J.R. Rain's Vampire for Hire World_Vampires She Wrote Read online

  VAMPIRES SHE WROTE

  by

  EVE PALUDAN

  Fang in the City #1

  Vampires She Wrote

  Published by Rain Press

  Copyright © 2018 by Rain Press

  All rights reserved.

  Ebook Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  (Vampires She Wrote is based on the characters created by J.R. Rain; the use of story situations and supporting characters from the “Vampire for Hire” universe is authorized by J.R Rain.)

  Dedication

  For JH and JH

  Acknowledgments

  J. R. Rain, thank you for creating Samantha Moon, the most compelling vampire since Dracula, and for creating Fang, her vampire friend and confidant.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Books by Eve Paludan in J. R. Rain’s Vampire for Hire World

  Other Books by Eve Paludan

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  I was standing behind the bar in my blood club when she walked in.

  The first thing I noticed was that she looked like death warmed over. Lips like lush black cherries. Skin like milky silk. Hair like endless nightfall. Undead eyes with black irises. I was struck by the realization that she looked like a younger Samantha Moon.

  Be still my heart… oh, right.

  The second thing I noticed was her vampire bite tattoo, right where my eyes loved to roam the most, on her satiny neck that was exposed by the neckline of her slinky black dress. All of me perked up.

  No discernable pulse. No breathing.

  The lady is a vamp.

  “Welcome to Fang’s Place,” I said. “I’m Fang.”

  “Thanks. I’m Justine.” She wiggled onto a barstool and placed her sparkly clutch purse on the barstool to her left and a laptop bag on the one to her right. It was a clear message that she didn’t want anyone to sit by her.

  “What’s your pleasure tonight?” I asked, my eyes not leaving hers.

  “It’s my first time here. What’s good tonight?”

  I am. “Depends what you’re in the mood for.”

  A flame flickered in her undead eyes as her entity checked me out. She smiled slightly and blinked those long black eyelashes a time or two. “What do you recommend?”

  “Fresh or aged?” I asked. “Warm or chilled?”

  “Fresh, please. Warm, if you have it.”

  “Just in, I have a top-shelf selection of still-warm ‘Vein Glorious’ and ‘Which Witch.’ If you prefer chilled, I have ‘Starving Students’ on tap—it’s a complex blend and the flavor changes from the instant you taste it to the instant you swallow it. It’s a mixture from different college student donors.”

  “Intriguing. But blood is blood, isn’t it?”

  I chuckled. “Wait till you become a discerning connoisseur. Soon, you’ll be coming in and requesting your favorite brand, maybe even asking for special twists.”

  “So, one pump of this, two of that? Like a Starbucks for vampires?”

  “I’m shooting for that. What can I get you, Justine?”

  She tapped a red-lacquered fingernail on the bar. “You choose.”

  “I’d rather you did, but first, would you like to sample ‘Vein Glorious’ and ‘Which Witch’?”

  “I didn’t know you did that. Yes, please. Both.”

  I poured a one-finger sample of each in mini wine-tasting glasses. “Tell me which one you like most and I’ll tell you what it is.”

  With a flick of her wrist, she swirled the first one, sipped and swallowed. “It’s delightful. I’ve never tasted anything like it. It’s smooth, rich, almost meaty, from a mortal who must be the prime rib of mortals.”

  I laughed because she’d nailed it. “Care to try the other brand?”

  “Just a sec.” She lifted the glass to eye level, tipped her head back, parted her lips and let the last languid drops fall onto her tongue.

  Then, with a graceful hand curled around the other mini glass, she brought it to her lips and savored every swallow. When she’d drained the second sample, she stuck her tongue in the glass and swirled it around, just like a… oh, heavens. I could not stop watching her tongue.

  “Very sweet, almost magical. I feel a tingle, an energy I’ve never felt before. The other was bold and strong. This one melts in my mouth and the aftereffect feels like… an afterglow. I prefer this second sample.”

  I nodded.

  “Tell me which was which. Or should I ask, which was witch?”

  I grinned. “You’ve guessed correctly about this one. The first sample is from someone who only eats meat. He says a vegetable hasn’t crossed his lips since he was a kid.”

  “Imagine that type of diet for a mortal.”

  “Vein Glorious is from a Muscle Beach gym rat—he sells a nutrition book on Kindle about exclusively eating protein, mostly meat. However, after years of his love affair with meat, he accidentally created a medical condition in himself where he has too much iron, so he has to donate blood quite often to keep the iron from destroying his organs. I’m happy to have his iron-rich blood as one of our top-shelf offerings.”

  “You know a lot about your donors.”

  “I serve only the best for discriminating vampires.”

  “Certainly tastes better than street blood.”

  “That’s because fear leaves a bitter, metallic aftertaste.”

  “You’re right. Quite a difference.”

  “I know.”

  “Tell me about the other sample.”

  “It’s from a witch who practices white magic, but she’s fallen on hard times. She’s not the type to gravitate to black magic, even though it’s more profitable.”

  “The economy stinks for everyone,” Justine said. “I’ll start out with your Which Witch brand, please, and keep the drinks coming.”

  “You’ve got it.” Beautiful.

  She rummaged in her designer handbag for her wallet.

  “Your first drink is free,” I said. “Want to run a tab?”

  “Yes, please, because I’m very hungry.” She licked her lips. “And very thirsty.”

  Thankfully, I was behind the bar, which hid the results of what I shouldn’t have been thinking about her.

  Just as I was about to chat some more with Justine, a party of four regulars breezed through the door. They headed for a corner booth with their usual chess sets. They’d be here for the night.

  I laid down a coaster that read “Fang’s Place” and poured her a generous goblet of Which Witch. I placed a napkin next to it. “Would you excuse me?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll
be back when you need another.”

  “Thanks.”

  The place got busy when more regulars showed up. Soon, I was rushing around like crazy, collecting money, pouring Bloody Marys and whipping up blender drinks.

  I kept Justine’s tab running. She’d imbibed quite a bit and kept catching my eye and swinging her long leg that was crossed over her other long leg in a not-so-subtle invitation.

  It took me a while, but I served all the vampires. I was getting pretty tired as the night wore on into the wee hours. Dawn was my weakest time.

  Just before closing, I announced last call and replenished everyone’s drinks. That night, Justine had been the only vampiress in the place. She’d caught the attention of the male vampires, though she’d not joined any of them at their tables when invited. She’d refused their drinks, too.

  I ran to the back, sent the phlebotomist home and secured that area—blood donors had their own entrance on the back of the building.

  I had a system. In the back of the building, a little money went out for supply. In the front of the building, Fang’s Place, a lot of money came in. So far, so good. I had this business in Echo Park and a seaside residence in Malibu. Both paid for.

  No one was using the private rooms tonight for drinking from the source, which was much more expensive than drawn blood served on the rocks or still steaming because it sometimes involved escorts that members brought in with them. But I was no pimp. I only rented rooms and vampires did what they wanted in there for private parties, except the obvious, like killing, which was not allowed. Also, no one was supposed to create other vampires. So far, that had worked out, too. Vampires were on their honor not to cause trouble, or their membership in my private club could be revoked.

  I wiped down tables and booths, collected glasses and put them in the dishwasher. I said goodbye to my regulars and walked them to the front door where they filed past Bruno Banderas, my intimidating doorman. He kept track of members who came and went, discreetly logging the club’s traffic in a spreadsheet.

  “It’s a wrap,” I told Bruno. “Thanks for your hard work.”

  “De nada. How’d we do?”

  “Another exceptional night of capitalism at its finest. I saw some new faces. You’ve got a bonus coming for signing up those new members.”

  “Sweet!” Bruno said.

  I clapped him on the shoulder, paid him for the night and told him he could go home.

  “Okay, but you have a straggler.”

  I tilted my head. “You sure?”

  He nodded. “New member with the killer legs. She went in, but never came out. I signed her up for free, on account of ladies’ night.”

  “Justine,” I said, rolling her name off my lips.

  “I still smell her Joy perfume.”

  “Is that what she wears?”

  “Yes.” He waggled his eyebrows. “It probably costs five bucks a squirt.”

  I laughed. “I’ll find her. You can head out.”

  “Adios, jefe. Sleep tight and don’t let the vampires bite.”

  I grinned. “Jefe” was what he called me—it was the Spanish word for “boss.”

  I locked the front door behind him.

  When I turned around, Justine was gone and so were her clutch purse and laptop bag. She owed about a grand on her tab, but I was more upset that she hadn’t said goodbye or even left me her number. I hoped she hadn’t slipped out the back door. Most locks don’t pose problems for vampires. The locks were to keep mortal thieves out of my establishment.

  I heard a door swish and saw Justine come out of the ladies’ room. She’d fluffed up her hair. Impossible, but she looked more beautiful than she had when she’d come in, hours ago.

  “There you are.”

  She looked around. “I didn’t know you were closing. I was just freshening up.” She pulled out her wallet and paid her tab. She did smell amazing.

  I said, “I was disappointed to see you gone.”

  “I wouldn’t leave without paying.”

  “I didn’t think you would. It was the not-saying-goodbye part that about killed me.”

  She gave me a sultry look. “I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye to you, Fang.”

  I accepted her money and put it in the drop safe. I resisted the urge to tell Justine that it was ‘on the house.’

  She seemed like she’d wanted to tell me something all night, so I asked, “What’s been on your mind, Justine?”

  “I’ve returned to the scene of the crime.”

  Chapter 2

  “What crime?” I asked.

  “A crime against me.” She pointed to the sign on the wall that read:

  The Rules:

  Don’t turn anyone.

  Don’t kill anyone.

  Don’t talk about Blood Club.

  “Are you trying to tell me that someone turned you in my club?”

  She nodded. “It’s a long story.”

  “I’d love to hear it, but the sun will be up in two hours and I wouldn’t have time to drive home once the beach traffic gets going. And I don’t want to be stuck here in my crash room all weekend.”

  “You have a crash room?”

  “I have a few scattered around L.A., but they aren’t as comfortable as my home.” I paused. “Do you live nearby?”

  “No, in Vegas.”

  “Got a hotel room?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You won’t get a decent room at this hour. It’s not like Vegas here.”

  “Can we talk in one of your crash rooms?”

  “We could, or you could just come home with me.”

  She arched one of her eyebrows. “What kind of invitation is this?”

  I smirked but then wiped it from my face. This was serious stuff. “We should discuss what happened to you at my place of business.”

  “I did come to talk, but when other customers came in, I couldn’t say anything in front of them.”

  “Understandable. Want to follow me in your car?”

  “No wheels with me on this trip. I took a plane from Vegas to L.A. then used Uber from LAX to your club.”

  “You can ride with me.”

  “Great!”

  I headed to the walk-in refrigerator to provision us. She followed me as I loaded up my iceless cooler that plugged into my car dash. “I know you prefer warm blood, but we’ll have it chilled. I don’t like reheating blood—it gets congealed.”

  “Cold blood, then? It’ll be like a picnic.” She hesitated. “What’s your last name?”

  “If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” I said, not quite joking. “What’s your last name?”

  “Black. Justine Black.” She said it like: Bond. James Bond.

  “Wait a minute. Are you the Justine Black, the reclusive vampire romance author whose books made the New York Times list? The Justine Black whose photo is nowhere to be found on the Internet?”

  Justine winked. “So you’ve heard of me?”

  Chapter 3

  Justine and I headed for the coast in my black Lexus SUV.

  In heavy traffic, we’d been chatting about various things: Vegas versus L.A., politics, my blood club, and her bestselling books.

  Finally, I was off the 405. The last stretch was the Pacific Coast Highway, or PCH. Traffic was stop-and-go, bumper-to-bumper, never mind the 45 mph signs.

  “Am I one of many vampiresses to see the inside of your house?”

  “No. I’ve only taken one woman to my house in Malibu. I value my privacy and my solitude.”

  “You’re talking to a reclusive author.”

  “We have a lot in common.”

  “That we’re in hiding?” she said.

  “That and drinking blood. Honestly, there are so few people I trust that I haven’t been open about where I live on the weekends.”

  “There’s a first time for everything. So, tell me about the people who’ve been to your Malibu house.”

  “Only my best friend. And… an angel.”


  “You keep interesting company.”

  “You have no idea,” I said, now thinking of Samantha Moon.

  “Is your best guy friend a vampire or a mortal?” Justine asked.

  “Neither. He’s a werewolf.”

  “Okay, you keep very interesting company.”

  I laughed. “Only the strangest of the strange pass my muster.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment. Who was the angel?”

  “She’s gone back to Heaven. She’s a closed chapter.”

  Her undead eyes measured me as I drove. “You loved her. The angel.”

  “How could I not? She was the sweetest.”

  “The opposite of me,” Justine said.

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “I’m as wicked as the heroines in my books.”

  “I don’t think your heroines are wicked. More like misunderstood. After all, naughty vampires need love, too.”

  She laughed. “Thanks.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “You’re so nice, Fang. You should have had your angel love forever.”

  “Wasn’t meant to be. She was too good for me. And you have me pegged wrong. I’m actually kind of a bad boy. I prefer my women dirty, feisty, and with a dark mystique.”

  Justine laughed. “You must have done a lot of thinking since her.”

  “More like brooding self-pity, but it’s been a year.”

  “Maybe you’re ready for a rebound lover. My last novel was about that.”

  I did a double-take. “Was that a proposition?”

  “Do you want it to be?”

  “I asked you first, Justine. By the way, speaking of your last novel, I bought the audiobook voiced by you. In the dark, I listened to you read the second-to-last chapter over and over until I was… exhausted.”

  “You really are a bad boy.”

  “Told ya. What about you? Got a boyfriend left over from your mortal days?”

  “If I did, I would have drained him and turned him by now, like in my vampire romances.”

  “Keep those happy endings coming,” I said. “They leave me satisfied, yet always wanting more of the characters’ personal stories.”