Carpe Nocturne 1: Dressed to Kill
Coming April, 2007
Publisher: Changeling Press
Genre: Vampire Menage Erotic Romance
Sylvie Durand must get her failing nightclub, Carpe Nocturne, operating in the black before the utilities are cut off and her credit cards are eaten by an ATM machine. To stir up business, she decides to hold weekly themed costume parties. And it seems to be working--until she discovers a dead body in her office and learns the vampire “costumes” aren’t exactly disguises.
Burke Langton is on the run. Wrongfully accused of murder, he’s keeping one step ahead of the Excoluni--the law enforcement arm of the U.M.N. (United Magical Nations)--while tracking down the real killer. When the murderer strikes again, this time at Carpe Nocturne, Burke learns Sylvie is his Origo--his mate. He also discovers she could be the murderer’s next victim. Now he must find the killer while protecting Sylvie--and battling the potent desire she stirs within him.
Miko Dvorak is a high-ranking officer of the Excoluni. His mission is to bring Burke to justice. But that’s no easy task, for the two share an Origo. Dane must choose between the dark hunger driving him to complete the Binding, and his commitment to the law.
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Copyright 2007
Tawny Taylor
All Rights Reserved
Sylvie couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the same thing. That awful image of the dead man, the empty eye sockets, the horrific expression on his face. And then she saw herself as a child, standing under the freeway overpass, the cardboard sign gripped in her grubby hands, her eyes hollow.
In a desperate attempt to distract herself, she watched infomercials for a while. Kept trying to call Lisa. Gave up after getting her voicemail three times in a row. Would Lisa ever hear about it tomorrow! “She had better be near death’s door,” Sylvie mumbled as she hit the button, cutting off the call before the voicemail kicked in again.
She tried reading, but her brain was too foggy to absorb written words. She flipped through magazines and stared at the pictures blindly. Her fears kept haunting her. That guy’s face.
How long would it take before it would fade, even a bit? Dammit, she didn’t want to be alone tonight!
She jumped for the umpteenth time when a tree branch scratched her bedroom window. Tiptoed through the house checking and re-checking the locks. Her puppy, Lulu, who weighed in at exactly five pounds, wasn’t much of a guard dog but she brought her along anyway. Weren’t toy poodles supposed to be good security dogs?
Then again, if that was the case, hers was defective. The little white fur ball kept whimpering and hiding under the nearest piece of furniture.
“A lot of good you’d be if someone broke in. Maybe you’d ruin their shoes,” she half-joked, half-scolded, dragging the shivering canine out from under the couch. “This is not the time for hunting dust bunnies.” She was almost regretting not having gone for the rottweiler. Instead of hiding behind a one hundred-fifty pound animal with big sharp teeth as she crept through her house, she was carting around a shaking, dribbling poodle.
Front door locked? Check. Windows? Check. Kitchen door? Check. French doors to the back yard? Check. Everything on the first floor seemed to be secure. She headed back toward the front of the house, to the staircase. It was then, as she turned the corner, that she saw something dark pass over the leaded glass sidelight next to her front door.
Her heart stopped. Literally.
Someone was out there! That shadow was way too tall to be a stray cat or opossum.
She dashed back to the kitchen, dropped Lulu on the floor next to her food dish and armed herself with the one and only weapon she could find in her current panicked state -- a broom.
Hopefully the element of surprise would be on her side or she was in big trouble.
Then she tiptoed back toward the front door. Her fingers gripped the broom’s wooden handle so hard the muscles in her palms cramped. Her heart thudded so hard in her chest she could feel it banging against her breastbone.
She briefly thought about running back to the kitchen and calling 9-1-1. But what if there was no one out there? Or what if her friend Lisa had come over to check on her?
Please, please let it be Lisa.
Her arms shaking, she peered through the peephole. No Lisa. She went to the living room window to see if there was a car parked in her driveway.
Nothing.
Still holding the broom, she ran from window to window, checking each one. Her yard had a lot of trees and shrubbery. Too many. Up until tonight she hadn’t considered the downside of having a house virtually surrounded by dense greenery.
Tomorrow morning she was calling a landscaping company! It was all going, even the lilacs. Too many places for prowlers to hide.
She went back to the front door, paced back and forth a million times until she was so tired she needed duct tape to keep her eyelids open. Finally, unable to keep going, she dropped on her rump on the bottom stair.
The shadow passed in front of the side light once more, sending her into a state of panic all over again. If only the glass panes weren’t beveled. She might know what she was dealing with. She lunged for the front door and peered through the peephole again.
The lawyer?
The lawyer!
As if a switch had been thrown, her racing heart rate slowed. It was only the lawyer, Brett Whatever-his-name. She released a huff of air. God, she was a wreck. Freaking out at every little thing.
But as she twisted the doorknob, the welcome relief morphed into anger. The lawyer? How dare he come skulking around her house at this hour! What was his deal? Need to make a payment on that ridiculous car he had? Speaking of cars, where was it anyway? He had to have driven. Unless he lived close by.
Wouldn’t that be her luck?
She didn’t wait for him to knock. She opened the door and, making sure to wield the broom in the most threatening manner she could, stomped outside and shouted, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He was facing the street. And gauging by the way his very nicely-built body jerked when she yelled, he hadn’t expected her to open the door yet. He whipped around and his gaze dropping to her hands, lifted both of his in the universal position of surrender.
Such a strong man in such a weak position. For some reason that gesture looked wrong on him. She had the feeling he didn’t need to use it very often.
“I wanted to make sure you got home safely,” he explained. “Didn’t see your car…”
Fighting a tingle of awareness as her gaze went on a little tour of the landscape that comprised Brett Whoever, P.C., she tipped her head and glared at him. “It’s parked in the garage. Like it should be. So get lost. I don’t need a lawyer. And even if I did, I wouldn’t call you. How fucking low! Trying to solicit new business by doling out cards at the scene of a murder. Can. You. Say. Ewww?” She punctuated each word with a thrust of the broom.
“I’m not here to try to get a client.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. And thanks to the fact that he was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, she was privy to the sight of a couple really nice biceps.
Drool. And drool.
Still, he was a scummy lawyer, she reminded herself. Out to get his next buck. What else would he be doing at her house in the middle of the night?
“Heh. Yeah,” she scoffed. “Like I’m going to believe that. What’s wrong? The ad you put in the newspaper didn’t get you enough business this month?”
“Plenty’s wrong. But not for me.” He took a step toward her. It was a pretty large step. Brought him a whole lot closer to her than she wanted at the moment… or maybe not. Yes, too close.
She took a couple steps backward, but the closed storm door stopped her from going any further. The air got a little thicker, harder to inhale. “Yeah… so what’re you trying to say?” She lifted her chin, shifted the broom into her right hand and reached behind her with the left, searching for the door’s handle. He closed the distance between them before she had her fingers around it. The scent of man and soap and something else she couldn’t name swirled around her like a fog. She inhaled deeply, to see if it was really as pleasant as she’d first thought.
Yeah, it was.
Scared, you should be scared! Not sniffing him like a bouquet of roses.
Now, with his threatening -- albeit scrumptious -- bulk blocking her, and her head adrift in thoughts of flowers and biceps, she couldn’t step out from in front of the door to open it. Not sure what to do, she released the door’s handle and returned both hands to the broom.
His gaze met hers and held it captive. “Please. I realize it looks a little strange, my being here at this hour. But I think there are a few things you need to know.”
His voice was so low and soothing and reassuring the little bit of anger she’d managed to cling to vanished. Poof. Gone. She was suddenly tempted to invite him inside.
What am I thinking?
She shoved that idiotic idea aside and yanked her eyes away. For some reason, her brain seemed to get all soupy when she looked him in the eye.
What had she been about to say? $Oh yeah.$ “Don’t you think a phone call would’ve been more appropriate? How’d you find out where I live, anyway?”
“That’s what I’ve come to talk to you about.” He raised a hand to her face, closed his fingers around her chin and lifted, until she was looking at his face again. “You can trust me.”
A warm, pleasant feeling, like satin running over her skin swept through her mind. Equally pleasant tingles danced over her skin, warmed her insides.
Yes, she could trust him. He was strong and mysterious but not scary. He wanted to help her, not harm her.
Very suddenly, she realized she wanted to touch him. No, she wanted to do a whole lot more than that. To taste his kiss. To strip naked, throw herself on the floor and invite him aboard.
The longer she stared into his eyes, the more she wanted to feel his hard body pressed against hers. His mouth over hers, tasting, taking.
Whatever she was about to say faded from her mind.
He slowly lowered his head, tipping it to the side as it came closer, closer.
He was going to kiss her! And she was so very, very glad. She closed her eyes and mentally braced herself.
