Dark Dreams: The Daughters of Darkness Saga

Cover Artist:  Streamy digital art

Website: http://andromnesia.fr/

Blog: http://andromnesia.com/

Books by Chrissy Peebles

The Enchanted Castle Series

The Enchanted Castle Series Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/Ysb6uzIdsEk

Enchanted Castle - book 1

My Haunted Fairytale - book 2

Enchanted Dreams - book 3

The Ruby Ring Saga

The Ruby Ring Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n_w-eZwPJbA

Eternal Vows - book 1

Eternal Destiny - book 2

Eternal Fire - book 3

Eternal Faith - book 4

Eternal Bloom - book 5

Eternal Flame – book 6

Eternal Conflict – book 7

The Crush Saga

The Crush Saga Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/4eMF8KXEUc4

Crush - Book 1

Crash - Book 2

Chosen - book 3 

Chaos – book 4

Deep Web – book 5

Conflicted – book 6

Clash – book 7

Cursed – book 8

The Hope Saga

The Hope Saga Book Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CF9UkY0qiSo

Apocalypse - Underwater City - book 1

Rebel Princess - book 2

Rebel Warrior - book 3

Trapped in the Hollow Earth Novelette Series

Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/viwT0M8Ms_g

Book 1 - Castaway

Book 2 - Dread

Book 3 - Peril

Book 4 - Outlive

Book 5 - Endure

Book 6 - Persevere

Book 7 - Turbulence

Book 8 - Hope

Book 9 - Termination - The Conclusion

Apocalypse Unleashed Series

Book Trailer for The Zombie Chronicles Series: http://youtu.be/ociUHiL1g70

Val (prequel to the zombie series) Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7mp43Ml4hvE

Val - The prequel to The Zombie Chronicles

The Zombie Chronicles - book 1

The Zombie Chronicles - book 2 - Race for the Cure

The Zombie Chronicles - book 3 - Deadly City

The Zombie Chronicles - book 4 - Poisonous Serum

The Zombie Chronicles - book 5 - Undead Nightmare

The Zombie Chronicles - book 6 - Revelation

The Zombie Chronicles - book 7 – Trepidation

The Zombie Chronicles – book 8 – Impact

The Zombie Chronicles – book 9 – Siege

Author’s blog:

http://www.chrissypeebles.blogspot.com

Stop on by and say hello! Facebook fan page: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=vb.351121651567296&type=2#!/pages/Chrissy-Peebles/351121651567296

4 authors will each take a different daughter born from the Prince of Darkness, Vlad Montour. (Also known as Vlad the Impaler, an evil villain from history)

Blair – Chrissy Peebles

Jezebel – Kristen Middleton

Victoria – W.J. May

Lotus – C.J. Pinard

Chapter 1

NEITHER OF US SAID a word as Tristan navigated the sea of broken bodies and glass and swept me out the back entrance. We didn’t say a word as we ducked our heads and ‘scattered’ with the rest of the curious onlookers when the cops arrived at the scene. We didn’t say a word when a town car appeared from nowhere and Tristan beckoned me inside. In fact, we didn’t talk the entire way across town and up the elevator to the top of one of the most ornate skyscrapers in the Upper East Side.

The elevator dinged just below the roof, and I followed Tristan silently down the plush carpet to the penthouse at the end of the hall. He grabbed his keys out of his pocket and slipped them into the lock in one fluid motion. It wasn’t until I actually heard the knob start to turn that all my senses came rushing back to me and I flew backwards about ten feet. Gotta love those vampire reflexes.

He turned around in surprise to see me edging quickly back to the elevator.

Miss Griffin, what on earth are you doing?

My throat was raw and constricted, and my eyes felt like they were in constant danger of spilling over. But I kept them locked on him, monitoring his every move, as I backed away down the hall.

I don’t know you. The words came out choppy and hoarse. My hand groped the wall behind me and frantically pushed the button to go back down. I—I appreciate... Oh my goodness, how did you even say it? How did you thank someone for slaughtering a room full of people to pull you safely from a closet? The things they didn’t teach us in prep school.

The elevator dinged and I backed swiftly inside.

I appreciate you getting me out of there. But I think it’s really time I be going.

The door slid shut, and for a minute, I thanked my lucky stars, unable to believe he’d just let me go. Maybe this night was taking a turn after all.

Then the elevator opened on the next floor.

Tristan leaned against the frame, pursing his lips and looking amused.

And that’s it, is it? he quipped, unable to keep the smile from his voice. You’re just going to leave?

I frantically pushed the door close button and backed to the far corner as he vanished from sight. That’s the general idea.

The elevator dropped another level before there was another ding. The doors opened again and there was Tristan, standing in exactly the same position as before.

No thank you? No flowers? His eyes sparkled as they stared into mine. No, ‘Why Mr. Gale, however can I repay you for such an extraordinary rescue?’

I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. He was obviously messing with me, but it was hard to say if there was any ill will behind it. He was still standing in the frame, but he made no move to come inside. In fact, when the door started to close once again, he took a step back, a mischievous grin lighting his face as he shook his head and clicked his tongue, playfully chiding.

Another floor down, the doors opened.

There he was again, not a hair out of place even though he’d just flown down a level of stairs. I glanced at the ‘47’ stenciled in gold on the side and bit my lip. At this rate, it was going to take an hour just to get to the lobby.

I only ask because I place a premium on manners, you see. I’d send flowers if it was me, and I refuse to believe that you’re as callous as you seem. He examined his fingernails, looking almost bored, but flashed me a grin when he finished.

In spite of my hammering heart, I couldn’t help but grin in return. It was impossible not to. There was something so effervescent and contagiously light about him, I was having a hard time keeping my composure amidst his one-way banter. I’d just seen a massacre, after all, no matter what the men in question had been intending. Those hands Tristan flitted so carelessly into his hair had ripped a pack of wolves from bone from to bone.

I stifled the grin quickly and pushed the button to close.

Not callous, I corrected, cautious. But as the door began sliding shut again, I couldn’t help but indulge. After all, what kind of a girl would I be if I went home with you after just the one date?

The elevator sank another level and the light above the floor dinged. This time I was prepared. Hands on my waist, cocked hips, bitchy smile ready and waiting. Before the doors had opened more than a crack, I began my sarcastic tirade.

Furthermore, if you insist on delaying my departure I might just forget that I owe you a drink and give you a taste of your own medicine. You’ll find that I’m not quite as easy to take down as a pack of werewolves—

Five Asian businessmen stood stoically in front of me. Tristan hovered behind them, eyes wide and innocent, but looking as though he might actually die from holding in his laughter.

My face flushed a million shades of red as we stood there in silence.

After a never-ending, excruciating moment, I smiled as politely as I could and gestured inside. Going down, gentlemen? Not one of them moved and the door slid quietly shut.

Even before it opened on the next floor, I heard a slow clapping. Tristan’s animated face was the picture of cheerful restraint as he offered me a hand of truce. With a begrudging smile, I reluctantly took it and he helped me out of the lift. We stood quietly for a minute as he pushed the button to go back up, neither of us making eye contact with the other. Just before the doors opened, he shot me a glance out of the corner of his eye.

For the record, I would never have assumed that you were as easy as a werewolf.

Shut up.

We climbed into the ascending elevator and shot back up the remaining floors to the top story. My, that was quick, Tristan remarked innocently as he stepped out onto the carpet. My eyes narrowed caustically, but I bit back a smile and followed him back down the hall. The door was already unlocked from when we’d been there before, and with no further ado, he pushed it open and beckoned me inside.

Oh...my...gosh.

In the last twenty-four hours, I’d seen lightning strike an altar, the heart of a telepath, the corpses of six men, and enough cockroaches to occupy Paris.

But my mouth fell open when I walked into this apartment.

Slick white marble stretched from the golden inlay around the door all the way to the floor to ceiling windows some forty feet away. Starched bone furniture that looked like it had never been used scattered elegantly throughout, perched upon winter-colored fur throws. A baby-grand sat idly in the corner. The kitchen, the one part of the apartment I guessed he never used, was still stocked with more booze than I’d seen in the bar, aging expensively in the kind of ornate crystal containers I was always worried about accidently bumping into in a store. Mozart trickled down from speakers mounted in the high ceilings, priceless art hung the walls.

And that was just the bottom story.

The door clicked shut behind me and I eyed the oversized bronze lock with great appreciation. Much bigger than the one at the motel.

I rotated in a slow circle, trying to catch my breath. You...live here?

Tristan breezed in behind me, barely glancing up as he kicked off his shoes onto a Persian that cost more than my year’s rent. For now. He threw his jacket across a sofa and reached for mine. I hesitated for a moment before sliding it off my shoulders, well aware of the revealing, metallic top I was sporting beneath.

Tristan stared for a split second, then threw back his head in laughter. Well, I can see that you’re clearly trying to blend in.

I blushed lightly and continued looking around. So are you.

Touché. He threw open his arms and sank gracefully into a tall-backed chair, a telltale smile lighting his piercing blue eyes. So tell me Blair, do you spend all your time dodging bounty hunters, or was I just lucky enough to catch you on a Saturday?

Bounty hunters?

All at once it hit me—those people outside the bar. The ones who had scattered when the police showed up. I thought I’d gotten a weird vibe. They weren’t ‘curious onlookers’ at all, but more bounty hunters. More people sent by my father to kill me.

I stared at Tristan as a wordless panic flooded through my veins. How many times could I keep dodging fate? First with Tori in the woods. Then with the wolves in the bar. Then with the supernaturals out on the street. And even maybe now—even with Tristan.

He sat with an easy grace on the chair, a king in his element. His dark hair swung carelessly across his pale skin and those blue eyes regarded me curiously, still waiting for me to answer his question.

Perfectly relaxed. Perfectly normal.

Just as he had been right before he ripped apart the wolves.

The edges of my vision darkened in manic tunnel vision. I took a half-staggering step backwards, and the picture in front of me suddenly changed. Tristan was no longer sitting on his white chair, on the white floor, in his white apartment. Just like his glass of wine at the bar, nothing was as it seemed. Everything was tinged in red.

Tinged in blood.

And just like that, my fragile calm, the one that had kept me hanging on by a tenuous thread since this whole mess had started, finally broke.

Wild, wracking sobs shook my shoulders and I tripped back against a chair caught in a full-blown body tremor. There was a strange tingling in my lips and the tips of my fingers, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t string together a coherent sentence. I just crumbled, tears pouring down my face, as Tristan stared at me like I was something not quite sane.

After a moment, when it became clear that I wasn’t going to get a handle on myself, he shook his head. Hedge funds, horses, and hysterical women, he muttered.

Despite my present condition, something about that sentence registered as strange.

Wh—what?

Things I can’t do. His voice cooled slightly and he got to his feet. Why don’t you take a bath and get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.

I was a little caught off guard by the change in his tone, but strangely enough, I was also relieved. It provided an edge. Some sharp lining for me to cling on to. Not to mention, at this moment, I didn’t think I could stand in a room and have a rational conversation with anyone, let alone a man like Tristan. I needed to regroup.

Taking a deep breath, I made a supreme effort and pulled myself together. That sounds wonderful, thank you, I said in a soft voice. Where should I...?

My eyes swept the balcony on the second level and he smiled. Taking my hand, he led me up the curving staircase to a long hallway lined with old portraits and art. My eyes flickered to our interlocked fingers, but I kept quiet. Tristan didn’t seem to think anything of it, and while I may or may not be at his mercy, I was certainly here at his hospitality. And I was determined to be as gracious a houseguest as he was a host.

I stifled a small gasp as I followed him into what he referred to as the guestroom. More like a guest palace. It had the same basic decorating scheme as the downstairs—pristine white dotted with items of ridiculous decadence—a huge four-poster bed in the center. My fingers grazed the soft turquoise comforter before I obediently followed on the rest of the tour.

I think you’ll find everything you need, he was saying.

I nodded, not asking about the closet full of women’s clothing. Sparkling gowns, little sundresses, slacks, overcoats, and shoes waited patiently for closer examination. The girl in me grinned, taking mental notes. Clearly, I was not the first woman to have stayed in this room.

The bathroom’s right through here. He pushed open a door, revealing another room the size of my apartment. A sparkling white tub stood in the center on golden clawed feet, and every lotion, oil, shampoo, and spa treatment I could imagine was lined neatly on the shelves.

If you can’t find something you require, just call down to the front desk and they’ll have it sent up. He stepped back, regarding me with sparkling eyes, though his speech was oddly formal. Goodnight, Miss Griffin.

I half expected him to shake my hand.

Goodnight... my