Blood Interlaced: The Laurent Blood Legacy, #2

By Evelyn Lederman

The vampire in her romance novels turns out to be more than a figment of her imagination…

Laura Simon turned her nightly visions of a vampire into a lucrative romance series. When she's rescued by a man who bears a striking resemblance to the vampire in her head, Laura's world is turned upside down.

Jack Monroe feels an immediate attraction to the woman who invades his solitude. When he reads one of her novels and discovers he's the protagonist, his interest in the woman becomes something more. He reluctantly lets her go, only to chase after her when he's told about the blood legacy.

Will he condemn her to an eternity in darkness for a chance to walk again in the light?

Can a centuries old spell save them both?

The blood legacy continues…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evelyn Lederman
• Release date: May 21, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393025337

Book preview

Chapter 1

Laura Simon jolted in the driver seat after lightning struck nearby. The tight safety belt limited her movement. She pinched her lips together. Not only did she have to deal with torrential rain obstructing her visibility, but the possibility of fallen trees. The cracking sound jarred her already frayed nerves. Why hadn’t she flown to the conference instead of driving?

Her heart raced as another eighteen-wheeler breezed by. A shudder ran through her as the car shook at the truck’s proximity. Visibility couldn’t possibly be better in the elevated cabin compared to her SUV, yet the trucks barreled forward in what she considered dangerous conditions. The drivers must have some kind of death wish. Her fingers clutched the steering wheel so tightly, her knuckles whitened.

As soon as the driving became treacherous, she should have pulled over. Unfortunately, there hadn’t been an opportunity to exit this deathtrap. The tightening of her shoulders only added to her discomfort.

Laura released a frustrated sigh. She didn’t want to become a fatality statistic. The headlights of the truck behind her continued to narrow the distance between them. If she’d stopped for lunch, she wouldn’t have found herself in this position. Her own stupidity told her not to stop.

She’d have to remember this sense of helplessness for her next novel. Her heroine would have some possessed truck stalking her. An updated version of Stephen King’s Christine.

A sign indicated a road approached on the right. She flicked her turn indicator, slowed, and prepared to make a sharp angled turn. The truck driver didn’t reduce speed but honked his horn. She felt the vibration to her bones.

Laura twisted the steering wheel and held her breath. Doubting the latter action would aid her, she did it anyway. Not that breathing provided her control in a hopeless situation. Thank goodness there wasn’t another car waiting at the intersection.

The SUV’s right front tire skidded on the gravel, but she quickly righted the car. She cursed, noting the country road didn’t have a shoulder. With nowhere to wait out the storm, she continued to drive. The GPS map indicated she’d entered a massive loop that would take her back to the rural route farther to the south. At least trucks no longer threatened to blow her off the road.

The ominously dark sky looked to be more reminiscent of evening, not early afternoon. There didn’t appear to be a break in the storm for as far as she could see, which wasn’t particularly far. She’d be lucky to make the hotel before sunset.

Laura noted the road had ditches on either side filled with water.

Pain emanated from her stomach. The ulcer that hadn’t bothered her in weeks reminded her to its existence.

Rubbing her stomach, she regretted the decision to place her antacids in her luggage in the rear of the SUV. Normally, they were in her purse. Popping several of the chalky pills into her mouth would have eased her pain. The bland diet she suffered through did little to prevent symptoms when her stress level rose.

The wind picked up, making driving that much more of a challenge. Typically, she found cruising along a restful activity. With nothing else to do but drive, her brain would enter a Zen state. Her imagination came up with several plot devises on her road trips. But not today!

Her eyes continually moved. With more frequency, they landed on the ditches that appeared to grow in size and deeper with water. In no time, the road would be flooded.

An obstruction visible on the road ahead caught her attention. She slammed on her breaks, nearly missing a fallen tree. From her vantage point, she wouldn’t be able to get around it. Not long ago, she’d passed a private road. It seemed her best bet. She couldn’t stay here.

It didn’t take long driving in reverse before she experienced a crick in her neck. She mentally kicked herself for not charging her cell phone and omitted packing her car charger. This trip had been doomed from the start.

The topography around her changed soon after she entered the loop. Her car strained slightly heading up a hill. The ditches had turned into raging rivers. When the road flooded, her tires would lose traction and she’d be up the proverbial creek without a paddle.

A blur ran across the road. Laura let out a holler and jerked the wheel. Her back tires slid sideways and she lost control of the car. Her efforts to miss the animal, who made it safely through the encounter, sent her swerving close to one of the water filled ditches.

The car stopped, the passenger side teetering on the side of the ditch. Her head rammed into the steering wheel at the sudden stop. She didn’t technically hit anything, so the airbags didn’t activate, but she saw stars regardless. She could already feel the beginnings of a helluva bump on her forehead.

She moaned, her safety belt painfully digging into her shoulder. Her head ached. When she ran her fingers over her injury, they encountered a sticky substance. She looked into the rearview mirror at the bleeding gash on her head. Would it require stitches? The thought of a needle tearing into her flesh caused a shiver to run up her spine.

Her purse, now on the floor, contained a packet of facial tissues. In order to reach it, she released her seatbelt. The safety harness had done its job and would only create problems going forward.

Another moan escaped her when she reached over to collect her bag. She rummaged through her purse and pulled out the packet of tissues. A sticker with her pen name and one of her book covers had been adhered to the bottom of the package.

Laura placed a single tissue on her wound and didn’t flinch when she saw blood covering the soft material. She pulled out another tissue and applied pressure to her injury.

She turned on her hazard lights in case another car passed. Although it continued to pour, she got out of the car to inspect her proximity to the ditch. Her back tire sat partially on solid ground. Laura feared if she attempted to drive off, the soil would be disturbed and she’d plummet into the ditch.

For the time being, she moved back into the car to explore her possibilities. Sleet now accompanied the rain and it stung where it impacted with her skin. She’d be out of options soon.

What would one of her modern day heroines do if they found themselves in this particular position? They’d keep their cool and deal with the situation instead of postponing making the inevitable decision to abandon her car.

Banging on her side window wrenched a scream from her in response. When she turned to see a cloaked figure with red glowing eyes, she screamed a second time.

The scent of her blood overwhelmed Jack Monroe. He’d been a vampire for over six hundred years, but hadn’t smelled anything so sweet until now. How would she affect him when she opened the car door or rolled down the window?

He’d witnessed the accident from his study’s window. To be specific, Jack saw her headlights appear and disappear as the car spun out of control. With dusk hours away, the heavy cloud cover negated the sun’s impact on him.

Days like today gave him the rare opportunity to venture out before twilight. He’d been more daring than most vampires in testing the sun. His master Francois Laurent claimed his recklessness would lead to his destruction one day.

He’d recently returned to Georgia where he’d spent the Civil War years. Fate had brought him back to meet this woman.

He rapped on her window one last time, hoping it wouldn’t be met with another scream. She viewed him as an intruder, not rescuer. If she didn’t open the car door, he’d pull it off its hinges.

The woman finally rolled down her window. The car had been idling the whole time.

Jack reached in and turned off the ignition, the doors automatically unlocking. His senses got a shock of her pure essence. Best to conserve gasoline. After it stops raining, my neighbor can tow the car. That’s the only way this SUV can be moved without ending up in the ditch.

He needed to concentrate on something other than his body’s reaction to her. Correction, her blood, or so he tried to convince himself.

The woman pulled back blood-caked auburn hair from the wound on her forehead. The strands were the right shade of red for his tastes. Not too bright or too dark.

When is it supposed to stop raining? A slight tremor impacted her voice.

Not until tomorrow afternoon, I’m afraid, Jack replied. We’re dealing with a large tropical depression. However, it may take another day or two before the water subsides and the roads are passable. It’s common in this area. Very few people built along the loop because of the regular flooding. The developer lost a fortune.

His rambling spoke volumes to how the woman’s proximity affected him.

Her emerald green eyes widened in disbelief. Up to three days? She began to rock in her seat.

I’m afraid so, Jack said. Parts of Georgia and Tennessee have already been declared disaster areas. Come on, you can weather the storm in my house.

Sweet B, a nickname he’d created for her, short for Sweet Blood, shook her head. I couldn’t possibly.

Her timid nature grated on his nerves. He admired modern women who stood up for themselves. Women in his time were chattel and behaved accordingly.

You can’t stay here. He tried not to let his irritation impact his tone. This is a private road. No one will drive by and offer you a ride. I have a live-in female housekeeper if that will relieve some of your anxiety. My name is Jack Monroe, by the way.

Rhonda Taylor was more than his housekeeper. She guarded the structure as he rested. Her family had served him for generations. When Rhonda married, her husband Warren became aware of his secret and the wealth and good health working for a vampire presented.

Small quantities of his blood warded off disease and extended their mortal life span. The Taylor children grew up on his estate. One of them would inherit their parents’ good fortune when they retired.

He pulled back his jacket’s hood, knowing he’d get drenched. After centuries, Jack knew he had a pleasant face where women were concerned. At this point, he’d try his physical appearance rather than glamour the poor woman. He didn’t want to steal Sweet B’s ability to think for herself.

She gasped as she looked upon his face. My name is Laura, the woman sputtered.

Impatient to get out of the rain, Jack opened the driver-side door. He’d turn on the car and raise the window before they headed back to his house.

Laura’s height reached a couple inches below his shoulders when she exited the vehicle with his assistance. Her small bone structure made her appear fragile. Although he questioned his last assumption. It took guts to travel alone.

He examined the fully loaded rear of the SUV. What do you need from the back? I’d rather not mess around with the weight on the passenger side for the time being.

There were numerous boxes that would become soaked if they were removed during the storm. Her property seemed safe for now.

Just the suitcase, Sweet B replied. Everything else is for the conference. It starts on Thursday. I’d hoped to do some sightseeing beforehand.

Jack moved around her, restarted the car, raised the window, and then turned off the ignition. He removed the keys and reached for the suitcase not far behind the driver’s seat.

With care, he moved some of the boxes to better balance the weight in the back. When he returned later, he’d use his strength to position the car away from the ditch.

His wrist brushed against Laura’s bare shoulder. Rather than leaning away, she turned into him. He noted goose bumps spread on her skin from the point of contact.

An electrical shock spread throughout his body. Warmth coursed through him as if he’d left a frozen room and stepped into a tropical breeze.

It would be suicidal to read too much into the reaction. The sensation had to be a warning the sun could still harm him. Any other answer had to be considered fantastical nonsense.

Come, he said. Based on his interpretation of his response to Sweet B’s touch, he needed to return to his basement. We should get you out of the rain before you catch your death. Rhonda will see to your injury. She’s got four active children and has dealt with her share of scrapes and bruises.

The rain rinsed the blood from her forehead, diluting the precious liquid. His hunger for her didn’t weaken. It took all his self-control not to lick the wound and then feast on her neck. He hadn’t drunk from a human in decades. This woman brought back urges he fought and conquered years ago.

Laura stole another glance at Jack. His resemblance to Jacques Monreau, the vampire hero in her bestselling series, startled her. She’d looked at hundreds of photos for a model who resembled the vision in her head, but came up short. The man who graced her covers helped to sell the series, but didn’t come close to resembling the man in her mind. This man was Jacques.

The similarities in their names hadn’t been lost on her. It felt like she’d walked into the pages of her own creation. Jacques lived in the Cascade Mountains in a fictional town. She estimated they were somewhere near the Georgia-Tennessee border.

Her thought process surprised her. Vampires didn’t exist. They were monsters of folklore. Hollywood and modern literature turned them into objects in wet and pubescent dreams. She was guilty of creating the former.

He’d transformed before her eyes from a slicker-covered phantom to a black haired, blue-eyed Adonis. Even a Harrison Ford-esque scar graced his chin, giving an otherwise gorgeous face personality. She wondered what accident had left its telltale mark.

She must have imagined the glowing red eyes. There was nothing frightening about this man. If they’d met in a bar, she would’ve hoped he’d ask for her phone number.

Laura found herself in no hurry to be passed off to a housekeeper, his good intentions not withstanding. She liked the way he talked. He had an age-old grace about him, colored by a southern accent. Did people still die if they caught a chill?

Together they traversed the water covered road. Conditions had moved past the puddle stage. Her sneakers would fortunately dry and provided her better traction than if she’d worn the sandals she’d originally planned to wear.

They walked several hundred yards until they came to a gated drive. Jack typed in a 4-digit code and the metal gate opened. She nearly jumped out of her skin when it clanked shut. Had she just sealed her fate by accompanying him into his lair?

Chapter 2

Under the harsh artificial light, Jacques’s uncanny resemblance to the character in her mind became more pronounced. Jack. She quickly corrected the name of the flesh and blood man who stood before her.

He had a pale complexion. The sign of a workaholic who toiled before the sun rose and well after it set. The wooded area around his property wouldn’t give him any exposure to the sun if he headed outside during the weekend. She wondered what he did for a living. The massive house sat on acreage, so he had money. Most of the men she’d met recently didn’t appreciate she made a better living than they did.

Through the open jacket, his wet navy shirt clung to his chest. She could see