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  The Protector’s Destiny

  By

  Bonnie Rose Leigh

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The Protector’s Destiny

  Copyright ã 2008 Bonnie Rose Leigh

  ISBN: 978-1-55487-113-1

  Cover art by Martine Jardin

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books

  Look for us online at:

  www.extasybooks.com

  To Chris. Thanks for always being by my side, taking care of the little things when I get lost in my writing and giving me full support in everything I do.

  Prologue

  February, New Orleans

  Fierce gusts howled through the streets. Lightning blazed jagged white scars across the sky. Rain jolted her body like needles poking a voodoo doll, slowing her movements and making it more difficult to reach sanctuary. She ran for her life—for the lives of humans she never met—to protect them from her undead stalker.

  Tension pulled her nerve endings. The evil one’s hell-scented stench reached out to envelope her. The Vampire had gained on her.

  Elizabeth Winters slipped around the corner. Glanced back. No one yet. She dashed down the next alley and clutched her throat. No! A dead end.

  “I’m going to have to fight my way out,” she mumbled. Elizabeth looked around for a weapon, anything to use should the Vampire get close enough. Trash littered the ground, but she found nothing to use against the beast.

  Cornered, she tossed back her head in frustration. She wanted to scream, but noise would summon the creature. Elizabeth knew she’d have to fight for her survival before the night was out.

  An unnatural calm descended upon her. Fear could not force her to run. The time to stand up for herself and her people was now.

  For millennia, the undead stalked and ravaged her kind. Vampires exterminated whole packs of her people so they could have free reign to enslave humans. Some inner force compelled her to turn the tables.

  A foul wailing wind heralded the creature’s approach. Time had run out. Elizabeth quickly slipped off her clothes and forced her mind to go blank. Instinct took over.

  Eyes closed, she let the change happen. Her muscles stretched and contorted, joints popped. Bones changed shape and grew. Power and strength surged through her body, completing the transformation. She dropped onto all fours, geared for battle, spurred more by courage than preparation. The transformation’s pain and disorientation ended as fast as it began.

  Elizabeth’s lips curled, a growl rumbled from deep within. Her hackles bristled, her coat rippled, and her muscles bunched as the Vampire approached.

  The creature stood a few feet away. Black jeans and a tee shirt draped his gaunt frame. Gray skin stretched tightly across a hollow-cheeked face. Its teeth, yellow with decay, sent chills up and down her spine. Her fur bristled.

  “What a surprise. You’ve stopped running. I would have caught you at my leisure.” His voice sounded like bones rattling, a hollow keening sound. She circled, keeping the creature in front of her.

  She shivered, terrified of the monster, but unwilling—unable—to back down.

  The Vampire loomed over her, his tongue slid across his teeth in anticipation. “You think you can challenge me, furry bitch? You empaths are all alike, but you don’t have the fortitude or guts.” His soulless gaze swept over her, his voice dripped conceit. “I’ve won already. You might as well get down on your belly and grovel.” With a confident snarl, the Vampire attacked.

  A phrase echoed in her mind, overconfidence kills. Muscles tightened, thoughts churned, as she tried to assess and exploit his weakness.

  The Vampire reached for her, a blur. She countered, ducking under the creature’s outstretched arms. She raked his back with her claws as she passed. His fist struck her side, catching her unaware and sending her tumbling to the ground. The rough pavement scraped the fur from the side of her muzzle. Her breath caught as fire-hot pain lanced through her.

  The Vampire’s blood splattered them both. The tar-thick fluid burned through her fur, skin and muzzle like acid. Elizabeth stumbled to her feet, howled in pain, in anger, then charged.

  Blood loss from the wounds the Vampire had managed to inflict would soon leave her too weakened to continue. She staggered, then circled the creature. She knew she stood open to his attack. Still, Elizabeth maintained her battle stance.

  Sunrise lightened the sky, a soft glow on the edge of the city. She prayed for it to hurry, to send its killing rays down upon her enemy. Trembling from exhaustion and pain, she watched the Vampire stalk forward for the kill. She tried, a second too late, to dodge his venomous claws.

  Blood covered her raven fur as his talons raked her side. Elizabeth staggered, yet somehow remained upright. How would she survive? Too weak to fight, too weak to run, she howled in rage and pain.

  As though the heavens heard her cries, dawn’s first rays poked over the horizon. The Vampire shrilled, smoke curled from its flesh. His evil voice echoed from the alley as he fled. “I will find you again. No matter where you run, wherever you hide.”

  Too weak to hunt for a suitable place to hide, Elizabeth conjured the last of her strength to return to human form. Her injuries would heal themselves, eventually.

  Each move caused her muscles to tighten and pain to wrack her body. Her fingers stiffened, her body ached. Dressing became a slow, clumsy labor. She needed to find safety before some misguided soul called an ambulance.

  Her muscles quivered in pain and exhaustion. Elizabeth made her decision. No more running. No more hiding. It was time to reclaim her life. Time to live up to her destiny. She turned toward the dawn and started home.

  Chapter One

  May, New Orleans

  Samuel Woods glanced over his shoulder gazing at the paperback atop his desk. The cover showed a wolf and a Vampire locked in combat. Instinct warned him that the author of the latest best-selling paranormal novel to hit the stand wrote her tales from firsthand knowledge of the Loup-garou. The text was too accurate, the images that the printed words evoked too unerringly explicit. His people were hunted—their lives in danger, their numbers few. How could Elizabeth Winters write so accurately about life as a werewolf? Unless…

  Questions and theories floated through his mind. No matter how hard he wanted to see otherwise, Sam found only one logical answer. But, he needed to go right to the source.

  Unfortunately, he would have to find her first. He needed to call Blake Donovan. Blake could find anyone or anything in no time and lived for such challenges. He was a damn good PI, a better friend, and Sam’s number one.

  An urgent demand filled him. He needed to be out in the open to think and find the peace he desperately needed. Resolutely Sam strode back to his desk and gathered his jacket and car keys.

  After a last look around the office, Sam set the alarm, turned
off the lights, and strode into the night. As he sat behind the wheel of his SUV he contemplated his course of action. His first step was to get in touch with Blake.

  For some reason, he felt connected to Ms Winters. His accurate instincts screamed at him to find her, to make contact. She was vital to him. He knew this without doubt.

  The phone rang three times before Blake’s answering machine picked up.

  “Donovan. Leave a message.”

  Sam grunted. He hated answering machines, yet everyone seemed to have one. “Blake, it’s Sam. I have a job for you. Give me a call at the house.”

  Frustrated by the delay, Sam sighed, disconnected and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. After checking for oncoming traffic, he pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the highway. From crowded Jazz clubs to sold-out walking tours, New Orleans glittered in the evening.

  The city faded in his rearview mirror as he sped toward his sanctuary, the plantation. He loved watching the stars encrust the evening sky. Tonight, the full moon’s brilliance shimmered against the ice blue shadows.

  Unable to help himself, he rolled down his window and breathed in the mixed scents of the humid swamp air and the forest around him. A raven circled in the darkening sky. Its shrill squawks filled the night as it called for its mate. Sam let his gaze cut through the towering oaks and Spanish moss to where a small herd of white-tailed deer foraged.

  His pantry was already full, or he would have stopped and hunted for fresh venison. He shrugged and braked as a seven-foot alligator lumbered across the road.

  The surrounding beauty soothed his aches. The wilderness spoke peace to him. And, no matter how he searched, he found the calm nowhere else. This was his refuge. It ensured his privacy and guarded his secrets.

  After parking in his moss-covered oak-lined driveway, Sam hurried to the plantation house he had spent the last few years restoring. He had just kicked off his shoes by the front entrance when the telephone rang. After dropping his keys on the entry table, he sprinted to the living room and grabbed the phone. “Hello.”

  “Hey, Sam. You have a job for me?”

  The telltale click of the pen in the background, Blake’s trademark sound for thinking, was a good sign. “Yeah, author Elizabeth Winters. Make her top priority.”

  “What’s going on?”

  Sam imagined Blake sitting forward, anticipating the hunt while flashing a predatory smile. “She’s written an interesting book about how our kind is forced to fight the Vampire. I want her found.” He glanced out sliding glass doors, anxious for a run. Anything to rid himself of the tension building within his body.

  “Got it. Anything else I need to know?”

  Leaning against the living room wall, Sam ran his fingers through his hair before he admitted his greatest hope. “My gut tells me that she may be one of us.”

  “No problem, Sam. You know how committed I am to finding our people who have been forced to go into hiding. Are you telling me you want me to put the other projects on the back burner? This is that important? More important than finding out who are the traitors hiding amongst our kind? More urgent than finding Samantha?”

  “For now. I have a strong feeling about this. Besides, you still have feelers out if any of your sources locate my sister. Your assistant can keep tracking crime rates in the major US cities. Mark will let you know if anything jumps out at him.”

  “That’s true. All right. I’ll get right on it and call you when I have something solid to pass on.”

  With a quick goodbye, Sam decided to go ahead and pack a bag for travel. It wouldn’t take Blake long to track down the information. For now, Sam could do nothing more. It was in Blake’s hands.

  * * * *

  The ringing telephone woke Sam from a restless sleep. Unsolved mysteries tended to do that to him, this one especially so. He needed to find out who the woman was. Sam knew in the deepest part of his soul that Ms Winters was vital to their cause.

  Fumbling in the dark, Sam finally managed to put the phone to his ear. “Hello?” he said, his voice filled with dread. Phone calls this early in the morning were usually bad news.

  “Morning, Sam. Did I wake you?”

  Sam glanced over at his alarm clock. “It’s three in the morning, Blake. Of course, you woke me. Find something?”

  “You could say that. I tracked down some pretty interesting information about our Ms Winters.”

  With a few sentences, Blake filled Sam in on what he discovered—Elizabeth’s time in New Orleans and her recent retreat into seclusion.

  “So you think she’s one of us?” Excited now, Sam tossed the covers back and looked around for his shorts. Even though it was May in Louisiana, it was still too hot and muggy to wear much else, even at three in the morning.

  “Odds are she is. Should I keep investigating? Maybe follow her for a few days? From a distance, of course.”

  “I’m going to check this out myself. Where is she?”

  “She owns some land in upstate New York. A cabin in the Adirondacks. I’ll e-mail you the address and the rest of the information.”

  Sam walked over to his window and looked out over his property. It had always given him such pleasure to be here, but now… Now he knew there was somewhere else he needed to be, something else he needed to do. “That’d be great. And, Blake?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for jumping on this for me. I owe you one.”

  “No sweat. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  After hanging up the phone, Sam looked at his clock. Too early to call the office, Sam opted to run off the tension in his body. The screen door screeched as he opened it and wandered onto the porch.

  Everything around Sam captivated him, from the silvery droplets of dew that clung to every blade of grass, to the wild turkeys calling to one another in the distance. If he listened, he could hear alligators slither through the swampy waters in search of prey.

  Impatient to run wild, Sam shucked his briefs, letting the moonlight wash over him. Errant legends indicated man turned to werewolf only on nights of the full moon. In reality, all it took to change was a single thought. The Loup-garou only had to will themselves to change and it was done.

  Sam grimaced as his bones stretched, his joints popped. Hands and feet changed to paws, fingernails lengthened into lethal claws and teeth grew into fangs. In moments, a rich, chocolate brown fur covered Sam like a fuzzy blanket. After a few moments, the pain and disorientation ended. He leaped off the porch and headed into the swamp.

  Wildly, he raced through the marshland as though a pack of Vampires wanted his blood. He moved with the speed and agility of his wolf brethren, jumping over logs, sprinting after squirrels, and other small prey. The wolf ran until the chaos in his mind quieted, until only joy filled his heart and adrenaline filled his system. Running wild was a natural high to his kind, much like an adrenaline junky experienced when sky diving.

  The sun peeked over the swampland when Sam returned home. After a quick shower, he got on the phone and started arranging his trip to New York.

  With only three hours to catch his flight, he needed to get going. Sam grabbed the duffel bag he’d left beside the front door last night and headed for his car.

  * * * *

  Elizabeth jolted upright in bed. Something…something eerily silent disturbed her sleep. With narrowed eyes she scanned the room. The moonlight shining through the gossamer drapes bathed the room in gentle shadows.

  Nothing appeared disturbed. Everything seemed the same as when she climbed into the huge four-poster bed. But, as the shadows darkened, a sense of evil invaded her. Goosebumps tingled on her flesh and she shivered as cold swept through her body. A sudden storm, like a match flickering to flame, portended danger—a danger she couldn’t ignore.

  Her legs slid over the edge of the bed. She tossed the goose down comforter aside as she rose, then crept over to the window. Her moving feet hit the cold wooden floor, but she didn’t bother to stop to put sli
ppers on.

  Elizabeth gripped the curtains in her fist. Fear and logic battled to control her. By force of will, she yanked the lacy material aside. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the outside for any slight movement.

  Rain lashed the windows. Wind assaulted the storm shutters, banging them against the side of the house. Thunder boomed in the heavens, shaking her house at its foundation. Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the ground.

  Elizabeth trembled as the storm wreaked havoc with her nerves. Her five senses warned her. Disaster headed her way. Fast. No one crouched in the shadows, but her gut clenched in apprehension. Something was out there. Something menacing. Something evil.

  Determined to find the source, Elizabeth pressed her face against the frigid glass window. Should she go back to bed or go downstairs and make some cocoa? Then everything went dark. She jumped, her heart thundering in her chest, the hairs on her arms rising as if electrified.

  With keen hearing, Elizabeth listened for anything suspicious. If she went outside, she’d know more about what was happening, as being inside dulled her senses.

  She glanced at her nightstand. The numbers on the alarm clock no longer glowed. She noticed the silence, as if Mother Nature had flipped a switch off. The storm grew still. Elizabeth heard nothing, not even the whisper of the wind and rain, nor the thunder and lightning. The suffocating darkness made her feel cut off from everything around her. Her stomach clenched as she sensed danger. She needed to escape the house, the darkness.

  Elizabeth reached for the door, hands fumbling as she pulled the handle. She yanked the door open, slamming it against the bedroom wall. She bolted into the hallway and leaped down the stairs, desperate to hear the dial tone—her lifeline to the outside world.

  Her foot landed on the colorful braided rug at the bottom of the steps and sent her tumbling across the foyer. A strangled cry escaped as she scrambled toward the kitchen, making a beeline for the wall phone. The receiver felt cold beneath her palm as she lifted it. No dial tone. The phone was dead. Big surprise.