Don't Drink the Holy Water Read online

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgment

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Epilogue

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  Don’t Drink the Holy Water

  ISBN # 978-1-78430-865-0

  ©Copyright Bailey Bradford 2015

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright October 2015

  Edited by Rebecca Scott

  Pride Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Pride Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2015 by Pride Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Pride Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  The Vamp for Me

  DON’T DRINK THE HOLY WATER

  Bailey Bradford

  Book four in The Vamp for Me series

  Being left for dead sure has a way of changing a man.

  All West wanted was one night of fun. He’d taken on the responsibility of raising his younger siblings after their parents died, had done so out of love, but he was a young man and he just wanted a chance to live like one for a few hours.

  It almost cost him his life. It certainly meant his life was changed forever, and along with his life, the lives of his siblings. They were all exposed to a secret world they’d never known existed. Vampires.

  Human children living alongside vampires…seemed unusual. Claude, the coven leader who saved West and his brothers and sisters, doesn’t have accommodations for kids. He finds one coven in the country that does, and sets about making a home there for West and his family. Before he sends West away, West meets an intriguing man, Axel, whom he encounters again months later. The attraction between them is strong, but there is more to consider than just how sexy Axel is.

  Nothing in life is easy, whether you’re a vampire or a human.

  Dedication

  No matter how hard the road, keep walking it. Things will get better, and you are stronger than you think.

  Trademarks Acknowledgment

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Superman: DC Comics

  The Walking Dead: AMC Studios

  Holiday Inn Express: InterContinental Hotels Group

  Harlequin: Harlequin Enterprises Limited

  The Matrix: Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.

  Point Break: Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation

  Thinking Out Loud: Ed Sheeran, Amy Wadge

  DSi XL: Nintendo Co., Ltd.

  Single Ladies: Christopher ‘Tricky’ Stewart, Terius ‘The-Dream’ Nash, Thaddis Harrell, Beyoncé

  Prologue

  I tried. I tried so hard to take care of my family after Mom and Dad passed away. Let’s not think about their passing, though. I can’t, even three years later. It hurts too much, and all that crap about time making it better hasn’t proven to be true.

  I’m a responsible man, a good son, diligent and loyal. There was no way I’d let the state come in and take my siblings away. Stepping up was never a question. Of course I took them in. I love them all, the little twerps.

  But I made one stupid, horrible mistake—and it cost me my life.

  Don’t call me a melodramatic fool. You weren’t the one left for dead on the porch of a vampire den. House. Whatever.

  You weren’t the one tricked and hurt.

  Now everything’s different, and if I’ve learned only one thing, it’s this—I will never trust another man with my heart again.

  * * * *

  In the not so distant past…

  West fumbled with the top button on his jeans as he waited in the alley. It was dark—of course it’s dark, it’s a danged alley behind a raunchy bar—and a little scary outside. A slight breeze carried the scent of garbage and spunk to him.

  Other men were out there, fucking and sucking like they didn’t care if anyone else saw or heard them.

  Maybe they didn’t.

  “Obviously they don’t,” West muttered to himself.

  His heart beat faster and his pulse raced as he saw a tall man exit the club. He knew with a surety he couldn’t explain that it was him, the tall, intense, and rather frightening man he’d locked gazes with inside.

  West was truly terrified—and yet he couldn’t leave, couldn’t make himself walk or run away. Here he stood, a twenty-four-year-old virgin, so desperate for another man’s touch he’d let the first guy who wanted him have him.

  It was wrong. West knew it. He felt it inside. His mother would be so upset with him, giving away his virginity in a grungy alley to a stranger who looked like he’d enjoy hurting West.

  And there was a definite hard cast to the man’s features, a brooding anger that was unmistakable.

  So why couldn’t West leave?

  A little voice in his head screamed at him. He didn’t want this. He’d only come to the club because he’d wanted—

  That little voice shut down on a yelp like a big, invisible boot had stomped it to death. West’s head actually throbbed for a second, then he was staring at the big man in front of him.

  Black eyes. No soul. The thoughts shot through West’s brain, and he would have opened his mouth up to scream—though why should he want to do that?—but he couldn’t move.

  A cruel smile twisted thin lips, and to West’s utter horror, fangs appeared.

  The man leaned closer, and West was paralyzed, except for his heart, which slammed erratically, as if trying to escape his chest.

  “Such a stupid boy,” the stranger rasped, those sharp fangs scraping the shell of West’s ear.

  It hurt, and he was pretty sure the skin was broken, yet he didn’t move or cry out.

  Couldn’t.

  “Nice. So innocent and easy.”

  His ear was licked, then s
ucked on, then bit. Not too hard, but enough that he wanted to cry. He wasn’t into being hurt, and pain scared him. Death scared him.

  Yet when he looked into those fathomless eyes, he knew death was coming for him, and inside, at least, he wept for his siblings.

  Chapter One

  Excruciating pain filled West so completely he couldn’t even scream. Every nerve-ending in his body burned as hot as the sun, and agony rolled through him in waves without a second’s relief.

  Images flashed through his head, fangs, glowing red eyes, horns and wings—those wings, God but he could hear them, a creaking, sticking-together sound even as they were flaring out behind his attacker.

  West couldn’t tell the present from the past. The bits and pieces that were bouncing around in his brain weren’t coherent.

  Fangs, wings, glowing eyes? He was hallucinating, and he wished that the pain was a hallucination too.

  He knew it wasn’t. That kind of suffering couldn’t be imagined. West had never been given to daydreaming and fantasizing anyway. Not more than any sexually frustrated young man his age, and likely much less so, given his responsibilities.

  His responsibilities— West tried to shout for his brothers and sisters. The pain he’d felt before then doubled. Something horrific was wrong with his throat, and he wept as blessed darkness pulled him down.

  But his sleep held no comfort. There, he still couldn’t escape the evil that seemed to be surrounding him. He heard laughter, bitter, hateful laughter that made him believe Satan existed. Before that moment, he’d assigned all evil behavior to humans rather than some spiritual force—now he doubted that. Something very evil did exist, and it’d come for him in a dark alley.

  It was what he got for acting like a whore.

  That simple truth resonated in him, until all he could hear was the laughter and the word whore, as a deep sensation of loss permeated his soul, or what used to be his soul.

  * * * *

  West heard them first, the soft voices, murmured words, then he dared to open one eye enough to peek. He caught a glimpse of four strangers, all males.

  One kept drawing his gaze. Tall, dark-haired, very refined in appearance, wearing a nice suit. There was a tug at West’s gut when he looked at that particular man. It was unnerving, but better than the agony West had been suffering.

  He closed his eye and did a quick mental examination of his body. He was stiff, his muscles ached, but there was nothing like that bright, hot pain he’d been immersed in.

  When he swallowed, his throat still felt raw, much like when he’d had strep as a kid.

  Maybe that’s what happened. Maybe I got sick. I could be in the hospital—

  West shut off the delusional bullcrap. He wasn’t in a hospital. Those men weren’t doctors. He didn’t know who they were, what they wanted with him, but he’d been attacked, and had things done to him. The pain hadn’t been imagined, and he heard that rough, hateful laughter every time his heart began to pound. The men’s voices filtered through regardless.

  “Is he awake?”

  “Augustin, perhaps you could get a glass of ice?”

  “Ice?” A snort. “But he can’t drink or—”

  A much put-upon sigh sent a shiver down West’s spine.

  “Augustin, please. Ice can be used to sooth a dry throat.”

  “Ohhhhhh, I get it. He is awake!”

  “Come on, let’s get the ice,” a third man said.

  West had no idea who anyone was, and could only put a name to one voice, that of Augustin. He listened intently for footsteps and heard only one set. His hearing seemed to be very clear for some reason. There was the whisper of a door opening, then the soft click as it was closed.

  “You can keep your eyes shut if you prefer, West. It is understandable to want to hide from what has happened.”

  West bristled and before he knew what he was doing, he’d pried both eyes open. He found himself glaring at the attractive man in the suit. Just as quickly as his anger had welled up, it vanished. He wanted to please the man speaking to him, and an incomprehensible hunger was forming in his gut.

  “It’s the need to feed. I can help you with this, but soon you will have to take your sustenance from another. I cannot bond with you more than I have by making you.”

  Bond with me? “What—” West closed his eyes again as fiery pain filled his throat. No speaking until that part of him was healed up.

  “I have a mate, and so I will not take another lover. You will find that you want to please me, and want me in a sexual way, but that will ebb. It is the bond between a sire and his fledgling. Once you have sorted out what has happened to you, you will be able to control the impulses you are now feeling.”

  What West was feeling was sheer terror. The whole wanting anyone in a sexual way brought back vivid memories of being attacked. He didn’t know all of what had happened to him, which was both more terrifying and relieving. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  Something wet and warm plopped onto his lips. West didn’t question—the need was too strong. He opened his mouth and coppery liquid dribbled in.

  Some part of him realized it was blood and recoiled, but the rest of him rejoiced as he grabbed at the arm pressed to his lips. He opened his eyes the moment he began to suck like a hungry baby, pulling in long drafts of blood.

  No, no, no, no! What the eff are you doing?

  West told that voice to shut up. He moaned as he swallowed, the blood coating his sore throat, the taste of it bitter yet sweet as honey.

  He couldn’t look away from the intense gaze of the man he was feeding from.

  “You are scared. It will get better. I wish there had been another way, but…” The man shook his head slightly. “You have had enough. Find your control, find your core, and cleave your way to it. You haven’t lost the essence of yourself.”

  West wanted nothing more than to make the man proud of him. The hunger in his belly was gone, his throat hardly hurt. He disengaged his fangs—

  “No!” West shouted, grabbing his head with both hands.

  How had he become the thing from his worst memories?

  Chapter Two

  “He’s going to want you,” Abernathy said.

  Claude would have liked to be able to deny it, but lust was a factor in the relationship between a sire and those he created. It wasn’t irresistible, however. “It is the natural order of our kind, yes, but we are rational beings, no more given to the weakness of the flesh than any other men.”

  Abernathy snorted, turning from watching West sleep to smirk at Claude. “Which is all fancy-speak for you won’t be jumping his bones.”

  “Nor he, mine,” Claude felt compelled to add, even though he knew Abernathy was laughing at him just a little bit. “West is repulsed by the very thing he’s become. He will hate me quite thoroughly, since I turned him.”

  “But you had to,” Abernathy argued. “What? He’d rather be dead?”

  “Quite possibly,” Claude murmured, his ears attuned to his fledgling’s beating heart. The elevation of West’s pulse was a giveaway as surely as the way his breathing sped up. “After what was done to West, it is true he may have preferred death over becoming a vampire. Had I allowed him to die, however, then his poor siblings would have been left without anyone to care for them. For that matter, we could have not gone after the children. If we were evil beings, we wouldn’t have…at least, we wouldn’t have done so and left the young ones alive.”

  There was a definite, low growl that escaped West’s lips but he didn’t open his eyes.

  Claude hoped West was truly comprehending what was being said. It would be so much easier to get on with their lives if West didn’t want to kill him, or be exceedingly difficult.

  To that end, Claude stood then walked to the door. He opened it and called out, “Any time now, Augustin.”

  “Yeah, yeah, keep your drawers on. Oops! Probably need to watch my mouth,” Augustin groused. “Come on, kiddos. Dog-pile your brother!
”

  West’s eyes shot open just as the sound of rapid footsteps filled the bedroom, along with squeals of delight and some murmurs of concern.

  “West!” shouted the oldest girl, Gennie, as she elbowed aside her brothers.

  The girl was fast and a tad mean in her quest to reach West first. She tripped a couple of the other kids before she leaped onto the bed.

  West’s eyes had sprung open seconds before, and he tried to catch his sister but soon ended up buried under a pile of squirming, chattering—and to Claude’s horror, in some cases sobbing—children.

  One of those sobs might have been West’s, considering where a knee landed.

  Or it could have been a cry of joy. Claude didn’t know, but he tried to catch West’s attention. He wanted West to see, to acknowledge that Claude had done this for him. Not just Claude, but the vamps and humans here.

  “We would not let you be separated from them,” Claude finally had to settle for saying, then repeated it loudly again when it seemed West didn’t hear him the first time.

  But Claude’s desire to be acknowledged quickly faded as he saw the love the siblings shared, the relief and yes, joy on West’s face as he embraced all of the children in a big, unwieldy hug.

  His own ego couldn’t compete with that. It made him warm with emotions to see West and the children so…happy. Relieved. Claude didn’t think the words mattered. It was what was being felt that was important.

  He slipped from the room with Abernathy, leaving West to spend time with the ones he loved.

  Chapter Three

  “Aw, come on, Axel! You got a head start! Let’s go again!”

  Roger ‘Axel’ Majors rolled his eyes at his ex-boyfriend Jukie. It’d been that kind of competitiveness, along with the whining, that had put an end to their romantic relationship. Luckily, their friendship had survived, though with the way Jukie was pouting, it might not make it for much longer.