Table Of ContentMy life was simple until I met the Hightower Enforcer, Tamara. Since then, I’ve
been turned, spelled and married. Now, I’m on my way to Texas to find
Tamara’s sister, Kaley, while their mother, the Vampire Matriarch Katherine,
invades my thoughts and resides in my head. If you think you hate your in-laws,
try mine on for size!
Oh yeah, did I mention that my wife Tamara, the enforcer is dying because of
me and I’m the only one who can save her, but I don’t know how?
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Dying to Live
Copyright © 2009 Annie Alvarez
ISBN: 978-1-55487-418-7
Cover art by Angela Waters
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Dying to Live
Hightower Three
By
Annie Alvarez
Dedication
To all of the very nasty friends I have, and you know who you are, for
challenging my creative side. Love you all.
Chapter One
I have a reoccurring nightmare that latches onto me like a pit bull attacking
his last meal. I see myself lying on a lounger on a white sandy beach in
Jamaica. The wind is softly blowing a cool breeze while the sun shines
above. Its delightful rays are warming me while shadowing a gorgeous
cabana girl who is approaching me knowing she will tend only to my
wishes. Her bright smile relaxes me.
“Can I get you something else, Ms Izzy?” she asks with a flirtatious
Island accent.
I am tempted to let go of the hold I have on reality and forever spend the
rest of my undead days lapping up the sun and the care that this beauty
offers. Then I snap out of my delusion and realize that after everything I’ve
been through, I ended up in Texas—not the Islands, where I could enjoy the
sun and the fun while searching for Kaley Hightower. Oh no, that would
have been asking for way too much. Instead, I’m stuck here where
everything is supposedly bigger and I have yet to see better. What I have
seen is that the lack of Kaley’s blood donor centers has made Texas a free-
for-all-vampire-feeding-frenzy state.
A few months ago, Kaley, and her human girlfriend, Jules, had a major
fight. Afterward, Kaley showed up at our house with her hunger raging for
blood and she attacked me. Tamara, my vampire girlfriend and Mistress of
the East Coast, fought her off, but in the few seconds Kaley had me, she
drained too much of my precious elixir, leaving me near death. Welcome to
the Hightower Clan. If you think you’ve got it bad with your in-laws, try
mine.
I never doubted Tamara would preserve my humanity. I never even had a
fear and maybe that’s what got me into trouble. I trusted vampires,
especially the Hightowers, and even though it was a stupid thing to do, let
my guard down. Imagine my surprise when Kaley, Tamara’s sister, bled
me. In an effort to save my life, Tamara took me to the Hightower estate
and turned me into one of them. Yeah, she said she couldn’t bear the
thought of losing me forever and took matters into her own hands. Even
that wasn’t easy. The half-witch in me complicated things and I turned into
the first living vampire to walk on the Earth. My heart still beats, but my
lungs don’t breathe and my magic is fizzling out while the vampire in me
grows. Oh yeah, and I don’t die when the sun comes up. That’s right…I’m
a day walker, which means, most importantly, I don’t burst into a ball of
fire when sunlight touches my skin.
As for how I’m handling my transformation, some moments are better
than others. I still have the undeniable urge to latch onto and feed from the
first available donor—willing or not—and I have a hole in the pit of my
stomach that regularly reminds me no amount of nourishment will satisfy
my new needs. I pass normal, everyday people who are oblivious to the
monsters walking beside them. We are the monsters that want their blood,
their lives, even their souls. Monsters, like me, who feel their tempting
warmth and focus on the pulsating artery on the side of their necks that calls
to us to feed and fill our needs—when our needs arrives.
After Tamara turned me, we married vampire style, which consisted of
making a concoction of our blood and drinking it. My genetics for being
half-witch are wrecking havoc on Tamara’s vampire system and now, after
hundreds of years, she can’t sleep. Believe me, you haven’t seen chaos until
you’ve seen a Mistress Vampire afflicted with insomnia. She’s cranky,
irritable, and emotionally unstable. A trip to Jamaica would have benefited
me greatly.
That’s why Lady Katherine Hightower, Matriarch of the Hightower Clan
and my new mother-in-law, sent me, not Tamara, to find her other beloved
daughter, Kaley, and bring her home. I’m no match for a Hightower,
especially a rogue one, so Katherine had the bruja, Shamana, a witch from
days past, brew up some mojo, and I now share Katherine’s experiences.
Talk about not being able to get away from your in-laws. Can you feel my
enthusiasm?
Katherine provided me with a recon team to help me in my quest, but
Texas is such a big state, we had to separate to cover most of it. Raven,
whose black hair, dark complexion, and fluid movements adequately
describe her nickname, is in Austin. Tank, a tall, handsome, well-educated,
black man and ex-football player whose remarkable muscle mass would
intimidate the entirety of the Dallas Cowboys team, is in Houston.
Hummer, the epitome of an ex Hell’s Angel biker, wearing Italian tailored
suits trying to blend in, is in El Paso. That leaves me in the Dallas/Fort
Worth area, alone.
On Tamara’s advice, I found Pinky’s, a small, grey, square building with
limited parking, and Fort Worth’s only gay bar. It seemed that it was
common practice for patrons to mingle in the parking lot as couples hid
behind cars making out and women gathered in small groups listening to
the music emanating from the bar while catching a breath of fresh air. Not
exactly what I would have expected, but hey, not every club is as nice as
Club Red, the club I own in Florida.
The smell of sage, flee dip and hormones stopped me at Pinky’s front
door. A mixed club, just grand! Witches, weres and humans, it couldn’t get
any better. I knew Kaley wasn’t here. After she killed me, I had developed
a weird connection with her. I don’t know where she’s at, but I know
where’s she’s been and she’s been here, of that I’m sure. As I stood at the
door debating whether to enter, a group of women brushed past me, leaving
the aroma of hormones and excitement lingering in the air. What the hell? I
might get lucky—gathering information about where to find Kaley—and
we could all head home soon.
All eyes turned to me as I walked in. It was an awkward moment, trying
to figure out whether I was something to look at or if they saw their next
meal. It’s a long-standing rule that vampires and weres don’t mix well and
with my luck, they were probably thinking the latter. So I did the next best
thing—I smiled, flashing a toothy grin and my pearly whites in a nerdy
manner. The dance floor was small in comparison to my club and their
décor was, well, it’s actually not much. Liquor posters were plastered on
the walls in no particular order. Large plastic beer bottles decorated space
behind the bar and Christmas lights strung across large mirrors, but the club
seemed to draw in a big crowd. Elbowroom was in tight demand tonight as
a first-time author’s book debuted—a lesbian vampire series—attracted
most of the crowd. If she knew anything about us, she wouldn’t be here
writing about it, instead, she’d run for the cold Northern weather where
she’d be safe from us.
Everyone casually moved away from me while I headed to the bar. My
newfound abilities tended to slow things down for me and I wasn’t sure if
that’s what was happening or if people were being obvious about pulling in
the welcome mat. Yeah, learning how to be a vamp was interesting. If I
focused on something, everything slowed down to a crawl. It’s not that
people slowed down, but rather, my perception sped up, making everything
else seem slow. I took a seat on the stool, kitty-corner to the dance floor,
and casually but quickly did an armpit check—you know the move—where
you half-raise your arm and pretend you’re looking at the floor while taking
in a deep breath. Did I really smell as bad as the werewolves did?
An attractive woman in her mid-forties, smelling like the clean scent of a
dewy morning, bumped into me. “Bartender—rum and coke please,” she
yelled over the music while waving a twenty-dollar bill. She flashed a smile
that said, I know you’re a vamp and then got comfortable on the stool next
to me. “It’s finally nice to meet you.”
“You must have me confused with someone else,” I mumbled, partially
ignoring her and glancing around the bar.
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
I watched her casually adjust her shirt, allowing more cleavage to show.
“Keep the change, sweetheart.”
Then I felt her gaze on me.
“I’m Natasha and she’s not here,” she proclaimed, self-confidence oozed
from her while she gulped down half the drink.
“Who’s not here?” My attention now focused on the dance floor.
“Katherine’s daughter, of course!” she blurted, tossing back the last of
the alcohol.
I expected her to say many things—whomever you seek, the love of your
life, best fuck you’ll ever have—anything but that. My curiosity and
attention were now devoted to her. “Have you seen her?” I raised my brow,
facing her, waiting for an answer, but a woman who smelled like flee dip
walked up and started humping and grinding on Natasha’s leg before she
answered. God how rude! Did wolves have no common courtesy?
“I really like it when they do this,” Natasha leaned in close, yelling over
the music that had gotten two octaves louder. “You can tell how good a
lover someone will be by the way she dances. Did you know that?” She
hopped off the stool, holding her drink up, so as not to spill it, and returned
the stranger’s rhythmic humps as they moved toward the dance floor.
Maybe, it’s me. Maybe my underexposure to werewolves has developed
into a dislike of them, but either way, my patience was running out. The
easiest way to find out if anyone has seen Kaley was to search their
memories and that was something that with Katherine’s experience, I could
do.
I leaned against the bar and quieted my mind, drowning out the music,
but not my surroundings. I wouldn’t leave myself completely open for a
surprise attack. Wooden stakes weren’t the only things that were fatal. I
focused my attention on a cute little redhead swinging and jerking her way
around the dance floor. She wouldn’t even know I had entered her mind.
Once I was in, I would search her memories, much like flipping through a
Rolodex. I would be in and out, jumping into the next person before she
even finished her sentence. I bowed my head concentrating on my task.
Slowly, images started appearing—home life, a pet, friends, sex and then
they rolled through me until the memories flooded my psyche.
It would save time not to go too far back so I only focused on the last
couple of months. I finished scanning the redhead and jumped into the next
mind. The memories came upon me quicker and I found myself scanning
the unsuspecting minds at the bar faster than I had thought possible. It was
mostly of numerous bad days at work, upset lovers, betrayed confidences,
friends and excited hormones. Everyone I skimmed had the same memories
of sharing secrets and interrelating with friends. How I missed being normal
and that’s when the dark cloud of loneliness rolled over me and claimed me
as another victim. I felt lonely primarily because I was alone. Pushing my
self-pitying thoughts aside, I kept at the task at hand.
I was on a roll, examining for memories of Kaley, when I hit a mind that
not only denied me access, but also slammed me out of my trance with an
impact that jolted me in my seat. Lifting my eyes, I saw a woman standing
in front of me, smiling and touching my arm. My black eyes locked onto
her amethyst eyes. I couldn’t stop myself from staring at how her eyes,
which swirled with golden colors amidst the purple, radiated an inviting
energy.
“You shouldn’t do that here,” she warned with a smile. “You are
outnumbered and others,” she motioned behind her, “don’t like your kind.
It’s not safe for you considering…” She paused, then leaned closer,
whispering, “That there is only one of you.”
Her warning was clear. I needed to be careful of my new surroundings.
Apparently, there were issues that I wasn’t aware of and something as
innocent as scanning memories, they could perceive as a prelude for an
attack. Shifters had started to get on my nerves. “I meant no disrespect.”
Interestingly, I sensed nothing behind her purple eyes—no life, no
memories, nothing and yet she captivated my interest in a most unusual
manner. I had to find out more about her. Slyly moving my energy toward
her, she pressed her lips tightly together in a disapproving scowl.
“Izzy, don’t press your luck,” she whispered, barely audible as if
knowing I would be able to hear her over the extremely loud music.
I found it strange that she knew my name and my attempts at mind
scanning. I wondered if she had any idea of whom and what I am. It’s not
as if I had worn a tee shirt that stated I’m a vamp. “How do you know?” I
asked, still unable to break my gaze, but more importantly, feeling an
immediate connection with her.
“I know who you are,” she answered with a smile, leaned closer to me,
and softly caressed my face with her cheek. “Don’t try to figure me out, you
