odds were small that anyone would notice
her sudden appearance in the hallway.
In a few steps, she arrived at the elevator and stabbed the call
button, punching the down arrow multiple times for good measure,
then ordered a taxi pickup on her phone. This close to Grand Central
Station, she wouldn’t wait long.
The rapid heartbeat, tight throat, and sweaty palms, which always
occurred when adrenaline flooded her system, finally slowed,
relaxed, and dried as she rode the elevator. Then it hit her: her Lux
supervisors would see the fight. The contact lenses she wore
recorded everything—except certain personal moments, such as
making love to Henry—but she could do nothing to stop the Lux
from viewing the domestic dispute, as much as she hated the
violation of her privacy.
By the time she reached the curb, the taxi waited for her, and she
slid into the back seat, again doubting the wisdom of joining Henry
on this trip. Perhaps Karen had been correct. But she would think
clearer after she ate.
The light snow would have made the street magical, with the
sparkling white lights in the parkway trees, except Henry had taken
a lovely night and turned it into a battlefield.
Why? Why wouldn’t he discuss what angered him?
Getting out of the cab in front of the famous Katie O’Leary’s
restaurant, she pushed those thoughts aside. She’d earlier reserved
a table for two, and the maître d’ agreed to seat her by the big
picture window that ran the width of the restaurant, even though
her companion was running “late.” It was a weeknight, and there
were plenty of open tables.
The waitress greeted her right away. “May I bring you anything
while you’re waiting?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to order. I don’t know when he’ll join
me.”
Or if he would at all.
The waitress angled her stylus, prepared to take down the details
on the electronic pad. For an appetizer, Cerissa ordered their best
scotch and a bowl of steamed clams, then for dinner, added a
swordfish steak pan-fried in lemon butter and capers, along with
rosemary potatoes, to be accompanied by a glass of the house
Sauvignon Blanc.
After the waitress left, Cerissa propped her phone against the
white ceramic caddy that held packets of sugar, opened the e-book
app, and read, not caring if anyone found her activity strange. She
would calm down, enjoy her meal, and be ready to talk with Henry
when she returned.
 The scotch arrived, as did the clams and a freshly baked
sourdough loaf. She tore off a piece, dipped it into the clam broth,
and moaned when she bit through the hard crust soaked in broth.
She then used the little seafood fork to pry loose the clam meat and
enjoy the well-spiced shellfish.
Soon, the tension in her chest unwound, and she hadn’t even
sipped the scotch yet.
During her three months engaged to Henry, she’d learned not to
tie herself to his moods. She could choose to be happy even when
he was being his demanding, broody self.
Sometimes all it required was a little space and a good meal.
Except—she couldn’t shake the lingering worries as they hovered
in the back of her mind, distracting her from the smutty novel she
read.
He wouldn’t leave New York without her, would he?
No. Absolutely not. He loved her and would never, ever abandon
her.
More importantly, what had Anne-Louise done to upset Henry?
Cerissa took another bite, pondering the matter and nodding to
herself. She couldn’t imagine what new mischief his maker had
created to stir his anger so much. Yes, indeed, that was the better
question. What had Anne-Louise done?
And Cerissa wouldn’t hold back asking him when they reunited.
Chapter 2
Anger Management
COLLECTIVE APARTMENT #1010—SHORTLY AFTER CERISSA’S DEPARTURE

Henry clenched his fists, then released them. The rage bubbling
through his chest meant following Cerissa risked disaster. For the
same reason, she was right. It was unwise to get behind the
controls of a plane in his current mood, as much as he hated
admitting the truth. And he refused to abandon Cerissa in New York
—he loved her too deeply to leave the city without her.
So they’d have to talk this through before he could convince her to
terminate their vacation, which meant joining her for dinner. But he
had to settle himself enough to speak civilly about Anne-Louise’s
latest unreasonable demand.
Resigned to staying one more night, he grabbed his coat and
cane, then dashed out the door and to the elevator. As part of his
two-week vacation, he’d planned on visiting Saint Patrick’s Cathedral.
He checked the church’s schedule on his phone, hoping luck was
with him.
It was. The church offered confession between three and nine
p.m., accommodating those who worked—or slept—during the day.
As he walked, he sent a message to the general aviation service
canceling the plane for tonight. Minutes later, he arrived at the
church. He stood outside, reflecting on the beautiful gothic-style
building, the spires like fairy lace covered in snowflakes, and peace
touched his soul, chasing away the rage from earlier.
He’d lived in New York when they began constructing the
cathedral, but work halted when the Civil War started, and he left
New York around the same time, so he wasn’t there to see the
structure finished in 1878.
Still, he enjoyed visiting the old building, one of the few existing
from the period when he’d called New York home. Back then, he’d
made his living as a restaurateur and chef. Enrique’s Restaurant,
which he’d christened after his given name, had specialized in
cuisine from his birthplace: Veracruz, Mexico.
 Striding inside Saint Pat’s, Henry slid a generous donation into the
tithe box slot, then took a pew, knelt, and made his heart ready.
When he stood to enter the confessional line—which had grown
longer while he prayed—he tried to set aside his irritation over the
wait, and realized he had one more sin to confess. Tapping on his
phone’s notepad, he reluctantly added the sin of impatience to his
confession list.
He inhaled a deep breath and let the peace of the room fill him
again. Beautiful poinsettias bordered the steps on both sides of the
carpet leading to the altar, and hanging lights illuminated the
stained-glass windows.
The line moved forward again, and a carved wood door swung
out. His turn. He stepped into the open booth. According to the
name placard, Father Pearson would hear his confession. “Bless me,
father, for I have sinned. It has been seven days since my last
confession. These are my sins.” He glanced at the list on his phone.
“I allowed my righteous anger at someone else affect my
relationship with my fiancée.”
The priest chuckled. “Righteous?”
“My ma—er, I mean, my ex-wife made a demand that was
outrageous, impossible.”
“And your fiancée—how did you express your anger at her?”
“I yelled and demanded she immediately leave New York with
me.”
“You did not strike her?”
“No. Never.”
“And you did not call her names?”
“No—I wouldn’t. But I was quite demanding and persistent, and I
raised my voice at her.”
“I understand. Continue your confession, please.”
“Impatience at waiting in line.” Some of the sins unique to being a
vampire couldn’t be explicitly confessed to a mortal, although he’d
practiced other ways to frame them. “Thoughts of gluttony that I did
not act upon.”
He then named a few lesser sins.
 The priest offered him suggestions for dealing with anger,
insightful ideas—reminding him of the advice he’d received from
Father Matt back home—and gave him a penance of five Hail Mary
prayers.
He made an act of contrition, thanked the father for his time, and
exited the booth. Performing penance immediately had been
ingrained in him, so he stopped in a pew to say the prayer
repetitions, then strode through the vestibule and out into the night.
Having made himself right with God and gained control of his rage
once again, he had more amends to make.
Chapter 3
Reconciliation
KATIE O’LEARY’S RESTAURANT—AROUND THE SAME TIME

The swordfish and the wine arrived. Yum. Cerissa continued

reading as she ate, and the growing sense of calm seeped into her
bones as she distracted herself with someone else’s fictional
problems.
A short time later, an itchy feeling caused her to retreat from the
book, like she was being watched. A ping through the crystal told
her Henry lurked nearby.
Glancing up from her phone, she found him standing on the other
side of the picture window. He had forgotten his hat, and light
snowflakes stuck to his long hair. Stray strands from his ponytail
hung to his shoulders. At least he’d remembered to wear his coat
and gloves.
She had bought the Inverness wool coat for him as a joke, since a
soap opera vampire of a bygone era had made the classic English
style memorable. But Henry liked the Inverness and wore the
protection against cold so he’d blend in with mortals—he couldn’t
walk around without a coat in the middle of a snowy winter’s night.
He stood there, back straight, holding the brass knob of his black
beechwood cane with both hands, staring at her. The cane wasn’t a
stylistic choice, nor did he need its support while he walked. The
hollow beechwood concealed a silver dagger, which he could
withdraw by gripping the brass knob and twisting, so he didn’t touch
the silver. The hidden knife was illegal, but the police rarely bothered
a gentleman such as himself.
She suspected he had a small Beretta in his back holster, ignoring
New York’s strict gun laws. He never went unarmed when out alone.
Then again, he served as a reserve police officer. Did his reserve
status provide an exception to the rule?
She made eye contact but couldn’t read his mood. He’d blocked
the crystal other than to tell her he was nearby. She motioned to the
seat across from her and tilted her head in invitation.
 He gave a lone nod and entered the restaurant, checked his coat
and gloves, but kept his grip on the cane. One-handed, he brushed
the snow out of his hair, and his ponytail came undone. Stripping off
the rawhide thong that held the strands back, he shook his head,
letting his long hair hang naturally.
Since she liked his hair loose, she took it as an attempt to appease
her. The perfectly tailored suit he wore blended in with the other
business types scattered throughout the elegant restaurant.
Taking the seat across from her, he said, “Thank you for inviting
me to join you. Under the circumstances, I would have understood if
you had ignored me.”
She laid her fork on the plate and reached for his hand. “I love
you. I wouldn’t turn you away.”
He averted his eyes, bowing his face toward the tablecloth. “I
know. And I had no right to focus my anger on you. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you, Henry. I appreciate your apology. But we don’t have
to discuss what happened right now.” She was enjoying her meal too
much to disrupt it with another argument over Anne-Louise. But she
wouldn’t let him put off their discussion indefinitely. If he didn’t
share more details by the time they returned to the apartment, then
she’d push harder.
“Of course, perhaps…later,” he replied. “I just wanted to apologize
now.”
Relief coursed through her, and she gave him an encouraging
smile. Choosing a new topic, she kept her conversation light and
picked up her fork to resume eating her dinner. “You look like you’ve
been outdoors in the snow for a while. Did you go somewhere?”
“I walked to Saint Patrick’s Cathedral and went inside.”
“Really?”
“It’s near the Collective. You might say it was on the way here.
Just a brief detour.”
Cerissa appreciated the way he’d so quickly adjusted his attitude.
“You seem calmer. Your visit there must have helped.”
“It did. I needed the tranquility after… Well, to use one word
Father Matt explained to me, my relationship with Anne-Louise is
dysfunctional.”
 No kidding.
At some point, she hoped he’d convince Anne-Louise to let him cut
the apron strings. The maker-child blood bond was a significant part
of the problem. “How did you feel, being in Saint Patrick’s again?”
“Peaceful. It’s a beautiful structure, and seeing the symbols of my
faith displayed was reassuring. The young priest on duty heard my
confession, and I found his advice…helpful.”
“That’s good.”
They stopped speaking when the waitress came by. “Good
evening, sir. May I get you something?” She cleared away Cerissa’s
empty plate and ran a silver table scraper across the tablecloth to
remove the crumbs. Henry straightened back as the silver tool swept
by him, and Cerissa raised an eyebrow, surprised the restaurant
used actual silver.
“Nothing for me, thank you,” Henry replied. “But Cerissa will have
the cheesecake for dessert, and bring me the check, please.”
Cerissa shook her head. Yes, she wanted the cheesecake. But it
would be nice sometimes if he’d ask. In some ways, he knew her too
well now. And she recognized that his insistence on paying for her
dinner was both an attempt at reconciliation and an act of
dominance.
She let the matter ride.
The waitress returned and placed the dessert plate, along with a
snifter glass on the table. Three coffee beans floated in the clear
liquid. “Your cheesecake, and Sambuca. Would madam like anything
else?”
“This is fine, but I didn’t order the drink.”
“The gentleman over there ordered the digestif for you.” The
waitress motioned toward a hardwood counter with touches of brass
adorning the wood that delineated the bar area. On her way in,
she’d noticed the old-school saloon waiting area where you could
also buy a drink or a quick meal.
Henry’s jaw set into a hard line, telling her he wasn’t pleased by
that news. She turned to see Rick Fiorello, Anne-Louise’s boyfriend,
smile and salute her. He slid off the bar stool and sauntered over to
their table.
 “Good evening, Cerissa, Henry,” he said as he stood at the end of
the table. “I thought you should try a traditional New York after-
dinner drink. Sambuca.”
She picked up the glass and sniffed the liquid. The scent of licorice
warmed her nostrils. She took a tentative sip. “Delicious.” She knew
Rick didn’t drink anymore, so she assumed his familiarity with the
beverage came from before he gave up alcohol for good. “Thank
you.”
Henry’s face lost some of its hardness. “Are you on your way to
the Collective?”
Rick jerked his head in a quick no. “I knew you were in town to
visit Anne-Louise. Just grabbed some dinner at the bar, and now I’m
on my way to meet friends—we’re going to catch a movie.”
Henry crossed his arms. “Don’t be surprised if Anne-Louise phones
you.”
“I told her already—I’m not available for the next few nights. I’ve
made my plans, and I don’t feel like humoring the lady if she
changes hers. If I have to accept this arrangement, she has to
accept that.”
Cerissa tried not to smile. Rick didn’t sound any happier with their
situation than Henry was. “Thank you again for the drink. Perhaps
we can meet for lunch tomorrow. I don’t know many people in New
York.”
“Sure, it’s my day off. I’ll swing by the Collective at eleven and
pick you up. We’ll play tourist.”
“Sounds fun, thanks.”
“Great.” Rick nodded at her. “Henry, good seeing you—I hope you
enjoy your stay.” With that, he said goodnight and left the
restaurant.
An internal battle showed on Henry’s face. She had no clue what
the struggle was over, so she took a bite of cheesecake, mushing the
creamy texture against her tongue to catch all the nuances. “This is
marvelous—gorgonzola cheesecake. I’ve never had it before. So
unusual. At first it tastes like a regular cheesecake, then a mild blue
cheese flavor comes through at the end.”
 “I see.” His jaw muscle continued to flex. “Did you have to ask him
to lunch?”
“Henry…” she began, a warning tone in her voice.
He raised a hand in surrender. “You are right. You are free to
make friends. We agreed.”
“Yes, and you agreed not to be so jealous.” She’d been
understanding about his relationship with Anne-Louise and felt it
only fair that he learned to trust her, too.
When he didn’t reply, she focused on the cheesecake, taking
another forkful—so creamy, so luscious, so pleasurable. She lingered
over the dessert, letting every bite count. Finally, she eased back in
her chair and sipped the sambuca, avoiding the three coffee beans
in the glass’s bottom. The liquid flooded her with warmth.
A glance told her something still bothered him. Well, he was a big
boy. When he was ready, he’d talk. She wasn’t going to prod him
and stir his anger again.
The waitress brought the check. Henry paid it and left a generous
tip, then they collected their heavy coats and her hat.
On the walk back, they held gloved hands. It was romantic,
strolling the streets of New York together under the frosty twinkle
lights as snow continued to fall. No wind, so the chill wasn’t too bad.
“I decided,” Henry began, “not to leave yet. You came here so you
could experience New York at Christmas, and I don’t want to take
that pleasure from you.”
“Thank you, Quique. Will we be moving to a hotel?”
“No. I spoke to Leopold during my walk to the restaurant and
explained the situation. We are no longer guests of Anne-Louise. We
are now guests of Leopold.”
Cerissa breathed a sigh of relief. The CEO of the New York
Collective was her sponsor within the vampire communities, and her
business partner. Leaning on him for help felt like the right thing to
do under the circumstances.
“Excellent.” She flashed Henry her best smile of approval. “I’d like
to buy a bird feeder for the balcony. We can stop at a pet store on
our way back, and swing by the Magical Wish Toy Emporium, too. I
want to see all the toys and the children enjoying them.”
 He bowed cordially. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Thank you.” She squeezed his hand. “Ah, before we get there, do
you want to tell me what happened?”
His jaw muscles bulged, and an angry cloud fell across his face. “I
will if you insist.”
Why the resistance? How bad could it really be? She cleared her
throat and gave her blunt assessment of the situation. “Knowing
Anne-Louise, she’ll whisper it in my ear the first chance she gets. I
think the explanation is better coming from you.”
He tapped the sidewalk with his cane as they strolled in
momentary silence. “You are correct, mi amor.” He huffed out a
breath, fogging the air. “She offered me a new deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
“She would allow the blood bond to end if I agreed to what she
proposed.”
“But that’s great news!” Then she caught the expression on his
face. “Or are the terms so onerous—”
“The terms are such that I would never agree.”
And he stopped there, falling silent.
What was he hiding?
She inhaled, letting the cold air clear her mind. The tone he used
meant he was unlikely to budge right now. At least she had a better
idea of the big-picture issue.
“I’m sorry,” she said, stopping on the sidewalk to hug him. “What
will you do?”
“When my temper cools, I’ll submit to her bite, and we won’t have
to see her for another six months.”
They resumed their stroll and arrived at the pet store. “Do you
want to join me inside?” she asked.
“Of course.”
She had to stop and play with the puppies on display before
buying the bird feeder, and he teased her about her affinity for furry
creatures. After her purchases were made, they swung by the
Magical Wish Toy Emporium. A thrill rushed through her at seeing
the famous toy store draped in garland and sparkling lights, and a
man and woman dressed like toy soldiers at the entrance.
 She did some light Christmas shopping at the toy store, and then
she and Henry rushed back to the apartment as the wind kicked up.
He carried the bird feeder and seed. She shivered from the chill, and
he wrapped his arm around her, holding her tight to his side, while
she hugged the toy store shopping bag to her chest so the wind
wouldn’t rip it from her hand. Despite the salt crunching under their
shoes, which should have melted the ice, they struggled not to slip
on the frozen sidewalk, steadying each other and laughing.
They arrived at the tenth floor a little warmer thanks to the
elevator ride. After unlocking the apartment door, Cerissa flipped on
the lights to the living and dining room combination, which was big
enough to host a small dinner party.
It required teamwork to install the bird feeder on the frozen
balcony. The sounds of the city—traffic and horns—accompanied
their labors even at that hour.
Finished, Henry slid shut the glass door, shed his coat, then helped
Cerissa remove hers. “Now what would you like to do?”
The corners of her lips quirked up. With the time zone change,
fatigue set in, which had her thinking of bed…and other things they
could do in bed.
He chuckled as he hung her coat in the entryway closet. “I can
feel those emerald eyes scanning my body, cariña.”
“Well, there is a lot to admire about your body.” And with his back
to her, his muscular ass in particular. She’d learned about the
hashtag #suitpornsunday on social media. In the perfectly tailored
wool suit, Henry would certainly qualify. “And we’re on vacation, and
you’re looking sexy, and—”
She didn’t get to finish. Lightning fast, he covered her mouth in a
soul-searing kiss, his arm hooked around her waist, pulling her
closer, and his free hand sought her bottom to give the mound a
squeeze.
When the kiss came to a breathless stop, she gasped against his
lips and then murmured, “Well, it’s your turn to choose. What’s your
pleasure?”
Chapter 4
His Choice
COLLECTIVE APARTMENT #1010—AROUND THE SAME TIME

“Well?” Cerissa asked again, her head tilted to the side, her
radiant lips pursed.
Henry smiled slyly at her impatience.
Indeed, it is my turn. Decisions, decisions.
There were so many delicious things he enjoyed doing with her.
So many that sometimes he found it hard to choose.
Then he recalled the master bedroom’s en suite bathroom came
with a huge flat-bottomed bathtub that had whirlpool jets, a side-
centered faucet, hand sprayer, and two bath pillows, one at each
end. Large enough to hold two people comfortably, and the
Collective didn’t have the water-use restrictions currently applicable
to the Hill. He and Cerissa hadn’t been able to fill their big tub at
home and indulge in any fun there for months because of the
drought.
Guiding her into the bedroom, he asked, “What would you say to
playing in the bathtub?”
“Lovely. I’m chilled from being outside. A soak in hot water sounds
wonderful.”
He let her start the water and set the temperature. They couldn’t
rely on him—he’d set the gauge at scalding without realizing he’d
done so. Extremely hot water was one hedonistic pleasure he’d
reveled in since becoming a vampire.
Although she didn’t wait for him to undress her—another
hedonistic pleasure of his—he had the enjoyment of watching her
beauty unveiled as she stripped.
“Hey, don’t stand there staring,” she said, then gave him a quick
kiss before removing her contact lenses and braiding her hair. “You
need to get naked, too.”
“Of course, mi amor.” He flashed his fangs at her. “I was just
enjoying the show.”
“Oh. Oh!”
 Yes, she’d almost forgotten, and he was glad he reminded her.
From among the toiletries scattered on the sink vanity, she picked up
the hypo and held the jet injector’s silver cylinder head against her
neck, delivering a stream of stabilizing hormone into her muscle to
keep her blood mortal when he bit. The morphing hormone in his
fang serum would change her back to her Lux form if she didn’t use
the medication.
After she pinned her braid in a circle atop her head, she slid into
the tub. The jets bubbled around her, and she relaxed back on the
waterproof cushion. “Aah, that feels so good.”
With the show over, Henry disrobed and put his ponytail into a
knot. Slipping into the opposite end of the oval tub, he stretched his
legs, crossing them over hers, and lay back. Whatever tension
remained from their tiff drained from him in the heat of the water.
When she reached for him, he met her in the middle of the tub,
wrapping his arm around her shoulders, supporting her as he
captured her lips with his. She parted on a moan, and he enjoyed
the gentle tangling of their tongues, the delicious taste of her
mouth, the intensity of their kiss increasing as their tongues glided
back and forth, faster and faster.
She broke away, panting, and he ran his thumb across her cheek,
trailing beads of water over her skin, before sweeping a stray strand
of hair from her face.
“Turn around,” he said.
Bending her knees closer to her body, she pivoted on her butt
cheeks.
He put a splash of jasmine body wash in his hands. The flower
was one of his favorite scents, and he’d been sure to pack the whole
product line for the trip. He rubbed the sensual emulsion over her
skin and massaged her back as he washed her.
“Oh, I like what your fingers do.”
“I want you nice and relaxed.”
“Why? What mischievous plan do you have for tonight?”
“Nothing too…extreme.”
She laughed. “You do like to tease.”
“Indeed.” He poured more body wash on his palm. “Lean back.”
 He wrapped his arms around her as she rested her back on his
chest. Starting at her neck, he rubbed the bubbly liquid over her
throat, worked the slick scent over her breastbone until he reached
the mounds themselves, and palmed one in each hand, rubbing the
silky suds over her nipples, lightly squeezing her breasts.
“Oh, Henry,” she said, pressing against him more. His pene was
hard and pinned between her back and his abs. “I like this.”
He cupped water in his hands and rinsed away the soap, then
wrapped his arms around her and pulled her more firmly to him,
raising her out of the water, and gently pressed his lips against her
tender neck.
“Are you going to bite so soon?”
“No, not yet.” He continued nibbling without breaking her skin,
dragging his teeth lightly over her throat, and she moaned
delightfully. The blood below the surface teased him, but he forced
his fangs to remain retracted. “We will take our time. Now turn
around.”
She lay back, placing her head on the cushion, and he gently
spread her thighs apart, bending forward onto his knees to capture a
nipple with his lips, sucking and licking until she moaned again. The
soap was gone, but the lingering sweet jasmine scent intoxicated
him, making him want to rush to the main course, but he gave the
other breast equal attention.
Working down her chest, kneeling in the deep tub between her
legs, he dipped his head underwater, trailing kisses over her belly to
her mound. Parting the folds with his thumbs, he ran his tongue
over her clit, then sensually sucked.
He could stay underwater as long as he wanted, never feeling
starved for air. The disadvantage—he couldn’t easily hear her moans
with the sound of the jets bubbling in his ears. But the way her body
vibrated against his lips, her clit engorged, her labia slick with her
arousal, told him everything he needed to know.
After slipping one finger inside her, then the second one, he curled
them to rub against the sensitive inner wall. She bucked her hips,
riding his tongue, and he met her rhythm, licking faster and harder
until her hips froze, her clit pressed against his tongue, and her
entire body shuddered with her orgasm, as her inner muscles
clenched over and over around his fingers.
He let his lips linger, flicking his tongue to coax her orgasm to its
very limits, then emerged, running his hands over his long hair to
press the water away so he wouldn’t splash her.
With her head lying on the pillow, a look of rapture on her face, a
wave of pleasure crashed through him at the mere sight of her.
Mi ángel!
He crawled up her front and kissed her. “How was that?”
“Wonderful.” She sighed. “But I want more,” she said teasingly,
shooting him a coyly crooked grin.
His passion wound higher at her words. How could he not accept
a challenge like that? “Querida, there is definitely more on the
menu.”
He hooked his arms under hers and raised her to kneel, then
folded two washcloths and placed one under each knee to cushion
them from the hard acrylic surface. He stretched his legs between
hers and, gripping his pene at the base, guided the head inside her
as she braced her hands on his shoulders. Her warm, slick sheath
engulfed him, making him even harder. The flicker of her inner
muscles still slightly spasming like a tongue licking over him had his
pene flexing in response.
Once he was deep within her, he kissed her, then asked, “Better?”
“Much,” she said, her smile quirking, before he captured her lips,
thrusting his tongue between them, invading her mouth.
With his help, she rose and fell, spearing herself over and over
again on him as the bubbles from the jets spilled around them,
caressing his skin, framing her waist as she rose and fell. Then an
idea struck him, a way to enhance her pleasure. He lifted the spa’s
hand sprayer and aimed the spray between them, seeking her clit,
and her moan told him when he hit the right spot.
“Oh my goddess.”
“You like?”
“Yes, I like.”
He kept the pulsing spray aimed at her clit and, with the other
hand, teased her nipple, peaking the bud. As she rode him faster,
and his own hips rose to meet hers, the scent of blood thrumming
through her veins called to him. He reluctantly let go of her breast to
slide his hand around her waist to pull her closer as he arched
forward. Slowly, he sank his fangs into her neck.
The fang serum shot into her, and he sucked back his share as he
drank her blood. The sweet nectar was intoxicating. The
combination lit a fire in his groin as he pumped faster and faster into
her, keeping the sprayer aimed at her clit, feeling her tighten on him
as her orgasm started, and her inner walls rippled over him,
grabbing his pene to send exquisite shivers deep into him. His
cojones pulled tighter against his body, and then he followed her,
exploding inside her with a moan of his own. His pene flexed,
pulsing, as he held her hips tightly.
She collapsed on his chest. He shut off the hand sprayer, returning
the metal hose to its hook, and then stroked along her spine. No one
else made him this happy.
“I love you, querida.”
She kissed his shoulder tenderly. “I love you too, Quique.”
After holding each other for a few minutes, she rose and turned
off the jets. The water stilled around them.
“Are you ready to get out?” he asked.
She held up her fingertips for him to see and laughed. “I’m
pruning. So, yes.”
He helped her to stand, drained the tub, and toweled her off.
Something about serving her, about running the soft cotton towel
over her skin, made him feel manly. As her fiancé, it was his duty to
make her happy, a duty he roundly embraced, and making her
happy by giving her the best vacation possible was what he planned
to do for the rest of their stay in New York.
Chapter 5
New Job Complications
THE COLLECTIVE’S BUILDING—AROUND THE SAME TIME

Allison Sanford stepped onto the elevator, swiped her security key
card across the sensor, and selected the tenth floor. Staring at the lit
button, she felt her head swim as she focused on her new reality:
vampires were real, and she now worked for them.
When her memories first broke through as nightmares, she’d
dismissed the images as metaphors for her breakup with Henry
Bautista, her ex-boyfriend. The dreams had featured him attacking
and biting her with his fangs . Then the dreams kept repeating,
disturbing her sleep to the extent that she finally told Henry. When
she did, he attacked and tried to mesmerize her into forgetting
again, except his attempt didn’t work. Then a vampire named
Jonathan kidnapped her, bit her viciously, and threatened to turn her
into one of them.
Ugh. Thinking about the attacks by Henry and Jonathan still sent
shivers down her spine—and not pleasant ones. She never wanted a
vampire’s fangs to pierce her skin again.
At least the Hill community had rescued her from the revenant.
But because she’d become resistant to being mesmerized, Henry’s
fiancée had swooped in and hustled up two new jobs to get her out
of California, and overnight Allison became a weekend anchor at a
national cable news network and envoy to the New York Collective’s
chief executive officer, Leopold Leidecker.
Leopold was quite charming for a vampire, and rushed her
through the envoy training so she could start her new gig with Cable
News Today. Her first day at CNT had been a blast. Before that,
she’d only worked for small-market TV stations in their broadcast
news departments, but now she batted in the big leagues.
After completing her shift, she arrived exhausted and hungry at
the ritzy Park Avenue high-rise where she now lived, and hurried
through the lobby to punch the elevator call button. Leopold had
sent her a text asking to see her, and she was running late for the
appointment.
 No matter how much time she factored in when taking the
elevator in the Collective’s building, she never allowed enough. At
this hour, vampires were awake, beginning their night, and the lift
was constantly starting and stopping as they got on and off.
Changing elevators on the tenth floor allowed her to board one of
the special elevators serving the residential levels. By the time she
arrived at the forty-first floor ten minutes later, she chewed her lip,
afraid Leopold would scold her for being late.
Thanks to her security key card, the elevator doors opened
directly to the gallery of his penthouse apartment. Original artwork
lined the walls, and antique tables supported tall crystal vases of
fresh-cut flowers. He met her there and led her to his elegantly
decorated living room.
“Please have a seat, my dear.”
She eased onto the blue-gray brocade couch opposite the short,
scrawny vampire. His brown hair was slicked back using some sort of
gel or whatever, and a dated mustache—thin and angular—outlined
his upper lip. He looked like he was stuck in the last century.
“It has been, what, eight weeks since Henry bit you?”
What an odd question. Allison tilted her head, giving Leopold a
little side-eye. “More like six.”
“Very good. Now that you have completed your envoy training,
there are certain obligations you must fulfill.”
She wrinkled her forehead, trying to figure out what her
obligations to Leopold had to do with Henry’s last bite. “And those
would be?”
“Well, there are many, but I’m speaking of one in particular right
now: the loyalty bite.”
She gasped, and her eyes went wide. “Bite?”
“Yes. To ensure you do not accidentally say something to an
uninitiated mortal, you must submit to a vampire’s bite weekly.”
Her stomach churned and dizziness overtook her. She gripped the
arm of the couch to keep from falling over. “You want to bite me?”
Weekly?
How could he ask that of her? The previous bites had left her
traumatized. The nightmares continued, even though she now knew
the truth behind what generated her terrifying dreams.
He reached over and gave her shoulder a pat. “Not me, my dear. I
prefer not to have that sort of connection with my envoys. No, I
delegate the loyalty bite to our head of security.”
“Warren?”
“Ah yes, of course you know him from your classes.”
She didn’t just know him. Warren Baker was probably the only
vampire she honestly enjoyed being around. He’d become a kind of
friend-slash-mentor during her training period—one of the few she
had in New York.
And now he had to bite her?
Wonderful. Just wonderful. It was the last thing in the world she
wanted, and she shuddered at the thought. “But it’s been six
weeks… Why weekly?”
“We start there and then spread out the time. I wasn’t concerned
before because you weren’t associating with uninitiated mortals.
Now that you’ve started at CNT, it’s imperative we get the loyalty
bond reinforced quickly.”
“Why didn’t you say something before?” She shook her head as
fear buzzed across her skin. “No one told me I’d have to be bitten
again. I’m resistant to being mesmerized—”
“Yes, but we can’t rely on your willpower alone to prevent
disclosure of our kind. Didn’t Cerissa tell you?”
“No, she didn’t.”
And during her envoy training, there’d been no mention of it—not
that she could point that out to her boss, being a newbie and all.
“Now, don’t worry. Warren will make his bite feel good. Trust me.”
Leopold handed her an envelope with a fire-brick-red seal, his initials
stamped deep into the dried wax, and led her to the foyer. “Take this
note to Warren. He’s expecting you.”
“He is? Now?” she squeaked as she stepped onto the elevator.
“Yes. Really, there’s nothing to be afraid of, my dear.” Leopold
clicked his tongue. “Off with you.”
He reached into the elevator, pressed the button for the tenth
floor, and moved back. There, she’d change elevators to one that
would take her to the basement. The doors closed with a hushed
whoosh.
If she’d known about the regular bites, she would have turned
down the deal. But the job at CNT—thanks to Leopold’s contacts—
plus the work she did for him paid more money than she ever
thought she’d make this early in her career. Oh, and then there was
the upscale wardrobe she needed for on-air appearances, provided
by CNT.
Plus, her envoy position included a paid-for apartment in the
Collective’s building on the fifth floor, the level devoted solely to
mortals hired by the Collective. On the second floor were business
offices, a huge gym, and a five-screen cineplex, along with high-end
shops and restaurants in a concourse-type mall open to
unsuspecting mortals.
But were all those amenities worth awakening her trauma by
being bitten? She sighed. It wasn’t like she had a choice in the
matter. She’d already made the commitment.
It’s the question you don’t know to ask that screws you. Every.
Single. Time.
When she arrived in the basement, no one was in sight. A sign
with an arrow on it directed her to the head of security’s office, but
she already knew the way, and plodded down the stark white
hallway, anxiety clawing her stomach. Sooner than she wanted to,
she arrived at a closed door and the nameplate on it: Warren Baker
—Chief Security Officer.
She knocked. Moments later, the door opened, and she found
herself staring at the broad, muscular chest—shirtless—of a brick
house of a man with a bearing and ripped muscles that screamed
“military.” His dark blond buzzcut added to the overall impression
he’d been a soldier at some point in his life.
Not for the first time, she ogled his divine chest a few seconds too
long before the little voice in her head reminded her: she’d sworn off
men and vampires. She forced her chin up so her eyes rose to his
face.
At five-nine, she never considered herself a short woman, but
Warren was a half-foot taller than her, and to meet his hazel eyes,
she tilted her head further back. Arousal replaced her earlier anxiety,
and she stared into his seductive gaze, at the flakes of green and
brown in his irises lit with an amber sheen, her focus no longer
sliding to the mottled, pitted, shiny scar that began on his jaw and
traveled to the left side of his neck and down his arm. She didn’t
know what happened to him, but then again, she’d never asked.
His eyes held a hesitancy she’d never seen in them before, and
there was a tightness around his lips.
“Hey,” she said, the awkward silence finally loosening her lips.
“Hey,” he echoed, looking self-conscious as he ran a hand over his
bare chest. “Sorry about the lack of a shirt. I was just lifting.” He
motioned at the corner, where a weightlifting bench and a rack of
weights sat.
“I know,” she said. “Not the first time I’ve caught you like this.”
A small smile tipped up the corners of his mouth. “That’s true.”
Whenever she’d come to his office during the past month, two out
of three times, she found him shirtless. She never minded the view.
Sworn off, remember?
When Allison first arrived in November, Leopold had sent her down
to Warren’s basement office to complete the envoy paperwork and
collect her key card. That was the first time she’d met the head of
security, and initially trembled to be alone in his presence, finally
collapsing onto the guest chair in his office.
At that point, only a few days had passed since she’d been
attacked by the revenant, and the terrors of Henry’s attack still
plagued her. Whenever she got near a vampire, visuals of the prior
two attacks would loop on repeat in her mind.
But then Warren did something no other vampire had—he’d come
around his desk, knelt beside her, and gently asked if she was okay.
His nearness should have escalated her fear, but she’d stopped
trembling. Something about him made her feel safe.
Would the bite change that?
Her hand shook as she held out the sealed envelope. “Leopold
said I have to give this to you.”
He glanced at the envelope and then at her, hesitancy entering his
eyes again. “Ah, right.”
 She really didn’t want to submit to a bite, even if Warren was the
one biting her. Or maybe because it was Warren. She just wanted to
make an about-face and run for the elevator.

“Here, come in.” Warren stepped out of the way as he slid his
finger under the ostentatious red wax seal. Show-off. But he
expected that nonsense from the boss, like chest candy on an army
officer’s uniform.
He took a moment to read the note. He hadn’t missed how
Allison’s hand shook when she handed it to him. That hadn’t
happened since the first day he’d met her.
Was she thinking the bite would be like the revenant’s attack?
Leopold had given him the broad overview of what occurred. How
a revenant kidnapped her, and that the Hill vampires discovered she
was immune to being mesmerized—not even a powerful revenant
succeeded in making the compulsion to forget stick. But she was
loath to discuss the details, and he’d never pressed her for more.
She’d grown comfortable with him during the envoy training
sessions he’d led, and afterward in the group hangouts they’d both
attended. The night when all the other attendees had declined to
stay, and just the two of them headed to the second floor bar for a
drink, there hadn’t even been any sign of trepidation.
He’d know, since he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
A lot of gorgeous dames had come through his office, but Allison
was the splitting image of his dead fiancée, right down to the
straight blonde hair, eyes bluer than a bluebird, and high cheek
dimples. It’d punched him in the gut.
In the past month, he’d kept a tight leash on himself. Friendly, but
careful not to make her uncomfortable, not to show his interest. But
how the heck would he manage to do his duty and bite her without
revealing how much he wanted to take things further? How could he
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