Forever Vampire. Michele HaufЧитать онлайн книгу.
Praise for Michele Hauf
“Hauf delivers excitement, danger and romance
in a way only she can.”
—Sherrilyn Kenyon on Her Vampire Husband
“Dark, delicious and sexy.”
—New York Times bestselling author Susan Sizemore on Her Vampire Husband
“Adventure, intrigue, and a voice like no other—
Michele Hauf is a force to be reckoned with!”
—USA Today bestselling author Emma Holly
“Cleverly engrossing dialogue, overwhelming desire and
intriguing paranormal situations are skillfully combined
to make this an irresistible read.”
—Cataromance.com on Moon Kissed
“A novel twist on a vampire tale … Hauf mixes well-
developed characters and sparkling dialogue with a
paranormal tale and comes out with a winner.”
—RT Book Reviews on Kiss Me Deadly
“With dangerous encounters, a myriad of paranormal
beings and even some subtle humor, The Highwayman is an enchanting love story packed with riveting adventures.” —Cataromance.com
“In this action-packed delight, Hauf’s humorous writing
and well-developed characters combine for a realistic
story—in spite of its supernatural basis.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Devil To Pay
Also available from Michele Hauf
HER VAMPIRE HUSBAND
SEDUCING THE VAMPIRE
Forever
Vampire
Michele Hauf
This story is for YOU.
You, who may have read something I’ve written before, and
decided to check out this book (I hope you like it!). You, who
saw the word “Vampire” in the title and grabbed the book to
add to your growing paranormal collection. You, who doesn’t
really believe in creatures of the night, yet secretly wonders
what it would be like to meet one. You, who does believe, and
yes, you even have the fangs and kick-ass clothing to prove
it. You, who loves vampires in all forms, be they dark, sexy,
brooding, bloody, young, old (really old), menacing, romantic,
a warrior, a lover, scarred, perfect, sparkly, pale, angsting,
powerful—but most of all, someone you can relate to and love.
CHAPTER ONE
LYRIC SANTIAGO STEPPED into a pair of diamond-encrusted Louboutins. They merely twinkled as if they were paste jewels when compared to the fabric hugging her body. A sexy gown shimmered over her skin with her movement. It felt like a summer breeze had wafted through the closed bedroom window. Lyric smiled at the unexpected sensation.
That was about the only thing that could make her smile today.
“Gorgeous,” Charish said.
Charish lingered by her daughter’s bedroom door, observing. The matriarch of the Santiago clan looked as young as Lyric, but had lived as a vampire for over a century. Her blond hair was pinned up in a 1960s beehive hairstyle with a tiny pink bow attached front and center.
No matter how many centuries she lived, Lyric swore she would never get stuck in a fashion decade.
“I’m so glad you decided to try it on before you leave for the exchange,” Charish said.
“How could I resist something that is probably a dream to most?”
Striding before the floor-length mirror framed upon the closet door, Lyric gasped at her first sight of the gown on her body. It dazzled. She could not see her reflection, but the dress conformed to her shape in the eerie manner she’d become accustomed to when viewing clothing on her body.
The gown had been made and was treasured by Faery’s Seelie court. Fashioned from thousands of faery-mined diamonds, each of them no larger than an ant’s head, it had been sewn together with spider silk. The silk was almost invisible, and it looked as though the diamonds that lay upon her skin were droplets of water under the sun, until the skirt swung gracefully about her ankles creating swishy waves of blinding brilliance.
It was rumored to give the wearer unimaginable magic should a faery don the gown. Holes could be torn in the sky to reveal other worlds. Entire faery clans could be leveled. Love (an uncommon sentiment to the fickle sidhe) could be annihilated or made pure.
On Lyric, a vampire, it would grant no such power save the sensual prowess to make men drop their jaws, stumble over their own feet and profess true lust for one promising wink from her.
She turned sideways and looked down her figure. Slender and toned, thanks to her gymnastics hobby, the gown clung to a taut stomach and her lean thigh muscles. The bodice slipped along the sides of her full breasts.
She liked the tease, and yet only wielded it when necessary.
A twist to check her backside showed the gown plunged to just above her derrière. Were the plunge an inch lower it would reveal things even she preferred to keep covered.
The gown, while revealing more than enough, could never keep all her secrets. Tugging her blond hair forward to cover her left ear, she made sure her mother had not been aware of the move.
“You should take it off now,” Charish suggested in her quiet yet demanding tone. “Wouldn’t want to muss it.”
“Of course. It does feel … powerful.”
“That could be the faery dust. Take it off, dear, before you get a contact high. Leo wore gloves when he handled that thing.”
The gown had once belonged to the Seelie court, yet had been stored in a security safe by Hawkes Associates, a firm that represented the paranormal nations and acted as a sort of bank and store-all for their assets.
Priceless, the gown was a huge coup her brother, Leo, had stolen a week ago after her mother had requested he do so. Lyric had been surprised at Leo’s easy submission to the one person he complained stifled his freedom. Yet at the same time, Charish Santiago could squeeze a tear out of the most stalwart warrior: she was master of manipulation.
Fact was, the Santiago clan was nearly bankrupt. Charish needed money. Fast. Pity, the domineering fiancé Charish claimed to love couldn’t provide financial support. Lyric thought him worthless, but her mom did seem to genuinely love him.
If it would help her mother, Lyric was in for the ride tonight, even with the danger it promised.
Another glance in the mirror stirred up the frustration Lyric had thought she’d long pushed aside. She hadn’t seen her reflection in nearly two decades. Sure, she’d seen it until puberty, when bloodborn vampires came into their blood hunger, but her memory was of a towheaded young waif whose love for summer camp and horses diametrically opposed what stood before the mirror.
She