Crimson Cries, IV: The First


“Your blood is the reason why they’re searching for you. Especially now. They want the strength of a First to defeat the Nine. There are some who believe Sanehet is the father of us all. He helped in creating the vampire race of old, yes. However, the true creator…" He hesitated with a shake of his head. "Your father veiled others because of his loneliness, but only a drop of his blood did he share. Nothing more.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth. “You’ve taken from him what he’s offered to no other.”

The statement landed like a slap across her face. “Then why not come to me, console me, be a mentor, a damn parent? How about explaining what I was? Instead, he sent a servant?”

He reared back, his eyes glinting dangerously.

Unshed tears stung, but she refused to let her guard down. “Every strand of humanity I thought I had is now gone. I’m a monster, like him.” Saying aloud words she’d thought so often since Stronick Castle was a bitter pill to swallow. She rose and began pacing, hoping to stifle the anger and hurt. “He instructed you to teach me not to kill while he gormandized half the population dry like some, some—?”

“Vampire?” Contempt hardened his face. “I did as he’d asked. I was a messenger, nothing more. I swore a blood oath to do just that. For what it’s worth, I didn’t know he had a born daughter until after he addressed me with the task.”

“We can’t change history. We leave the past behind, yes?” she whispered. “But the future is always alterable. I’ve wrapped myself in arrogance far too long. I thought I was untouchable—”

“As his blood flows through you, then so does a portion of his soul. When he’s granted leave from this side of the veils, you’ll inherit it in its entirety, along with all his powers.”

“Soul? Powers? Do you think me that naive?”

​“Are you capable of love?”

DAWNÉ DOMINIQUE

THE FIRSTseries
Where biblical fiction and paranormal crash headlong...definitely not your ordinary vampire series.
DARK DIARY, II: The First


“Rigor mortis hasn't set in yet,” she explained. She pushed her glasses back up her nose and rolled the body over, staring inquisitively at him over the thickness of the lenses. 


He swallowed the brick-sized lump lodged in his throat. “Have the officers outside make a sweep of the area.” 


“It's being done now, but that's not the reason why I called Barlow to get you down here. I want you to see this for yourself.” She proceeded to unbutton the victim's shirt and then pushed the material aside so only he could see. 


Aiden gawked, speechless. Carved in rudimentary printing into the washboard stomach was: Aiden Blackmore. 


Dixie's eyes narrowed. “Ya mind telling me why your name's there?” 


“Jesus, help me,” he whispered, feeling the blood drain from his face. He just about fell on his ass and had to put a hand down on the concrete floor to steady himself. 


“Clear the area,” Dixie shouted without looking up. “Now!”


​KINDRED BLOOD, III: The First


She pushed her hand against his chest, forcibly pushing him back until his butt hit the windowsill behind the bed. When her eyes narrowed, both her pupils liquefied until the entire sockets became black. 


“Jesus!” 


She pressed her face close until their noses almost touched. “Stand behind the curtain—and—stay—quiet.” 


It had to have been his imagination, or for sure he'd finally lost whatever marbles he had left. When he dared to blink, those black pools of hers now blazed blood red. 


He shied away and pressed himself onto the sill of the window. Now he was positive he'd lost it. “Where are you going to hide?” His heart hammered inside his chest, which thankfully muted the voices out in the hall. Then a loud click sounded and Nigel's front door opened. He stared in panic at the entrance of the bedroom, listening to the approach of footsteps. 


Daniella flipped the brocade fabric of the drapes over him. “Stay put.” 


Spencer inched further into the window, wishing he could meld with the glass. From a small pleat in the fabric, he saw her move to the corner opposite the computer. What in the hell is she doing? He wanted to scream at her to hide any place but where she currently stood. She couldn't have been more conspicuous than if she were a Christmas tree with marquee lights. He blinked again, and the next thing he saw was her hair taking on a life of its own. Tendrils lengthened and darkened, and moved about her face and body. Like a belly dancer's veils, the strands grew longer, wider, gathering the shadows in the room into a sensuous waltz that glided around her until— 


Poof! 


One moment she was there, the next she was gone. As the voices grew louder, Spence squeezed his eyes shut and wished he'd never met Daniella Rolfe.

EDEN'S HELL, I: The First


His melancholy gaze ventured toward the window again. “The hour grows late, and we must leave.” He rose and moved toward the balcony, but not as fluidly as he usually did. His face was paler, his movements sluggish. As he approached the full length windows, he waved a hand and a portion of the glass slid to the side.


Uneasiness churned in the base of her stomach. He’s still hiding something. She followed him out, inwardly thanking him for sharing some insight into the vampire lore. He'd kept her safe so far, and she wouldn’t begin doubting him now, especially now that she was head over heels in love with him. Their night of quickie passion lingered at the back of her mind, a distant dream, a yearning of hope that neither of them had mentioned. He seemed cold and distant almost as if he’d placed an impenetrable wall between them. Whether it was for her benefit or his, she didn’t know.


She stood a few feet away, unsure. Addison’s ebony silhouette revealed tensely squared shoulders. Instinct made her adopt the same demeanor.


He turned his head away when his arm snaked around her waist to draw her close. She buried her head into his shoulder, her emotions on overload. His touch felt colder, and she was keenly aware of the marbled muscles pressing into every dip and rise of her body.


When they left the ground, she gulped in air, forcing the fluttering butterflies down as far as they would go without her throwing up. When he stopped and hovered in midair, the zero gravity brought sour bile to sting her tongue. She realized this flying wasn’t as fun as it had been the first time around.


She held fast and ignored the strands of hair whipping about her face as they flew through the evening sky. With her eyes squeezed shut, Eva did something she hadn’t done in a long time. She prayed.