Bite Me Baby

Copyright © 2003 by Scarlett Rosewood All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred. Book Cover by Scarlett Rosewood First edition 2003 TRIGGER WARNING Please note that this book contains content that may be triggering for some sensitive readers, mature sexual situations, on page violence and death. Contents Dedication Title Page 1. PROLOGUE 1. Xavier 2. LOVE IN UNDEATH 3. CHAPTER ONE 3. Xavier 4. CHAPTER TWO 4. Xavier 5. CHASING MOONLIGHT 6. CHAPTER THREE 6. Lyra 7. CHAPTER FOUR 7. Xavier 8. CHAPTER FIVE 8. Xavier 9. CHAPTER SIX 9. Lyra 10. CHAPTER SEVEN 10. Lyra 11. CHAPTER EIGHT 11. Xavier 12. CHAPTER NINE 12. Xavier 13. CHAPTER TEN 13. Lyra 14. CHAPTER ELEVEN 14. Xavier 15. FANGS AND FEELINGS 16. CHAPTER TWELVE 16. Xavier 17. CHAPTER THIRTEEN 17. Lyra 18. CHAPTER FOURTEEN 18. Xavier 19. CHAPTER FIFTEEN 19. Lyra 20. CHAPTER SIXTEEN 20. Lyra 21. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 21. Xavier 22. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 22. Xavier 23. CHAPTER NINETEEN 23. Xavier 24. CHAPTER TWENTY 24. Xavier 25. HAPPILY EVER AFTERLIFE 26. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 26. Lyra 27. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 27. Xavier Afterword To my family, always… BITE ME BABY Scarlett Rosewood PROLOGUE Xavier I was not always a vampire. Once, I was just an ordinary mortal living in a world where superstition and the fear of the unknown ruled humankind. It was the early eighteenth century, a time when tales of witches and other supernatural creatures circulated like a contagion, spreading through the hearts and minds of the populace. As a boy, I heard stories of the old gods and goddesses who once ruled the land, and the spirits who dwelled in every tree, rock, and stream. According to those born before me, the beings were not to be feared but respected and revered, for they held the power to grant blessings or curses upon mortals. When Christianity spread across the land, those beliefs were pushed aside in favor of a more rigid and dogmatic worldview. The old gods were demonized, their followers persecuted and branded as heretics. And so, the stories of witches and other supernatural creatures took hold, feeding on the fears and anxieties of the masses. I did not care about the superstitions of others. As the only son of the reigning monarchs of the opulent Kingdom of Valtavia, my life was one of effortless extravagance and unbridled indulgence. Valtavia was a land of breathtaking beauty, where lush forests teemed with life and crystal-clear rivers flowed through verdant valleys. The air was perfumed with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers that carpeted the sprawling meadows in a riot of colors. The idyllic villages that dotted our dominion were nestled in cozy nooks, surrounded by gentle hills. The people were content, and their loyalty to my parents was unshakable. Under their rule, Valtavia flourished, and the coffers overflowed with riches. My parents, King Richard and Queen Isabella, ruled the kingdom with a firm hand, but they doted on me with almost obsessive love and attention. They saw me as the future ruler of the kingdom, and they wanted nothing but the best for me. My childhood was filled with luxury and privilege. I was surrounded by opulence, and everything I wanted was granted to me without question. My tutors indulged my every whim, and I never knew the meaning of discipline or restraint. As I grew older, I reveled in the adoration of my many admirers, savoring the thrill of their fleeting attention. Secret trysts in the palace gardens and stolen virtues under the moonlight were my only commitments. I was an enthusiastic lover and even more skilled at evading any attempts at being tied down. My heart was free, and I intended to keep it that way for as long as possible. On the eve of my twenty-eighth birthday, I ventured into the forest, eager to assess my skills as a hunter and bring back a trophy for my celebratory feast. The scent of damp earth and pine needles filled my nose, and the only sound was the rustling of leaves in the wind. Moonlight filtered through the canopy above, casting a silver glow over the trees. As I crept through the underbrush, my senses heightened by the rush of the hunt, I caught sight of a figure ahead of me. At first, I thought it might be a deer, but as I drew closer, I saw that it was a woman of unearthly beauty. Her skin was as pale as the moon, her hair was as black as a raven’s wing, and her full lips were painted a deep shade of crimson. Her curvaceous form was accentuated by a tight bodice that strained to contain her ample breasts. She regarded me with eyes that seemed to blaze, and for a moment, I was speechless and wondered if I had stumbled upon some kind of fairy or spirit of the forest. I drew nearer, and she spoke, her voice weaving through the air like a gentle breeze on a summer’s day, carrying with it an otherworldly quality that left me spellbound. “Greetings, hunter,” she said. “What brings you to this place?” “I seek a prize for my birthday feast,” I replied, gesturing towards my crossbow. “A deer, if fortune favors me.” The woman smiled, and her teeth gleamed like pearls. “Ah, a hunter after my own heart,” she purred. Lifting her arm, she slid her palm from my shoulder to my abdomen, where her fingers lingered, caressing the fabric of my shirt. “Follow me, and I will lead you to the ultimate prize. A prize worthy of a man of your