Prologue
Three
God, I miss sunlight.
I’d always been one for basking in the sunlight during my human days. Some Vespers were perfectly content in darkness, always craving the shadows. Shadows hid us so easily, like friendly cloaks, helping us stay secret. Helping us avoid the screams of human beings who couldn’t understand our way of life. I didn’t mind the shadows, but I sure as hell missed the warmth of the sun.
The dew-misted ground of the prairies of northern Saskatchewan didn’t make a sound as I strode through the short brush, my stealth a natural part of my being, just like my nocturnal needs and serpentine appetite. The sky above stretched on and on, a never-ending canvas of priceless, glittering gems. If I peered closely enough, I could pick out the blues and reds twinkling in the deepest corners of space. Luckily, the moon was invisible in the sky at this time of month, giving the black sky more power to contrast the stars. I might have missed the sunlight, but darkness had its benefits.
I stopped when I could no longer see any trace of city lights bouncing off the sky on the edges of the horizon. The weather was serene, just a hint of a breeze blowing unruly black curls around my face. I peeled off my jacket to let the cool air caress my skin. Only the top scar on my back was exposed above the back neckline on my tank top, but the chill of the wind soothed, rather than irritated it. I closed my eyes and basked in the breeze, relishing the silence, the darkness, and the anticipation of what was to come.
A rush of sudden wind caught my attention. I snapped my eyes open and spun to face the approaching Vesper, but there was no one there. Did I imagine it?
Another rush of wind to my left this time, and I spun, fangs bared. Again, though, nothing greeted me there.
A third rush of wind came with a quiet, boyish chuckle.
Sychar. The fastest Vesper in existence. I’d know his laugh anywhere.
I held perfectly still, anticipating his next move. I could never hope to be as lightning-fast as him, but I was faster than most Vespers. When the breeze rushed at me again, I sprang into action, diving forward to tackle him. I crashed into his iron body and slammed him into the dirt, and he grunted with the impact, surprised.
“Gotcha!” I cried as I clamored on top of him, pinning him down.
I only had the upper hand for a moment before he turned the tables on me, using his obnoxious speed to slip out of my grasp. I was left scowling at the vacant dirt, no sign of Sychar anywhere. Where the hell did he go?
He laughed again, so I spun to face him. His waist-length, black leather jacket hung open to reveal a white t-shirt beneath, the pale shade of Vesper skin on his cheeks highlighting the darkness of his pitch-black eyes. He was an emerging force in our little, secretive world. Fast enough to kill me before I had time to protest, if he were so inclined. Even if he wasn’t allowed to kill someone, he could do it and get away with it. No one could catch him when he ran, not even the masters.
I straightened to my feet, brushing dust off my knees as Sychar approached me with his hands in his pockets, his motions just a touch faster than my own, his eyes scanning the prairies for any sign that other Maids were nearby. I was alone. My sister Vespers and I didn’t get along well enough for me to share this place of peace with them.
Yet it seemed Sychar had discovered my place of solitude. His short, dark hair fell over his eyebrows, half-covering the detailed mask of black veins etched across his temples and cheeks. His posture was, as always, domineering and yet relaxed, as though he hadn’t a worry in the world. It was half true, I supposed: he faced our duties with solemn pride as we all did, but he was the only one the masters couldn’t catch—and kill—if he broke the rules.
Males and females of our kind were strictly forbidden to meet outside of the necessity of our duties under penalty of death. We were such temperamental creatures that too many fights between the genders had broken out over the centuries. Our masters tired of us fighting, and they forbid our contact to stop the violence.
At least, that’s what they told us. I wasn’t sure I believed that was the true reason for the division of gender in our small, immortal species. Sychar didn’t buy that version of the story, either. He was convinced we were forbidden to speak with each other outside of our duties out of a desperate need to keep us from forming alliances. To keep us unquestioningly obedient.
He stopped only a foot away from me, close enough I could taste the scent of steel off his impenetrable skin. He darkened his glare at me for a moment, and then peered up at the sky.
“Nice,” he said of the stars.
“How did you know I’d be here?” Damn my shaking voice. Meeting with Sychar was so dangerous, for so many reasons. The rules were absolute, and his rebellious streak could land me in a lot of trouble.
But he’d never rat me out. He was my best friend... my only friend in the world. I trusted him with my life.
Sychar shrugged, tossing a casual grin at me. “I’ve seen you here before.”
“Do you just follow me around?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said with a snort. Then, he sighed. “I saw you dismount the train and head up this way last month. I left you alone, then, but another night I stopped by and realized why you come. There’s nowhere you can see them better.” He glanced up at the sky. “Thought I’d check them out with you, if that’s okay.”
The hesitance in his voice brought a smile to my lips. As if he needed to ask my permission.
“I guess it’s alright, if you insist,” I said, crashing into him lightly with my shoulder. His grin spread fully across his face at that, the ghastly tips of his deadly fangs visible through the boyish expression, and he returned the playful shove.
I tongued my own fangs as we laughed together. Hunger was starting to put pressure on my sinuses, and I’d need to release some of my poison soon. I just didn’t delight in the hunt and kill as much as my sisters did, so sometimes I neglected my appetite in favor of... well, nights like this. Pointless, magical nights.
“When do you think it will start?” Sychar asked, regarding me again. His breath washed over my skin, and I tried to hide the way I inhaled it, tasting his steely aroma once more.
“Anytime, now.” While I never wanted to share this place with my sisters, sharing it with Sychar felt oddly right. Our relationship never pushed beyond the borders of platonic, but at least we each had someone to talk to in this life, someone who wasn’t obligated to report our every word back to our masters, since they had no idea we spoke at all. And his master was far more temperamental and terrifying than mine, I reminded myself. I shifted closer to my friend, hoping he could sense how much I enjoyed his company.
He hummed and stretched his arm out to the horizon, pointing. “There. I see them.”
My breath left me in a rush as the teal shimmer lit the edge of the sky and peeled toward us like a wave off the ocean. Aurora Borealis.
Sychar sighed, too, as the green rippled forth and morphed, edges of deep crimson and brilliant jade dancing through the darkness above us. “The northern lights,” he said. “The only touch of the sun that doesn’t kill us.”
“How poetic,” I teased him, but I stretched my arms up to the sky anyways, wishing I could feel the warmth of the solar flare. The lights swayed as they lit and dimmed in waves, igniting the sky, pressing back any hint of resentment I held for the darkness.
“Thanks for letting me share the sight, Three,” Sychar said.
“I don’t own the sky.”
“Yeah, but I know your temper. If you didn’t want me here, you’d just rip my throat out and send me on my way.”
I laughed. As if I’d ever be fast enough to win a fight against a Vesper like Sychar, no matter how angry I grew.
“It’s too peaceful here for violence,” I said. “I think I watched the northern lights once with my creator, but I can’t remember for sure. Something about them, though... I’m drawn to them, you know?” I cringed. These topics were a bit personal to discuss with anyo
ne, even my friend.
But he slipped his palm against mine and I folded my fingers around his hand as naturally as though I’d done it a million times. We didn’t touch often, but when we did, it sure was a comfort to my eternally churning heart.
“Still can’t shake the longing for him, huh?”
I chomped on my lip before I answered to quell the surge of emotion that came automatically with this topic. “No. I don’t think I ever will until I know what happened to him. I don’t even remember what he looked like.”
He squeezed my hand. “It’s not your fault. I can’t really help you: I never met him. But Three... you already know what happened to him. You just don’t want to admit it.”
I pulled my hand away. It was too painful to imagine he was dead. While I couldn’t recall his face, his voice, or even how I met him in the first place, I clung so tightly to the echo of memory I had about my creator that picturing his rusted corpse sent a wave of rotting nausea through my body.
“Sorry,” Sychar backtracked. “It’s not my place to say.”
I scoffed. “It’s easier for you. You know your creator. You see him every day.”
He rubbed the bite scar on his neck so briefly I barely saw it. “Yeah, and I hate him. He beats the fuck out of all of us every chance he gets. I just can’t quite put myself in your shoes, I guess, and imagine any longing for him if he was dead.”
“And you’ll probably never know the pain of it, since your creator is the all-powerful-master. He’s not exactly on too many hit lists.”
Sychar rolled his eyes. “You’re right about that. Regardless, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”
I sighed, watching the sky as another ripple of color lashed across the backdrop of stars. “You’re not. I’m too sensitive.”
“Duh.”
I smacked him lightly on the arm, and he rewarded me with that boyish laugh of his again.
“Really though, Three, I wish you could let go. Just enjoy life a bit, you know?”
“I know. I wish so, too.”
Sychar took my hand again, brought it to his lips and gave my knuckle a gentle peck. I puzzled at his sudden affection, and he held his gaze with mine for a long moment. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, the only sound between us. He’d never kissed me before, not even on the hand.
He blinked, breaking the moment, and then rolled his eyes. “Don’t get any smart ideas. I’m just trying to be a good friend. I’m out of practice.”
I squeezed his hand and laughed, letting the brightness of his humor break through my murky mood. Tension still thudded in my chest. The way he looked at me... the way he touched his lips to my hand... it lit a foreign spark inside me. The feeling was hopeful. Enticing. The sky shimmered again, the brilliant glow bouncing off the pallor of his skin.
“You okay?” Sychar asked.
I covered my momentary fog with a chuckle. “I think I’m out of practice at life,” I said.
“So give it a try. I can only escape to hang out so often... any more than I already do, and Levitiqas would catch on. But when you’re on your own, why don’t you try to let go of some of the anger and just live? Have some fun.”
The openness in his eyes warmed my heart. “I should try. I just don’t really know where to start.”
Sychar let go of me and stuffed his hands back into his pockets. “The right opportunity will come along. You just gotta be willing to take it when it does.”
“Thanks, Sychar,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. It was so easy for him to reassure me. Yet following his advice seemed far from my reach.
But if I wasn’t open to change, I might never let go of my anger and resentment for my past. It was worth a try.
Sychar sighed. “I need to get back. But thanks for sharing the lights with me, Three.”
“Anytime.” I tossed him a grin, my mood genuinely brightened by his gratitude. I hoped he enjoyed my company as much as I enjoyed his.
If I truly allowed myself to live to the fullest, I’d admit to him how very much I enjoyed his companionship. But all of this—meeting in secret, laughing together—was forbidden. This friendship held a penalty of death, if our masters discovered our indiscretion.
“See ya, Sychar,” I said as he returned my smile, a hint of longing in his eyes. And then he turned and vanished into the night, his movements so lightning fast I didn’t even see him break into a sprint.
Part of me longed to see what kind of joy I could find if I let go of my eternal search through the fog of my memories for a glimpse of my creator. The bigger part of me, however, was sure such a release was impossible. Female Vespers created by males were unpredictable and obsessed with their makers, and I was no exception to that rule.
I drew a last breath of the peaceful night and tore my gaze away from the glimmering sky. Living so carefree like Sychar was an enticing concept.
But I had no idea where to start.
And Coming July 2014... Phantom Nights, the third instalment in the Vesper series....
Acknowledgements
To my family, always, for everything you do.
To my amazing, too-good-to-be-true friends who support me even when I’m a little bit distracted by my imaginary friends.
To my incredible agent Michelle Johnson of Inklings Literary Agency - there’s no word that’s bigger than “Thank You” but “Thank You” and “Thank You” so for everything, Thank You!
To Nazarea and all the staff at InkSlingerPR for the blog tour. You made this re-release so relaxing, and I couldn’t be more grateful.
To Stephanie White at Steph’s Cover Design... could the cover be any more beautiful??? The work you do is amazing. Your artistic talents blow my mind, thank you so much.
To my co-author of Wild Hyacinthe & The Core, Emily Faith. For all the times we’ve laughed until we couldn’t breathe.
To Carl Johnson, my cousin, for working his supernatural website magic!
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About The Author
Nola Sarina is a paranormal romance and dark fantasy author from Alberta, Canada. She loves weaving romances that leave you breathless and challenge typical relationships with the most mind-blowing twists.
Represented by Michelle Johnson of Inklings Literary Agency, Nola is the author of the dark, spicy hot fantasy Vesper series. Taking vampires to a whole new level, the Vespers live daring lives in a harsh world of the balance between mortals and immortals.
Nola is also the co-author of Wild Hyacinthe with friend and Emily Faith. This spicy paranormal from Crimson Romance draws inspiration from Emily's flair for relationships that spark in and out of the bedroom and Nola's dark fantasy-laced themes. Wild Hyacinthe portrays sexy, alpha male hero from a unique perspective: an incubus who cannot help but kill.
Nola & Emily are also co-authors of the series of erotic shorts The Core. IGNITE is always free on most venues!
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