Page 1 of Daring Her Vampires (Embracing The Bond #12)

Chapter One

Sally

“ I think I’m the only one in here that doesn’t want to fuck you,” Rowen drawls, and I narrow my eyes.

“I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult.” I lean back, sliding my arm across the back of the booth. I pick up my drink with my other hand and take a sip.

“Shit, I’m lying.” He smirks. “I love the outfit. I would totally fuck you if we weren’t friends.”

“I bought this skirt at a thrift store ten years ago.” I let go of my drink and smooth the denim.

“It was worth the two bucks. I’ve had many drinks bought for me because of it.

” The miniskirt is one of my favorites. I paired it with a silky red tank that drapes just right.

I love the feeling of the metal of my three necklaces across my skin as I move.

“It works,” he says, his gaze floating down my body. His attention moves to the waitress as she stops at the table.

Rowen is a new friend. Sometimes, he joins me for a night out.

He’s a vampire and one of the new additions to the crew in town.

Several months ago, we rescued him. He was kidnapped and drugged by an evil man.

My best friend, Micah, another vampire, met his mate, Daisy.

She is a coyote shifter who discovered that her brother and mom had been taken by the same man.

When we saved her family, we saved Rowan too.

Rowen hasn’t been adjusting well to being out of chains.

He doesn’t talk to the rest of my friends and refuses to join us at family gatherings.

He is gorgeous with his deep blue eyes and shaggy blonde hair. If we had met in the club, I would have slept with him in a minute, but since we became friends, I won’t cross that line.

The waitress leaves, and I watch her walk to the bar. The Mark is a club that two vampires own. Ryker and his business partner, Bash. I love coming here, not only to give Bash shit, but because they are family.

“Roxanne may stop by.”

“Now her,” he starts, tipping his drink toward me. “I would fuck.”

“You sure you can handle her?” I smile and tilt my head. Roxanne is a rabbit shifter like me, and another new friend.

“I would give it my best shot,” he replies.

“I dare you.” Picking up my drink, I let my gaze wander and lock eyes with a cute guy. He’s been watching me for twenty minutes. The sound of my phone buzzing distracts me, and I dig it out of my purse. I smile when I see Bane’s name.

How’s your night, SR?”

Bane is a jaguar shifter. He works for Heath, a snake shifter who just found his mate. We have become fast friends, and we text all the time. SR stands for sexy rabbit, and I fucking love it.

Hanging at The Mark

Rowen’s with me

Want to come?

Busy. Just checking in.

Sweet ;)

Lunch this week?

Yeah

I’ll text.

Stay safe. Call if you need a ride.

Will do.

“Is Micah checking in?” Rowen asks when I set down my phone.

“No, Bane.”

“Who is Bane?”

“A friend.”

“You have a lot of friends.”

“That’s what makes life worth living. That and sex.” I uncross and cross my legs.

“Micah doesn’t get jealous? His best friend title is being challenged,” he says, grinning.

“As if,” I snort. “Micah is man enough to know I will always love him. He’s not threatened by me having other friends. I’m a friendly girl.” I shrug. “People like me.”

He chuckles, “I know they do.” I slowly turn my head to the human stopping at my side, the one who has been staring at me. He’s cute but not my usual type.

“You’re going to dance with me,” he states, holding his hand out. I look at his hand and then at Rowen.

“Isn’t he sweet?” I drawl and look back at his face. “Honey, how old are you?”

He frowns. “Twenty-three.” His hand wavers.

“Hon, you couldn’t handle me.” I lean my forearms on the table.

“You haven’t earned the right to demand anything from me.

Plus, usually the only time I dance is in private.

Preferably in front of a man who makes me wet.

” I relax back into the booth. “You see that girl over there?” I nod in the pretty brunette's direction.

He drops his hand and looks over his shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“She’s been looking at you the whole time you’ve been looking at me. Why don’t you buy her a drink? Be respectful. She looks sweet.” I wrap my tongue around my straw.

“Sure. Okay,” he mumbles, glancing between me and Rowen.

“Hey, congrats on getting the balls to come over, though,” Rowen says, holding his drink up. The human nods and leaves quickly. “Fuck, that was hilarious. He is too young for you.”

“Is that your way of asking how old I am?” I ask.

“Maybe.” His lips twitch.

“You should know better.” I run my hand through my blonde hair, bunching it in my fist at the back of my head. “I’ll never tell.” Many of my friends have tried to guess my age. I think I look like a young thirty-nine-year-old who never crosses into her forties.

“It was worth a shot.” I let go of my hair and itch my arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Something is happening. I’ve been having dreams. I woke up wet, turned on, and anxious.” I lift my leg slightly, sliding my hand to my thigh, and drop my leg again. I am constantly forcing myself to stop rubbing my skin. I heal quickly, but I may dig a hole in my skin.

“A premonition?” he asks.

“Maybe.” Rabbit shifters get visions of the past and future.

They are random and sometimes don’t make sense.

“I can’t see a face, but their hands are magical.

” The dreams have plagued me for two weeks.

I have been a ball of nerves and sexual need.

I usually don’t have the same vision more than once, and never have been affected so strongly.

The human could have satisfied me enough to sleep, but I didn’t feel any attraction.

“That’s why you wanted to come out,” he guesses. “For a distraction and to find someone to take the itch away.”

“Yes.” I wave my hand toward the room. “But no one piques my interest.” I don’t know what the dreams mean, and it’s bugging the shit out of me.

I don’t have to be asleep to have them. Sometimes, they hit when I’m awake.

One time, I was shopping in the fruit section, looking at the apples, and suddenly, images flashed across them.

“Do I need to take one for the team?” Rowen asks, cringing.

“Don’t strain yourself,” I retort.

“Good, because I think of you as a sister,” he says.

“You couldn’t handle me either,” I smirk.

“I agree.” He laughs. “Thanks.”

“For what?” I tilt my head.

“It’s been a while since I laughed,” he whispers.

“I know,” I whisper back.

He clears his throat. “I’m going to go.”

“I understand.” Rowen can only stand the loudness of the club for so long.

“Can I escort you home?” he asks as he slides out of the booth.

“Don’t worry about me. Roxanne will be here soon.”

“Alright, Doll.” He leans over and kisses my cheek. “Let me know the next time.”

“Of course. Text me.” He nods and walks away. I follow his progress to the front door. I always worry about him more than he does me.

Roxanne isn’t coming. She is spending some time with her sons, Kingston and Maverick. Rowen wouldn’t have left so easily if he had known I would be alone. His time in captivity changed him, but his protectiveness toward me started the minute we met.

I scoot across the seat, sliding my purse strap over my shoulder, and stand. I won’t find what I need here; it’s time to go home.

“Sally.” Looking to the left, I see Bash wading through the crowd, avoiding the dancers, his fierce scowl aimed their way.

I tilt my head and enjoy the view. Bash is a four-hundred-year-old vampire with white hair, a muscular body, and a hatred for humans.

We constantly give each other shit, and he likes to pretend he doesn’t like me.

I know the truth. He’s blunt and would rather be at home with his mate.

I respect the man he is and can appreciate his honesty.

“Leaving already?” he asks as he stops at my side.

“I’m not feeling it tonight.” I wrinkle my nose.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, lightly touching my elbow.

“I’ve been having dreams,” I admit. Our friends see us trade barbs back and forth. They rarely see the other side of our relationship. I know Bash cares about me.

“Bad dreams?” He frowns, his hand tightening.

“Good and bad.” I tap his hand. “I’m fine. I just don’t know what they mean yet.”

“I’m here if you need to talk it out,” he offers, dropping his arm. “I can have Marie stop by.” Marie is his mate.

“Don’t worry. I’ll let you know.” His scowl remains, but he nods.

“Be safe. If you text, I’ll respond,” he snarls.

“Bash,” I gasp and touch my palm to my chest. “I thought you hated texting. Won’t your fingers fall off if you do?”

“Don’t push it,” he growls.

“Thanks, Bash.” I laugh, but sober quickly. “I mean it.”

“Me too.” He cups my shoulder briefly before disappearing. I shake my head and walk toward the door.

As I push outside, I wish I could fly home like vampires can.

Alright, so they don’t exactly fly, but they move at such a high rate of speed, it seems like it.

Instead, I unlock my car and sit my ass inside.

Bash and Ryker love me, and the evidence of that is the great parking spot reserved for me.

Anytime I’m heading to their club, I text, and they make sure it’s open.

I connect my phone to my car, pick my music, and crank it up. As I back out, the music fills the car. The best way to drive anywhere is fast and loud. My place isn’t far, but I’ll enjoy the beat while I can.

My friends give me shit about the group text.

Living as long as I have, when you have technology, you enjoy it.

It’s still amazing that you can send a message in a second and get a response a second later.

Secretly, I think they love it. Who doesn’t want to be included in the latest news?

Sure, Heath threw his phone across the room when he couldn’t opt out.

Bash has replaced his phone five times since we met.

They eventually give up and accept that they are part of the group.

They call me the queen of group text, and I’m okay with the title.

Not finding a man tonight to get lost in was disappointing.

I own my sexual needs; I mean, I own them.

Why shouldn’t I? Men have gloried in that shit since the beginning of time, so why can’t a woman?

We have orgasms, and most of the time, we enjoy them with the right person.

I hate it when a woman is called nasty names when her number of partners rises.

Men get a slap on the back and a “good job.” I have needs.

I want to have fun. Why should they get away with it?

I dress in tight clothes. My body is mine, and I can dress it however I want.

They can look all they want, but I don’t dress for attention.

I dress for myself. My clothes make me feel good, and that’s all that matters.

It’s my choice to allow you to touch. I don’t sleep with just anyone.

They have to stimulate me in some way. Are you an asshole?

If you are, you don’t get to spend time with me.

I once slept with a man who put his hand on the small of my back to guide me.

Fuck, it gets me every time. That light touch was all it took.

We had fun. I didn’t fall in love, and we went our separate ways.

I won’t cry at your feet because it’s only for a night.

You have to be really fucking good for me to get on my knees.

The ground is hard, and I don’t want to wobble on my bony knees to beg.

Begging could be possible if I found my mate. The universe should know by now not to send me someone non-beg-worthy.

For shifters, finding a mate is the ultimate gift.

The universe decides your perfect match, but you never know when or if it will put them in your path.

We live a long fucking time, and without a mate to share it with, the years are empty.

Shifters can live forever if you're careful, but we age very slowly. We can be killed. Vampires are harder to kill. If a vampire doesn’t find their mate at a certain point, they can go insane and become out of control.

Shifters can, too, but it’s not as likely.

Some may think I’m a bit wild, but I am far from going off the deep end.

Pulling in front of my place, I grab my purse and get out. I rent an apartment because I saw no point in buying a house. It’s a two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment with a small living room and kitchen combo. I hustle up the stairs to the second floor and unlock my door.

A couple of months ago, Rylee, a fox shifter and Heath’s sister, was staying with me, but she left weeks ago when she found her own place. We still talk, but she doesn’t come over much anymore and hasn’t joined many of the gatherings.

The second after I lock the door and drop my purse on the little stand inside the door, I turn on the television.

Slipping off my heels, I turn on the lights and get a beer.

Stopping in front of the sink, I pick up the vase of flowers and refill them.

Touching the soft yellow petals, I move them to the counter and lean against it, taking a long sip of the beer.

I miss Rylee. I like my space, but I’ve never been a fan of living alone.

Rowen needs silence, and I need noise. When you sit in silence without distractions, the demons from the past slip into your head.

I am blessed. Finding a community of shifters and vampires who will always protect you and the family is rare.

I stumbled—okay, maybe forced—my way into their world when my friend Saylor was in trouble, but they haven’t kicked me out.

I revel in the loud group. There is always something going on or a party to go to.

I need it.

I need them.

My childhood was spent in silence and fear. I know better than most that blood doesn’t mean fuck-all. I’m a one-hundred-and-fifty-year-old rabbit shifter who doesn’t have a mate, but I found a family.

And I won’t let go.