Night's Master. Amanda Ashley

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      “HOW DO I KNOW I CAN TRUST YOU?”

      “Good point.” He gazed into the fireplace for several moments, then said, “I told myself I wouldn’t see you again, that no good could come from it.”

      “Then why are you here?”

      He turned to look at me, his dark eyes intent upon my face. No other man had ever looked at me quite that way, as if every fiber of his being was focused solely on me. My breath seemed trapped in my throat as I waited for his answer.

      “Because,” he said quietly, “I couldn’t stay away.”

      His voice was so warm and filled with such desire, I was surprised I didn’t melt on the spot.

      “Raphael…”

      NIGHT’S MASTER

      AMANDA ASHLEY

      ZEBRA BOOKS

       Kensington Publishing Corp.

       www.kensingtonbooks.com

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-One

      Chapter Twenty-Two

      Chapter Twenty-Three

      Chapter Twenty-Four

      Chapter Twenty-Five

      Chapter Twenty-Six

      Chapter Twenty-Seven

      Chapter Twenty-Eight

      Chapter Twenty-Nine

      Chapter Thirty

      Chapter Thirty-One

      Chapter Thirty-Two

      Chapter Thirty-Three

      Chapter Thirty-Four

      Chapter Thirty-Five

      Epilogue

      Dedicated to Elizabeth Camp

       and her husband, Charlie

       And to all the families

       in the Armed Forces—

       Those who fight to preserve our freedom

       and those who stay at home and wait

      Chapter One

      Most said it was going to be the end of the world as we knew it. Some said that was ridiculous, but those who weren’t too busy or too blind to see the signs knew the truth. Mankind had been heading for this showdown ever since the preternatural creatures decided that, although they were small in number when compared to humans, they possessed the strength and the Supernatural power to pretty much run the planet any way they saw fit. And since the nations of the Earth had finally achieved universal peace, most of the world’s armies had been drastically reduced or done away with altogether, leaving only local law enforcement agencies to protect the citizens, while national governments debated how to best handle a possible future threat.

      In the last six months or so, there had been an escalating number of battles between the two major baddies—the Werewolves and the Vampires.

      No one really knew who was winning the war. In the past, when the humans had made war, everyone knew who was winning. The number of casualties, both civilian and enemy, had been reported far and wide. Pictures of those killed in battle had appeared in newspapers, on television, and online. The nightly news had flashed brutal, graphic images of the dead and wounded being carried off the field of battle.

      It was different with the Supernatural creatures. Their battles were fought in the dark hours of the night in remote areas around the world. The bodies of the fallen were never found. The Vampire dead disintegrated in the sun’s first light. The Werewolves were carried off by others of their kind; some said the dead were eaten so as to leave no trace.

      Smart humans quickly learned two things: how to repel the preternatural folks, and how to stay out of their way. Those who weren’t so smart usually ended up as someone’s dinner. Except for a few reporters who had more curiosity than brains, human casualties had been few so far.

      Of course, everyone knew that sooner or later, mankind would have to stand up and defend itself against whichever side won the war between the Werewolves and the Vampires, but until then, the smart thing to do was just stay out of the line of fire.

      Being a pretty smart girl myself, I hightailed it out of the big city and took up residence in a small town in the Midwest, figuring there wasn’t anything in Oak Hollow to attract either the Vampires or Werewolves. After all, the town wasn’t big enough to appear on most maps, and since the Werewolves and the Vampires seemed to like bright lights and big cities, moving to a sleepy little community like Oak Hollow seemed like the perfect solution.

      I bought a cute little house made of logs for practically nothing, opened a new and used bookstore on the corner of Third and Main, and figured I’d stay out of danger while the Werewolves and the Vamps killed each other off.

      Of course, you know what they say about the best laid plans….

      Chapter Two

      I spent the next few weeks immersed in fixing up the bookstore. I painted one wall white and the other three a pale apple green. Since I had always loved movies, I put up some framed antique movie posters that I had collected over the years, along with some autographed movie stills. I bought some pretty potted plants and flowers and spread them out as artfully as I could along the tops of some of the bookshelves. I had a collection of stuffed teddy bears I’d had since I was a little girl. Digging them out of one of the boxes at home, I scattered them throughout the store and among the greenery on the shelves, along with an occasional decorative birdcage. I found a fancy automatic coffeemaker and a sturdy table to put it on, stocked up on colorful cups and napkins, and opened the store for business.

      After three weeks and three customers, I was thinking maybe I had opened the wrong kind of enterprise for such a small town. Maybe people in rural areas didn’t have time to read. Maybe I should have opened a pet store. At least then I would have had some company!

      I called the writers’ group in the next town to see about setting up a book signing in hopes of drawing customers into the shop.

      The woman who answered the phone sounded doubtful that any of the authors in their organization would be willing to drive a hundred miles to sign autographs in such a remote location, but she said she would ask around and see if she could find any writers who lived closer to Oak Hollow. I thanked her for her time and hung up.

      One day, out of sheer boredom, I painted a mural on the wall behind the counter. It started off as a flowering peach