Cursed Weylan Series, Book Three

Release Date: November 20th, 2022

Lytton Smith has waited centuries to find his kindred. He never expected their first encounter to be in the dead of night, when he was nearly out of his mind with hunger. Her instant dislike of him doesn’t deter him though. As a businessman and a vampire, he is used to using everything at his disposal to get what he wants. This time though, his tactics might lose him his chance with his kindred.

Cassidy Weylan knows it’s only a matter of time before her family curse targets her. Something she absolutely doesn’t want. As a powerful witch she’s determined to escape her fate. The only thing she doesn’t count on? A vampiric memory wipe and being blackmailed into a magically binding marriage contract.

Neither one is prepared for their meeting and each is determined to get their own way. Will Lytton win over Cassidy despite their rocky start? Will Cassidy’s determination to hold Lytton at arm’s length keep them apart?

~ Excerpt ~

Chapter One

Hidden in the shadows, away from the illumination of the multiple streetlamps fighting to light the dark night, Lytton Smith watched as the glass door of a nearby storefront opened, revealing a young red-haired woman holding an oversized cardboard box. She turned before he could see much more of her, propping the box on the wall next to the door with one hip while pulling the door closed. Her keys jingled musically as she locked the door, clutching a cellphone to her ear with her shoulder. That done, she shoved the keys into her pants pocket, struggling to keep the box from falling from her hold.

With her back to him still, Lytton couldn’t make out her features, other than her short stature and curvy figure, but he could smell her—the gentle night wind bringing her scent to him where he waited. Breathing deeply of the sweet, metallic scent of her blood, his stomach cramped. Running a hand roughly over his short-cropped beard, he struggled to rein in his hunger.

Turning from the door, the woman walked down the sidewalk. Closer to where he hid in an alley between two shops. She moved with an unhurried confidence, even as she struggled to keep her hold on the cumbersome box. He stifled a chuckle as she nearly toppled the box into a nearby car.

She cursed, dropping the box just outside the darkness he waited in. Crouching down she righted it, piling the few items that had escaped back in. If she so much as turned an inch to her left, he would be spotted. “Listen,” she barked into the phone, her voice like honey-dipped whiskey. “I’m doing my best here, but finding someone to ship the damned thing from England who isn’t out to cheat us is a little difficult.” She tapped her foot, waiting in silence. Lytton assumed she was listening to whoever was on the other end of the line. He didn’t bother focusing his supernatural hearing and listening in, too enchanted with the angry beating of her heart, matched in tempo by her tapping foot.

He struggled not to drool, tempted to take control of her and bring her to him faster.

“I will look again tomorrow. For now, I want to get off the phone so I can get home and eat something. I’m starved.”

He was too. Having not eaten since this morning, he was nearly ravenous. The streets had been empty when he finally put down his work to find something to eat, and this woman coming out of the storefront had seemed fortuitous. If only she would hang up the phone.

After what seemed like an extraordinary amount of time spent arguing, she hung up. Dropping the cellphone into the box, she stood. Blowing her breath out in a frustrated huff while gazing up at the night sky, she propped her hands on her hips. It was almost like she was asking the universe ‘why me?’.

Now was his moment.

Reaching out of the darkness, Lytton grasped her arms and pulled her into the alley. He moved with supernatural speed, turning her and pressing her back into the old brick building. He stepped close, his body almost touching hers, his grip on her arms preventing her from struggling, from escaping. He entered her thoughts, using his vampiric mind control to trance her into submission, preventing her scream and soothing her fears. Letting one of her arms go, he cupped her chin and gently tilted her head back, exposing her neck.

Leaning forward, he assured her quietly, “Everything’s going to be okay.” When his mouth was only a breath away from her neck, he let his fangs extend. Lytton pressed his body closer to her, opening his mouth against her soft skin and sinking his fangs into her with relief.

Her blood rushed forth, and he swallowed the first delectable mouthful eagerly, his eyes drifting shut. He heard her breathless gasp, her dazed moan as he drew another sweet mouthful. He groaned, his senses instantly overwhelmed as her rich blood hit his system and a powerful hunger of a completely different sort raced through his veins.

The blood he’d consumed rushed instantly south, his pants growing uncomfortably tight. His skin tingled wherever it met hers, and his heart started pounding.

With each long pull they moaned. It was as if he wasn’t biting her but making love to her. Every nerve ending in his body radiating pleasure, overwhelming him. He drew deeper, groaning at the sheer bliss running through his body. Her answering moan was weaker this time. She was getting weaker, her body sagging against the wall.

He was taking too much!

His eyes popped open with realization. Pulling back from her mind, Lytton retracted his fangs, but kept his mouth open over her throat, prepared to heal her wound with his blood. He struggled to keep from pulling her closer to him, to press the entire length of her body against his, sink his teeth, and more, into her.

What was wrong with him? This wasn’t merely bloodlust—a sensation he hadn’t experienced in centuries. Never had he experienced such pleasure, such need, when biting a being. It was this woman.

His heart thundered in his chest, shock coiling around him. He needed to see her face. See the woman who had caused such a coveted reaction in him.

Belatedly he realized her blood had stopped flowing into his mouth, though he hadn’t used his blood to heal his fangs’ puncture wounds yet. If he hadn’t been able to hear her heart pounding in time with his own, feel her hands moving to touch his chest, Lytton would have thought he killed her.

His last thought, before the burning rays of the sun scorched over his flesh, yanking a brutalized yell from him, was the awed realization…she’s an immortal.

Jumping back from the sunlight blazing from her hands, he scrambled blindly away, knowing if he didn’t escape the rays fast enough, he would burst into flames. Once that happened there would be little time to extinguish himself before he was burned to death. His entire body burned, the sunlight scorching through his clothes and skin. He fled further into the alley until darkness once more covered him, her sunlight no longer reaching him.

He panted painfully while his body healed the deep burns. Within moments they were all gone; the only evidence of his near flambéing, his singed clothing. He looked back at her, shaken.

She stood before him, sunlight dancing in the palms of her hands, her cheeks flushed and her eyes alight with anger. She stared at him, though he didn’t think she could actually see him in the darkness. Perhaps just his silhouette.

“My apologies for biting you.” He spoke softly, trying not to frighten her into further frying him. “I did not know you were a witch.” A rare and tasty witch that set off all his hungers. His fangs ached with the urge to bite her and experience that sweet ecstasy again. Lytton shook his head hard. Now was not the time to let hunger—sexual or otherwise—override his common sense. Especially with this woman. He had to tread carefully here.

The woman, clearly a witch, seemed ready to let loose her magical sunshine at his least provocation. Under normal circumstances, he would have slipped back into her mind to sooth her anger and erase the memory of his ever having fed on her. But his bite had proven this woman was special. Would erasing her first memory of him be wise? Lytton was unsure. Perhaps he should soothe her ire, try and repair the damage he had unwittingly done without the aid of his vampiric powers first.

“If you would kindly drop the sunlight, I will step out of the darkness and properly introduce myself.”

She tilted her head, pursing her full, bow-shaped lips in thought. Her hazel eyes gleamed with wariness while her petite nose scrunched in the cutest display of anger Lytton had ever seen. Her ruby-red hair streamed in perfectly straight swatches down to brush her shoulders. “You didn’t know I was a witch?” she asked. Her genuine disbelief surprised him.

“I did not.” Really, how was he to have known? It wasn’t like witches went around wearing nametags that read, ‘Hello, I’m a witch! Biter beware.’

Without moving more than her head, she looked around the corner of the alley, back to the building she had come out of. She raised one eyebrow at it, then him.

Unsure of what she was getting at, Lytton inched along the alley’s edge, staying out of reach of her sunlight, until he could poke his head out and see for himself what she was looking at. He could have kicked himself when he saw. He held back a self-derisive laugh.

Above the door of the storefront she had exited, a deep red flag swung gently in the breeze, boasting the name of the shop in bright white bold font, ‘Weylan Organics.’

“I see,” he murmured, turning back to her. A Weylan. He wondered which one stood before him. More importantly, he wondered which witch nature.

The Weylan coven was known throughout the supernatural community as a notoriously Black-natured coven of witches, well enamored of Black magic and evil deeds. The last century or so there had been rumors about the coven becoming Light-natured. The question was, how true were the rumors? And did they apply to this particular Weylan?

“My apologies, Miss Weylan.” He smiled, exerting all the charm he could muster into the action. “I don’t know how I missed that flag.”

“I would assume you were too hungry to notice,” she said conversationally. Outwardly she appeared calm, while her eyes still danced with displeasure.

“I was quite hungry,” he answered honestly. “Though normally, I would not have taken as much. I apologize. I was startled by the sensations from biting you.”

“The sensations from biting me? That…pleasure isn’t normal?” Her expression changed from anger to terror.

Reluctantly he shook his head. Should he admit what she was to him? She was a witch; would she understand the greatness of his confession? Would she welcome it?

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He made an effort to clear his face of all emotion. “Please,” he implored, “drop the sunlight and we will talk.”

“I don’t think so,” she muttered, stumbling back a step. “I don’t want you getting anywhere near me. Ever. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you before you can attack me.”

He winced. “I assure you I will not attack. I understand why my biting you may have seemed like such, but—” he stepped forward, his hand outstretched in a gesture of peace.

The woman scrambled back, her sunlight building once more until it could reach him again, burning his flesh. Just as suddenly as she burned him, she stopped.

While he was recovering, she turned, running for the mouth of the alley. Her sunlight changing as she ran so it encompassed her entire body, radiating from inside her skin instead of surrounding her. Lytton ran after her, reaching out to halt her run, his hands burning upon contact with her sunlit skin.

“Let go of me!” she yelled, her hands coming up once more.

Before she could cast more magic Lytton slipped grimly into her mind. Once more soothing her fears. “Drop your magic,” he commanded gently. “Don’t run or fight me.” He sighed when the sunlight left her, his hands healing. Stepping in front of her he eyed her. Her mind, though soothed of fear, exuded rage and disgust.

He realized with shame that his actions would not engender her to him. She would only see him as a monster. A vampire who had attacked her, nothing more. “I’ve lost you already, haven’t I?” he asked her, though he did not expect an answer. Unable to resist he ran a hand over her hair, her cheek. A shudder went through her. “I didn’t want to do this,” he told her. “You’re my kindred, the last being I would want to trance.”

The word soulmate blasted across her mind. Her eyes widened.

He nodded. So, she understood.

“If I release your mind, will you let me explain?”

She glanced away, nodding. Her mind screamed one word—escape.

He shook his head on a rueful grin. “I can hear your thoughts; I know you’re lying. You want nothing to do with me.” He had ruined everything with one simple act. He could tell by the way she looked at him, coupled with the mounting need for her to escape him blazing through her mind, that she would never come to accept him. He would forever be the vampire who had attacked her, a monster. Feeling like he had no other choice, because losing his kindred the moment he found her was not one, he came to a decision. He promised himself he would right his next action as soon as he convinced her he was more than a vicious vampire.

He closed his eyes, sighing deeply. He only had one question left. “What is your name?”

“Cassidy Weylan,” she answered woodenly, the answer pulled from her with his vampiric powers.

“Well, Cassidy Weylan, I am Lytton Smith, and I hope when I see you again you will not hate me so very much.”

Chapter Two

Cassidy Weylan stared with horror at the vampire controlling her.

She had never really thought about what a vampire bite would feel like, since she thought most vampires would be too afraid, or maybe too smart, to bite a member of the Weylan family. Being a witch, she had also mistakenly thought she would be able to easily defend herself against a vampire.

The attack happened so suddenly she had hesitated to build her magic to defend herself. And she hadn’t really wanted to, his vampiric trance taking her in completely within seconds.

His bite had not only been painless, but erotic. Her knees had nearly buckled at the first touch of his fangs on her skin. And, when he closed his mouth over her neck and bitten down, it had been as if he did the same to the apex of her thighs. She hadn’t even cared that he was taking too much, weakening her.

She wondered if all vampire bites felt that good. If he hadn’t pulled away when he had, stopping the pleasurable sensations from stealing away her sensibilities, she might have allowed him to take it all. Her blood and her body.

She glanced away from his piercing gaze.

She hadn’t felt physical desire like that in two hundred years. Sure, she had been attracted to various men over the years, but she never wanted to act on that attraction.

Now, one bite from a vampire and she was prepared to forget everything she held dear? She knew what that meant.

His calling her his kindred only confirmed it.

Icy horror raced through her, followed quickly by dread. She wasn’t ready. It was too soon. It simply couldn’t be true. Maybe he was mistaken. Surely a bite from any vampire would have caused the same reaction in her as his had.

Being from a family as powerful as hers, she never thought she would be bitten by a vampire. Never wondered what it would feel like or ever thought to ask someone who knew. Cassidy was sure if she asked someone who had also been bitten, they would tell her it was an extremely erotic experience.

It was something in the vampire’s bite—magic or venom or something—that tricked the victims into thinking the bite was pleasurable instead of painful. Yes, that was exactly it. She was sure.

She could not be a kindred—not have a soulmate—like this vampire. He had been draining her dry when he finally stopped biting her!

Oh God! A kindred! He would never let her go.

His next words, spoken with a slight accent she couldn’t quite place, though she was pretty sure it was European, drew her from her thoughts. “If I release your mind, will you let me explain?”

Hell no, she wouldn’t. She wanted nothing to do with him. She wouldn’t be dumb enough to say that, though. She had to get away. Escape.

She glanced away, nodding, desperately wishing she could get in her car and drive away. Far, far away.

He shook his head on a rueful grin. Dashing all hopes of her escape. “I can hear your thoughts; I know you’re lying. You want nothing to do with me.” He closed his eyes, sighing deeply. “What is your name?”

She didn’t want to give it, tried valiantly to keep it in. His control over her forced the words out. “Cassidy Weylan.”

“Well, Cassidy Weylan, I am Lytton Smith, and I hope when I see you again you will not hate me so very much.”

She glared at him. She would hate him until her very last breath!