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Winn Jackson isn't interested in hunting nightmares across the Wild West - even if it's the family business. Unlike his rakehell brothers, Winn believes in rules. As sheriff of Bodie, California, he only shoots actual law breakers. That's what he's doing when he rescues the Contessa Drossenburg, Alexandra Porter, a lady with all the elegance of the Old World - grace, beauty, and class. And then he sees her fangs.
Alexandra isn't just some bloodsucking damsel in distress, though. She's on a mission to save her people - and she's dead certain that Winn's family legacy is the only way. Luckily, aside from grace and class, she also has a stubborn streak a mile wide. So like it or not, Winn is going to come back with her to the mountains of Transylvania, and while he's at it, change his opinions about vampires, demon-hunting, and who exactly deserves shooting. And if she has her way, he's going to do his darnedest to save the world. . .
engineer is working on it now.” “Use whatever steam’s in the pipes to run the propellers and jettison your hydrogen!” Alexa urged. “I know the capabilities of a class A dirigible. They’re quick, but difficult to maneuver quickly. This vessel is more nimble. We might escape them if we can descend fast enough.” Le Renaud nodded her head once, her eyes growing bright again. “It might just work.” She leaned over the railing of the aftcastle and shouted down at her crew. “Raise the sails! Dive!”
visible through the blackened husk of what had once been lips. Clearly he could not talk to them physically. He shifted the covers off of himself and limped toward them. The loose nightshirt he wore shifted on his frame, revealing a blackened shoulder and chest and one blackened leg. Half of him had been badly burned nearly to the bone. When Vlad had said he needed to recover, he’d never hinted it was this bad. Who are you? The voice of the vampire poured into her mind. “I am Alexandra, the
blue door. Light filtered from beneath it, and Winn saw movement. The man rapped at the door. It was opened by possibly the oldest woman Winn had ever seen. While the bits of hair that poked out from beneath the fringed silk scarf tied about her head were as white as Marley’s, her face was tanned and had the wrinkled texture of a peeled apple that had been set out in the sun to shrivel. Her back was humped beneath the black sack-like dress she wore. Unlike those of the rest of the gypsies in the
the old woman made. Her green eyes pinned him with a stern, penetrating gaze. “It helps.” She carefully washed the powdery substance from Alexa’s face with a clean rag dipped into a bowl of water she poured from the kettle, then spooned a bit of the golden-colored liquid between her parted lips. Winn held his breath and waited. He shoved away the bitter taste at the back of his mouth and doubts about what would happen if it didn’t work. Alexa lay so perfectly still, almost death-like as the old
heart, and Winn’s chest contracted, but he found himself rooted to the spot, still too stunned to speak. God, but she was magnificent, if a bit foolhardy. Of course, unless that shot was silver it wouldn’t do much to a vampire of her power besides piss her off, so she had less to fear than a mortal like himself with a gun pointed at his heart. “We wish to hire your ship,” Alexa said, standing firmly on the other side of the table from the woman, her back ramrod straight, the curves of her form