Master Calabrea: Dark Vampire

Romance (Masters of the Consulate

Book 6) Sylvia Black
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Master Calabrea
MASTERS OF THE CONSULATE (BOOK 6)

SYLVIA BLACK
BOOK WORLD INK
 Contents

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Thank You
Acknowledgments
About Sylvia Black
Do You Want More?
 Copyright © 2023 Master Calabrea by Sylvia Black

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing,
photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from the author. Sylvia Black retains moral rights as author of this
work.

This book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters,
places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living
or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language
and may be considered offensive to some readers.

Cover by Cassandra Fear, C&N Design

Editing by Silla Webb | Masque of the Red Pen

Created with Vellum

 Chapter

One

I
walk into The Descallia, one of the busiest clubs in the most southern tip of Italy, tugging on the
ends of the crisp white sleeves beneath my black suit coat. The greeter gives me a nod of
recognition. I weave in and among humans and vampires alike, any of whom could be part of the
well-orchestrated cue intended to bring the vampires to our knees. The same fuckers who will pay the
ultimate price when we find the rogue shifters who have evaded us until now, along with their
traitorous leader, Isala
The lounge is pulsing with a throbbing, seductive music. The music is almost too loud to even
hear myself think. It doesn’t seem to bother the couples conversing at the tables, the couples making
out on the couches to the rear of the room, or the ladies gently swaying on stage one little bit.
Even under the dim lights it's not hard to spot our warriors strategically posted around the
perimeter of the club. We may have assimilated over the years, but that doesn’t mean everyone
approves of the vampires living among them and the warriors are ready to intervene at the slightest
hint of trouble. It seems there’s always some type of discord when all the factions mingle.
The bartender, who I’ve known for centuries, gives me a nod as I take a seat in front of the long
black marble bar. "Descallia Red."
He brings a bottle of the imported blood wine mixture from below and pours me a healthy glass.
"Master Calabrea, Overmaster Descallia asked me to let you know that he may be running a few
minutes late for his meeting with you this evening, sir."
I swallow down half the drink in one long swallow, letting the mixture of blood and wine take the
edge off the storm swirling in my mind. “Thanks for letting me know,” I tell him, settling in at the bar
to wait.
The feel of war is heavy in the air…
My thoughts swirl with all the trouble the rogue vampires have brought to our doorstep, century
after century. They’re smarter than we gave them credit for, and their hatred of our leader and the
community he has built fuels their determination to send us back to the dark ages. Even after days of
scouring the countryside, we’re no closer to finding them or Isala.
If given half a chance, the combined forces will destroy the reputation and respectability
Overmaster Descallia has built for the vampires in this day and age, and much more. They will do
everything they can to discredit us, take our power, and then revert to snacking on humans when
they're least expecting it.
Then, and only then will the villainous rogues ever quiet their thirst for revenge.
A hand taps my shoulder and pulls me from my reverie. "Calabrea, thanks for meeting me. I know
you have much to do, but it’s prudent I speak to you in private before the others join us this evening.
Should we have a seat; I could use a drink?" Overmaster Descallia asks.
We get to the table where a reserved sign is always present for our leader, the owner of the
Descallia Resorts and Clubs all around the globe and Overmaster to all twelve of the consulate
masters. Each, responsible for a region of the globe where vampire history is entrenched the most.
A dancer with long creamy legs, a burgundy and silver pair of skimpy panties and nothing else on
graces the stage and begins to sway to the sound of the seductive and rhythmic beat as we take our
seats slithering closer to give me a smile while her fangs hang seductively over the bottom of her
lower lip. The females see our suits and sense authority and power in the room, and this one is the
worst.
A server appears and pulls my attention back to the table. Overmaster orders a Descallia Red. I
place a hand over my glass, still almost full. "Thank you, though," I tell the young woman who flashes
me a bright smile before she hurries back to the bar.
Overmaster Descallia clears his throat. He's not a man of many words, doesn't usually waste them
and doesn't do it now. "There are a few things you should know before we bring the others up to
speed on the logistics of finding Isala.”
He scans the bar, taking in the four warriors who I spotted when entering the top floor of the club.
"We haven’t told many, but Dragos wasn’t the only one who defected from the warriors and went to
work with Isala. I'm intentionally keeping things quiet for now, hoping to flush any remaining traitors
out of the woodwork. Since we can’t use them in the capacity we’re used to, I’ve brought in a special
operations team. It’s critical you be prepared to work with them and also understand why the secrecy
around the team.”
"I see."
The server brings his drink. Overmaster Descallia tastes it, still observing me. "And you're not
sure how you feel about me making that decision without the masters being fully apprised?"
“It’s not that I don’t trust you, because I do. But something about the secrecy rankles being one of
the masters who isn’t getting the same level of information that we’re used to as of late. The entire
purpose of the consulate is to deal with and make decisions that impact us all. Why else bring twelve
different vampire masters together, rulers of the regions where the richest and richest of vampire
history comes from?”
He nods. “I don’t disagree. I’m the one who set the consulate up to create checks and balances in
the decision making to ensure that we were always focused on the greater good of the vampire
community, yet now I decide what the masters know and what they don’t?”
He doesn't give me time to respond, just keeps talking. "It's okay, Calabrea. It's nothing I haven't
thought about long and hard or haven't discussed at length with Luciana and Lucas. It hurts me not to
be able to share this with all the masters. The entire structure we created for the vampire community
depends on each of the global regions providing input to guide the group as a whole. I believe in the
structure, wholeheartedly. That’s why I kept myself as Master of my region, instead of putting
someone else in in charge. Keeping twelve instead of thirteen.”
I nod, taking a drink of the mixture that is blended to perfection but doesn’t feel like quite enough
tonight.
“I realize the secrecy goes against the strategy laid out and which we live by, but as Overmaster,
it's also my responsibility to look ten steps into the future and intercept anything that could harm us.
We need to remove the traitors that have gotten into the folds of the warriors before we can open up
communication the way we once had it.”
A waitress stops in to check on our drinks, and both of us decline another. "That's why you
brought in the special ops team? They have the combat skills we need?" I ask after she moves on.
Overmaster Descallia takes a long pull of his drink and sets the glass down with a thud, lowering
his voice even further as a young couple with their arms wrapped around each other pass by our
table. “Yes, they’ve been hand-selected for their skill sets and sworn to secrecy by me. Darius can
hack into or build systems comparable to those used by the FBI.”
My eyebrows raise in admiration. Now that’s a skill set that I don’t think we have, even with the
warriors. “Sweet.”
“Troy and Marcus have been focused on tracking and travel paths to this point. I don’t want one
place the rogues have stopped and sought help, refuge, or curried favor to go unchecked. We may not
have time to deal with all the traitors now, but mark my words, we will come back for them. When
we do, they will pay the ultimate price for their betrayal to the vampires.”
“I understood you told Isala you have a source near this area? One from the special ops team?”
Overmaster Descallia nods. “Yes, however, Lucianna and I believe it’s a trap. Isala wanted them
to find her, or she wouldn’t have been found that easy, even with their skills. I want you to tread
carefully, Calabrea. You may know the community here, but remember, this woman has managed to
live under my roof and maintain a credible façade of being devoted to the vampire community for a
very long time. All while quietly convincing many of the young wolves and witches in the underworld
to join her fight against us.”
Isala has become a formidable opponent indeed. “I planned to check in with the lords in the area,
have their vampires cast a wide net over the entire region. She can’t hide from all of the Calabrea
region,” I tell him.
Descallia nods, his dark black eyes turning red around the rims. “Perhaps not, but Silver, who
will also join you, has powers of sight that were previously untapped until he started working with
us. He’s been mentoring with Lucianna and was able to help find the missing woman the rogues took
to make it look like the vampires were snatching women off the streets awhile back. He will be of
great assistance to you and your teams.”
“Are we getting blowback from the humans from the missing woman?” I ask.
“So far, we’ve been able to alleviate any concerns by getting in front of it and leading the charge
to rescue them. They’ve all been returned home, and the rogues seem to be focused on other things
now. I want you to take Silver, and a couple others with you on this assignment, though. His special
powers will help you and us all.”
Overmaster Descallia may think everything in his life is secret, but I’ve heard a few whispered
rumors about the special powers of not only this Silver, but also of Descallia’s mate who does much
but talks little. We masters converse among ourselves before and after the consulate meetings,
whether he knows it or not.
“Who are the others?” I ask, talking to him but shifting my eyes on a vampiress in a slinky red
dress who is eye fucking me from where she hovers near the next table. The scent of her arousal wafts
heavy in the air, her heart beats fast, and her fangs descend over the top of her bottom lip before the
tip of her tongue touches them.
Only if there were time, sweetheart. But tonight, there are far too many things to do besides
feasting on the lovely vampiress who isn’t in the least bit trying to play coy. She, just like the others,
knows exactly who I am, and the power that being my mate would hold.
I make take them to bed, but I’m not about to step into a trap like that twice in a lifetime. There’s
no time for even a passing hook-up right now. The next couple days will be filled with laying down
plans to find and capture the elusive Isala before a war the likes that no one has ever seen breaks out
between the factions of the underworld.
Overmaster Descallia notices the female hovering and scowls. She doesn’t need anything other
than that to take the hint and flee back to the bar area where she immediately sparks up an intimate
looking conversation with her next target.
He returns us both to the work at hand. “Clay and Terrence will come with you too. Silver will
help you in ways you wouldn’t imagine, but you can depend on Clay and Terrence to fight by your
side. We brought them into the special forces because of their formidable combat skills. They will
help fill the void of the warriors we can’t engage at this time.”
I clear my throat. What I have to say needs to be said. "It seems to me that if the warriors were the
only ones you were worried about, the two of us wouldn't be having this conversation in a bar, but at
our headquarters in Rome with ten more of our brothers around us.”
Overmaster Descallia doesn’t say a word, just observes me closely. I can hear the speed of his
chest pumping just slightly harder and the blood thrumming through his veins.
“You think there is a traitor among us too?” I ask. After centuries, he should know that I mean him
no disrespect, but still, he’s not used to being questioned nor am I used to being used as a pawn.
His jaw tightens, and the red around his eyes tinge. "I certainly hope not, but given the situation
it's not out of the realm of possibility. I'm just not willing to take that bet with everything at stake.
Until I know for certain, I'll keep things close to the vest and ask you to share with no one but me.”
I nod, recalling how centuries ago one of his own most trusted employees turned traitor and
caused the death of Overmaster Descallia’s mate. A brother vampire who died a savage and
unrelentless death by Descallia’s own brutal hands.
He turns the crystal glass on the top of the table, and the last of the red wine blend swirls in the
bottom before focusing his eyes on me. “You’ll have full authority on this mission, but the goal is to
get to Isala and take her alive. Roman is going to be with us, but his focus is going to be finding out
which of the syndicate elders is in on the cue to overthrow the vampires. He believes they were at
least in part responsible for the death of his brothers and nearly the death of his sister.”
“And we don’t?”
“On the contrary, I want that information too, but not at the cost of letting Isala slip through our
fingers again. The priority is Isala, whether Roman likes it or not. Use his determination to discern
any information we need, but let him deal with his kind. Is that clear?”
“Crystal. It actually makes me feel much more reassured about the mission at hand.”
Overmaster Descallia nods. “Good.” Then he leans in closer. “I don't want Lucianna to know I’ve
asked you to bring Isala to me alive. She will think that I'm doing it out of a favor to her. She would
not want the vampire community to think I'm sparing her sister’s life because of her.”
My brows knit because that’s exactly how it looks sitting from my chair. "Then why? If I might
ask."
Descallia nods and sits back, adjusting a silver and diamond cuff link beneath his dark suit. “Get
in, get her out and into our hands alive. If we find those at the top, all the better, but don’t focus on it.
Focus on Isala,” he says, which doesn’t answer my question at all.
Lucianna walks through the door of the club. “And do it without Lucianna knowing?”
His eyebrows knit, almost with indecision. “If that’s possible, then yes. If not, I’ll need to deal
with it myself. He turns toward the door as his mate, the one with glowing crystalline green eyes,
walks toward us as if she already knows our secret and has one of her very own.
 Chapter

Two

T
he mover drops the last of the cardboard boxes unceremoniously into the back of the long ass
crate. I bite my tongue, grateful in the knowledge that I hand wrapped every piece left from my
grandmother in bubble wrap, at least twice if not three times. Whatever is in that box will be
okay until it makes it to the other side of the globe, and to a life far different than this.
He drops another box, and this time I’ve had enough. I rush over to him, unable to stand idly by.
“Hey, that box you just tossed around contains pieces of my heart. If you can’t be careful with my
belongs, I’ll find someone who gives a shit."
He has the good conscience to look as guilty as he should. "Sorry about that, doll."
My eyes narrow. "Are you really?"
He grimaces and then sighs. “I am now. I'll be careful with your stuff."
Now he sincerely looks apologetic, but then again, I’m the worse judge of characters that ever
walked this earth. I must be for not seeing what my ex was like before everyone else in town. “It's all
that’s left of my grandmother's belongings. They're worthless to anyone but me."
When they finish loading everything, the guys with him push the ramp into the truck and close the
doors. The sound of the metal slamming shut feels like a signal that the life I know is really over.
I can only hope the new one will be much better than what I’m leaving behind. I can't even bear to
watch the long moving truck pulling out of the parking lot of the complex and onto the main thorough. I
walk back into the now empty apartment and leave the keys on the counter for the landlord along with
a check written out, including enough to pay for the final cleaning.
One more glance around and I choke back tears that burn behind my eyes. I will not cry for a life
that wasn't really mine, at least not the one I thought it was or for a relationship that I thought was
special, but clearly, he did not. Too much time has passed, and still the memories of the betrayal haunt
me. It’s time to move on and leave them in the past where they belong.
My cell phone rings. “Embry!” I was just thinking of you. It’s done. The movers just packed up the
last of my stuff. I'll be on the way to the airport shortly. The movers will be putting all my stuff in
storage right outside of the city until I decide what I want to do with it. Maybe once I’m settled in
Italy and get a place of my own, I’ll have it shipped over.”
“You know there’s no hurry. You can stay with us as long as you like. Lucas has a great estate in
Italy along with others in the States and abroad. We’re not even there that much.”
That’s kind of her, but I plan on making my own way. “Thank you, Embry. I really appreciate all
that you have both done to make this transition possible. I’ll find a place of my own quick.”
“Tansia, we’re family. You can stay as long as you need to or want. I already found you a job. If
it's not what you want long term, no problem, but it pays well. Everyone who works at Descallia gets
paid well."
“The vampire club you talk about?”
I can just picture my cousin’s narrowed eyes, as I absorb the brief silence on the other end of the
line. “It's a mixed club. Everyone is welcome at Descallia's, except for witches. Absolutely no
witches; well, except for one. She’s one of us technically, though.”
My eyes roll, and I’m glad she can’t see me. “It’s not an easy establishment to get work at, unless
of course, you know someone. And I just happen to know the right people. You'll have to sign a non-
disclosure agreement, though. What you see and hear at the club, it’s family business, and it doesn't
leave the club; know what I mean?”
My eyes go wide. My cousin and I may be as thick as thieves, but she didn’t tell me she was
working for a bunch of criminals. “What’s the job? Are they into illegal stuff? I'm not getting into
anything illegal, am I?”
She laughs. “One question at a time. No, nothing like that, but they also don't want you talking to
anyone about what goes on behind their walls, especially in the lower level.”
“Ahh, the sex club you were telling me about. Wait, what kind of job did you get me? I'm not
taking off my clothes either! This body is not in any shape for that, and we both know I dance like I
have two left feet.”
Embry laughs. "You have a body that most of us would kill for. That long slinky waist and killer
boobs. But no, the job is nothing like that. You’ll be serving drinks and waiting tables, until you
decide what it is that you want to do.”
I suck in a deep breath. This, I can do. “Thanks, Embry. I needed to hear your voice after a day
like today. This is exactly what I need. A new start, in a fresh place. You know it's been a year last
week since we broke up but to everyone, we’re still a couple. They think we're a thing, that we're
going to get back together. He still has everyone in this town eating out of the palm of his hand, and
everything in this apartment seems to remind me of him. It’s time to move on.”
Embry's quiet on the other line. "I love you, Tansia, and can't wait to see you. Call me when you
get to town. I’ll have a car pick you up and bring you straight to the club. A group of us will be
meeting there again tonight to go over a few things. We’ve been working on organizing an assignment.
I can’t really talk about it on the phone, but I’ll give you the 4-1-1 when you get here.”
I get into my car and head to the airport. The excitement of a trip across the ocean on a private jet,
courtesy of my cousin and her vampire friends, and the thought of a new start on life courses through
my veins.

THE MINUTE EMBRY sees me walk into the club, her purple eyes flash and she smiles brightly,
quickening her pace with Lucas on her heels. My cousin throws her arms around me and hugs me
tight. "I am so happy you're here, Tansia. I was just telling Lucas about all the things we need to catch
up on."
Lucas smiles at Embry and then extends a hand to me. "Good to see you again, Tansia. We were
glad you could make it to see Embry’s ceremony, but it was so crowded we barely had any time to
visit with our friends and family.”
I shake his hand. “It was an impressive event. I've never been to anything like that.” Embry puts a
finger to her lip and lowers her voice. “Remember to keep the fact that Lucianna gave me a ticket for
you to ourselves. We're really only supposed to give them out to vampires, without the approval of the
masters of the consulate. They don’t take too kindly to being kept out of the loop, especially right now
with everything going on.”
Embry hasn’t changed a bit. Her long hair is still bright purple to match the color of her eyes, and
she’s still showing off that dangly belly button ring with her short sweater and skirt. “I am so glad you
took this job,” she gushes. “You will seriously love everything about working here. All the employees
of the Descallia Resorts and Clubs are taken care of like family.” She squeezes my hand. “It will give
you the fresh start you need. I promise!”
Lucas leads the two of us back to a table and introduces me to the group. Embry pats the empty
seat between hers and one taken by a dark-haired vampire with penetrating pitch-black eyes.
Overmaster Descallia has an arm around Lucianna, and he gives me a curt nod from across the table.
“Glad you had a safe trip.”
“Thank you so much for letting me come over on the Descallia jet. I’ve never flown in a private
jet before. I’ll be spoiled for life,” I tell him and Lucianna.
Lucianna smiles brightly at me. “We’re glad you had a nice trip. Embry has been talking about
nothing else since you decided to come.”
Embry continues introducing me to the others. When she gets to the dark haired male next to me,
he barely looks up. “This is Master Calabrea,” she says.
“Nice to meet you,” I tell him, although, I’m not really sure if that’s true.
His dark eyes take me in and then dismiss me as he picks a piece of lint from his dark suit jacket.
My eyes narrow at the arrogant prick. Master Vampire or not, he should have more manners than
that. He may have all the other vampiresses or whatever they’re called here at the club, swooning at
his feet, but I couldn’t give a rat’s ass who he is.
He’s just plain rude…
Master Calabrea feels the heat of my glare and looks up at me again as though I’ve disrupted
something more important than what he’s doing. His eyebrows lift sardonically, seemingly bored and
disinterested although the rims of his eyes redden as his glance trails down my body.
Yeah, not likely, asshole. Still, his eyes heat my skin, warm my insides, and cause my pulse to
race.
Lucas places his arm around Embry. He leans in close to ask her something. All she's ever wanted
is to be his and to be part of his world. He's the nicest vampire I've ever met, not that I've met that
many. Still, the stories about how they came to be, how they fought to get where they are in society,
and how they drink pure blood causes an involuntary shiver to snake down my spine. I’m genuinely
happy for the life she’s chosen, to be one of them, and to be his, but no thank you…
She and our gramma can have the vampires.... Especially a skirt-chasing vampire like the one
who can’t seem to keep his eyes in his head and off my boobs now that I’ve moved around to the other
side of the table and settled in.
I may be appreciative for the job and have a high regard for the vampires in the community, but
I’m not naïve. At least not anymore. That woman was left broken by a lying, deceitful, and scamming
man leaving me with the only gift he could, a healthy dose of mistrust and self-survival around the
opposite sex. Embry may have been totally obsessed with them, always wanting to hear more of the
bloody war stories from the time she was little, but not me.
Overmaster Descallia clears his throat. “Master Calabrea will be running point on a new
assignment. He, Lucianna, and I met here last night to identify some of the barriers and risks that we
want to avoid as we look for Isala.” He looks pointedly at me. “That’s where you can help.”
 He doesn’t seem to care that I have no idea what he’s talking about or why they plan to discuss
this in my presence.
Lucianna touches Overmaster Descallia’s hand, and he pauses mid-sentence as she gives me a
bright smile. “Tansia, I'm so glad you decided to move and come to work for us at The Descallia.
Embry has told us so many wonderful things about you and the skills you possess. The reason we
decided to meet tonight and include you is we have an offer to make.”
“An offer?” I look from her to Embry and then back to Lucianna.
Lucianna nods. "I know Embry is thrilled that you're in Italy now, and of course we're thrilled to
have you here.” She looks to Embry, and her eyes narrow in question. “You really didn’t tell her
anything?”
Embry gives her a swirl of her eyes, laughing as she looks between the two of us. “She was in
flight. I thought we could just spring it on her. Way more fun that way.”
I narrow my eyes at Emery, usually only half exasperated by my spirited cousin’s antics but more
so today as the dark eyes of the vampire master across the table bore into me. "Tell me what?"
Embry’s eyes swirl with mischief. “See, now Tansia is all settled in, and most importantly, she’s
had a little wine. I was just waiting for the right moment,” she tells Lucianna with a grin. I don’t think
Lucianna is enjoying the position she’s been put in while my cousin is enjoying keeping me in the dark
just a little too much.
Embry turns to me. “We have a job to do here in Italy. We’re trying to find someone, and there are
a multitude of languages. Master Calabrea is well versed in most, but not as familiar with others.
You’re a master in so many dialects, and we just thought…”
I inhale deeply, because getting to the point for Embry could take a while. She must see the look
of exasperation that I tried to hide. “We need a good translator, someone we trust. You know all the
languages and the culture of so many different countries. We were hoping you would help us, go with
us on the assignment. We can’t tell you too much about it right now, but you would be helping the
vampires with something very important. Something that would help all the factions, really, humans
too.”
Lucianna smiles and nods, taking a sip of her wine as her mate glares at me as though the few
seconds it’s taking to respond is testing whatever little patience he has.
Master Calabrea scowls, his jaw set firmly as he watches me struggle for an answer from his seat
next to mine.
His more than obvious disapproval fuels a less than well thought-out decision. “I know everything
there is to know about Italy and the surrounding countries, the cultures, and all of the dialects that are
often used from travelers not always from around these parts. I'd love to help with anything that you
need.” Lucianna lets out an internal sigh of relief as Overmaster Descallia gives me a half smile.
“Good,” he says, “then it is settled. We have a translator.”
Master Calabrea turns his dark red rimmed eyes to me. "You should consider this carefully. You
may have a very good understanding of the different languages, but there is danger in what we plan to
do and for anyone who plans to help us. Are you prepared for that?"
I swallow past the lump in my throat, kicking myself internally for the brash decision but bound
and determined not to let this asshole see it. He’s not going to intimidate me, no matter who he is or
how important his title is. “I wouldn’t have taken the job, otherwise. Are you prepared, Master
Calabrea?” I ask, ignoring his glower that sends heat coursing through my body and the grins from the
ladies around the table.
 Chapter

Three

L
ucianna tosses a knowing smile my way before Overmaster Descallia guides his mate away to
mingle with a couple who are sitting at the bar. I don’t miss the slight nudge of Embry’s elbow as
it pokes Lucas in the side either. “We should dance,” Embry says, giving Tansia wide eyes
before tugging Lucas onto the dance floor for a round of dancing before the meal is served.
A waitress stops at the table, saving me from an uncomfortable silence. "Would you care for a
drink?" I ask the impertinent young human who I now find myself completely alone with.
Her deep green eyes sparkle but her lips are pursed, clearly annoyed at being left alone with me
too. “A glass of red wine, please.”
I turn to the waitress. “A bottle of our best red, please.” When my gaze falls to Tansia, she’s
watching the stage. The female on stage stretches like a cat across the open stage, keeping her eyes
pointedly fixed on me.
I avert my gaze…
Always better not to give them any reason to think you’re interested. Otherwise, you will have a
tail for the rest of the evening, whether it’s welcome or not. Every female I meet these days seems to
smell the money and power that come with the master title.
Instead, I focus my attention on the insolent young woman sitting next to me.
Her eyes are bright green, an emerald color that almost glows. She wears a short black skirt, no
nylons, just smooth, creamy skin that goes on for miles, trailing down to sexy strappy black heels that
wrap around her delicate ankles and show off her polished red toes. My eyes travel back up, taking in
her tight waist and the white button-down shirt against the larger-than-average-sized breasts beneath
it.
Her heart-shaped lips are pursed when I reach her face. "Are you quite done, or should I stand up,
turn around, and bend over so you can examine my ass too?"
My eyebrows raise at her forwardness. I don't recall seeing her at Embry’s recent transition
ceremony, but yet there’s something about her that seems so familiar. I wouldn't have forgotten her, not
with those large wide emerald eyes, set so far apart and framed with dark lashes. The ones that
appear not to miss a thing, and all of that gorgeous red curly hair falling seductively around her
shoulders and trailing down to her breasts.
I ignore her question, as my cock presses against the seam of my pants because I’m hardly done at
all. I wonder what kind of reaction I would get if I told her, yes.
Her finger gently circles the rim of her wine glass, doing little to help my situation. “You owe me
an apology. I'm not a piece of meat. Embry’s told me about this place. There’s an entire playroom
downstairs where a variety of girls are at your beck and call. I'm not one of them. You should
remember that if we’re going to work together."
She stands and walks away, heading toward the restroom. I find myself alone at the table, annoyed
and admittedly intrigued by her blatant disregard for my position, watching her hair flounce and her
ass sway as she makes her way across the room atop those strappy high heels that I envision wrapped
around my neck.
Oh, sweetheart, if you're half as wild in bed...
Descallia and Lucianna return moments later, dragging my thoughts from the proverbial gutter. He
pulls out the chair for Lucianna. Our overmaster is a changed man since his mate has returned. She
and the vampire community are his entire world and anyone who hurts her, including her sister, will
see the wrath the likes of which they will never survive, regardless of whether he wants her returned
to him alive or not.
Overmaster Descallia clears his throat. “While we’re alone, Calabrea. The rest of the special ops
team is on their way. What I neglected to mention yesterday is that Embry was made part of that group
not long ago. She has exceptional skills in combat. She’ll be working with our team in that capacity. I
didn’t include her when we met with Lucianna here yesterday because Lucianna had not yet had a
chance to speak with her about it.”
My eyes narrow, watching the little wisp of a woman with purple hair laughing up at Lucas on the
dance floor, shaking her ass and acting a fool. I scowl… It wasn’t enough to meet with him last night
and get told that others would be joining the assignment in my region, but now he loads me with both
Embry and Tansia? “No disrespect, but I didn’t think babysitting was part of the job.”
His keen dark eyes don’t waver. “She’s earned her place on the team, Calabrea. Her skills are
exceptional. Having the special ops team will allow you to focus on leading the group and finding
Isala. And, to clear the air about last night. I’ve shared my plan to have Isala taken alive with
Lucianna. She knew we were conspiring the minute she walked in the door,” he says, half smiling at
his mate whose eyes begin to glow.
“I thought we were strategizing," I say, swirling the rest of the Descallia Red in the bottom of my
wine glass. Giving her a smile, having not quite figured out how I feel about the special powers of
sight she has, allowing her into not only the minds of those she cares about but far into the future.
“Speaking of strategizing.” I gesture to Roman, the new syndicate don who’s just walked in the door
with Master Trentino and Angel. “We’re still planning to let Roman join us in the hunt for Isala? You
know he’s going to want to focus on the men at the top of the syndicate pulling the strings, because
those are the same men who can remove him from his role if he doesn’t toe the line.”
"To be certain," Master Descallia says, swirling his red. "You know what they say—keep your
enemies close, right?"
I grin and nod, thankful that Descallia hasn't succumbed to the whole syndicate playing nice with
us bunch of crap that I thought Roman had pulled over on our leader.
The three of them arrive at our table, and Trentino holds a seat for his mate, Angel. Roman grabs
an extra chair from another table and sits next Angel, giving his sister a sitting hug.
Far too much playing nice if you ask me. “A Descallia Red for everyone. Oh, perhaps a regular
wine or even a beer for Roman?" I tell the waitress, not caring two fucks that it earns me a raised
eyebrow from the syndicate don.
The waitress leaves the table to fill our order just as Embry and Lucas return, and everyone is
introduced to our newcomer. I turn back to find Roman watching the myriad of expressions play over
Tansia’s features as she talks quietly with the ladies who are asking her questions about her recent
travels.
 His eyes roam Tansia’s body from head to toe. My chest pumps blood at an unsettling pace,
watching Roman who’s only recently taken over the reins of the syndicate, while he feasts on Embry’s
cousin with greedy eyes.
Roman must feel the heat of my gaze.
He pulls his eyes away from Tansia and looks to Descallia and then me. "Perhaps we should get
down to business. I spoke with my men out in the field just before coming here tonight. They tell me
they've followed the rogue shifters back to a mansion near the coast." He looks at me pointedly before
continuing. “Apparently it’s not far from your estate.”
I nod. "That should make it easy. We'll plan to use my estate as headquarters then, unless there's
any objection.”
Descallia shakes his head. “You've got the perfect view, with the ability to see the fuckers coming
a mile away from the top of that hill, plenty of lords and vampires on patrol, as well as townspeople
who respect you and who could be called on within a moment's notice. It’s a good plan.”
He looks at Roman. "Where are the syndicate elders in this? Some of them, too, have estates and
headquarters in the most southern parts of Italy? Have you had a chance to speak with them, get a feel
for their positions? They’re not going to be able to remain neutral in this for long. A war between the
factions is coming. Unless we can stop the rogues, the syndicate elders are going to need to take a
side.”
Roman glances around the club and lowers his head. "A meeting has been called of the elders.
There holding it back in Chicago, along with a few other families. I’ll know if I’m still don after this
plays out. They believe my sister’s situation and her relationship with Master Trentino bias my ability
to govern the family.”
“They have no idea how hard you work to keep the two separate, Roman,” Angel says.
Master Trentino nods. “I have to say, I wasn’t sure how you would do it either, but you’ve only
aligned with us fully when it was in the best interest of both groups to do so. I’ve been impressed
with your ability to keep things separate, while not taking your eye from your job.”
Roman takes a drink of his wine. “I appreciate the vote of confidence”—he looks at Overmaster
Descallia—“and the support, but we both know, if they make that decision, they’ll have taken those
things into consideration.”
Overmaster Descallia growls. “If a war is what the syndicate wants, then it is what they shall
have.”
Lucianna’s hand snakes down Overmaster Descallia’s arm and entwines with his. “Hopefully it
won’t come to that,” she says gently.
Overmaster Descallia scowls. “If they remove you, they’ll need to deal with me. They may not
answer to the vampires, but they sure as hell won’t want to lose all the territory. In addition, we’ve
given them discounts on product that we control. You help Master Calabrea and the special ops team,
and Tansia of course. Help us find Isala and when this is all over, we’re going to ensure you’re still
presiding don. We may not see eye to eye on all things, and I doubt we ever will, but we both want to
ensure there is not an outright war.
Roman nods. He tips his wine glass, and everyone does, likewise, toasting to a plan that helps
pave the way to our future, one that leaves us in bed with the fucking syndicate.
I don’t know that Roman is a good man or that partnering with him doesn’t just simply win the
approval of both the humans and most of the vampires because he and Descallia are known. But
whatever Descallia has up his sleeve, hopefully leads us to the ones at the top of the syndicate who
are helping conspire with Isala, but at least we’re all clear now what the immediate objective is.
 Isala is the priority.
Take her alive and bring her to Overmaster Descallia, trust a bunch of people I barely know with
my life, and babysit the two females who are laughing and talking amongst themselves like
schoolgirls.
My jaw locks tight…
Tansia’s head turns as if drawn to my thoughts. Her deep jade eyes focus on mine, mesmerizing
me with their intensity.
Ice queen.
Her eyes flash, her lips purse, and I brace myself for an onslaught of her sassy but hot little
tongue.
 Chapter

Four

T
he master vampire looks at me with disdain. It’s as though he's just been given the worst news in
the world. Well, I'm not that thrilled to be spending more time with the arrogant prick myself but
helping my cousin, yes. I would do anything for her, and I’m not going to let the grumpy vampire
stand in my way.
I glance at the syndicate don as he interacts with Overmaster Descallia. He seems cool, calm, and
collected. He tugs at the white shirt below his suit every once in a while, as his piercing eyes scan the
room.
The heat of Master Calabrea's eyes constantly warms my skin, my focus gravitating toward him as
though magnetically drawn.
My eyes rake over Master Calabrea. The blood in my veins thrums as his eyes redden around the
rims, heating my insides with the lust of his look.
I avert my eyes…
Under no condition do I plan to be taken in by mister dark and good-looking master vampire who
looks at me as though I may be his next meal. Embry may have her heart set on Lucas and a vampire
life, but that's where she and I differ. I'll take someone who doesn't want to snack on me in the middle
of the night, thank you very much. And after the last breakup a year ago, I'll take hanging out with
friends over a serious relationship any day.
The intensity of his eyes on my skin does not waver, causing my blood to race. I swallow down
the tongue lashing he deserves because getting into it with him could be nothing but trouble. I have a
job to do, and it’s not playing kiss or tell, or anything else with the handsome vampire master.
Embry turns my way and begins talking about the city and all there is to do. Shopping, restaurants,
and gazillion tours we can take. After a while my nerves begin to settle and my blood begins to calm.
The sultry blonde from the stage who was making googly eyes at Master Calabrea earlier prowls
over to the table. She places her hand on his shoulder, letting her long red fingernails stroke his chest
while keeping her eyes pointedly fixed on me. “Master Calabrea, so good to see you in the club. I’m
on for another set in about an hour. Perhaps you’ll still be here when I finish?”
He turns to look into her eyes. “Only a business trip this time, I’m afraid, Sierra.”
Her jet-black eyes redden around the perimeter, and her fangs descend as she glares at me. Embry
smirks at me, while the vampiress gushes about seeing him next time he comes into the club before
she moves on.
Embry leans over to me and whispers, “Sierra would like to rip you to pieces with those claws
and fangs of hers about now. She’s had her sights on Master Calabrea for a very long time.”
I glance over at Calabrea. He’s already engaged in a serious conversation with the other masters.
“Is it mutual?” I ask, only out of curiosity and nothing else.
She grins. “Well, he is male. I’m sure he’s taken advantage of her generous spirit a time or two,”
she says.
I watch Sierra as the sexy vampiress makes her way to the bar, still dressed in nothing but little
bits of skimpy material she’s placed around her nudeness. The male eyes track her sultry movements
as she sways across the floor. “It’s true what they say. Males think with their dicks. Who needs
them?” I ask.
Embry’s eyes soften. “One day you’re going to find someone worthy of you, who you can actually
trust. I promise.”
I swallow down a retort. “Probably not in this lifetime. I need to run to the ladies room,” I
whisper, looking around for a sign.
Everyone around the table is deep in conversation. She gestures toward the back of the lounge, in
the far-right corner. “I’ll come with you,” Embry says. No one looks up as we excuse ourselves from
the table, but I can feel a pair of searing eyes heating my skin as we make our way through the club.
I don’t need eyes in the back of my head to know who’s watching me. Like it or not, that vampire
has a way of making me feel his presence right through my core.
Embry takes the first stall in the otherwise empty bathroom. I pull a compact from my purse, and
dab a little powder around my cheeks, before rummaging around to find my lipstick which is where it
always is, at the bottom of my purse.
The door opens, and I glance up.
Sierra’s fangs are descended as she walks in and closes the door behind her. She doesn’t waste a
moment or play coy. She hovers across the room, right into my face, her breath hot and smelling of
alcohol tinged with a scent I don’t even recognize.
I swallow down maybe a little repulsion. The smell of blood, no doubt, and she looks like she’s
out for mine.
She doesn’t give me any kind of warning before striking out with those claws.
I was prepared for that far before the attack. I block her hand with mine with the strength of years
of martial arts training. The nails from her other hand catch the side of my face. I wince in pain and
twist her arm harder, pushing it up and back until she cries out with pain, before smashing her in the
chin with my other elbow.
She lets out an angry high-pitched squeal and licks her scarlet painted lips, which are now red
with her own blood, no doubt readying herself for another round.
My stance is strong, prepared for another onslaught even while trying to stave it off. “You come
near me again, and next time I’ll break your arm and your jaw. Those were just warnings. I have no
beef with you. Stay away from me.”
Embry steps out of the stall, her eyes blazing purple and her fangs fully descended. My cousin is
ready to jump into this cat fight if needed, but I’ve never needed someone to fight my battles, and I
don’t need it now.
Sierra’s eyes flash at Embry. “You side with human trash?”
Embry growls, something I’ve never heard from her before. “That human has more soul than
you’ll ever have. She doesn’t have eyes on Master Calabrea, but from what I saw he doesn’t have
eyes for you either. Get over it and move on, Sierra. There are more than enough males out there who
would love to rub their dicks all over a skank like you.”
Sierra’s eyes blaze red with anger. “You’ll pay for that. You’re not even a pureblood. The masters
are letting anyone into our community these days.” She turns on a pair of stilted high heels and stalks
out the door.
I dab my face with a wetted paper towel and then try to tame down the flaming red line across my
cheek with more face powder. “Superficial. You won’t even see it in a few days,” I tell Embry. “Are
all you vampires this territorial?” I ask, trying to erase the worry from my cousin’s face as she stands
watching me in the mirror.
She grins. “We can be. If someone even looks at Lucas, I’m ready to throw down.”
I put my lipstick on while Embry washes up at the sink. “Remind me to steer clear of miss thing.
Welcome to vampire land,” I joke.
Embry tucks her own lipstick back in her purse and frowns as she looks at me in the mirror. “You
need to take something like this seriously. She may come after you again. I know you’re well versed
in martial arts, but vampires, we have instinct on our side. It’s like we can anticipate every single
move before you make it. It’s hard to explain. It’s like a hyper sixth sense that I never had when I was
human.”
I don’t discount the warning, because I’ve never been in combat with anyone but humans, but still,
the same training should apply. “Hopefully the horny one has found some poor unsuspecting vampire
to sync her fangs into,” I tell my cousin as we make our way from the bathroom back to the table.
Master Calabrea’s eyes narrow the minute he spots the scratch I tried to cover up. “What
happened?” He’s looking at me, but Embry answers.
Her eyes flash, and the purple colors all swirl together. “Sierra is in heat. She caught Tansia in the
bathroom. You need to keep a leash on your playthings after you discard them or protect unsuspecting
woman like Tansia.”
He doesn’t answer Embry, instead turning his full attention to me. “You tangled with Sierra and
came out with a mere scratch. Did you need me to protect you?” Calabrea asks with a raised
eyebrow.
The blood in my veins races with a myriad of emotions, embarrassed at attention being called to
the little bathroom incident. Acting as though it’s not his fault the fight began in the first place, and I
can certainly take care of myself. Damn Embry and her big mouth all to hell.
His eyes flash, drawing my full attention back to him, but I don’t intend to avert my gaze or hold
my tongue this time.
 Chapter

Five

T
ansia doesn't answer my question at first, but her eyes narrow to slits as though I've somehow
challenged her in a way that wasn't intended.
Her jade eyes bore into me. “I don't know how much Embry has told you about me, but not
only am I fluent in a multitude of different languages and countless dialects, but I can take care of
myself when I need to," she says, her eyes flashing in defiance.
Lucianna, always trying to keep the peace, takes a sip of the Descallia Red that's been placed in
front of her. "Tansia is a master in the martial arts, just like Isala," she says.
My eyes narrow at her slight frame. “She can't be more than five-five and a half or a hundred and
ten pounds soaking wet.” I regret saying the words out loud as soon as they come out of my mouth.
They weren’t intended as an insult, but Tansia’s eyes go wide with indignation.
I should say something, but the jade eyes glaring at me entrances me, curiosity taking over to find
out how she’ll react.
She’s not given the chance, though. Instead, Embry intervenes on her behalf. "Don't let her size
fool you, and no disrespect, but she can probably kick some of you masters all over this place."
Embry laughs as Descallia's eyebrows raise, and Lucianna hides a grin.
I can’t say I’m not intrigued by the young woman who couldn’t care less about my title and causes
my dick to heat, but she hardly looks like a warrior to me. "Is that right?” I tell Embry, well aware the
others around the table are curiously tuned in. "Well, perhaps your cousin would like to go a few
rounds in the gym? I could always use a good sparring partner," I tell Embry, but watching as Tansia's
creamy cheeks heat with color.
Those jade eyes spark with the challenge, while my dick throbs at the thought of her below me on
the mat.
She shrugs. "Sorry to disappoint you, but my partners are usually much larger than you and trained
in martial arts. I have a responsibility to those less experienced not to use my skill against them. I
wouldn’t want anyone left hurt on the mats."
Embry licks a finger and sticks it in the air. "Score one for team Tansia," she says, standing from
her chair to spin around in her shortie boots and little skirt.
Lucas tries unsuccessfully to keep a straight face at the antics of his young charge. He may find her
insolence humorous, but I do not. Master Descallia scowls at Embry and then looks to his mate.
Lucianna’s eyes glow bright green as though lit up by whatever he said, although not one word leaves
his lips. “I agree," she says, nodding thoughtfully.
Embry rolls her eyes dramatically as she sits back down. "Agree with what? You do remember
not all of us are telepathic"—she gestures between Overmaster Descallia and Lucianna—“or
whatever you want to call that thing you two do that none of the rest of us can hear.”
Lucianna grins, but then turns serious. "Roman got a call while you two were having fun with
Sierra in the bathroom. The rogue shifters have grown in numbers and have split up into at least four
groups, all heading different directions. Roman’s people think they’re dispersing from the pack,
playing shell games to try to throw us off the scent and get Isala to safety. We need to do the same;
split up and find her before more innocents are sucked into her evil little web.”
Finally, we’re going to get down to business. “I’ll connect with a few of my sources and leaders
in the territory right away,” I assure the group, finishing my drink for the night. My patience has grown
weary of planning, and it’s time for action.
“Master Calabrea knows this territory better than anyone. Hopefully with Tansia’s translation help
you can learn something that no one would tell the rest of us,” Lucianna says.
I hardly think the snip of a woman is going to help me get information out of people I’ve known
for centuries, but if babysitting is what they want, far be it from me to spoil their plans.
Overmaster Descallia is not usually one for patience either. Why he feels so strongly about this
planning and special operations team is beyond me. Other than we can’t trust our own. He looks to me
and then to Tansia. "You'll go ahead with Calabrea. I want you to partner with him and learn where
they’ve taken Isala. The best chance we have of getting real time, on the ground intel, is to have you
two working together on the streets.”
I start to interject, but the flash of his eyes leaves no room for argument. “Until Isala is safely
secured in my warehouse with no chance of escape this time, the two of you"—he gestures between
Tansia and I—"are inseparable."
My jaw locks tight with even greater irritation at being slowed down first with all the planning
and gathering of all these people. Certainly myself and a couple trusted warriors could have gained
much more ground than we have at this point. Overmaster Descallia is a fearless, fair, and just leader
who would never typically spend this much time between learning the location of the enemies last
spotting and setting the troupes on their way.
The looks that keep flashing between he and his mate, tells me there is far more to the story than
the members at this table really know. I glance at Tansia, who looks up and meets my eyes. I hope
she’s ready for a shit show of the most proportional levels because I’m afraid that’s exactly what
we’re walking into.
She doesn’t look frightened, though. If the scratch on her cheek is the only thing she walked away
with from a fight with Sierra, Tansia’s martial arts skills must be far better than I presumed. This is
good because she’s going to need every bit of that training when going up against factions in the
underworld.
I give a nod to Overmaster Descallia. “Let’s get the rest of the assignments laid out and go find
that traitorous bitch before she has a chance to disappear in the wind again.”
 Chapter

Six

M
y mouth gapes at Overmaster Descallia’s order. Being paired with the arrogant vampire
master for just a short while to translate was bad enough, now he wants us together until we
find Isala. Holy hell. That could be days, weeks even. I start to say something, but the look on
the vampire Overmaster’s face causes me to hold my tongue initially.
Embry's eyes swirl with emotion, though. She looks like she's going to blast Overmaster
Descallia, but one slight shake of the head from Lucianna and she keeps it to herself. We all know
Embry's never been known for keeping her mouth shut. I highly doubt she's about to start now, at least
for very long, but for now she pacifies her friend.
Hanging out in Italy and helping them find this Isala while I get my head back into living again is
far from the worst thing that could have happened. However, being glued to the Master Vampire who
sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine, and heat to my core—that I'm not so sure about.
The angst of being alone with the powerfully muscled vampire with intense eyes wins over.
“Master Calabrea knows the people well enough to deal with them without me. Perhaps I would be of
better assistance to those of you not as familiar with the area?”
Overmaster considers what I’ve said for a minute. Probably just long enough to dismiss it. “The
fact that Master Calabrea knows many so well could work against us too. Go with him, listen for
things that may clue you into deceit and dishonesty. I’ve been on the receiving end of having more
people than I’d like to admit betray me without a clue until their plan has launched.”
Lucianna and Embry both nod their heads in agreement.
“Our emotions get in the way. We discount things from people we know that should make us leery
or question, but instead we make up reasons why our instincts can’t be right. No, we will divide and
conquer and regroup when we know where Isala is. Until that time, you will be in good hands with
Master Calabrea."
I give Embry wide eyes. So much for negotiating with the vampire.
At least he actually listened and didn’t bite my head off for questioning his plan. But spending
time alone with Master Calabrea is not what I had in mind when I signed up for this job, and I’m not
easily dissuaded. “At least Embry should stay with us too?” I ask.
Before anyone can answer, a half drunken man stumbles toward me and almost topples into my
chair. I stand to steady my chair and brush hands with Calabrea who already has the back of it and his
other on my lower back to prevent me from toppling. "Hey, honey,” the guy slurs. “You gonna stand
here and yammer all night with these blood suckers or get me another whiskey?"
I glance around the table, unsure why I’ve been singled out except for the black color of my dress.
I may not work for the club in the waitstaff capacity, but surely disrespect like that from or about
anyone shouldn’t be tolerated. Either way, I’m not putting up with it. "I think you've had more than
enough to drink tonight. Maybe you should just head home and sleep it off."
The leering bastard glares at me through bloodshot eyes and then with no warning lunges at me. I
step back and into the hard wall of Calabrea’s core. The man trips on my chair, causing it to bump
into the table and spill wine from the glasses onto the fine white linen tablecloth.
Overmaster Descallia growls so loud it makes glasses on other tables throughout the club shake
and the lecher leering at me with bloodshot eyes wide open scared. As he should be.
Master Calabrea places an arm around me, having me take his chair while he deals with the man
who’s had way too many drinks for anyone’s good. "Come with me," he says to the man. "You'd do
well to leave now before you've caused any more trouble."
He spins and tries to pull from Calabrea. "I'm not going anywhere just because some fucking
vampire told me to,” he slurs, causing eyes from other patrons to return to our table.
Calabrea takes his arm and hoists it behind his back, grabbing his other and half pushes and half
walks him toward the exit. It’s hard not to take my eyes off his tall and panther like frame from
behind. He strides like a well-muscled machine underneath the custom-tailored suit he wears.
When he returns, he takes my seat and turns to me. “Do you know him?”
I shake my head. “I’ve never seen him before in my life.”
Lucas gestures to the large vampires positioned at multiple positions around all the exits. “They
shouldn’t have been told to get him out of here. I’ll have a talk with them later tonight.”
Overmaster nods. “Good. Embry and Lucas, you’ll team up with Silver. Trentino, Angel, you can
work with Romano tracing down any leads he gets from his people. Clay and Terrence will be on the
ready for anyone who needs them initially, but I’ve spoken with Master Calabrea about their skills,
and he’ll plan to utilize them when he feels their help is needed.”
“I’ve got their numbers, and the minute we learn the direction we’re going I’ll give them a call,”
he says, but the squared-off angle of his jaw doesn’t look like he’s very pleased with the idea at all,
although he gives the table a nod of agreement.
Overmaster Descallia continues looking around and lowers his voice. “Lucianna and I will work
with our contacts. Remember, they’re running shell games. The ones that want you to follow them
won’t make it difficult. The ones who have Isala will do anything and everything to evade you.
Marcus will send you the coordinates of the last sightings of each of the rogue teams. Any questions?”
He turns to Calabrea. "Get her home, pack light, and keep her with you at all times. I don’t want
her or any one of our people by themselves. Isala has to be close if they’re putting this much energy
into the game.”
I have no idea how I've managed to get myself into this mess. All of a sudden, things that I didn’t
sign up for sound way more involved in the vampire business than I want or need to be part of. “Look,
I really appreciate your generosity and the offer of the job as translator, but surely Calabrea can do
this on his own. I mean, if he runs the region, certainly, he can speak to the locals.
Overmaster Descallia’s eyes go red, clearly his patience at the end, but Lucianna places a hand on
his arm and turns to me. "There's more than locals involved, Tansia. The Vade Mecum tells us that the
rogues will come, and with them they'll bring traitors from all factions. That's exactly what's
happening now. They are recruiting shifters, witches, syndicate members and others, all with the goal
of destroying the world the vampires have built.
“A safe world for humans.
“A world that doesn't include raids and bloody feasts on unsuspecting humans. A civilized world
where both vampires and humans live in harmony. Maybe it's not perfect, but it's pretty damn close.
We need your help, Tansia. This is bigger than us all. Help Calabrea, it is written in the Vade Mecum
that a woman with powers of sight, red ringlets, and crystal jade eyes will partner with a fierce and
noble vampire leader.
“I believe you and Calabrea are those two.”
My eyes grow wide. He may be a sexy as fuck vampire, but he's a vampire. “I don't even know
what a Vade Mecum is, and I don’t have powers of sight.”
She smiles, and her eyes do that green glowing thing. “All in good time, Tansia. For now, go with
Calabrea, stay by his side, and you will not fail. He will teach you about our ways.”
Teaching me about his ways is exactly what I’m afraid of, or drawn to…
 Chapter

Seven

H
ow this assignment got so messed up is beyond me. Now I need to play nice with the fucking
syndicate prick and babysit the curly haired creature whose body calls to mine on the most
primal of levels. Nothing but distractions on this mission.
Tansia’s heartbeat races and beats against the little tell-tale sign on her creamy looking neck. I
feel a tinge of guilt, and my thoughts soften.
It’s not her fault that Overmaster and Lucianna are set in their opinions about the two of us
working together. If the Vade Mecum says it, then I’ll support whatever I have to do with her. She
tried to get us out of it. I put my hand on her shoulder. "Let's go, Tansia."
Embry gives her cousin a tight hug. "We'll be there as soon as we can. Be careful, and stay with
Master Calabrea. He won't let any harm come to you." She narrows her eyes at me. “Right?"
None of us asked for this situation. Better to make the best of it, get through it, and then get on with
our lives. "Of course, Embry," I tell her, trying to hide the slight upturn of my lips as Lucas joins the
side of his spirited partner.
"But who will protect the mighty vampire from me?" Tansia asks so unexpectedly that the whole
table turns to look at her, almost causing me to laugh out loud.
Embry does laugh. "My cousin can kick some ass, so you better treat her right."
“We should go,” I tell Tansia. She gives her cousin another squeeze. Hopefully this won’t take
long, and we’ll be together again soon. “Stay close to Master Calabrea. All joking aside, he knows
this area well. He’ll steer you away from danger,” Embry says.
“I’ve had your driver bring in your bags and put them in the locker room of the employee
bathroom. Why don’t you get dressed in something like a pair of jeans and sensible shoes,” I tell
Tansia, guiding her toward the back of the employee side of the club.
Tansia’s eyebrows raise, and she gives me a smile that makes my dick throb. “While the mighty
vampire stays in his Armani suite?”
I smirk. I’d like nothing better than to help her with that particular task, right down to the lacy
little panties I envision she wears, but I don’t tell her that. We walk through the employee area and
into a large break room. “I have a locker here with extra clothes. I’ll be changed before you are,” I
tell her, gesturing to the men’s sign next to the ladies’.
“Shouldn't I at least let the boss know that I’m not going to be working at the club? Embry had a
job for me coordinated before the whole translation gig came up? When all the fun and games are
over, hopefully I’ll have a job that I can come back to,” she says.
Lucas is already speaking with the man who makes out the schedule for the club. "The manager
already knows he needs to fill your spot for a while. You won’t lose your spot while you’re working
for us.”
Tansia gives me an unsure look. “Okay, this time, hopefully I don’t have a run-in with one of your
exes.”
She didn't ask for any of this. It’s not her fault she was partnered with me. She can’t help that
Sierra is on the warpath. Although I probably could have prevented the whole thing by giving over to
Sierra’s way of thinking and make her my mate. Then she’d have status, power, and perhaps be happy,
and I would be miserable.
I give Tansia a wink as we reach separate doors. “Don't dawdle."
She narrows those lovely eyes at me. Her jade eyes flash annoyance, and her cupid shaped lips
purse. "Don't be such a high-handed ass, and we might just survive this ordeal," she tells me, pulling
her arm from my grasp, walking toward the bathroom in her tight black skirt and mesmerizing me with
the sway of her ass atop her strappy heels for the second time tonight.
I can’t help but grin walking through the men’s locker room door. Hopefully she won’t slow me
down too much when I meet with the lords, witch, and pack leaders who might be able to help us find
Isala.
Three knocks on the door in rapid succession draw my attention. It opens slightly. “Quit
dawdling,” Tansia says, before leaving me to finish changing and catch up to the sassy minx with
wide bright mischievous eyes.
Trouble with a capital T that one.
 Chapter

Eight

I
dip back into the dressing room to put my hair up since I have a few more minutes until he’s ready.
When I come back out of the dressing room, I feel the heat of Master Calabrea’s gaze on my body
from all the way across the room by the exit. My eyes are drawn to the powerful thighs encased in
snug fitting jeans, right down to the big black boots. He wears a long Henley that wraps his muscular
arms and a black leather jacket that looks well worn.
I should be downright annoyed that he’s managed to beat me back to the exit, even though I was
ready first. Instead, every neuron in my body is alive with the thought of how his hands felt on my
skin. Even the innocence of his touch caused ripples of heat to course through my veins. I can’t help
wondering what it would feel like if he intended to do more with those hands.
I watch the six foot something, powerful vampire master who’s already retrieved our coats from
the coat check. This magnetic attraction between the two of us can only lead to more trouble, but that
doesn’t make one bit of difference to my traitorous body. It craves his touch and anything else he
offers, because even the way he looks at me generates a sweet heat between my legs.
He watches me walk toward him as though he knows exactly what’s on my mind. Surely, he can’t?
He puts his hand on my lower back and then holds my coat for me to slide into. I swear it’s like a
million tingles of excitement slither down my spine and settle at my center.
Calabrea drapes the long dark wool coat he wore into the club on his arm, while I pull mine
around me tighter as we walk out of the club. The dampness and breeze from the ocean this far south
chills me to the bone even though the temperature is warmer than back home.
A black cape flies up from his body, gently floating on the breeze, pulling me close to the warmth
of his body as it wraps gently around us. His voice is husky and dark and sends a wave of desire
coursing through my blood. "Still, we're going to pay a visit to one of the witch leaders before we
head back to my estate. Close your eyes, and don't think about anything except the warmth of my body
next to yours.”
My cheeks heat with the forwardness of his words. My attraction to the big brute hasn’t gone
unnoticed. He wraps his arm tightly around my waist. There’s nothing I’d rather be thinking about
except his warmth as the cloak of darkness surrounds me.
I close my eyes, and when the hardness of the ground can no longer be felt, my arm snakes around
his waist purely out of survival instinct. He must have anticipated my fear, pulling me closer, the
cocoon of his cape holding me securely by his side.
My mind floats… It could be minutes or hours until the hardness of the ground can once again be
felt underneath my feet, and the warmth of the cape opens, and the cold air from the outside seeps in
around me.
 He tips my chin to level my gaze to him. “You may feel a little dizzy or fatigued. Just hang onto
me. It won’t take long to speak with Matilda.” His eyes are red tinged, the way they got when he was
riled up at the bar. "Are you upset with me?”
Calabrea shakes his head. "I'm not upset with you, Tansia. Quite the opposite, in fact. You made
the journey well. Many vampires would be guzzling pure blood at this point. We didn't transport far,
but still, not being used to it, you did well. There, see the W amid the brush in the hill? That's where
we're going. Let’s get a little closer. I just wanted to see the surroundings first.”
“Okay. I’m ready.”
He laughs. “Hold my hand tight, and close your eyes. I won’t wrap you this time.”
I do as he's asked, but the minute my feet leave the ground, I have to look. I don't see anything in
front of us, not the ground that was once there, the winter brush that we were looking at, or the W that
we are supposed to be going to. All I see is darkness, like a vacuum. I close my eyes as my feet touch
earth again and gasp as all the things that were just moments ago not there become visible again.
Incredible…
"You're to tell no one, not a soul. We usually don’t transport in front of or with humans," Master
Calabrea says.
I nod. "I won't tell anyone. You have my word."
His dark eyes search my face. "Somehow I trust that your word is good.” We trudge over the
brush, our boots crunching over the hardened twigs of winter as we approach the bottom of the hill.
An old wooden door can be seen through the brush over the top of it. He reaches through and bangs on
the door. "Matilda, I need to speak with you; it's of an urgent matter."
"Maybe you should tell her who you are?" I suggest.
He laughs. "Matilda and her coven of witches saw us coming from way over the horizon. They
claim this hill as their own, and no one comes wandering into this territory unless they want to see the
witches, and no one sneaks up on the witches because they have eyes in the back of their head and
everywhere in the forest.
My eyes widen at his description.
He shakes his head. “Not literally, figuratively.”
I smirk. "Well, for the record. I only speak in languages, so if they have a witch language all their
own, I'm afraid I won't be much help to you."
Calabrea squeezes my hand. "Matilda and I have a long history. She’s had witches taken from her
coven by Isala. I'm hoping that she will want to help us find Isala too. The witches see much and say
little around these parts. They stick to themselves and try to fly under the radar, to avoid the public’s
attention. But this is something that they may want to take a side for.”
I take in the hillside and the land around it. "Isn't it a little primitive for them to live in a hill?” I
ask, although it looks more like a mountain to me. “I mean, seriously. Hasn't the entire world, all the
factions evolved? Why not the witches?"
Now he really laughs and gestures to the mound of land in front of us. “You are correct. It’s more
like a mountain, and the entire thing is a façade. Inside the witches have everything their hearts could
desire. It's like their own little city. Do not feel bad for the witches. They've carved themselves out a
perfectly good life where no one usually bothers them or vice versa. Everyone is happy, including
them.”
The old wooden red door opens, and an older woman with trailing grey hair, long green
fingernails and ankle-length black skirt opens the door. Her eyes are as grey as her hair, and she
twirls a green and purple scarf that hangs from her neck as she speaks, clearly having overheard our
conversation.
“That was before your vampire went rogue and started convincing the young witches that a life
here wasn't fit for them and that they were missing out on so many things. Now I’ve lost ten of my best
young witches, and of course they just finished their initial training in magic. No telling what secrets
she's going to be able to get out of them."
Matilda eyes me as she speaks to Master Calabrea. "Who is the stranger with the jade eyes and
curly red hair?"
“I'm Tansia," I reply, holding out my hand.
She glances at it, then back up at me and then to Master Calabrea. "I was expecting you, but we're
getting ready for a ceremonial practice. I need to be in the auditorium shortly, so let's make this quick.
About five days ago ten of my ladies went missing. All of the witches have seen pictures of Isala, sent
over to me by Devora. A group of them went out for a Saturday shopping trip and never made it back.
The witches we had chaperoning reported that all Isala did was talk to them, but before they could
swoop in and intercede, all ten of the young witches had disappeared. Vanished, right before their
very eyes.”
Master Calabrea's eyes go wide. "Isala has magic?"
Matilda’s eyes observe us both keenly. “Oh, I'd say she has something. I don't know if she has the
magic, or someone who can do it working with her, but my senior witches wouldn't lie. They saw all
of the witches vanish while Isala was talking with her.”
Calabrea tenses beside me. “Were there any shifters around her? I'm going to see Sheba next. I
hear that he arrived in Italy last week too. Not likely a coincidence?”
Matilda cackles. "You're too smart for your own good, vampire. Far from a coincidence. His pack
leaders have lost so many to Isala. Sheba himself is gathering all of his leaders after another group
got scooped up by the evil bitch. I swear, that woman should have an army by now but word in the
forest is that she can't recruit them faster than you vampires kill them.”
Calabrea ignores her dig. “Where is she hiding, Matilda? You and your witches know
everything.”
She watches him as her eyes swirl, looking at him and then at me. She points to me. “Your woman
friend, she will find them. She has the magic and vision of sight."
My eyes go wide. "I have what?"
Matilda squints. “Sight, you can see into the future if you allow it. Your grandmother and hers
before her had it too.”
I shake my head. "I don't think so. Why does everyone seem to think they know me? I can assure
you, I do not have magic, the power of sight, or anything of the sort. I'm just a normal human, the same
as my cousin Embry, and our grandmother.”
Her keen grey eyes stop swirling so suddenly that it throws me off balance. She waves her hands
in the air suddenly. "Three nights of sleep and you shall wake remembering who you are, where you
came from, and where the future takes you. You will help save the underworld, and your choices will
lead the way. Now go, human!” she screeches.
A cold still sensation comes over me, but it only lasts a moment, and when it passes everything is
the same. "Thanks for your help, Matilda. We'll be on our way, but if you find out anything more let
me know,” Master Calabrea tells her.
Matilda narrows her eyes. "Tansia will help you find the shifters. They will lead you to Isala, and
when you find Isala you will find and rescue my witches. You will need Tansia’s powers of sight to
determine which wolfpack to follow. There are many now, all meant to throw you off the trail of the
one with Isala."
Calabrea nods. "Thank you, Matilda. Of course, we'll bring your witches back safely if we find
them. Thank you for your help," he says, taking my arm and spinning me, guiding me down the trail
from which we came.
I start to say something. "Keep your thoughts to yourself right now. We'll talk later. The trees have
ears," he says, as we pass under an old tree that must be at least hundreds of years old.
His cape flies open and gently surrounds me with its darkness and warmth. “Here, let's get back to
my estate before dawn breaks," he says. “Close your eyes.”
When his cape lifts and my eyes open, we are in a large room with floor-to-ceiling windows
covered by deep blood red drapes. He watches me taking in the opulent space furnished with
mahogany wood end tables and a large round coffee table all finished with white and grey swirling
marble. "The blood red color of the drapes is just for conversational appeal. Especially for non
vampires who come to call," he says, grinning at me.
I swallow down my desire, watching his backside as his boots scuff against the black marble
floor on his way to a bar that sits in the corner of the spacious room. He leans down and opens the
glass case next to it, takes a quart of what looks to be blood, and pours it into a large glass, and then
shows me two bottles. "Red or white," he asks.
Alcohol, come to mamma. “The white will be fine."
He smirks. "Of course, it will," he says, pouring it into a long-stemmed crystal glass before
handing it to me as I reach his side.
Calabrea pours a red into a wider wine glass for himself. I follow his lead, swirling the wine,
inhaling, swirling again before taking a sip of the complex bouquet. “This is delicious and unique. I
may not be a worldly expert on wines, but I know a good one when I taste it.”
He smiles at me. “Thank you. We pride ourselves with making one of the best wines in the
country. If I might be so bold, across the entire globe.”
I nod, having heard many of the vampire masters from this area had large vineyards and produced
not only wine but their mixture of blood and wine, the Descallia Red. “What do you think Matilda
was talking about back there; I mean, about me? I would know if I had magic or powers of sight,
right?”
Calabrea shrugs. "You're Embry's cousin, and you share a grandmother. I don't recall a lot about
the stories Lucas told, but the woman who helped fight the vampires could see the future. You’re
related to her. It’s not that far of a stretch.”
I need to talk with Embry. She would listen to these stories that her mother told all night for as
long as Mom would let her stay up. I don't think my mother ever believed any of it. Hell, I seriously
don't even know if she really believed in vampires until they started coming out and all of society
learned the truth and had to adjust.
He suddenly puts a finger to his lips and sets down his glass of wine on the bar. "Quiet."
Calabrea takes my hand and walks me toward a set of double doors and opens them, and we step
into an old world-like elevator. “Go upstairs, but do not turn on the lights. When the door opens, be
on your knees and crawl to the end of the bedroom at the very end of that hall. I want you to slide
underneath my bed, right into the middle, and don't get out until I come for you. Am I clear?" he says,
caressing my cheek with a finger.
I don’t answer him because I think I’m in shock. We’re supposed to be hunting them, and now
they’re hunting us?
“I need words, Tansia?”
 My head finally moves at the same time I get my voice. "Yes."
“Good, get in and on the floor, now.”
I drop to my knees as the elevator doors close, leaving me alone in the small space, taking me
upstairs. When the door opens, I crawl along the dimly lit hall, just the way he instructed me to do,
keeping my eyes peeled in front of me and on the door at the end of the hall. I try hard not to
concentrate on the vampire who scares the hell out of me and keeps me safely protected at the very
same time.
The door creaks slightly as it opens, and I swallow down fear of the unknown. Embry trusts
Master Calabrea with my life, or she would have said something to me. I barely know the man, but for
some reason, I trust that he will fight whatever evil lurks outside of these walls.
I close the creaky door behind me before crawling underneath the bed, listening carefully, and
imagining every little noise I hear is someone right outside the door.
 Chapter

Nine

T
he minute Tansia is safely on her way upstairs, I transport to the outer gardens, behind one of the
large concrete statues depicting a large bat with wings open and ready to hunt his prey. My fangs
descend, and my chest pumps with unprecedented rage. A rogue shifter dares enter my estate,
stupid enough not to stay down wind, their raunchy odor floating on the very air I breathe.
I stalk toward the guard house, careful to stay under the trees thick canopy lest the sun suddenly
begins to rise over the horizon. Shelter behind one of the mammoth, century old trunks is needed. The
mangy shifters should have waited half an hour longer, and then I wouldn't have ventured out. I would
have had the human day guardsmen take care of them, but they weren't that smart, and now they're
going to wish they had never set foot on my property.
Because they’re going to deal with me…
I watch as a lone wolf comes into sight. A scout for the pack, making its way closer to the house,
making sure it's safe for the rest of his brothers to follow. When he thinks it's safe, a swish of his tail
goes up, and before long two more shifters come into sight. I transport behind the two shifters with my
long sword in one hand and my dagger in the other. "Looking for me?"
Both shifters spin, and the other one, the one that is out there by himself on point howls. He’s
calling for backups that won't have time to save their friends. The minute the first one jumps into the
air, my long sword raises and slices off his mangy head, leaving a blood spattering across the lawn as
his head bounces onto the ground.
The shifter behind his dead brother stalks carefully, his yellow eyes watching the blade of my
long sword, gauging his timing as we move in circles. That won’t help him at all. The minute his feet
leave the ground his fate is sealed because the long sword was never the plan for him. I thrust the
dagger with my left arm up into his chest, pull it down and out quickly as his body falls to the ground
in front of me.
I look to the horizon. "Come closer, you mangy shifter," I call, but he turns, tucks his tail, and
dashes into the woods just as the slight tinge of pink creates a line on the horizon. I swear under my
breath, the imminent light forcing me to let him escape before transporting into the safety of the
darkened home, and into my bedroom where I've left Tansia.
The minute I walk through the door, I can smell her fear. “Everything's clear, Tansia. You can
come out now," I tell her, my chest tightening with angst when she doesn't immediately slide from
beneath my bed. "Tansia," I call again, dropping to my knees to look underneath.
Her large wide eyes are open and watching me with question. "Are you okay?" I ask.
She nods, but she’s trembling and looks far from okay. I take her by the hand, and then her arm and
slide her toward me, but she’s so rigid, and the smell of her fear permeates the air. "Tansia, what's the
matter?"
“I’m not really sure. I saw you fighting.”
Her body is still, but her heart is pounding a million miles a minute, and the pulse on the side of
her neck is erratic. I draw her into my arms while still squatting on the floor, tilting her head to face
me. "How did you see me fighting? I told you to stay under the bed, no?”
She shakes her head. "No, in my mind. The witch was right. I saw you fight and then saw another
shifter flee toward a body of water."
My brow furrows. "I'm still not quite understanding?"
Her eyes bore into mine. “I saw the fight you were just in. I have no clue how, but I saw you
remove that shifter’s head and gouge the other one to death with your dagger, and watched the shifter
take off. I could see where he was going, all the way to the water.”
There's no way she could have seen anything from this side of the house, but she could be out of
breath from running from the other side of the house. "Stay here."
I stalk down the hall and can smell her scent, right up to the elevators where we came up together.
I walk past it, and her scent dissipates and doesn't filter through the air after that as much as I try to
smell it. She wasn't stalking along these corridors, and a quick peek into each room tells me the same
thing.
Tansia is not lying; Matilda was right. And if Matilda is right, Tansia is a witch or at least has
powers of sight.
I walk back to the bedroom, and she's sitting in the rocking chair in the corner with the small
pillow usually on the seat, hugging it to her slight frame. I pick her up and take her to my bed. “We'll
leave as soon as it gets dark again, but until then you need to sleep.” I don’t tell her that it’s probably
going to take her some time before her body adjusts to everything that has changed in her world if she
is indeed just coming into her powers whether stemming from witches’ blood or not. Something
clearly happened that has her reeling from the shock.
I tuck her in under the covers, and before I can turn to leave, she takes my hand in her small one.
“Stay?”
Tansia’s not a witch… How I know, I’m not certain. She's a psychic, or at least someone with
extraordinary powers, like her grandmother use to have. She's not a witch, because her grandmother
fought with us against the witches. I wouldn't be this attracted to a witch. But I am undeniably
attracted to the woman who challenges my authority every chance she gets and who I have an
unexplainable desire to protect.
My mind spins with the thought that she may be a witch… She’s not a witch.
I shrug out of my vest, lay my weapon belt on the chair, untie and toe off my boots, before sliding
into bed with her fully dressed in my jeans and thermal shirt. She looks at me with those wide eyes.
“I’ve been so cold ever since it happened.” I pull her body close to mine, warming her with the heat
of mine underneath the blankets. Her heart beats steady and strong, but still faster than it should.
I stroke her hair and pull her to my chest, cradling her in my arm, and hoping her reaction is just a
temporary shock that will dissipate by morning. Whatever happened to Tansia was meant to be,
written in the Vade Mecum far before tonight. “Shock. I don’t believe you are a witch, but if you saw
me fighting, you must have the powers of sight. Lucianna has it, as does our Overmaster.”
“Descallia?”
“Indeed. They can speak to each other using their thoughts. I’ve seen it before, but not to the
degree that they are able to communicate so well. Silver, one of the special ops members who you’ll
soon meet, is gifted with sight too. Lucianna has been mentoring him for a while. That’s why I think
you should spend some time talking to her when all this is finished. She recognized your future with
us from the Vade Mecum.”
She looks at me with curiosity, while her fingers absently stroke the inside of my palm, distracting
the hell out of me.
“What is that? Lucianna said almost that very same thing too.”
I shift in bed, and my leg rubs against hers, but I try to keep my mind on the business at hand. “It’s
a guide for the vampires that she and Overmaster Descallia live and rule by. Our history is
documented as well as our future. And she believes that you are in the future of the vampires in some
capacity.”
“And to think yesterday I was a lowly human who nobody gave a rat’s ass about.”
“Right now, I want you to try to get a good day’s sleep. We’ll leave again as soon as it gets dark.
You’ll feel better after some time and rest. Once we’ve found Isala, you can talk with Embry and
Lucianna. They’ll know how to help you far better than I.”
She nods, and her hand reaches out to touch mine. Her fingers entwine with my own. “Thank you,”
she says, laying her head down, nuzzling a few times before finding the perfect spot and finally, after
time, allowing herself to calm enough to fall asleep right on my chest.
I lay awake for quite some time, just listening to her breathe, feeling her heart beat against my
chest and trying to find sleep of my own.
My mind drifts back to the events of the day, recalling Lucianna saying that Tansia was the
redheaded woman referenced in the Vade Mecum. A woman with powers of sight, red ringlets, and
crystal jade eyes will partner with a fierce and noble vampire leader.
Tansia…
A soft hand strokes my stomach, trailing south, her hand rubbing over my hardened cock and
turning it to stone.
Tansia…
My eyes open wide, realizing it’s not a dream. My hand catches hers on the downstroke… “What
are you doing?”
Her voice is small, almost uncertain. “This attraction is burning me up from the inside.”
The sweet scent of her arousal wafts through the air. My dick strains, throbbing in its attempt to
get closer to her heat.
I roll her over in one swift move, because there’s no denying her now. This was always going to
happen, always meant to happen, because even hearing her breathing beside me turns me right the fuck
on. My desire for Tansia is primal, an intense longing that is not going to be put out any other way.
My fangs descend, and I watch her face carefully. Her eyes go wide, maybe with awe and keen
interest, but there’s no sign of fear or disgust. Those jade eyes are hazy with desire, burning bright
with the knowledge that we will soon get what we’ve both so desperately fought against in the hours
since we met.
I trail the column of her creamy throat, inhaling her scent. Tansia’s blood doesn’t race with fear
either. I nuzzle the sensitive shell of her ear. “This was always going to happen; I just didn’t want it to
happen while you were working for me.”
She shivers beneath me, and her arms wind around my neck. “I won’t hold it against you.”
A low growl escapes from deep within. I capture her moist lips with mine, exploring with my
tongue as the heat of her fingers trail down the length of my back, scorching my skin through the layers
of clothing between us.
I sit up, continuing to explore the sweetness of her mouth, as I bring her with me. Her legs fit
around me perfectly, wrapping around my waist as I lift her shirt and then slide the dainty white lace
beneath it from her body. I stroke her peach-sized breasts, mesmerized by her beauty, and her breath
that is coming faster as her nipples peak beneath my fingers.
I lay her down flat, hover over the top of her and trail over the sensitive peeks with my tongue,
kissing and sucking until she moans, and her hips raise in anticipation.
“Patience, Tansia,” I tell her, shifting away from her to discard my clothing and watching as her
eyes track every movement until I’m with her again.
My mouth trails south, seeking the sweetness I desire, teasing and caressing with my tongue,
putting her on edge, feeling the quiver of her legs beneath me as she waits in anticipation for my
tongue to find that special place as I swirl around it.
Her mouth is slack, and eyes are lusty, mirroring what I feel for this beautiful creature who has
come into my world, making me feel things I swore never to feel again. Never to allow someone to
make me feel again. But yet, here we are. I already know this is different, because every soft sigh,
moan, or little pant of my name as I’m making my way south doesn’t just go straight to my dick.
The desire to please Tansia is in my head and in my heart, and every little pant makes me want to
please her more, bring her to a climax that she’ll never forget. I bath her little nub with my tongue, and
my balls tighten uncomfortably with the wait, but Tansia’s pleasure is more important than my own.
And that in itself tells me everything that I need to know. Things will never be the same, because
this creature that the gods have sent down to mate with me is special. And when her hips rise and she
cries out my name, no longer able to stand the crashing waves of her pleasure, I sink deep, driving
right to the very end of her, claiming her for my very own.
Because there will be no mistake—after tonight, Tansia belongs to me.
 Chapter

Ten

C
alabrea strokes my cheek gently and kisses my lips. He pulls me into his arms as our breathing
returns to normal for the third time today. Eating, sleeping, and making love with a powerful
and sexy vampire, waiting until night comes but unable to satisfy our need for the other
throughout the day. Not even my dreams could be better than this.
My pulse may be settling, but my mind is not. How I've come to being scared of a vampire to
trusting one with my life and wanting him in my bed is far beyond me, but the entire world is different
now, and I know it.
His dark eyes search mine as though he knows I have questions. “How does it work between a
human and a vampire?" I ask, running a finger along the stretch of his black chest hair.
"Relationships between the two have been known to happen, but not among the vampire masters.
We have vampires who were turned by their masters into their current state, and one of the masters
has a mate who is a witch, but no one in human state; at least that I’m aware of."
“Seriously? A witch?” I sit up in bed.
He nods. "Against my greatest opposition, mind you. I just think there's been too much bad blood
between the witches and the vampires, and every time we think we can trust them, something else gets
thrown in the way. They do something intentional, or unintentional, I don't really know, but it makes it
hard to trust them. I have nothing against them mating with any other vampire, just not the ones who sit
at the consulate. We have a responsibility to oversee things for the greater good of the vampires.
We know all the vampire strategies…
If they get out, by accident, to someone we can't trust? How does that work? Our structure wasn't
built that way. It was built to ensure secrecy which is one of the keys to our success. But Overmaster
Descallia seems to be okay with it for now.”
“What will he think about this?” I walk my fingers down the length of his chest, but he catches it
and with a quick roll, he pins me beneath him, caging me with this massive, powerful body. "He has
nothing to do with who I choose to be with, Tansia. Until the witch, I thought that he did, but if he's
going to allow Romano to take a witch as a mate, and Trentino to mate with the sister of the syndicate
regardless of whether she was turned or not, then he will accept my choice, a human.”
“What if I am a witch?”
His eyes meet mine with care for my concern. He strokes a finger down the side of my cheek.
“You're not a witch. Your gramma wasn't a witch, but she was a powerful psychic. We need to talk to
Lucas to confirm it, but I believe that she saw the future, well into the future too.”
“That’s what Embry told me too. Matilda thinks I have magic, or probably cursed me with it with
her little spell.”
 He rolls with me, cradling me as we land on our side. “I wouldn’t worry; besides, it hasn’t been
three days. In three days if you turn into a witch, then you can worry.”
She slaps my shoulder. “Easy for you to say now, but seriously, Calabrea, what if you’ve had a
witch in your bed all day? What if she put a different spell on both of us, and we don’t know it?”
He grins. "You’re worried about absolutely nothing. If she did, then I'll walk back everything I
said about Raven, because I'm not letting you go, witch or no.”
I don’t know what to say to make him see the validity of my concerns, but the gnawing feeling in
the pit of my stomach doesn’t stop just because he thinks it should.
Calabrea strokes my face. "I don't have all the answers, but I do know that you're mine, and no
one is going to tell me that you're not. The rest, we’ll figure out along the way.”
My heart lightens with his words. I take his face between my hands. “Thank you. How did I get so
lucky?”
He grins. “What, didn’t you wiggle your nose and make me appear?”
I smack his shoulder, but he catches my hands, sliding them upward along the sheets and over my
head. “The moment you sassed me you were going to be mine. I just didn’t know it at the time,” he
tells me. “I wish we had more time together, here at my estate, but it will soon be dark. I need to get
you something to eat. All you’ve had is that light lunch in between being ravaged. Hardly enough to
give you the strength you need for the night ahead.
He reluctantly lets me up, giving me a hand to join him as we get ready for the night. “Let’s get
you geared up. If you’re going to follow me into the wolves’ den, then I want you to be prepared.”
I start to retort, but he smiles, raising a hand to ward it off. “I know you are a master in martial
arts, but these wolves don’t fight like humans, Tansia. They can be vicious, and when they get their
teeth locked onto you, it’s almost impossible to get them off without getting torn to shreds,” he says.
I follow him down the stairs, through the great room, and down another level of stairs. I envision
ending up in a large dark dungeon with medieval torture equipment placed all around the room, but
am taken by surprise when he turns on the lights.
The room is large, and it may not have windows, but it’s airy and light feeling. The floor is
painted a shiny grey, and the walls are a lighter shade of grey with blue streaks and tiny little silver
stars. “I didn’t do much in the way of décor down here. I just wanted a quiet space to work out, and
this is what the designer came up with. He grins. “Not what you expected?”
I give him wide eyes. “I was envisioning more of a dungeon; you know, with lots of wicked
torture equipment or maybe even a coffin?”
Calabrea laughs out loud. “While some like to hang onto traditions, fueling the lure, I, myself,
prefer the opulence of a king-sized bed. Much more room to ravage my prey,” he says.
My cheeks heat, and he doesn’t miss it. “Minds back on our business before I carry you back to
my bed.”
He opens a wall safe and pulls out a chest vest with room for two daggers from the door shelf,
passing it back to me while still rummaging around. “Put it on, and I’ll let you pick out your weapons.
I want you to take a long sword too,” he says, still rummaging around the safe, while I finger the one
on the wall. I pull it down. It has weight and when I turn around, he’s watching me with interest.
“Not that one.”
I tilt my head to one side. “It’s special? It’s on the wall and not in the safe?”
He shrugs. “I like it to be within easy grasp. I don’t even know why the designer put a safe down
here. Probably one of those trending things she was talking about for martial arts gyms.”
“Ahh.”
 I step back and give it an arc. “It’s got a nice swing, a little heavier than I’m used to, but I like it.
Are you sure I can’t use this one,” I tease.
He smiles and takes it from me. “Pick one and let’s go a round or two. I want to see your skills
and show you a few things.”
I walk into the safe, and the minute I see the sparkling jade gem at the end of a long sword with a
golden handle, I’m sold. I pick it up from its case and walk out into the open light to examine it more
thoroughly, testing its weight and the handle’s feel. The black rubber encasing a band of the gold gives
it extra gripping power, and after arcing it twice my selection is done.
He gestures to the large white circle on the floor. “First one out of the ring loses. Should we make
a wager?”
I shrug and give him a wink. “You can if you’re a glutton for punishment.”
The gold tones in his black eyes glint. “I win, you are mine for three days. We don’t leave my
bed.”
I laugh. “Why, Master Calabrea, that would be such a horrific punishment.”
He tries to contain his smirk but fails miserably. “Deal,” I tell him because for three days in
heaven, I’ll let him win. I get into a stance and ready to thrust. “On guard.”

WE’ VE BARELY SHOWERED , eaten, and finished getting ready, having picked out the most optimal of
weapons after multiple sparring rounds before darkness settles in over the estate.
As soon as we step outside onto the vast lawn around the estate, my mind begins to swirl with
activity. I envision the fight he had with the shifters earlier. I can feel Calabrea bracing for the
onslaught, almost in slow motion, waiting for it, and delivering precision moves at the exact time
necessary to best his enemies.
His eyes pull mine to his. "Your heart's beating faster."
“I can see the fight you had with the shifters. The one that ran off took a path through the woods.
We should go this way," I tell him.
He nods. "That's right; it’s exactly where he went, Tansia.”
"It's still a little hard for me to see in the darkness, not having acclimated to it yet."
Your eyes will adjust, and the moon will get brighter. If not, you have a fearless vampire master to
protect you,” he jokes.
“Ha! And who says I need protecting from you? I can take care of myself. Didn’t I already prove
that once today? We don’t need to count the shock of finding out I have these mysterious powers. That
will be our little secret,” I tell him, giving him a little wink.
He grins, but then puts his finger to his lips, sniffing the air, and pointing through an open field.
“There,” he says, picking up his pace and causing me to walk double time to try to keep up with him.
We make our way through miles of the barren field and into the woods, twigs snapping beneath
our feet as he holds brush from the undergrowth up and away from us. Suddenly he puts a finger to his
lips again, takes my arm, and pulls me with him behind the trunk of a large tree.
A branch snaps in the distance. The moonlight illuminates a large powerful white wolf who stalks
through the underbrush with his nose to the ground.
Master Calabrea gestures for me to stay where I am and steps from behind the tree. "Sheba, it's
been a long time, my friend.”
 “Master Calabrea, good to see you.”
Sheba's bright blue eyes shine bright as he takes both of us and our surrounding in, his nose
twitching as though filtering scents in the air to ensure danger doesn’t exist.
Master Calabrea points to the area where Sheba stands. “I think your wolfpack bedded down
here, probably on their way to my estate, waiting for the optimal time to attack. Two were killed, but
one escaped. We believe he came back this way and is making his way to wherever Isala is hiding."
Sheba nods and gestures in my direction.
Calabrea puts his arm protectively around me. “This is Tansia; she is with me.”
Sheba takes me in with outright curiosity yet gives me a nod. "The wolves you mentioned used to
be mine but defected from our pack. All I can do is apologize for their behavior and offer my
assistance. I heard these three were running guard for Isala now, and we’re trying to find them too.
They killed two of our brothers, as well.”
Calabrea nods. “Indeed, it’s time to put an end to Isala and all the rogues she’s creating from the
underground. Every faction out there is experiencing her sabotage. Her armies are growing while
distrust grows in its stead from the groups she pilfers from. We aim to find all of them and put an end
to this for good, before a war between all the groups break out.”
Sheba paws the earth and looks at us with big blue crystalline eyes. “I will help you find them, but
on one condition. The one you track, the one who got away? When we find him, he will not die at
your hands, vampire; he will be taken back to the den and dealt with by his brothers. We have a
deal?”
Calebrea nods. “We have a deal, Sheba.”
Sheba nods, his intense eyes still taking me in with curiosity, the white mane of hair glistening in
the moonlight. “I picked up his trail a way back but wanted to see where the other two went before
doubling back. We'll let you lead the way, Sheba," Master Calabrea says just as my mind begins to
swirl with stalking grey wolves and twigs snapping in the distance.
 Chapter

Eleven

I
push Tansia behind the tree trunk and wait as the four sets of yellow eyes approach, prowling
carefully but unable to keep the dead wood of the tree limbs from crunching beneath their paws.
“What do you want, traitors,” Sheba calls out.
They stop mid-step, clearly not having expected the fearless leader whom they betrayed to have
partnered with the vampires in the quest to bring them to their knees. “Go home, Sheba. This doesn’t
concern you.”
Sheba growls so fiercely that the birds nestled in the tree above fly from its crown in a flock,
fleeing from the sound and into the safety of another. “You dare look in my eyes with your lies and
deceit? How many of your righteous brothers have you killed in the name of that woman? Isala will
not bring your troubles to an end, only make it worse. Instead of fighting for our place in the
underworld and adapting as the world does, you fight for her cause? For money? For power? Surely a
servant at that bitch’s knees will have neither?”
The leader who stands slightly in front of his pack leaps, but Sheba anticipates it, and the two go
muzzle to muzzle, growling and snarling with teeth gnashing, each trying to tear the other one to
shreds. I watch the others closely, waiting for them to attack, but they hold back as their leader and
Sheba fight a ferocious battle.
A flash of fur flies into the air and a high-pitched howl emanates from the pack leader. A call for
help from the mangy wolf who now knows he’s about to get bested by Sheba sets the others into
motion.
Step by step they stalk, all three of them, and when the first one pounces, I’m ready, arcing my
long sword the minute he lifts into the air, thrusting it right between his chest bone and sinking deep as
he comes down from his jump. I twist the sword and withdraw it from the dying wolf to face the
others.
But now they’re wary…
The wolves watch carefully instead of leaping without hesitation. Smart, because I’d be ready if
they did that, but I’m also ready for them now, watching every step of those paws, listening to both of
their heart beats, waiting for a sign of attack, and the moment they rush, they lose every chance of
staying alive another day.
Sheba’s patience has come to an end. He severs the head of the wolf who betrayed him, and now
his foe lays on the ground in a pool of his own blood at Sheba’s feet. Sheba watches to see if we will
need help.
But he will be as impressed as I was with Tansia’s skills.
She does exactly as we trained, waiting for them to get past her and closer to me before stepping
out from beneath the cover of the tree trunk. I charge the wolf closest to me, thrusting and jabbing as
he shifts this way and that, leaning away from the steel of my blade, while Tansia doesn’t miss her
mark. She lays a dagger in the back of the other wolf’s neck, severing his ability to move with one
precise toss of her blade.
The wolf I’m still playing with fights with passion, and I let it play out for a while, but he doesn’t
have a chance in hell. He knows it and so do I, but still he pounces. I end him after a long, drawn-out
fight with a heavy-handed slash of steel right across his chest, and then one to the neck, causing his
head to bounce onto the ground in a pool of his own blood.
Tansia steps around the downed wolf and walks toward me, just as the sound of crashing branches
can be heard a short distance away.
“They never travel alone these days, always with pack reinforcements,” Sheba says.
“Good, I was hoping if I strung the wolf along long enough, others would come and show their
numbers. These bastards will eventually lead us to the evil bitch. Staying up wind from us won’t keep
them safe,” I tell Sheba.
His head shakes back and forth. “The vampires keep killing them, but Isala keeps recruiting them.
Sadly, my own packs grow smaller and smaller in number. If you follow them, I will double back, get
some more of my own troupes, and then find you. Truth be told, I need to check on them. Make sure
Isala’s packs haven’t done any damage to the ones I have left.”
I nod. “Do what you need to do, Sheba. Tansia and I will find them.”
Tansia’s eyes are focused on a tree in the distance. “I can see the path they’re taking,” she tells
me.
Sheba looks from me to Tansia with curiosity but doesn’t say a word before leaping into the
woods on his quest to find his own. I’m sure he, like everyone else, wonders if Tansia is a human, a
human with magic and powers of sight, a witch, or some other creature that lives in the underworld,
and why a pureblood vampire is partnered with her.
And many will ask the same question, but I do not report to them. And I give not two fucks what
they think!
The scent of the mangy shifters leads us through the dense trees and over the field to a road that
takes us into town. The stench is heavy along the roadway, having permeated itself into the wintered
grass and dirt that banks the highway leading into town.
We follow the scent until we get to the edge of the city and to a rundown bar. The bright neon sign
flashes, letting anyone out on the city streets know the establishment is open for service and ready to
take money in exchange for your drink of choice.
I guide Tansia into the club with a hand to her lower back. The men along the side of the bar as
we walk in turn at the sound of the overhead bell, their greedy eyes feasting on Tansia.
My arm tightens around her instinctively. I draw her closer and walk purposely toward the back,
still on the trail of the defecting shifter. I give a nod to the bartender, a trusted and loyal member of the
vampire community for centuries as we walk past him to the door that will take us to the lower
underground level. Another couple is walking up the stairs and we allow them to pass before we
make our way down the narrow steps to the underground club below.
The room is throbbing with a seductive beat. It’s full of couples, human, vampires, male and
female. The woman kneeling on the floor drinking from a crystal water dish with a red collar around
her neck senses me. She turns, her eyes taking me in sending me a hungry look from her place on the
floor.
Sierra’s eyes rake over Tansia and her eyes flash bright red.
 I’ve seen that look one too many times from Sierra. She’s slumming tonight in this bar, usually all
dressed up in hopes of catching a master vampire, lord, or warrior at the Descallia Clubs. A
vampiress with insatiable needs, tastes that are fun for a while, but she, like many, always with an eye
on someone who could offer power and willing to commit and eventually raise her status to queen.
Tansia looks from Sierra to me. Her lips purse, but she says nothing, averting her eyes from the
slinky sex pot on the floor as I guide her to the bar. "A couple of the house sandwiches, a Descallia
Red and a glass of red wine for Tansia," I tell the barkeeper before turning to her.
“Don’t let her intimidate you. I should have been much clearer about the end of our relationship. I
wish I hadn’t tried to let her down easy and had been more direct, but in my defense, it wasn’t a
relationship. We just hooked up a couple times.”
She gives me a smile, but it doesn’t go to her eyes, just a short little smile that barely turns the
sides of her lips up.
I lean in close when the waiter comes to pour the glasses in front of us. "We're looking for a pack
about five minutes ahead of us. I can still smell the scent of the mangy shifters. Where did they go?" I
ask, as a young waitress brings our food.
The young vampire, a son of one of the trusted lords, nods. "I saw them come in. He went through
to the bathroom, and they came in and met up with a group of shifters who reserved a room in the
back. Another lone wolf came in just shortly after that and joined them. I didn't know you were
looking for them or I would have given you a call.”
I tap the young vampire preparing to be one of our future warriors on the shoulder. “Not to
worry.” I take a drink from the thick squat glass he hands me, giving the traitors some time to think
they’re safe.
Tansia finishes her sandwich, takes another sip of her drink, and then sets her glass down. “I need
to step into the ladies room, and then I’ll be ready," she says.
I turn my attention back to the barkeep as she walks toward the back. "How's business been? The
lower level still busy?"
His eyes widen, and he nods with a big smile. "Booming since we added the play areas. Sierra
still talks about you whenever she comes in. She's been making googly eyes at you since you walked
through that door.”
“She likes the attention it brings her. There was never anything to talk about. Besides, it looks like
she was keeping herself plenty entertained when I walked in.”
He laughs. "Always. The males and females are never far away from that one, that's for sure.
Everyone's looking to partner up with her in the lower level. I think the calendar is full for the rest of
the year and next year too. Good for business that she wore out her welcome at the Descallia.
I laugh. "She still hangs out there too. Glad your business is going so well, though. You'll do well
if you follow the guidelines we talked about. And not letting this bar keep all of your attention. Focus
on your training for the warriors.”
“Absolutely,” he says, but then his eyes go dark. "Hey!" he yells, just as a shove to my arm causes
me to turn suddenly, looking into the drunken eyes of the vampire who moments ago held the leash to
the vivacious blonde's collar. "I saw her looking at you when you walked in. You stay away from her
vampire. I don't care who you are. She doesn't belong to you anymore, Calabrea.”
My growl rumbles through the club, shaking glasses on the table. "It's Master Calabrea to you,
insolent, and she never belonged to me in the first place. Go back to what you were doing before I
have you removed from the club, understand?"
"His eyes turn blood red, and his fangs descend. "This isn't over!"
 "Go away and sober up."
I turn my back on him, searching to see if Tansia has come out of the restroom yet, but she's not
visible and neither is Sierra. I inhale deeply making my way to the back of the bar, following the scent
before a long drawn-out scream can be heard, carrying throughout the bar.
And if Sierra has gotten into the bathroom with Tansia, nothing good can be happening behind
those walls.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The danger of
premature interment
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United
States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away
or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License
included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you
are not located in the United States, you will have to check the
laws of the country where you are located before using this
eBook.

Title: The danger of premature interment

Proved from many remarkable instances of people who
have recovered after being laid out for dead, and of
others entombed alive, for want of being properly
examined prior to interment

Author: Joseph Taylor

Release date: October 31, 2023 [eBook #71993]

Language: English

Original publication: London: W. Simpkin and R. Marshall, 1815

Credits: Aaron Adrignola, Gísli Valgeirsson and the Online

Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
(This file was produced from images generously made
available by The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE

DANGER OF PREMATURE INTERMENT ***
 THE
DANGER
OF
Premature Interment.
Plummer and Brewis, Printers,
Love-Lane, Eastcheap.
 H. Corbould del. Hopwood sc.
The body of Tulliolæ, the daughter of Cicero, discovered entire
and uncorrupted, in a Sepulchre, 1500 Years after Burial.
Vide Page 127.
Publish’d by W. Simpkin & R. Marshall Decʳ 1815.
 THE
DANGER
OF
Premature Interment,
PROVED FROM MANY
REMARKABLE INSTANCES

Of People who have recovered after being laid out for dead,
and of others entombed alive, for want of being
properly examined prior to Interment.
Also a Description of
The Manner the Ancient Egyptians, and other Nations,
Preserved and venerated their Dead,

And a curious Account of their

SEPULCHRAL EVER BURNING LAMPS
And
Mausoleums.
Likewise the pernicious effects of burying in the body of
Churches, and confined Church Yards pointed out,
whereby many valuable lives have been lost
to the Public, and their Friends.

SELECTED FROM HISTORICAL RECORDS.

BY
JOSEPH TAYLOR.

“To revive nailed up in a Coffin! A return of

Life in Darkness,
Distraction, and Despair! The Brain can
scarce sustain the
reflection, in our coolest moments.”
 LONDON:
PRINTED FOR W. SIMPKIN AND R. MARSHALL,
Stationers Court, Ludgate-Street.

1816.
 INTRODUCTION.

Amongst the many dreadful calamities incident to human nature,

none surely is more horrid, nor can the thought be more appalling,
than even in idea to be buried alive;—the very soul sickens at the
thought. Yet terribly frightful as the imagination paints such a dire
event, these things have been. Historical record clearly
demonstrates the melancholy truth, and many a valuable member of
society, has, I am fully persuaded, times past, been prematurely
consigned to the grave before the vital spark has been extinct. To
prevent, if possible, such deplorable events from ever again
happening, is my principal motive in forming the present volume. The
substance of a motto, I have somewhere seen, several years since,
on a silver medal, whereon is prettily displayed the figure of a boy
blowing with his mouth at a piece of lighted charcoal nearly
extinguished, in hopes of again re-invigorating the flame, has ever
since been indelibly impressed on my mind. “Who knows,” says the
motto, “but one spark, may yet remain alive.” And I would
recommend a similar impression to be deeply fixed on the minds of
every person, as a standing criterion in all doubtful cases between
life and death. It is a duty incumbent on ourselves, our friends and
relatives, and the community at large, to be thus particular in such a
momentous affair. Who amongst us, give me leave to ask, that has
the least pretensions to common humanity, would hesitate for a
single moment to perform so generous, though painful a duty, as that
of carefully attending to the sad expiring moments of a departing
friend? The duty must be reciprocal to every benevolent being, as
sooner or later, the dreadful trial must be our own. From a sad
mistaken humanity, surrounding friends are sometimes apt to
persuade the nearest relatives that nothing more can be done for the
dying person, and therefore prevent them from performing those kind
offices of closing the eyes, and other marks of attention, which can
only be expected from those who are deeply interested. Surely such
a bounden duty as this, ought not to be left (as is too often the case)
to some wretched mercenary nurse, or greedy hireling? forbid it
humanity! I would recommend it to all surviving relatives, and others,
who are interested, and have been attending with the kindest
assiduity on the sick, not to desert their post, the moment the nurse
has reported the death of her patient, but in this trying hour, if grief
has not too much overpowered them, to exert every necessary
recollection, to calm their feelings as much as human nature will
permit, and if possible, not be persuaded to quit the room too hastily,
(unless contagion is apprehended) nor suffer the poor departed
friend to be stripped and pulled about, until indubitable signs clearly
demonstrate life is no more. Many of the stories in this volume, well
attested by regular bred professional gentlemen, of the highest
respectability, expatiates largely on this humane, and interesting
subject, and I would fain flatter myself, such necessary advice as
they impart on so very important a subject, will cause in future in
every family, a more than usual care and examination of their friends
in the hour of death, and prior to interment. Were we but to bear in
our minds the following animated lines from a celebrated poet, our
attention to dying friends would be unremitting.

“Spirits fly swift (our friend’s) perhaps is gone

A thousand leagues beyond the sun,
Or twice ten thousand more twice told,
Ere the forsaken clay is cold.

“And yet, who knows; the friends we lov’d,

They may not be so far remov’d;
Only the veil of flesh between,
May oft glide by us, tho’ unseen.

“While we (their loss lamenting) say,

They’re out of hearing, far away;
Guardians to us, perhaps they’re near
Conceal’d in vehicles of air.”
 The danger which has arisen from burying in churches, and
confined church yards, is so clearly proved by several remarkable
instances in the present volume, that I shall say little more on the
subject, but refer my readers to those important truths for
information. Where it is absolutely necessary, a great number of
dead bodies must be deposited in one small piece of ground, I would
recommend a plan to be observed, something similar to the
following, which I am of opinion, would prevent great confusion and
danger, when a new grave is about to be opened. Let burying
grounds in future, be divided into regular sections, of sufficient length
and breadth, to admit of the largest human body, male or female.
Over each of these divisions, regularly and distinctly mark in
numerals from 1 to 100, more or less, according to the size of the
ground. Then let the parish clerk, sexton, or some other proper
person, keep an alphabetical ruled form, whereon must be regularly
entered the day of the month, and year the person died in, christian
and sir name of the deceased, parish where they resided, and a
space annexed for the number and side of the wall, under which the
defunct was buried, in like manner.
REGISTER OF FUNERALS.
Name of the Time of Of what Parish No. Under what
Deceased. Death. belonging. wall buried.
Addison, 1816. St. Leonard’s 1. South wall.
Richard. January Shoreditch.
1.
Barckley, February St. Vedast, 12. North wall.
Thomas. 18. Foster Lane.
I know not whether any similar plan to the above has ever yet
been adopted, if not, I think great waste of ground may be
prevented, and impure vapours greatly kept under. By duly attending
to this register of death, (if I may be allowed the term) a regular
gradation will constantly be attended to: this, will in a great measure
prevent danger to the grave-digger, and the surrounding inhabitants.
For instance, suppose a body to be laid in the grave under No. 1, a
second under No. 2, a third under No. 3, and so on in like manner,
until the whole number of spaces in the cemetery is filled up. By the
time the last numbered grave is opened, if the burying ground is
large, the first body buried under No. 1, will very probably be
reduced to ashes, so that there will then be room to begin again in
the same progressive manner: and if the body should not be quite
dissolved (which can easily be ascertained by a reference to the
above register) a few layers of earth and straw must be allowed as a
barrier between the first and last corpse interred in the same grave.
A little attention to some such method as this, would I am inclined to
think, tend greatly to prevent danger in all confined church yards,
preserve very frequently the life of the grave-digger, and render the
air more pure and wholesome to the surrounding inhabitants of such
doleful places. Another improvement may likewise be introduced,
which would greatly tend to disperse all noxious effluvia, and make
these dormitories less gloomy and unwholesome, I mean where the
ground is sufficiently capacious, to plant it with certain shrubs and
flowers. Many of the Eastern Nations are very particular in this
respect, and set us a rare example for improvement. In the Great
Mogul’s dominions, no places afford more delight to travellers, than
their burying grounds. Their tombs are either built round, square, or
with six or eight corners, and covered over archwise, and the
remaining part of the ground is planted with fruit trees, and flowers,
just as if they were laying out and planting an elysium. How
preferable must places of this description be to our confined, and too
often dirty habitations for the dead.
Respecting the sepulchral Lamps of the Ancients, however some
people may be inclined to ridicule and discredit such reports, the
descriptions are most certainly too curious and interesting to be
omitted in a work of this kind. I have therefore selected from the
most respectable documents, those records I conceived applicable
to my work and deserving of notice. They are such descriptions, as I
think ought to be paid much attention to, for in this age of invention,
when chemistry is brought to great perfection, and many modern arts
are on investigation, only found to be improvements of the Ancients,
as is the case with the Gas-lights which shine so refulgent through
our streets, it may probably by the philosophic experimentalist, at
some future period be discovered by what art the Ancients
constructed those perpetual lights which have so often been found in
their sepulchres. Surely nothing can be too great for imitation. If the
Mausoleums of our monarchs, and the tombs of the great could be
illuminated, with a durable pale, silvery, phosphoric light, (which I do
not conceive at all impracticable) it would render the mansions of the
dead less terrific, be awfully grand and sublime, and transmit to
posterity the improvements of the age. The idea of a continual light
burning in our tombs after our decease, would to many, I am well
convinced be so comfortable an anticipation, that the fear of death
would be less dreadful, than when we expect, after the dread
catastrophe, to remain for years in darkness.
That these, my humble efforts for the public good, or that any of
the subsequent stories may be instrumental in preserving the life of
but one fellow-creature, or that the hints I have treated so
superficially, may induce some abler pen to enlarge on a subject so
very important to all mankind, then will my utmost ambition be fully
gratified.
J. TAYLOR.
Newington,
Nov. 18th, 1815.
 THE
DANGER
OF
Premature Interment,
&c. &c.

Aristotle asserted, that it was more just to assist the dead than the
living. Plato, in his Republic, does not forget, amongst other parts of
justice, that which concerns the dead. Cicero establishes three kinds
of justice; the first respects the Gods, the second the manes, or
dead, and the third men. These principles seem to be drawn from
nature, and they appear at least, to be necessary for the support of
society, since at all times civilized nations have taken care to bury
their dead, and to pay their last respects to them.
We find in history, several traces of the respect which the Indians,
the Egyptians, and the Syrians entertained for the dead. The Syrians
embalmed their bodies with myrrh, aloes, honey, salt, wax, bitumen,
and resinous gums; they dried them also with the smoke of the fir
and the pine tree. The Egyptians preserved theirs with the resin of
the cedar, with aromatic spices, and with salt. These people often
kept such mummies, or at least their effigies, in their houses, and at
grand entertainments they were introduced, that by reciting the great
actions of their ancestors, they might be better excited to virtue.—
How different is this respect for the dead, from that practised at
present?
The Greeks, at first, had probably not the same veneration for the
dead as the Egyptians. Empedocles, therefore, in the eighty fourth
Olympiad, restored to life Ponthia, a woman of Agrigentum, who was
about to be interred. But this people, in proportion as they grew
civilized, becoming more enlightened, perceived the necessity of
establishing laws for the protection of the dead.
At Athens, the law required that no person should be interred
before the third day; and in the greater part of the cities of Greece, a
funeral did not take place till the sixth or seventh. When a man
appeared to have breathed his last, his body was generally washed
by his nearest relations with warm water mixed with wine. They
afterwards anointed it with oil, and covered it with a dress, commonly
made of fine linen, according to the custom of the Egyptians. This
dress was white at Messina, Athens, and in the greater part of the
cities of Greece, where the dead body was crowned with flowers. At
Sparta it was of a purple colour, and the body was surrounded with
olive leaves. The body was afterwards laid upon a couch in the entry
of the house, where it remained till the time of the funeral. At the
magnificent obsequies which Alexander honoured Ephestion, the
body was not burned till the tenth day.
The Romans in the infancy of their empire, paid as little attention
to their dead as the Greeks had done. Acilius Aviola having fallen
into a lethargic fit, was supposed to be dead; he was therefore
carried to the funeral pile; the fire was lighted up; and though he
cried out that he was still alive, he perished for want of speedy
assistance. The Praetor Lamiæ met with the same fate. Tubero, who
had been Praetor was also saved from the funeral pile. Asclepiades
a physician, who lived in the time of Pompey the Great, about one
hundred and twenty years before the Christian æra, returning from
his country house, observed near the walls of Rome, a grand convoy
and a crowd of people, who were in mourning assisting at a funeral,
and shewing every exterior sign of the deepest grief. Having asked
what was the occasion of this concourse, no one made any reply. He
therefore approached the pretended dead body, and imagining that
he perceived signs of life in it, he ordered the by-standers to take
away the flambeaux, to extinguish the fire, and to pull down the
funeral pile. A kind of murmur on this arose throughout the whole
company. Some said that they ought to believe the physician, while
others turned both him and his profession into ridicule. The relations
however yielded at length to the remonstrances of Asclepiades; they
consented to defer the obsequies for a little, and the consequence
was the restoration of the pretended dead person to life. It appears
that these examples, and several others of the like nature, induced
the Romans to delay funerals longer, and to enact laws to prevent
precipitate interments.
At Rome, after allowing a sufficient time for mourning, the nearest
relation generally closed the eyes of the deceased, and the body
was bathed with warm water, either to render it fitter for being
anointed with oil, or to reanimate the principle of life, which might
remain suspended, without manifesting itself. Proofs were afterwards
made, to discover whether the person was really dead, which were
often repeated during the time that the body remained exposed; for
there were persons appointed to visit the dead, and to prove their
situation. On the second day, after the body had been washed a
second time, it was anointed with oil and balm. Luxury encreased to
such a pitch in the choice of foreign perfumes for this purpose, that
under the consulship of Licinius Crassus, and Julius Cæsar, the
senate forbad any perfumes to be used, except such as were the
production of Italy. On the third day the body was clothed according
to its dignity and condition. The robe called the prætexta was put
upon magistrates, and a purple robe upon consuls; for conquerors
who had merited triumphal honours, this robe was of gold tissue. For
other Romans it was white, and black for the lower classes of the
people. These dresses were often prepared at a distance, by the
mothers and wives of persons still in life. On the fourth day the body
was placed on a couch, and exposed in the vestibule of the house,
with the visage turned towards the entrance, and the feet near the
door; in this situation it remained till the end of the week. Near the
couch were lighted wax tapers, a small box in which perfumes were
burnt, and a vessel full of water, for purification, with which those
who approached the body besprinkled themselves. An old man,
belonging to those who furnished every thing necessary for funerals,
sat near the deceased, with some domestics clothed in black. On the
eighth day the funeral rites were performed; but to prevent the body
from corrupting before that time, salt, wax, the resinous gum of the
cedar, myrrh, honey, balm, gypsum, lime, asphaltes, or bitumen of
Judea, and several other substances, were employed. The body was
carried to the pile with the face uncovered, unless wounds, or the
nature of the disease had rendered it loathsome and disgusting. In
such a case, a mask was used made of a kind of plaister, which has
given rise to the expression of funera lavasta, used in some of the
ancient authors. This was the last method of concealment which
Nero made use of, after having caused Germanicus to be poisoned:
for the effect of the poison had become very sensible by livid spots
and the blackness of the body, but a shower of rain happening to fall,
it washed the plaister entirely away, and thus the horrid crime of
fratricide was discovered.
The Turks have, at all times, been accustomed to wash the bodies
of their dead before interment: and as their ablutions are complete,
and as no part of the body escapes the attention of those who assist
at such melancholy ceremonies, they can easily perceive whether
one be really dead or alive, by examining, among other methods of
proof, whether the sphincter anis has lost its power of contraction. If
this muscle remains still contracted, they warm the body, and
endeavour to recal it to life; otherwise, after having washed it with
water and soap, they wipe it with linen cloths, wash it again with rose
water, and aromatic substances, cover it with a rich dress, put upon
its head a cap ornamented with flowers, and extend it upon a carpet,
placed in the vestibule, or hall, at the entrance of the house.
The Jews, after having washed the body, and anointed it with
aromatic substances of a more or less agreeable odour, according to
the rank and riches of the deceased, bind it round afterwards with
bandages of linen, and cover the head with a handkerchief.
In the primitive church the dead were washed and then anointed;
the body was wrapped up in linen, or clothed in a dress of more or
less value, according to circumstances, and it was not interred till
after being exposed, and kept some days in the house. The custom
of clothing the dead is preserved in France only for princes and
ecclesiastics.
In other countries, more or less care is taken to prevent sudden
interments. At Geneva, there are people appointed to inspect all
dead bodies. Their duty consists in examining whether the person be
really dead, and whether they died naturally, or by violence. In the
North, as well as at Genoa, it is usual not to bury the dead till three
days have expired. In Holland people carry their precautions much
farther, and delay the funerals longer. In Spain, the dead are
generally clothed in the dresses of the religious. And in Germany
they are dressed in clothes more or less splendid, with their faces
uncovered, and are generally laid in that apartment, which is nearest
the door.
In England, the poorest people keep their dead four or five days,
and sometimes longer and the nearest relations are invited to see
them exposed. If they happen to be buried sooner, this precipitation
excites suspicions among the neighbours, who never fail to address
themselves to the magistrates, and to take the body from the grave,
that they may examine whether it bears any traces of violence.
It is not only in Europe that precautions are taken against
precipitate burials. In Asia, when an inhabitant of the kingdom of
Boutain dies, the body is kept in the house three days all of which
are spent in singing and prayers.
If we instead of following the example of those people, have
forgotten that respect which the ancients entertained for the dead, it
is owing to the prejudices of our education imbibed in infancy. In that
early age nurses and ignorant servants instil into children those
absurdities which they themselves have adopted, and such
prejudices are the most difficult to be overcome. Scarcely has one
ceased to live, when he becomes an object of horror.
The body is abandoned to a set of mercenary people, who begin
by dragging it from a warm bed to place it on some cold straw. Soon
after devotion, or the desire of gain, draws together the undertakers,
who first cover the head and face with a kind of cap, in the shape of
a bag. Sometimes they put cotton into the mouth, the ears, and even
into the fundament, if the last precaution has not been taken before
their arrival. This cotton is placed there to prevent the body from
staining the linen in which it is wrapped up. They then bind the
breast and arms round with a bandage, and make another pass