Bitten by the Vampire

Bitten by the Vampire

The Ancients

Book One

Bonnie Vanak

www.millsandboon.co.uk

“Open yourself to passion and I will show you incredible pleasure in a night that will never end. You will be mine. I will never let anyone hurt you, if you but surrender to me.”

Vampire Lucian Marcello knows it’s his destiny to claim Mara Fuller as his own. She is a Darklighter, half-demon and half-angel, and has sworn to destroy the man who almost killed her. If she succeeds, her demon side will take over and she will turn evil. The only way to save Mara is for Lucien to mate with her and absorb her dark powers. But though tempted by a shared erotic vision, Mara is resistant to his charms. It will take all Lucien’s powers of seduction to make her surrender to his dominance and desire. For if he fails, her life will be forfeit…

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter 1

A lick of fire caressed her bare backside, making her shiver with anticipation.

Shadows danced around the golden flames cast by dozens of scented candles in the bedroom. On the satinwood nightstand, candlelight illuminated two champagne flutes filled with a fine French vintage. It was a scene set for a very deliberate seduction.

Red satin sheets rustled as she shifted her weight. Her seducer skimmed his long, slender fingers down her back. Mara Fuller lay still and naked, one arm flung above her head. The posture pulled her breasts upward.

The vampire noticed. His beautiful full mouth tipped upward.

“So beautiful. I want to taste them,” he whispered.

An intense gaze dark as midnight caressed her naked body, causing her flesh to tighten.

He was powerful, with a manner accustomed to command. Like his surroundings, he embodied elegance and refinement. Black curly hair fell past his broad shoulders. His features were classic, the chin brutally masculine, contrasting to the fullness of his lips. His eyes were frosty as the snowflakes clinging to the windows.

The strength in those elegant hands could snap necks like dry twigs, or slowly stroke between a woman’s legs, making her beg and plead.

“Bind yourself to me, Mara. Lose your soul in mine. Lose the darkness, or forfeit your life.”

She steeled herself against the solemn look in his mesmerizing eyes. Eyes that had the power to make her obey so that she became a mindless puppet, losing all control. Mara was a Darklighter, half-demon, half-angel. She would never call a man, or vampire, master.

“Never,” she whispered.

He licked her earlobe, and then fisted a hand into her hair. Tipping her head back, he ravaged her mouth. She felt a slight pinch of fang, a delicious bite of pleasure as his tongue tangled with hers. Fire danced along her nerves as she wrapped her arms around him. Her foot slid up the length of his limb, her toes caressing the dark silken hairs on his muscled calf.

Captured in his arms, he would never release her. She was his to claim in the flesh. Her breasts flushed with arousal, their nipples begging to be touched.

“Please,” she gasped.

Pulling away, he looked down at her with fierce intensity. “Lucien. Say my name, Mara.”

“Lucien, please… I want…”

“To be free.” He slid a palm down her body, cupped her hip. “I will set you free from the demon inside you.”

“No.” Her protest ended on a moan as his tongue flicked delicately over a cresting nipple. Pleasure spilled through her as she arched into his touch. Her fingers curled through his long, silky locks.

She wanted his mouth on her, his body joined to hers. Yet he was lethal and could strip away her last vestige of strength: the darkness that had kept her alive since her parents’ deaths.

Lucien pulled away and captured her gaze with his. “The darkness will kill you. The demon inside you is your death sentence. If you release it and kill the one who hurt you, you are doomed. You must mate with me or I will destroy you. Your soul will burn in eternal flames.”

Anguish shadowed his face. The look vanished, replaced by male possessiveness.

Reaching between her legs, he slowly stroked, culling more moisture from her aroused body. She cried out in pleasured shock.

“We will be lovers. You cannot fight this,” he murmured.

He loomed over her, his big body pressing her into the soft mattress. His erection nudged her slick folds. A sob escaped her lips as she fought for control, to prevent opening her thighs wide and letting him claim her in the flesh.

“Come to me, Mara. Open yourself to passion and I will show you incredible pleasure in a night that will never end. You will be mine. Only my lips upon your skin, my body joining with yours. I will never let anyone hurt you, if you but surrender to me.”

Mara moaned in carnal delight as his warm mouth nuzzled her long, slender neck. If she listened to his promises, Lucien would dominate and claim her in the flesh, and she would no longer be Darklighter. The demon portion of her would lie dormant, and the fire, the sweet erotic pleasure, the heat would consume her…lick her naked skin…

Her skin.

Her skin was on fire.

Pain licked her naked skin with burning needles as she became conscious. Gone was the erotic vision of the sensual vampire doing carnal things to her body. His warning hovered in the air in a phantom whisper.

Bind yourself to me, Mara. Lose your soul in mine. Lose the darkness, or forfeit your life

No soft bed pressed against her bare rump. Instead, there was pain from the last beating. She was naked, chained to a pillar in a dank, dark basement. Mara licked dry lips. Her parched throat burned like the hot desert. The vision she’d had was her subconscious substituting hot agony with hot pleasure.

Two days ago, she’d just driven away from campus when an elderly man with blood dripping down his forehead begged for a ride to the hospital. Pity moved her to open the car door. There was a sting to her neck, then nothing.

When she had awakened from the drug, she was in this dark basement. Her captor had brutally beaten her, leaving her chained to the pillar. And then she’d collapsed into the grayness of sleep, and the sensual world she’d mentally created to save her sanity.

Now she knew that no one would save her. She was on her own.

A slight breeze stirred the air. Starshine and moonlight spilled through a partly opened window. She rattled her chains, trying to reach for it. She had not yet explored all her powers since they emerged ten days ago. Both angel and demon lurked in her soul. Maybe, just maybe…

The chains bent a fraction as she concentrated. Hope filled her.

Heavy footsteps shuffled down the stairs.

“Please no,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Not again.”

The high-pitched voice screeched against her sensitive eardrums like a single talon drawing across a chalkboard. “Not this time, dear. You’re getting a reprieve. For all eternity.”

A door to another room creaked open and light pierced the darkness. She blinked hard, smelled smoke. Terror immobilized her.

Her elderly captor fed wood into a large iron furnace. He whistled as he worked. With a crazy fear, she realized the tune was “Disco Inferno.”

Stairs, where were the stairs? There! So close. Make a break for it, she could do it. Ignoring the burning, Mara twisted her wrist to free it from the manacle.

The heavy footsteps neared. “Time to go.”

The chains unlocked, slid to the floor with a loud clang. She kicked and struggled, but two days without food or water had left her weak.

“Why are you doing this? Please, don’t hurt me. Please, I’ll be good, I promise.” she cried out.

“You can never be good. You are evil. And evil must be sent back to hell.”

In the open furnace door, flames licked the air. Terror immobilized her.

“Welcome to hell, demon.”

Mara screamed.

Chapter 2

No one could force the hand of Lucien Marcello, the Society’s most powerful Ancient.

Not even Anderson Stamos, half-dragon shifter and the newly appointed director of the Society for the Elimination of Malevolent Magick.

Perched on the leather sofa at Lucien’s Michigan house, Anderson fussed with a briefcase while Lucien’s gremlin assistant, Petra, watched television.

Lucien propped one polished loafer on the distressed oak trunk that served as a coffee table. He gave the director a cool stare and sent a thought into Anderson’s mind. I could snap your trachea with a flick of my finger.

Other directors had trembled when Lucien tested them. He was the most powerful of all the Ancients, soldiers who fought evil for the Society. But Anderson did not even sweat. Lucien gave an imperceptible nod of approval.

The director opened the crisp manila folder. “Your new assignment. Mara Fuller, age twenty-one. Until a week ago she was a full-time student. But Dennis Jones, a human psychic who has crusaded to destroy those he deems evil, abducted her.”

At the mention of Jones, Lucien hid his rage. “That bastard is still alive? What did he do?”

“Tried burning her alive in a furnace.”

Revulsion filled him, but he did not even blink.

“The flames went out and she escaped without injury. But she wants revenge.”

“Jones should die.”

“You know we can’t do it, Lucien. It’s up to the human authorities to bring him to justice. We are forbidden from touching him.”

Reaching for the wine glass that Lucien extended, Anderson inhaled the delicate aroma of the fine French vintage before taking a sip. Then he put down the glass to pull a snapshot out of the folder.

Lucien stretched out his hand. Willing it to him, the photo floated into his palms. He studied it with apparent detachment.

The sweet face brought back a vision he could never forget.

Mara. Eyes blue as a quiet lake, ash-blonde hair sweeping down in a blunt cut just below her soft jawline. That cute tip-tilted nose. He’d wanted to kiss it, trail his mouth across the smoothness of her cheeks. Chase away those shadows darkening her eyes and instead hear his name upon her lips as her face glowed with arousal.

He wanted to feel her naked skin silky beneath him, taste a hardened nipple beneath his rasping tongue, feel her honeyed slickness coating his fingers as he stroked her, coaxing her closer to pleasure….

Lucien knew it was his destiny to lie with her. To make her his own.

Inside his pleated wool trousers, he became painfully aroused. Sweat dripped down his back, dampening his cashmere sweater. Mara stirred his jaded appetite, whetted his desire into fierce longing. Yet this was not the fate the Society intended.

He set down his wineglass and the photo, knowing what the director needed. His cold heart thudded harder.

“You want me to destroy her,” Lucien realized.

Anderson said nothing, but regret shadowed his face.

You bastard, he thought, pain sluicing through his guts. I fight for you, I destroy evil. But I will not destroy her. Not this one.

Anderson drained his wineglass. “She’s a Darklighter, half-demon, half-angel. The mother was a fallen angel. She fell in love with Aticus, a lesser demon who’d hidden his powers. They produced triplets before Elena discovered her spouse’s true nature. The girls were left orphans at age fifteen and Mara, the eldest sibling by a few minutes and the most practical, took care of her sisters…there was a healthy trust fund Aticus set up for them…”

“Spare me the family tree. Give me the specifics of my assignment.”

Anger glittered in Anderson’s eyes. “The family tree has deep roots. You need to know what you’re dealing with.”

Lucien waved a hand and another bottle of red wine floated over, uncorked itself and refilled Anderson’s wineglass. “You need to know whom you are dealing with.”

The director sipped, and his eyes bulged. Choking, he spit out the vintage.

“It’s a mild poison, but can be lethal. Do you need a hospital?” Lucien inquired.

Petra rolled her eyes. She dashed into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. Anderson gulped it down.

“It’s only jalapeño juice. Lucien, you shouldn’t play with your guests. They don’t understand your sense of humor,” Petra admonished.

Lucien drew in a deep breath. “I will not destroy this Darklighter. If you ask this of me, the jalapeño juice will feel like ice water compared to what I will do to your insides.”

The director dropped his gaze to the folder. “Now that they’re twenty-one, all three have come into their full powers. If Mara kills her captor, her demon side will take over and she will turn evil. The Society has decided her fate. Your assignment is to mate her. Absorb her dark powers and diffuse them so she will not turn fully demon.”

Silence descended as the gremlin flicked off the television. “Did he say ‘mate’ or ‘date?’” Petra asked.

Lucien drew in a deep breath. Glasses on the coffee table rattled as he lost his composure. “Petra, go into the other room,” he told her.

When the gremlin left, Lucien spoke in a voice that could cut steel. “You wish me to seduce Mara and steal her demon powers.”

“Yes. It’s the only way we can ensure she’ll remain harmless.”

“I will not force her against her will.” Tension tightened his jaw to the point of pain.

“You’re a seducer, Lucien. Legions of women have crawled willingly into your bed. This will be no different. You and two other Ancients are the only ones capable of saving her. You’re the most powerful.”

“I have followed every assignment given to me since being inducted into the Society. But I will not do this.” Lucien said in a commanding voice.

“If you refuse, the Society will reactivate the bounty on Petra’s head. She won’t last a year.”

With a loud crack, the wineglasses shattered. His gaze went glacial. “I’ll rip apart anyone daring to hurt Petra.”

“You can try. But can you protect Petra against hundreds of bounty hunters?”

His cold heart pounded harder. “And if Mara kills before I mate her? She must die?”

Anderson nodded. “But there is capacity in her for good. We want to save her, not destroy her.”

They would destroy her if necessary. The Society’s edict was the destruction of evil.

“You have ten days. Our spies have indicated Mara and Jones are in the same city. We’ve sent two werewolf bounty hunters to watch her. If she even makes a move against Jones, they’re free to draw her blood.”

He hissed, showing his fangs. “Not if I draw theirs first.”

Blanching, the director gathered his briefcase. “You know the rules. They have diplomatic immunity from your fangs, Lucien. I’ll see myself out.”

As he heard the sound of the front door slamming, Lucien stared at the photo. His long fingers stroked over the luminous skin, the sweet curve of her mouth. “A Darklighter.”

With the silence of a vampire, Petra walked into the room. Her pointed ears flexed. “There hasn’t been one of those in years.”

“I know.” Lucien’s heart constricted. He counted backwards in Latin to regain his lost composure. “Go upstairs and pack our things. I’ll need your tracking ability.”

A small white lie. He wouldn’t leave Petra alone. Lucien’s stomach knotted at the thought of her torn to pieces by werewolf bounty hunters.

“I’m not going near a Darklighter. Have you seen one when they turn demonic? I hear they get all gray and nasty…”

“I have.”

Fresh pain lanced him like a hot knife. He could not bring himself to destroy another Darklighter. Yet he couldn’t risk Petra’s life, either.

Perhaps this Darklighter could be saved. Lucien glanced again at the photo, remembering the vision. Desire pumped hot and sweet through his veins as he envisioned her naked body pliant and soft beneath his. Fangs exploded in his mouth as he imagined taking her blood as he bound them together in the flesh.

“Why not just let her kill and have the Society destroy her?”

Practical Petra. Lucien glanced at the photo. With her sweet, heart-shaped face, thin cheeks and wide blue eyes, Mara looked so frighteningly vulnerable, unaware of the evil lurking inside her.

Just like another had 42 years ago.

“Because she can be turned,” he finally said, fighting the emotions cresting over him. “She deserves more than my last Darklighter assignment.”

“What’s that?”

“A chance.”

Chapter 3

A cool breeze whispered through the palm trees lining Miami’s Ocean Drive. South Beach in late October pulled crowds of people to outdoor cafés, cheerful bars and the warm sands.

Among them was the man who’d tried to kill her five days ago, Mara thought as she straddled a low wall dividing the sidewalk from the white sandy beach In her peach scoop-neck shirt and jeans, she looked like everyone else. Except she had an arsenal; two daggers sheathed at her ankles and a switchblade in her back pocket. The real weaponry was her demonic side.

Mara felt the darkness inside her growing stronger. She’d dropped out of school, quit her part-time job and gone on the hunt for the head of one Dennis Jones.

Catching the scent of venom, she turned. Cold joy filled her. Dennis Jones. The same black wool suit, white shirt and gray hair sticking up in little spikes. Her nails began to lengthen and Mara’s upper lip lifted as she felt her bottom teeth sharpen to tiny points. Jones ducked into a sidewalk café.

As she stood to follow, she felt a pair of hands curl around her shoulders, forcing her down. She was strong, but this person’s strength was astonishing. Mara twisted, struggling to free herself.

“Sit,” a deep velvet voice commanded.

Shock filled her. It was the same sensual voice she’d heard in her dream.

Mara sat.

“Stay.”

The husky timbre held a compelling note. Screw that. No one was telling her what to do again.

“If you tell me to roll over, buddy, I’ll bite.”

“My bite is much worse.”

She felt his warm hands start kneading her tensed shoulders. His touch chased away the dark light, forcing the demon back. Her heart began thumping a steady, reassuring beat instead of pounding like a jackhammer. More confusion filled her. What kind of magic was this?

The grip eased. She turned.

He was tall, leanly muscled and wore a blue and white striped shirt with navy pleated trousers. The crease of his pants fell elegantly to polished leather shoes. The stylish clothing contrasted to the inky black curls spilling down to his broad shoulders. But it was his face that stunned her. The full lips, hollowed cheeks and straight nose boasted an aristocratic heritage. Eyes the color of midnight pierced hers.

Confusion and arousal twined together like snakes. The same man from her dream! She yearned to touch him, run her hands over his skin, taste him. The hunger for revenge eased, replaced by stark sexual warmth.

Damnit, she didn’t want this. She shoved at his torso and met solid muscle. The man didn’t budge. Mara stared. The last time she’d tried that move, when Jones had pushed her into the furnace, she’d sent him flying across the room.

“What the hell are you?”

“A vampire.”

Mara glanced upward at the sun.

“I take pills to help me tolerate sunshine.”

“So you’re an addict.”

“An addicting habit, a creature of the dark desiring to walk in the sun.”

“I suppose next you’ll tell me you have a tan,” she taunted.

He unfastened the first two buttons of his shirt, revealing an intriguing triangle of dark hair. The sexual craving sharpened. Mara studied his skin, the same golden color as his face.

“I do tan easily in the sun. I am Italian.” Those dark eyes twinkled with good humor as he fastened his shirt.

“I thought vampires sparkled in the sunshine,” she shot back.

“We haven’t sparkled since the era of disco lights and mirrored balls.”

The joke nearly coaxed a smile to her face. His good looks made her body hum like an electrical wire. The chemistry between them felt magical. Mara thought of how Jones had hummed while preparing her funeral pyre. She didn’t need a sexy vampire. She needed her weapons and her wits.

“Nice meeting you, vampire, but I have to run.”

He caught her arm in an iron grip. “No more running, Mara.”

Panic squeezed her throat. “How do you know my name?”

“I know everything about you. What you are, where you were born, your parents. Your powers as a Darklighter.” His gaze darkened. “What Dennis Jones tried to do to you.”

Mara fisted her hands. “What did I ever do to you? Or are you like Jones, you enjoy torturing others?”

“I’m here to save your life,” he said softly. He sat down. “I’m Lucien Marcello, sent from the Society to keep you from killing Jones.”

Every paranormal being knew of the secret Society. They used the most powerful Ancients to restore order when someone went bonkers or threatened to expose their kind to humans. If the lesser Ancients were machine guns, Lucien Marcello was their nuclear bomb. He’d once dispatched an entire pack of werewolf bounty hunters with his bare hands. The hunters never even scratched him.

Yet as he took her hand, his touch was gentle. The white light inside her hummed, recognized compassion and reached out for it.

Her dark side bristled. It was only when she exposed her warm, sappy side that people took advantage. Kidnapped her. Her bad side was too smart to let her get hurt.

Always go with the stronger side, she thought. Mara wrenched away.

“Jones deserves to die. I don’t need saving. Go bite a surfer. Leave me alone.”

“I cannot, Mara. Our destinies have collided.” His gaze burned with intent. “You saw the vision. We will be lovers.”

Cold sweat trickled down her back. “It was just a dream!”

“You know it was not,” he said gently. “Come with me. I don’t wish to see you die, and you will die if you kill Jones.”

The threat hung between them. But she had yet to fully explore her own powers. And to leave Jones unpunished, free to hurt more innocents?

Jones left the restaurant. He glanced across the street, saw her and smiled. Fear threaded through her, then curdled into cold rage.

“Bring it on,” she whispered.

Snarling, she felt her teeth sharpen. Fingers unfurled as talons sprouted. Mara itched to shred and rip and hurt. Just as he’d hurt her.

People glanced at her. Their eyes widened and then they scurried past. Some made remarks about Halloween photo shoots.

Jones gazed at the traffic as if to cross the street. Mara shot to her feet, only to have Lucien seize her wrist.

“Hurt him and what pain you inflict will be visited on you double.”

“Worth it.” She reached for the switchblade.

Lucien muttered an oath in a language Mara recognized as Latin. Her mother had spoken Latin fluently. Her sweet, angelic mother.

Her father had the real power, Mara thought.

“Look to your right,” he told her. “Two Society bounty hunters are waiting for you to attack Jones. When you do, they’ll be free to draw your blood. Not destroy you. Just hurt—and they can hurt very badly. Sometimes they don’t wait if they’ve seen your powers manifest.”