Dreaming Of A Blood Red Christmas (Kindred, Book 8.1) by Nicola Claire Page A
Authors: Nicola Claire
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Light.
Master – A Nosferatu with the highest level of Sanguis Vitam. There are five levels of Master, from level five – the lowest on the Sanguis Vitam scale, to level one – the highest on the Sanguis Vitam scale. Only level one Masters can head a line of their own. Some Nosferatu may never become Masters.
Nosferatin – ( Nosferat–een) - A vampire hunter by birth. Nosferatin were once of the same ilk as Nosferatu, descendants from the same ancestors, or God. The Nosferatin broke off and turned towards the Light. Their sole purpose is to bring the Nosferatu back from the Dark, this can include dispatching them, bringing them the final death, when they cannot be saved. They are now a mix of human and Nosferatin genetics.
Nosferatu – A vampire. The Nosferatu turned towards the Dark, when their kin, the Nosferatin turned towards the Light. They require blood to survive and can be harmed by UV exposure and silver. They do not need to breathe or have a heart beat. They are considered the undead.
Pull – The Nosferatin sense of evil. Guides a hunter to a Dark vampire; sometimes, but not always a rogue, who is about to feed off an innocent.
Sanguis Vitam – (Latin) The Blood Life or life force of a Nosferatu. It represents the power they possess. There are varying degrees of Sanguis Vitam .
Sigillum – (Latin) A permanent mark of possession.
Turned – The action of changing a human into a vampire.
Vampyre – Old term for vampire; used rarely in modern language.
Chapter 1
Wake Up
The dream had been exquisite. But then, whenever I dream of her it always is. Beautiful. Carnal. Delicious. I lick my lips and taste her blood on my tongue, a residual of fantasy, nothing more. Lucinda's blood does not taste the way it used to. It is more than before.
I have yet to decide whether I like it.
For a five hundred year old vampyre I handle change ridiculously poorly.
The reason for my abrupt wakeful state is currently digging stinging needles of agony into my spine. I roll over, and like the idiot I seem to be of late, reach beneath my back to haul the offending object out. The smell of burnt flesh assails my nose before my mind cottons on to the fact my fingers are being burnt by silver.
Merde!
"Lucinda," I say, without a note of emotion in my voice. "Is there a reason why one of your stakes is in the bed?"
"Hmm?" she mumbles, and even the sound of the incoherent word falling off her lips makes my body stir. "What'sthematter?" she mumbles, words tumbling one after the other in a waterfall of luscious sound.
"This," I say, letting the offending article drop from my fingers onto her, now more than ever, ample bosom. The skin on my fingertips begins to heal immediately. The smell of burnt flesh doesn't dissipate quite so easily.
"Oh," she announces, clarity making it through the fog of sleep at last. "I wondered where that had got to."
She rises to a sitting position in a motion I would never have thought I'd see my hunter display. Like a wallowing hippopotamus, the tangled blankets making for turbulent waves. If she could read my mind right now there would be hell to pay, I realise. So I hastily replace the image of a struggling oversized river mammal with one far more fitting my beautiful kindred.
The naughty dream providing the material with relative ease.
"Arghh," she moans, and immediately I am beside her, rubbing her back and offering support. "How much longer will it be?"
"Any day now, ma douce ." She is fit to pop, I cannot see this going on much longer. She'll have these babies by Christmas Eve, I am sure of it.
"This sucks," she declares. "And it's all your fault."
Of course it is.
"Yes, my dear. I know," I assure her softly. "But think what we'll have at the end of it?" Images of our babies lying in our arms, as we sit before the large Christmas tree adorning our sitting room, float through my mind.
Our babies. My hand begins to rub across her distended belly, the awe I have felt, from the moment
Master – A Nosferatu with the highest level of Sanguis Vitam. There are five levels of Master, from level five – the lowest on the Sanguis Vitam scale, to level one – the highest on the Sanguis Vitam scale. Only level one Masters can head a line of their own. Some Nosferatu may never become Masters.
Nosferatin – ( Nosferat–een) - A vampire hunter by birth. Nosferatin were once of the same ilk as Nosferatu, descendants from the same ancestors, or God. The Nosferatin broke off and turned towards the Light. Their sole purpose is to bring the Nosferatu back from the Dark, this can include dispatching them, bringing them the final death, when they cannot be saved. They are now a mix of human and Nosferatin genetics.
Nosferatu – A vampire. The Nosferatu turned towards the Dark, when their kin, the Nosferatin turned towards the Light. They require blood to survive and can be harmed by UV exposure and silver. They do not need to breathe or have a heart beat. They are considered the undead.
Pull – The Nosferatin sense of evil. Guides a hunter to a Dark vampire; sometimes, but not always a rogue, who is about to feed off an innocent.
Sanguis Vitam – (Latin) The Blood Life or life force of a Nosferatu. It represents the power they possess. There are varying degrees of Sanguis Vitam .
Sigillum – (Latin) A permanent mark of possession.
Turned – The action of changing a human into a vampire.
Vampyre – Old term for vampire; used rarely in modern language.
Chapter 1
Wake Up
The dream had been exquisite. But then, whenever I dream of her it always is. Beautiful. Carnal. Delicious. I lick my lips and taste her blood on my tongue, a residual of fantasy, nothing more. Lucinda's blood does not taste the way it used to. It is more than before.
I have yet to decide whether I like it.
For a five hundred year old vampyre I handle change ridiculously poorly.
The reason for my abrupt wakeful state is currently digging stinging needles of agony into my spine. I roll over, and like the idiot I seem to be of late, reach beneath my back to haul the offending object out. The smell of burnt flesh assails my nose before my mind cottons on to the fact my fingers are being burnt by silver.
Merde!
"Lucinda," I say, without a note of emotion in my voice. "Is there a reason why one of your stakes is in the bed?"
"Hmm?" she mumbles, and even the sound of the incoherent word falling off her lips makes my body stir. "What'sthematter?" she mumbles, words tumbling one after the other in a waterfall of luscious sound.
"This," I say, letting the offending article drop from my fingers onto her, now more than ever, ample bosom. The skin on my fingertips begins to heal immediately. The smell of burnt flesh doesn't dissipate quite so easily.
"Oh," she announces, clarity making it through the fog of sleep at last. "I wondered where that had got to."
She rises to a sitting position in a motion I would never have thought I'd see my hunter display. Like a wallowing hippopotamus, the tangled blankets making for turbulent waves. If she could read my mind right now there would be hell to pay, I realise. So I hastily replace the image of a struggling oversized river mammal with one far more fitting my beautiful kindred.
The naughty dream providing the material with relative ease.
"Arghh," she moans, and immediately I am beside her, rubbing her back and offering support. "How much longer will it be?"
"Any day now, ma douce ." She is fit to pop, I cannot see this going on much longer. She'll have these babies by Christmas Eve, I am sure of it.
"This sucks," she declares. "And it's all your fault."
Of course it is.
"Yes, my dear. I know," I assure her softly. "But think what we'll have at the end of it?" Images of our babies lying in our arms, as we sit before the large Christmas tree adorning our sitting room, float through my mind.
Our babies. My hand begins to rub across her distended belly, the awe I have felt, from the moment
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