Coldstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 7) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Coldstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 7)

  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 FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Hear From Me

  Coming Soon!

  DEDICATION

  Praise for Heart of a Vampire Series | Bloodstorm

  Hungerstorm

  Praise for Dragos Series | Dragos 1: Burned

  Dragos 2: Scorched

  Titles by Amber Kallyn

  Heart of a Vampire

  The Dragos Series

  Red’s Wolf (Short story series)

  Ménage Me

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ColdStorm

  Heart of a Vampire, Book 7

  Amber Kallyn

  After centuries alone, can two vampires accept that sometimes love is worth the risk?

  As a Judge, Anca Fieraru's duty is to eliminate problems for the Magic Council. Her current assignment—find those responsible for the recent slaughters in Moss Creek, Arizona. To track a local vampire traitor and continue the hunt for the supernatural killers she must utilize the one thing guaranteed to give her a necessary edge—her Romani magic. Unfortunately her use of magic and lethal judgment sets her at odds with her new partner, a sexy, stubborn clan vampire. Their fiery clashes remind Anca there's more to life than holding others at a cold distance.

  Doctor Matt Dixon has spent centuries healing others in atonement for his own heinous crimes. Never mind they were committed while fighting the Arcaine monsters that lurk in the dark. After killing those responsible for destroying everything he ever loved, he's finally found a place of peace in the Moss Creek clan. Until death once more found its way into his life. Ordered to work with the Magic Council's deadly assassin, he soon realizes there's an intriguing woman beneath Anca's icy façade.

  After spending centuries unable to trust, both vampires gave up hope long ago. But when Matt and Anca are together, whispers of love intertwine with fate. They must overcome the horrors of the past and learn to trust one another, before the present danger consumes them and all they care for.

  Coldstorm

  Heart of a Vampire, Book 7

  Copyright © 2016 Amber Kallyn

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be produced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the author.

  All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cover art by: Dawné Dominique

  http://dusktildawndesigns.com/

  ISBN-13: 978-1523317585

  ISBN-10: 1523317582

  CHAPTER ONE

  A dark stench lay heavy on the forest air. A gray pall discolored normally vivid earth magics. Death had visited this place recently. Quite a lot of it.

  And more would likely soon arrive. By her hand.

  Anca Fieraru—vampire, and Judge for the Magic Council—slipped silently through the trees. Surrounded by mountains, sunset came extra early here. Evening shadows shifted through branches to camouflage the ground in black and gray patches. The immense forest welcomed Anca as one of its own, bound to nature and the earth's spirits as she was.

  Less than an hour earlier, she'd taken the highway leading out of the nearby sleepy town of Moss Creek. Parked at one of the few scenic overlooks, she snuck into the territory of the local vampire clan. Bypassing massive gates and guard stations along the only road leading to their fortress, Anca instead headed the back way.

  The excessive number of guards hiding in the trees didn't surprise her.

  The warriors she silently slipped past radiated age, and power. Like Anca, the weakness brought on by the day was most likely ignorable, especially as the sun sank further toward the jagged peaks on the horizon.

  Just one of the many vampire myths she remained glad—even after a handful of centuries—that fact didn't always follow fiction. How limiting to only prowl at night.

  More obstacles attempted to stop her. An inner block fence topped with spikes running through the forest, perhaps their entire property. Two ensnaring protective wards created by a very powerful witch.

  The wards would stop most people.

  Anca wasn't most.

  She snuck around another hidden sentry. Her senses—and the magics of the forest and the earth—pinpointed his location. A bit later, a glint of metal caught her eye. Another camera. Even a clan as old as this one used electronic security nowadays.

  Anca skirted its line of sight and continued on, closer to the stone castle towering less than a mile away now. The fortress was right out of the middle ages. Quite incongruous in these Arizona mountains, but right at home in clan lands.

  She stepped lightly, soundlessly.

  Lines of earth magic radiated out like glittering threads of an endless spider web. The spirits of the earth danced around Anca, constant companions since her youth long, long ago.

  Childlike forms of magic and light, the spirits embodied the powers of the earth. Yet, in this place, they were restless. Like the forest's magics, a dull, almost filmy sheen of grayness darkened the spirits' normally colorful hues—the jeweled green of spring leaves, the ruby of fall, the pure glowing white of snow, the golds and purples of a warm sunset.

  The spirits brushed against Anca, their touch just a bit heavier than the air, like a warm breeze. They fluttered her dark peasant blouse, rubbed against her jeans, played with the cherished sword at her hip.

  The saif, a short curved scimitar, pulsed with power. Her tată's magic, imbued in the sword he'd forged. The power hummed along Anca's senses. Attracted the spirit's curiosity.

  She hurried on toward her destination, her passage disturbing nothing, just as her tată had taught her long ago. Her father's kind eyes—once always laughing before the time of trouble decimated their Romani people—came to mind.

  "Romani can flit anywhere without notice." His booming laugh was a sound she could barely remember. He'd always add with a sly wink, "The patient thief is as a tree whose root runs deep as he waits for the sweet fruit."

  Though she was no thief, Anca continued on, patient and steady until the forest thinned. The castle loomed just ahead.

  Her senses tingled at the presence of so many vampires inside the place. Anca moved even more patiently, holding her tată's words close to her heart.

  With flashes in her path, the spirits guided her to a stop near a long row of hedges lining a sprawling garden. Few vampires wandered the twisted, twining flowers, and those remained distant from her path.

  The spirits whirled around her and filled the air with blossoming scents from the gardens. A hint of memory tantalized her, a familiar perfume she couldn't quite place.

  A flowery scent from her childhood.

  Romanian peonies? Flowers known to grow only around the mountains from her childhood home. Why would they have such rare blooms here in this place?

  With lig
ht nudges on her shoulders and tugs on her hands, the spirits drew her along the hedges, closer still to the castle.

  Until a calloused grip fell on her shoulder.

  She stopped, slipping a hand to the hilt of her curved short sword. How had she not sensed someone's approach?

  "Hey, there. Don't think I've seen you around. You part of the clan?" A youthful crack in his voice broke the last word.

  Instead of drawing her saif, Anca fixed a friendly smile on her face and slowly turned.

  Then had to look up, and up.

  He was a least a foot taller than her own five-two. Fourteen perhaps when he'd been turned. And only a few years since that event, judging by the small flickers of vampiric crimson in his gray aura. Confirming his youthfulness, the boy's aura also held brilliant threads of pure white. At his mortal age, he'd been damn lucky to survive the change at all.

  Anca's muscles tightened, vibrating with anger. Her thoughts spun.

  She'd been assured the local vampire King was a man of fairness and decency, one who upheld the Laws of the Magic Council.

  Including the ancient decree to never turn a child.

  So why did he have this vampire?

  The kid's eyes flickered with hints of suspicious worry at her too-long silence. His grip on her shoulder was certainly strong. But nowhere near a threat. Not to her.

  Anca widened her smile and struck an innocent pose, even going so far as to pull her long dark braid over her shoulder and twirl it around her fingers as she'd seen mortal teenage girls do.

  The kid's tension fled. He grinned back easily.

  "Hello," Anca said. "I'm here to see Jordan MacDougal." Believe the innocent look, kid. She didn't want to have to rough up a child. But she couldn't risk him spreading the alarm about an intruder on clan grounds.

  He let go and stepped back. "A visitor? That's rare lately with all the extra security Jordan's been ordering." He glanced around, a scowl teasing his features. "Why didn't the guards show you to the castle?"

  Still playing with her hair, Anca waved at the trees. "I asked to be allowed to see your beautiful grounds."

  "Oh. I can take you to Jordan then." He stuck out a hand and stepped closer. "I'm Robby."

  "Hello, Robby." She ignored his outstretched hand and kept her tone soothing. "If you don't mind, I'd really prefer to enjoy the forest a bit longer."

  "All right." He grinned cheerily, as if he had no plans to leave.

  Repressing a sigh of aggravation, she watched him watch her. Maybe her innocent act wasn't working with this one.

  "Alone," she added.

  Shadows flashed in his guileless eyes. "You afraid of the King?"

  "Should I be?"

  Robby shook his head. "Jordan can be scary, but he's a good guy. Just don't let his yelling fool you."

  Anca laughed lightly at his attempt at a joke.

  He continued to grin. Still didn't budge.

  After a moment of silence, she nodded politely before walking away. Robby's gaze burned the back of her neck for a long minute, until the trees hid her from his view.

  Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to the earth spirits. They pushed her faster toward the castle.

  Why hadn't she sensed the kid's presence? The spirits hadn't warned her, either.

  She'd slipped past all of this place's powerful defenses. Yet this young teen had managed to not only spot her, but sneak up on her, all without triggering any of her usual warnings.

  How?

  She followed the flickering spirits, her thoughts worrying over Robby, unsure what exactly to make of the boy.

  Minutes later, the hedges ended at the castle walls. The last rays of the lingering sun disappeared behind the mountains, drenching everything with the dark of twilight. Between the trees and bushes crowding alongside the stone, the spirits led her to an open window on the ground floor.

  A voice drifted out. "...been months, damn it." The man's words rang with despondence, and beneath it, anger.

  Cautiously, Anca glanced inside, staying mostly hidden by shadows and the thick, old-fashioned wooden window frame.

  On the other side of a very large room, a vampire paced in front of an old wooden sideboard, covered in what appeared to be dozens of miniature paintings. He was thin, almost to the point of emaciation. Sandy blonde hair and cold blue eyes enhanced narrow, Nordic features.

  He spoke again. "How much longer must I bear this? Five months. Luci's still gone." His aura shone with bright vampire red in a smoky gray, glinting with flashes of emotion.

  Someone else sighed.

  In a pair of antique chairs all the way to the right, in front of a large fireplace. One of the chairs had been turned to face out at the room. And in it sat a second vampire. Blond, with a regal bearing and strong features, his elegant suit and casual pose gave off the appearance of a relaxed man. The tic in his jaw, the dark light in his blue eyes, told a different story.

  The power of his aura was nearly blinding. Flecks of crimson, and a silvery-green she'd never seen before swirled in a light gray. A wash of his magic swept the room. Over her. An itchy pressure over her skin like thousands of marching ants.

  This could only be the King of the castle, and Master of the local clan. Jordan MacDougal.

  His reply held a strong assurance. "Leo, we will get your sister back. I swear it."

  A sister? It was rare enough for a turned vampire to rise, even more so for blood relatives to survive the change. She was finding all sorts of oddities here.

  "When?" The younger vampire slowly turned, as if ancient and every movement brought agony. He looked at the King with so much despair, Anca felt his pain from where she crouched.

  MacDougal stood up and crossed the room to lay a hand on Leo's shoulder. "Soon as we can." His voice thickened with a Scottish brogue. "I swear it, lad. No one is giving up."

  Leo started to speak, didn't manage a sound. He cleared his throat. "One of these days, Luci's going to be..." He choked, then mumbled, "Find her dead... Tortured. Gotta get her out," he ended on a strained whisper.

  Anca swallowed past her tight, heating throat. She knew all too well the excruciation that came when forced to face having a loved one, family, being captured by the enemy. Worse was finding them brutally tortured to death. Knowing you hadn't been able to stop it, to save those you loved.

  It was enough to crush one's soul.

  MacDougal replied, "We are searching everywhere."

  Leo started to shake his head, a flash of something in his eyes Anca couldn't quite see. His shoulders slumped and he slowly nodded. "I can't... I just... It's killing me."

  "Aye. I understand. You'll continue to be kept informed of everything we find."

  Leo nodded again, a bit more hopeful. He bowed before turning and leaving the room.

  The King turned and strode back to the unlit fireplace, staring at the soot-blackened stones in deep thought. With a weary sigh, he turned his chair toward the wall like its' match, and sat down.

  His gaze never left the fireplace.

  Anca continued to study him. This vampire, both a Master and clan King, seemed reasonable. Decent. Caring. All that she'd been told.

  But she'd not be able to trust him at all without an answer to the question burning inside of her. She leapt up, landing catlike and quiet on the wide windowsill. Soundlessly, she stepped down to the floor, and crossed the room.

  She stopped a good ten feet behind the King.

  Letting a small taste of her power seep from the cloak she constantly hid it beneath, Anca pushed the magic of her position into her words. "Why do you have a child vampire?"

  With a bellow, the King jerked to his feet and rushed her.

  "Halt, Warrior. I was sent by Endulpias."

  The name of one of the Magic Council's Elder vampires stopped his very large, grasping hands only inches from her throat. He straightened, looking her up and down. "You are a Judge from the Council?" he asked softly.

  "I am." Keeping her ex
pression coldly neutral, she stated just as deceptively soft, "This will be the final time I ask. Why do you have a child vampire?"

  He didn't even hesitate. "The boy came to me that way."

  "From who?" she demanded.

  Rubbing his jaw, he assessed her. "It doesn't matter now. His old Master is dead." His face, his eyes and voice all projected truth. More importantly, so did his strange aura. Anca relaxed the slightest bit.

  As if he'd read her carefully hidden anger, and now its cooling, the tension billowing from him eased as well. He looked her up and down with a critical eye, and then laughed heartily. "The Magic Council sent me a babe. How old were you when you became a vampire?"

  She'd been nearly twenty and in her time, very much an adult. Anca stood to her full height, ignoring the fact that he towered over her.

  Used to being taken lightly due to her small stature and appearance, she replied, "The Council ordered a Judge sent to assist with your recent problems. Do you wish to question my abilities?" For the briefest of moments, she opened the cloak hiding her magic a little wider. Let him feel more of her power.

  The King's eyes flared crimson for an instant. Then, like a patient predator, he stepped back. A hint of a smile played at his lips as he bowed his head regally. "My apologies. I am Jordan MacDougal, local Master and clan King. Welcome to my territory. We graciously accept your assistance." He sounded sincere but his words dripped with sarcasm.

  Anca understood. Was used to it.

  He needed help, but didn't necessarily like being forced to take it. Like all the Masters she'd worked with over the centuries, he'd either accept her, or force her to prove her strength. Anca would deal with his choice when it came. And if his decision was to fight, well, she'd yet been the one to lose.

  MacDougal waved her to the chairs in front of the fireplace, wordlessly offering her a seat. Tipping her head politely, she settled lightly in the one beside his.

  After a long moment, he reclaimed his seat. "May I ask how you got in?" The too-casual question hung in the air.

  Anca raised a brow. "I'm a Judge. I have been for quite some time. Though I may look young, my power isn't to be trifled with." She continued, gently but without the slightest waver. "The Magic Council has heard disturbing rumors from Arizona. Out of control problems, both here in Moss Creek, and down in Phoenix. I'm here to solve what the Council considers the larger, and more immediate threat. That would be your town. I've read the reports from the last year or so, but I'd prefer first hand details if you'd fill me in?"