The rain fell in sheets over the train station i
n Willow Creek.
Senator Eleanor Blake adjusted her trench coat a
nd glanced at the clock. Midnight. Right on time
.
"I see you made it," a voice said from
the shado
ws.
Eleanor turned slowly. A man stepped forward, br
oadshouldered, wearing a tailored suit that bare
ly contained his power. His eyes gleamed like po
lished steel.
"Mr. DeLuca," she said, voice tight.
"I assume y
ou have what I asked for."
He smiled. Fangs. Of course.
"You assume correctly, Senator."
Eleanor didn’t flinch. She’d seen worse in backr
oom deals and midnight votes.
Lucien DeLuca was no ordinary man. He was a vamp
ire. A legend in the NFL before the war. Now a g
host in the OSS.
"Your pilot is ready," he said,
handing her a se
aled envelope. "But I need something in
return."
She narrowed her eyes. “I knew there’d be a catc
h.”
He stepped closer. The scent of whiskey and bloo
d followed him.
"You’re smarter than the last senator I worked w
ith," he said. "He didn’t live long
after double
crossing me."
Eleanor didn’t blink. "I don’t doublecross."
Lucien tilted his head. "We’ll see."
She opened the envelope. Flight coordinates. A n
ame: Captain James Holloway. Her brother.
He was alive.
Behind enemy lines in Nazioccupied France.
“Tell me you can get him out,” she said.
Lucien smirked. "I can. But you’re coming with m
e."
She didn’t hesitate. "Fine."
They flew under the radar, literally and figurat
ively.
The OSS didn’t know about Lucien’s kind. The few
er who knew, the better.
"You’re not afraid of me," he said as
the plane
cut through the clouds.
"You haven’t given me a reason to be,"
she repli
ed.
He studied her for a long moment. “Most humans s
cream when they see me feed.”
“I’m not most humans.”
He chuckled. “No, you’re not.”
The drop was in Lyon.
They landed in the dead of night, slipping into
the city like shadows.
Lucien moved with unnatural grace, Eleanor keepi
ng pace.
They found James in a cellar beneath a café. Hal
fstarved. Bleeding.
Lucien knelt beside him. Smelled the blood. His
eyes turned black.
"Don’t," Eleanor warned.
He looked at her. “I can heal him.”
She hesitated. “How?”
He bared his fangs. “With a bite.”
She grabbed his arm. “No.”
He turned to her, surprised. “You’d rather he di
e?”
“No,” she said. “But not that.”
He stared at her. Then nodded.
They carried James to the plane.
Lucien didn’t feed.
He watched Eleanor the whole way back.
“You would’ve let him die rather than let me tur
n him,” he said.
She didn’t look at him. “Yes.”
He leaned closer. “Why?”
“Because I love him.”
“And me?”
She turned. “I don’t know what I feel for you.”
He smiled, slow and dangerous. “Let me show you.
”
She didn’t pull away when he kissed her.
His lips were cold. But the kiss was fire.
James recovered in a secret OSS facility.
Eleanor returned to Washington.
Lucien vanished into the night.
But not for long.
Two weeks later, he appeared at her doorstep.
“Still alive?” she asked.
“Still yours,” he said.
She let him in.
The Cold War was coming.
And so was something darker.
But Eleanor Blake was no ordinary woman.
And Lucien DeLuca?
He was done hiding.
