Beloved Vampire (Book #4)

From storywitch.com

Mason has lived in the Sahara desert for almost 300 years, grieving for a lost love and guarding her tomb. When the tomb is breached, his bloodlust is stirred to raging by the thought of someone disturbing her sanctuary.

What he finds is Jessica, a fugitive from his own world. Jessica was the forced second-mark servant of a cruel vampire master. Through an unexpected turn of events, she was able to kill him when he tried to give her the final mark, which would have made her his full servant, bound to him even in death. Because the third marking was not complete, it left her alive…barely.

Drawn by the historic legend of the tomb, not knowing how it intertwines with the vampire world she is seeking to avoid, Jessica’s only desire is to die there, with her hand on the sarcophagus of the woman who’d had an unyielding faith in love.

Instead, she finds her desire to live forcibly re-awakened by the vampire who refuses to let her give up. She clings to her hatred, but the more Mason struggles with her, the more determined he is to help her believe in love again. The only catch is he might have to do the same. But can he offer up his heart to another extraordinary woman if he already gave it away centuries ago?


Chapter One Excerpt / Beloved Vampire

Berkley Heat Release / August 2009

By Joey W. Hill



The Sahara had once been green. Lush, a verdant land supporting civilizations. Then the Earth’s orbit changed, the sun came a little closer, and the land altered, becoming a desert that swallowed armies. It had happened three or four thousand years ago, barely a blink in the nine-billion-year life of Earth, but in that blink, Heaven and Hell had switched places. Had it been cosmic boredom, a need for a different perspective? Life giver, life taker.

Jessica wondered which face the Sahara preferred. Since she’d come here to die, it was a point of interest. Barely two years ago, her body had been vigorous and fertile. Now it, too, was a barren skeleton that repelled most sensible life forms. She felt almost at home here.

As the largest desert in the world, this was a place one could walk for days—if one had the constitution of a camel—and see no other human life. But the history of the area was still mapped on this wasteland, if one had trained eyes. Though she’d had to learn about it primarily from within the walls of her prison, she’d done little else of importance during the past several years but study this, her final destination.

She didn’t count killing Lord Raithe, her vampire master, as important. The reason she was dying now, and the dead vampire who’d caused her wasting illness, were mere dots in the overall scheme of things. Creatures lived, creatures died, and their bones became sand like this. At least Raithe would never torment anyone again. That mattered, though in truth, she’d been sick for so long, she couldn’t even recall why that was as important as it had once seemed.

In contrast, Farida had remained significant to her. In the midst of a life so horrible Jess often thought she’d already died and somehow deserved Hell—though she couldn’t recall her crime—Farida had given her a spark of light. The body’s desire to live was stronger than anything, even despair. Maybe that was why she’d connected with a woman who had chosen love and then lost everything.

From the very first moment Jess opened the ancient binding and discovered the written memories of the sheikh’s daughter who had lived over three hundred years ago, a bond had formed between them. As a former archaeology student, Jess knew how unlikely it was that the journal truly belonged to a Bedouin woman, for precious few men of those tribes knew how to read or write then, let alone in English. Yet Farida had spoken in her memoir passionately, vibrantly, of a love worth any torment, and Jessica had been pulled into her story despite her skepticism.

Between being on the run as a fugitive and hoping she had the strength to keep going the next day, Jess had read her words. Hiding in dank places that only society’s forgotten frequented, there was nothing else to break her thoughts, except the trickling background of an internal hourglass, the sands of her life running out. Her cells were being subsumed in that flow of sand, as if she were becoming part of a place like Farida’s Sahara. But she was okay with that. There were those who believed that the Sahara would return to greenness, that the cycles of climate change would evolve again, the sun getting less hot and the rains increasing. A different way of life would return.

After Jess had killed Raithe, Farida’s journal and the diamonds were the only things worth her life to slip back into his mansion to retrieve. Maybe even then, in her subconscious, she’d realized where she was going to go and what she was going to do with the short remainder of her life. It was no more fantastic than what her life had been for the past five years. And no one would look for her in Africa.

When she’d arrived in the Sahara, she realized that those who wrote of it as a desolate place, devoid of life, didn’t know it. There was life here. Not just in the few peoples and creatures that called it home, but in the ghosts that whispered, finding voice through the movement of the sand, a haunting noise like blowing across the top of a soda bottle. She knew what that sounded like, for she’d done it as a teenager, clustered with her friends on the curb outside the Quik-Stop with soda and Cheetos, eying the boys that came in after school. Boys who eyed them right back.

God, that was a long time ago. She held those memories to her occasionally like a favorite doll, even as she knew the act was closer to that of a mother holding a dead baby.

The three men she’d hired thought her a madwoman, of course. Take a dying woman out to a remote part of the desert that wasn’t on any map, and help her find the marker for a dead woman’s grave. But they were willing to indulge her because they were going to be rich men. She’d shown them the jewels, told them they’d be theirs if they helped her. She thanked whatever capricious deity watched over fools that she’d had the foresight to steal those diamonds. Raithe had had a hoard to rival a dragon’s, so they’d never be missed.

Now, as she rolled the comfort of familiar thoughts through her head, a reminder of where she’d been, where she was going, she looked over the endless stretch of dunes. The breathtaking artistry of the wind upon them rivaled the greatest sculptors of the ages, and the sun collaborated, providing a different view with each degree it descended. But even that beauty couldn’t distract her from the fact night was drawing close. God, she hated darkness. But the stars would help her find Farida tonight at last.

Reading the words of that diary made her feel as if she were in Farida’s tent, where they cuddled on the pillows as girlfriends, pressed forehead to forehead. In the darkest time of night, Farida whispered in her ear. While everything in life could be taken away by uncontrollable forces, there was always a choice left. Something overlooked, if one didn’t let fear overwhelm desire.

Farida’s choice had been an incomparable man. Jessica’s would be where she wanted to die.



* * * * *



The Sahara, 18th Century

Journal Entry 1, Page 1

Farida bint Asim



I was behind the screen when Prince Haytham entered the tent to speak with my father. My father valued my counsel and often allowed me to do this, perhaps because he knew how very restless I became in a woman’s world. Why does Allah create dreams and appetites, the desire to live free and fierce as a man does, if those things are to be denied a woman’s soul? I have often wondered this.

Then I saw the man with the prince. Those longings, banked always against my responsibilities as my father’s daughter, exploded inside me like the brightness of stars, such that they couldn’t be contained. I bit down so hard on my lip I drew blood, though I knew I must fly, sing, dance . . . all for him.

He had to be a djinn spun from the desert sand, for never has a man been so beautifully made. Face carved with the sculpted beauty of the dunes, but smooth as watered stone, as if a goddess had created him and then lovingly stroked him, over and over.

When they sat for coffee, he removed his robes, showing he wore the brown riding trousers and white shirt of a European. He lounged back on the pillows, a graceful animal. Though he smiled and listened in that relaxed way of men as coffee was prepared, he reminded me of a desert tiger, for his hair was burnished copper, an animal’s pelt. He had it scraped back from his face, so every magnificent plane was emphasized. My fingers wanted to feel that fall of straight silk, tied back from his shoulders.

His eyes were true amber, like the tiger as well, an almost unnatural brilliance to them, as if he carried the fire of the desert within him. A djinn, as I have said. I heard Prince Haytham say later that he suspected Lord Mason was a British spy, for during the time he stayed with us, he was always gone by dawn, and returned at nightfall. He also spoke our language as well as a native, and his accent was not as precisely bitten off as other Englishmen who have met our camp.

The prince said Lord Mason’s purpose was nothing that concerned us, though I imagined him stepping out of view of our camp and dissolving into a tornado of sand, a desert devil spinning across the dunes. He had too much energy to contain in the body of a mortal man. I imagined that he returned to us at night only when his need to exercise his powers was temporarily sated.

But I need to leave off my fancies and go back to that first time I saw him. As I bit down on my lip and tasted my blood, I must have made a sound despite my efforts, for he looked at me, found me behind the screen. Those tiger’s eyes flickered. I saw his nostrils flare, as if he had my scent, knew every shameful thing I wanted. A passing moment, over in a blink. He shifted his attention away, not disrespecting my father by staring at a woman of his house.

But when he raised his hand to perform the salaam, I drew in another unsteady breath, thinking how those hands would feel on my flesh, compelling my surrender, my obedience, my devotion and love throughout eternity. I knew then. From that very first second, Fate tied a gentle but unbreakable tether around my throat and handed the lead to him. I would follow him, no matter what our end would be.

So far this is my favorite of the Vampire series. I just adore Lord Mason. So far he is my favorite leading vampire. I can't wait for Lord Mason's and Jessica's vignette! I just love their love story. Joey is such a subtle and masterful writer. This story jumped off the page and is still with me.

*Sighs*

I love Lord Mason, too. I read this story and fell in love.

Lord Mason, is the perfect blend of Master, Alpha, Sensitivity, and Vulnerability...and the man can ride a horse in such a masterful way. When he is on the horse with Jessica and they both lean back and he controls the horse with his thighs. That is one of my favorite scenes...such control and so sexy.

Sorry if this is a repeat. My post disappeared.

Lady Heather, I agree. I love Lord Mason and Jessica's story. Of course, I want more as much and as soon as possible. That god for Joey's vignettes. I feel like there is still so much left to be said and done with those two.

Sandy

Mason comes onto my list of favorite Vampires too. His story was incredible and one I read a couple times the first week I had it. Matt and Devlin may have my heart but I wouldn't stop Mason from dropping fang on me any time he wanted to.

LadyHeather, love your signature graphic. Very beautiful

I totally agree! I never wanted their story to end! I love that Joey revisits her characters in the vignettes. I can't wait to see what she has in store. I know it's going to be sensual and moving...and totally going to make me desire a sequel. Thank you about my graphic! I just love Photoshop!

Lady Heather,

I LOVE your avatar and banner. Gorgeous and great choice.

Beuatiful Lady Heather! I wish my butt looked like that. LOL

Sandy

Yeah me too...but with each new day there is fresh hope that the aging process will stall, and my butt will defy gravity.

I have been squatting my heart out and it hasn't made a damn difference. I am going to keep trying for a whole year and if I get no results I am putting out ads everywhere stating that "Butt squats are bull. Save yourself the time and get liposuction." LMAO...I wish.


Sandy

I'm with Lady Heather. This is my favorite so far. Not only is Lord Mason absolutely sexy (and was as a secondary character too) but Jessica is the perfect foil for him.

Their story is so tender and so sweet, yet so powerful, it captivated me from first page to last.

And the last scene is my favorite.

All I have to say, is if I were on that beach with Mason, Jacob, and Dev...it would've been one hell of a party. I was jealous.

This one is on tbb list for the next US trip

I can hardly wait to read this one

I love Mason he is just wow this is teh firtsbook i finishe dof joeys and im not really in to the sexy vamp but then i seen this series and it changed my perspective for sure

I just finished rereading this one (I lost count how many times this makes). It is still not only my favorite Of Joey's books, but one of my all-time Favs!!!!!! It is just so beautiful and intense. I'm totally jealous of the beach scene as well. I was always intrigued by Lord Mason, he sure lived up to and surpassed all my expectations. Jessica is his perfect counterpart. I really can't wait for the vignette! I could read about Jessica surrendering to Lord Mason over and over. I want to see Jessica's trust in Lord Mason allow her to experience his dungeon as he explained it...sorry need a moment...sigh.

lol ur right this is an awesome awesome book Joey did awesome with it and i reread it every chance iget too lol

Mason is the first Dom Vamp we read about and love. Joey did him so well. I just want them to have their Happily Ever After

I totally Agree and he is just yummy

Sandy wrote:

Mason is the first Dom Vamp we read about and love. Joey did him so well. I just want them to have their Happily Ever After

Me too. I just felt like I could have used another book for what happens to them. How does Jessica do in her first time when she has to accompany Mason to a council meeting. I also wonder if Lord Mason is still repairing his home. I also wonder if Jessica and Amara finally defied Lord Mason and if they got punished. Not to mention the dinner entertainment...does she dance with Enrique and Amara. So many questions...

good point soo Joey enquiring minds wanna know lol

SiNn and Lady Heather, I just posted the vignette this AM, and it will answer SOME of those questions. But I've posted your paragraph in my future vignette file, Lady H, for those that don't get covered (wink). Enjoy!

Also, you'll probably note something a little odd about the vignette. I shortened Amara's name to Mara. In the original draft, that's how I wrote it, as a nickname for Amara, but because of the similarity between Mason/Mara, I figured it was best to change it to Amara for the final draft. The vignette gives me a little more freedom on that point (grin), but I unconsciously did it throughout and didn't realize until it was done. I could have changed it, but thought it suited her. :>

So pleased to read all the wonderful comments about this story!

Joey Im glad because well you deserve it your a truely awesome author and a wonderful lady

SiNn - thank you! :>