Samhain Publishing

Magick made him human. Only love can keep him that way.

After a century of living la vida muerta, Julian Devlin’s closest ally casts a de-vamping spell that leaves him defanged and demoted from his hard-won place in Baltimore’s vampire hierarchy. Disoriented by his transformation, he can’t even find his way home.

The indignities don’t end there. Before he can explain to the quirky consignment shop owner why he’s hiding in her basement, she’s punched the newly re-acquired breath out of him and smacked him upside the head with her knock-off purse.

Zoe Boyd’s scream could have peeled paint from the walls—if she could get her heart out of her throat. Common thugs aren’t supposed to have a smile so panty-melting that she finds herself apologizing for scaring him.

She’s also too busy managing her friends’ love lives to take on an ex-vampire with revamping and revenge on his mind. Until she guides him home and ends up neck deep in his world of trouble.

As Zoe risks her life to give him back his death, she warms the soul Julian never thought he’d own again. And when he tracks down a devilish witch who can reverse the spell, immortality without Zoe suddenly seems like cold comfort…

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Copyright © 2011 Jennifer Colgan
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication


Julian had no idea what had possessed him to drag the blonde gypsy with him through the tunnels. His first instinct when he’d come upon her in her flowing peasant skirt and dangling jewelry was to make a meal of her and attempt to assuage the hunger that gnawed at his gut, adding to his weakness.

Sweet young blood. That taste of innocence, the tang of fresh fear—his mouth watered for it.

Nevertheless, it hadn’t been hunger he’d felt when he’d reached for her in the shadows. It had been pain and disorientation coupled with his embarrassment at realizing he had no idea where he was. He’d followed what he thought were familiar tunnels for nearly an hour and finally reached a door that led to the connected basements beneath the storefronts lining the streets of Baltimore’s downtown shopping district.

His home wouldn’t be far, or so he thought. Unfamiliar smells had assaulted him as he wandered, and when he’d stumbled into the mostly empty cement cellar, he’d been overcome with panic. Had Lambert stunted his intellect as well? How could he not know where he was?

Then she’d appeared. With the bangles on her arms jangling, and her golden curls catching the dim glow that spilled down a crumbling cinderblock staircase into his hiding place, she resembled a parti-colored pixie.

Vampire instinct had told him to use her. Feed, then discard what remained. Had he been himself and merely weakened from a battle, that would have buoyed his strength and restored him almost immediately to full health. But humans didn’t sustain themselves with blood. What a waste.

His chest still hurt from where she’d punched him. Shocking to find all that power wrapped in a package that was half fashion disaster, half quirky chic.

And while he gasped for breath, she’d had the nerve to glare at him like an angry faerie, green eyes flashing, pink lips set in a grim line. Any other day he’d have drugged her with a kiss and a bite, drunk her unconscious and tossed her limp body aside without a second thought.

Today he needed her, needed someone. Julian Devlin, who had the money and influence to acquire anything he wanted, was short on allies right now. As a reluctant means to an end, she’d do for the time being.

If he could get her to stop whimpering.

“Be quiet. They’ll hear you.” He tugged her arm, and she stumbled against him with an indignant huff. He grabbed her shoulders and righted her.

“I don’t hear anything. They’re gone. Who are they, anyway? I can’t just run away and let them rob me blind…”

“They want nothing you keep in a shop, trust me.”

“Where are you taking—trust you? That’s rich. Who are you? What do you want?”

“Quiet!” He hushed her by clamping a hand over her mouth. With her small body pressed against him and her wild pulse beating beneath his fingertips, she stilled. She was delicate but tenacious, an interesting combination if a bit tedious. The vampire Julian had been would have tired of her by now. He’d have been sorely tempted to drain her and leave her brightly-attired corpse for the tunnel rats.

He cursed whatever weakness of character it was that prevented him from disposing of her. “Shh. Do. Not. Talk.”

She nodded, her emerald eyes wide and white rimmed. He removed his hand from her mouth.

“Now, we need to find Terrace Avenue. My townhouse is there, and I have access through the cellar. Once we reach there, you may go free. In fact, I insist upon it. Though you will tell no one you were with me, do you understand?”

She made no comment, but the defiance in her stance and her angry gaze spoke volumes. He arched his brows at her and gestured down the tunnel which divided into two up ahead. “Well?”

“You told me not to talk.” Her lips barely moved, forcing the words to escape deadpan. That pixie glare had returned.

“You may talk if I ask you a question.” Why was he allowing her to try his patience so?

She shrugged. “I may. And I may not.”

“We don’t have time for this, little gypsy. You have no idea the danger we’re in.”

“So enlighten me.”

“There’s no time.”

She crossed her bangled arms over her chest, forcing her small breasts together in what would have been, under better circumstances, a mildly enticing cleavage. “Make time.”

Yes. He should have bitten her, lack of fangs notwithstanding, and then left her as a minor obstacle for Lambert’s goons to stumble over. Obviously this human handicap extended beyond the loss of his physical abilities. He’d turned stupid besides.

Damn Lambert. The other vampire would burn for this. Literally.

Julian glanced into the darkness back the way they’d come. The silence seemed to echo. “All right. They’re vampires. A posse of them. I’m their target, not you, but don’t think for an instant they won’t use you in several indescribably bloody ways before they kill you, just for the crime of being found with me. As my ally, you’re automatically their enemy.” He didn’t expect her to accept that explanation. After all, not many humans openly acknowledged the existence of his kind. It was too horrible for most of them to contemplate that mankind might exist simply as a food source for another, higher form of life. In a way, their ignorance was a blessing.

“Vampires.” She seemed to ruminate on his words. He would have loved to have shown her his fangs, just to scare her, but since he couldn’t, he settled for a curt nod.

“Give me your hand,” she said finally.

Julian stared at her outstretched hand, soft and shapely, the color of porcelain in the anemic light from the few grime-covered bulbs that still functioned in this forgotten place.

“Come on.”

She wiggled her fingers at him and he complied, though he would never, even if he somehow regained his immortality and lived a thousand years, be able to explain what compelled him to obey.

With a swift move that made him long for his lost reflexes, she ripped a dangling charm from one of the cumbersome bracelets on her left wrist and slapped it into his open palm.

She held it there tightly, a look of triumph and curiosity on her face. Something sharp dug into his flesh, and when she freed him, he found a gold cross lying in his hand. “Did that hurt?” she asked.

“Not really.”

She snatched the symbol back from him and leaned over his palm, to inspect it for burns, he imagined. “So you’re not a vampire yourself.”

He wanted to laugh. And he wanted to kill Lambert in a thousand different ways. This was her litmus test? Enemy or ally based on whether or not a holy symbol seared his flesh? He didn’t have the heart—or was it the soul?—to tell her that was merely a cinematic legend. Besides a stake through the heart, only sunlight and pure flame, such as that from burning wood, could injure him. Holy symbols would only affect those who believed in their power to begin with, and Julian Devlin had long ago stopped believing in anything but himself.

He held her gaze for a heartbeat and broke into what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “No. I’m not a vampire. Anymore.”