My Name is Meledandri: Vampire City, #1

By Mariana Lewis

Hunters don't become the Hunted. When the game is cat and cat, often all a hunter can strive for is survival.

Meledandri has retained her youth for nearly sixty years, but surviving the City's near-constant danger has transformed her from a loving young woman into a self-absorbed vampire with a heart of stone. Her days are an endless stream of shoe shopping, disconnection, and meaningless sex.

Rachel Dawson is a bounty hunter, but there's more to her bounties than simple bail-jumpers: Rachel's bounties are supernaturals which menace human society, and she's good at her job. So when Meledandri picks the wrong woman to bite, Rachel comes to her defense, and the two hunters are pitted against one-another in a deadly game which should only have one outcome.

But Meledandri finds her rigid heart shaken to life by this bold, brave young woman. The woman who has to kill her the moment her true nature is revealed.

The City is harsh. Maybe Meledandri will have to be harsher...

• Language: English
• Publisher: LoveLight Press
• Release date: Aug 17, 2015
• ISBN: 9781516399666

Mariana Lewis

Mariana Lewis is interested in writing about women going through big moments in their lives.  She lives in a big city but yearns for a farm and some chickens, and a funny partner who knows how to drive a tractor.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

My name is Meledandri. I’ve been a vamp for fifty-two years and if you’ve got a problem with that, you can go fuck yourself. In private, please. I don’t need to watch.

Why so testy, you ask? Well, it’s been a shitty week, for one thing. On top of a shitty month. You might think, hey what’s she complaining about, vampires are top of the food chain here in the City these days. And it’s true, things are a whole lot better for us than they used to be. We’ve got money, we’ve got insiders high up in business and government. We’ve got a populace so scared of us that sometimes they just lie down and beg us to bite them, hoping it will save their cowardly necks. And all of that is fucking delightful, I don’t deny it.

But lately the goddamn son of a bitch bounty hunters have been giving me some serious agita. They took one of my best vampire pals last week—dragged him off in a net, if you can believe it, and he hasn’t been seen since. Humans used to be all about the rule of law or some shit, but it looks like all those high-flown ideals have fallen by the wayside as they lose their grip on the City. Can’t really blame ’em for that, I guess.

But I can blame them for whatever they did to my pal. His only crime was being himself, right?

I’m going out, now that’s it’s finally dark. I’m bored and I’m thirsty and in the mood for hunting. The bounty hunters have been concentrating in the Park lately, so I think I’ll give that a wide berth for now. I’d like to enjoy the fine spring weather and have a nice, leisurely suck without anyone interrupting. So I’m going to hit Avenue P, that strip uptown where the fanciest apartment buildings are, and see if I can get a slurp of some of that rich blood. It really is tastier, you probably won’t be surprised to hear. The wealthy people eat better, so their blood is richer, more full-bodied.

My mouth is watering and my fangs tingle just thinking about it.

Vampires are a sophisticated lot, for the most part. We’re better looking than the other paranormals, that’s for goddamn sure. But that doesn’t mean any of us are above drooling when we start thinking about the delights of a really good suck.

I’m on my way out when I see this vamp who lives in the apartment over me coming down the stairs. I’ve been avoiding her lately because she’s got a new boyfriend—a werebear of all things—and who wants to hear all about how much she loooooves him and how sweet he is and blahblahblah. Gag me, you know? But this building is small, there’s no hiding once you’re on the stairwell.

Mel! she calls out.

Oh, hey Emily. How’s it going? Trying to hit that note of not encouraging her without being rude.

I was hoping I’d see you today. I’d like to invite you to dinner on Saturday. Are you free?

Since when do you cook?

Since Bartley, she says, looking down and blushing.

Oh Jesus.

He likes having a woman in the kitchen, eh? Are you barefoot and knocked up already too?

Emily just laughs. I wish, she says, and my eyes widen.

Emily, I don’t think...I’m not sure...a vamp and a shifter? How’s that gonna work? You wouldn’t have any idea what kind of bun you’ve got in the oven! You could end up with some kind of mutant baby.

Anything would be okay, she says serenely. So listen, I’ve got to run—does Saturday work for you? Can you come?

My mind is going at breakneck speed, searching everywhere for an excuse but not finding one. Um, sure, I say finally.

You might be wondering why I give a shit what Emily thinks, and the short answer is: I don’t. But she’s my neighbor. I can’t afford to move, and I’m smart enough to know that a bad situation with a neighbor can make every part of your life a complete misery. So I do what I have to do, including, apparently, spending my Saturday night watching the odd couple drool on each other.

I’ll admit that if I had to choose a shifter to be with, bear is what I would go for. They’re generally easy-going compared to the others, and they like naps. I just hope he doesn’t keep me up during the day with a lot of roaring.

Once outside, Emily and I wave and go our separate ways. Something about that whole exchange made me thirstier than ever and I can’t wait to sink my fangs into some hot flesh. Let’s move it, shall we?

Here we are at Avenue P. Maybe you’re one of the humans with a higher IQ and you’ve figured this out, but vampires have this thing, this ability you could call it, where we can fade—we’re not invisible, just sort of shadowy. We blend in really well. Makes us hard as fuck to see unless you really know what you’re looking for. Some of the bounty hunters are pretty good at spotting us even in fade, I’ll give them that. But most humans? Nah. They’ll saunter right on by, parading their pretty white necks right in front of us so we can’t help but pounce and sink our fangs into that delicious soft flesh.

Ignorant fools.

See, watch what I’m doing. I can walk along next to this building, close enough to brush up against the old stone, and nobody’s gonna see me. It’s not that I turn into stone or anything, more like you can sort of see the stone through me, even though I’m actually solid. The doormen of these rich buildings—some of them are pretty sharp and might know what to look for, but they know not to stir up