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    Daryn's Slayer
    Daryn's Slayer
    Daryn's Slayer
    Ebook86 pages1 hour

    Daryn's Slayer

    By Leona Bushman

    ()

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    About this ebook

    A slayer and a vampire pair up and turn the supernatural world inside out.

    Daryn falls instantly in love with Ernestine the moment he meets her, despite her calling as a slayer. She inspires true feelings he'd thought lost to him after centuries on the run from a cruel and vindictive coven leader, Cassandra.

    Ernestine, a werewolf without the ability to shift, can't deny the desire he inspires, even though her life's work, her every breath, focused on ridding the world of the evil vampires. Together, their powers change into something new, and their mating becomes a beacon to all the supernatural beings in the area.

    Can the fight their way out, or is their union doomed from the start?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLeona Bushman
    Release dateFeb 14, 2019
    ISBN9781386227755
    Daryn's Slayer

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      Book preview

      Daryn's Slayer - Leona Bushman

      Daryn’s Slayer

      Prologue

      Early thirteenth century...

      Death polluted the air. In the dark, damp cavern, among the stalagmites, a bloody, ragged body lay, with sunken cheeks, and hair dark with sticky masses clumped against the scalp. His black eyes revealed not a soul, but infinite evil. He clenched his teeth and curled his body into the fetal position, wanting to stop the pain clawing at him. With the draining of his blood, the other master vampires succeeded in taking most of his magical and physical power.

      He tried to staunch the flow still oozing out of his abdomen, but failed. Sharp points of pain stabbed against his forehead from inside his skull. He'd used the last of his physical strength to apparate to this place. He'd visited once, years ago, and hoped it remained undiscovered by humans.

      The fight against the other masters had been brutal and bloody, but nothing hurt more than the betrayal of the woman who'd lain by his side for centuries. She'd hidden her intent until it had nearly been too late for him to stop her plan from succeeding. Still, she'd managed to slice his jugular. Now, he had to find a way to survive if for no other reason than to avenge himself against her and the others who'd dared to stand against him.

      With renewed determination, he sat back up and leaned against the cold wall, the foetid water seeping through his cloak. He gasped for breath in the musty air and held one hand over his abdomen as another wave of black pain enveloped him. He needed to act soon. With a last desperate attempt at escape, he'd apparated to the cave, away from those intent on his demise. However, to his dismay, doing so had sapped his magic and energy so much, his mind remained a haze of confusion and fear and anger as he attempted to formulate a plan to survive.. Loud expletives echoed back at him as he cursed the ones who'd done this. In a last ditch effort, he used his waning powers to mentally call all creatures with blood in their veins to him.

      Those closest could not, would not resist the compulsion, such was his power even upon death’s bed.

      Before he could do more than close his eyes to wait, insects clacked their way across stalagmites and skittered through sand. The snakes slithered to him, and rats scurried across the stones and out dank crevices. All crawled over his body, eager to answer the master's command. He ignored the insects, not being worth the energy used to drink their blood.

      The rats he sucked dry, their bodies depressed until skin and bone met, one side to the other, small pockets of dirty fur which he dropped when finished. Snakes appeared like dried twigs of shed skin when he discarded of their carcasses.

      He left nothing.

      He sucked and drank until, finally, his body started repairing the wounds releasing his life force. It would keep him alive temporarily. But he needed more. He wanted to regain full power, his magic.

      Along with the nourishment soaking into his pores, came strength, alertness. Not full power, but a beginning. He sat up straighter, keeping his hands on his still-healing abdomen. Pain seared him, and desperation clawed at his belly like a hungry bear with its prey. No, he needed to live. There had to be more blood close by. He required more to heal his wounds, enough so he could rest until the next moonrise.

      Concentrating harder, he listened intently for a heartbeat, for hot blood coursing through veins. There. Near the cave, holed up in a thicket, lay a family of brown hares, five kits, the buck and the doe. He commanded them to come to him deep within  the cavern. The kits came, despite the adults maneuvering to keep their young ones from leaving the burrowed nest. He pushed harder. His mouth watered as their heartbeats played in his mind, beating fast in fear against the thing in their minds. At last, they gave in and quit resisting his call. The fear left them as they obediently came into the cave.

      He sunk his teeth in deep to the first young hare's neck and savored the spurt of blood which followed. Not as good as fear and adrenalin-laced human blood, or as powerful as werewolf blood, but by far more delectable than rat blood. By the time he'd drunk the five kits' blood, his will had become stronger, and the brown-haired buck and doe hares sat by his legs, watching him drink the lifeblood of their young ones without a twitch.

      After he had finished draining the rabbits, he picked up the furry cadavers and wiped some of the blood from his injuries and the water from the cave off him. His external bleeding had stopped. With the infusion of rabbit blood, his body had started to heal internally as well, but his wounds remained jagged-edged cuts.

      Over the next two days, he dozed and awoke, each time bringing larger game to him. By the end of the second night, he'd gained enough strength to walk. But already, the combination of blood loss and lack of werewolf blood had made him sensitive to even the morning light, limiting his ability to roam, especially with the long days of early summer.

      During the third day, the crunch of rocks and sand disturbed his uneasy slumber. He held still, hoping whatever he sensed would come close enough for him to catch, to reveal what he was to them. He wanted the taste of fear-enriched blood. Craved the headiness and buzz it gave him. He tired of the mundane meals without it.

      Hey, mister! What happened to you? The child's voice sent shivers down his spine. Oh, the best of humans. If he were to be denied sanctioned werewolf blood, this was the next best thing.

      Help me, the master vampire said, careful to hide his incisors. A small amount of blood all he would take. Killing humans left his soul—what little remained—barren. He reached an arm up in supplication, feigning weakness. I—a-a bear attacked me, he added with mock pity.

      The child, maybe eleven or twelve, rushed to his side. My father and older brothers are nearby. I'll call for help.

      He crushed his

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