The Vampires' Last Lover (Dying of the Dark Vampires Book 1) by Aiden James, Patrick Burdine Page A

somehow reliving what had happened to these carriers. No doubt they bore the same birthmark as mine.
    “Yes, they did,” she said, answering my unspoken thought as she turned to face me again.
    She opened her dark trench coat and pulled her sweater away from her neck. The pastiness of her skin accentuated the tiny teardrops that marked her carotid artery, near the base of her throat.
    “It is the mark that we all bear—all of us who carry the gift,” she said. “But you are now the only
living
human being in the entire world that has it.”
    For the first time during our conversation, her eyes betrayed the depth of her worry. This was some serious shit! An enormous burden began to settle upon my shoulders, and its weight nearly took my breath away.
    “Armando called you a princess when we arrived here,” I said, looking for some distraction… something to lessen the impact of what she just told me. “My papa told me recently that the little tears on our necks were once the symbol of Basque royalty. Is that true, and is it the reason Armando said that?”
    “It’s more than that, I assure—”
    “Armando, let me handle this,” she scolded him, though lightly. He nodded his consent to her interruption, and she addressed me again. “Your papa is correct. Many members of the Basque royalty have been born with the same birthmark, as well as their ancestors from other cultures. Our lineage dates back thousands of years, when the carriers of this gift easily infiltrated the ruling classes of the world’s most highly developed civilizations.”
    The petite female suddenly joined us and brought with her a slight aroma of roses. She eyed me as though I were a very rare novelty. Or, perhaps, as a delectable treat to taste. Her voice had the same strong French accent as my ancestor.
    “She is known to us all as
‘Chanson de l’Eternelle’
, since she is the vampire who carries forth our Song forever.”
    The newcomer’s violet eyes flashed with desire as she spoke. Her face was a small oval framed by a rich halo of crimson hair that hung in loose curls upon her shoulders. She had thin lips and a delicate nose and cheekbones. Although she was dressed in a black leather trench coat and stiletto heels, her dainty features and porcelain skin made her appear more like the pin-up model for some men’s magazine than a fearsome creature of the night. It was only the predatory gaze in her eyes and the sharp fangs that revealed her true nature.
    “So, how should I address you, then?” I asked the princess, though really I wasn’t sure how to address either one at this point.
    “Chanson will be fine,” she said. “And, this is Raquel Meurtrier.”
    She gestured playfully to the flaming redhead, who curtseyed with dramatic flair.
    “Ah-hem!” A booming male voice resounded behind the females, as the lone remaining stranger lifted his chin in wounded pride at being ignored for so long. Even so, I detected an impish glint in his amber vampire eyes.
    “And this… this is Franz Blutliebhaber,” Chanson said, motioning for him to join them.
    Franz stepped over to us, completing my immersion in a mixed bath of sensual aromas. He bore more of a sage-like musk scent that seemed to go well with his strong German features. He was blonde with high cheekbones and dimples framing a toothy smile; only the fangs and iridescent eyes would alert otherwise unsuspecting humans that a dangerous predator walked in their midst.
    I cracked a wry grin. These five gorgeous former humans would make one hell of an act, like some heavy metal band with a metaphysical twist. “America’s Got Talent” could do much worse. Maybe “America’s Goth Talent.” Too bad they were just visiting.
    “You are quite humorous.” Chanson chuckled, alluding to my latest musing. A moment later her demeanor turned solemn. “We have a proposal for you… something serious to consider. Alas, as time is against us, you do not have the time to mull it over.