Vampire Mythicals Book 2
Vampires Don't Protect is the perfect read for those who love a story full of mystery and suspense, and a little romance. Enter a twilight world full of mythicals, stalkers and dangerous killers. Feel the fear and sexual tension with this thrilling story of protection against the unknown.
When a vampire is the only one who can protect you from a psycho-mythical, what do you do? In Vampire Don't Protect, nurse-slash-fairy Amy finds herself in this very predicament.
With her friend attacked, she knows she has to do something, but the only one she can turn to is Isaac Malcomb, a vampire and the scum of the mythical world.
Against her better judgement, she finds herself attracted to her protector, and must find a way to save her friend from the psycho.
Can she trust Isaac to help her or will she be left to face her enemy on her own?
If you enjoyed the thrilling fantasy suspense in Vampires Don't Babysit, you'll love Vampires Don't Protect!
How bad off are you if you need protection from a vampire
Vampire Mythicals Book 2
So, she’s cute.
That doesn’t mean Isaac Malcomb should have to protect her.
Does it?
Yet that’s exactly what he’s doing. Protecting Amy, a nurse-slash-fairy at Jackstone Foundation. And she’s got big problems. Her friend was attacked, and she knows who did it.
Amy really shouldn’t think that Isaac is cute—he’s a vampire, after all. They are the scum of the mythical world. Maybe it’s that old psychosis of being attracted to her protector.
That’s a thing, right? Sure, it is. Because otherwise she’s got the hots for a vampire, and a fairy as old as she is should know better than that.
Yet she’s got a psycho-slash-mythical after her, and to save her friend, she has to stop him.
Somehow.
Guess she’s going to have to let a vampire protect her.
Series Order
- Vampires Don't Babysit
- Vampires Don't Protect
- Vampires Don't Date the Boss
- Vampires Don't Fall in Love
Excerpt
Being a vampire sounded like fun.
Up all night.
Sleep all day.
Drink the blood of thine enemy.
Whatever the hell that was.
Yeah. It all sounded fun. Hell of a lot better than being shot at or bombed. Or expected to obey without thinking.
Then Isaac Malcomb became a vampire.
And he learned quickly that it wasn’t nearly as much fun as he thought it would be. What with the whole obeying, starving, and exhaustion.
And the immortal.
Like forever, he would be like this.
That was really going to suck.
Both literally and figuratively.
Far too many times, Malcomb watched his sire roll around with humans, fuck them, eat them—and not in a sexual way—then discard the bodies.
Blood everywhere.
Starving for blood, and his head would throb with hunger while he’d have to hear the heartbeats of the dying victims as Melios fed.
And his sire would expect him to stand there as a guard. Watch. But not move.
Because it amused the fucker.
If Malcomb was lucky, Melios would have thrown him an arm or something to drain the last of the blood out.
He wasn’t always lucky.
Especially not now. The hunger pulsed under his skin, and it put him on edge. Like pretty much all of them. And there were a lot of hungry vampires down here.
Surrounded by a room full of smelly, stinking vampires, midafternoon was when everyone should be sleeping. Instead, they were gathered around a table—like a war room in most respects.
It kind of was a war room.
It’s where he and the rest of his little squad of vampires got their orders.
The building in downtown Liverly that Melios had commandeered to make his nest sat among a half-dozen other old or beaten down buildings. An abandoned warehouse that no one paid any attention to on the river. They kept tearing down notices of the upcoming auction at Melios’s request. Maybe the vampire thought if he removed them, no one would know the building was going to auction in a couple of months.
The only people who came down there were local independent filmmakers and photographers who wanted a depressed, dramatic background. It didn’t take much to scare them off.
Or have a meal. Either worked.
If Melios was feeling generous. Most of the time, though, he wasn’t. He kept all the new blood for himself. The rest of them got scraps.
“Gather,” Melios said. Lean and slender, he had a particular other-worldly look. Like he wasn’t from the neighborhood. He held out his hands, and it was almost hypnotic, watching the way he’d move.
All the vampires circled their master. Melios had sired every single one in the room. There were more he’d sired that weren’t in the nest. The actual number he’d made around the world throughout his multiple-century existence, Malcomb had no idea.
Malcomb, like all the others, was newer to being a vampire. And everyone stood elbow to elbow, waited to hear what was coming.
The whole place pulsed with anticipation. They could all feel it.
Malcomb could really feel it. On top of the hunger, this anticipation seemed to radiate off some.
He glanced at Jake Reynolds, his friend.
Commanding officer.
But a friend first. Sort of.
His face was neutral, and he didn’t seem to know what was going on, either. No one seemed aware.
Except maybe Washington. But Washington always looked like he knew what was going on, whether he did or not.
Melios’s gaze passed over them all. “An attack is imminent. The Templars are moving on me and my nest. I imagine they will arrive at dark. Chivalry at its finest,” Melios snorted.
Malcomb resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Stupid, really. He would have attacked while the vampires were at their weakest—during the day when they couldn’t go outside.
Advantage of the situation, and all that.
Melios glanced at Malcomb, then to Reynolds. “SEALS, defend me.”
“Yes, sir!” Malcomb replied, along with Reynolds, Joanie Alekhine, Travis Collins, and Thompson—Malcomb could never remember his first name. Something weird. And of course, Deke Smith. The monster of the squad.
That was just Reynold’s squad. Four men, and a woman, that he’d personally brought into the nest—he’d been the one to recruit them all.
Melios kept two other squads as well, all former military or police of some sort. He liked having vampires who had extensive training in their mortal life, and the old sire used them for whatever operation he had going on.
And he always seemed to have something going on—some kind of mission or intel he wanted to know.
The rest of the vampires around the group—the ones who had been turned, and just wound up being dangerous because they were a little extra crazy—were assigned to work in different areas.
The three squads, however, quickly planned out a defensive strategy.
“Reynolds, you take yours over to the south wall, wait for engagement.”
Reynolds nodded.
“Brooks, you go north.” Washington, the oldest of all of them, one of a handful of Vietnam vets among them, “We’ll take the frontal assault.”
“Didn’t you all learn anything from Vietnam?” Malcomb popped off.
Washington glared at him.
Malcomb blinked.
Washington was on him. “Do not speak of what you do not know.”
Slam.
Slam.
Boom.
Malcomb shoved him off. “Get over it!”
Malcomb looked for bruises that should have been there, some evidence of the fight, but Washington’s brown skin looked unmarred.
The big vampire leaped into the air, hovered for a second, and landed again, right in front of Malcomb.
“Your mouth will get you ashed, dumb assed SEAL.” And boom, he slammed Malcomb upside the head.
It was so fast, Isaac didn’t see it coming.
“What the fuck?” He rubbed his head. “And I’m not a goddamn SEAL!”
“Here, you are,” Washington said, glaring first at Malcomb, then at everyone. “Fall out, everyone.”
The room echoed in affirmatives.
Washington glared at Reynolds. “Control your squad, or after this, I’ll see they meet a goddamn stake.”
“Yes, sir,” Reynolds replied.
Washington put his back to him and walked away.
Reynolds glanced at Malcomb.
And hit him upside the head.
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