Last Blood

mean it.”

“Okay,” she said with an appreciative smile. She squeezed his hand, then nodded to Jerem and began to make her way through the rows of headstones.

Mal leaned against the car and watched her go. The prickle of the hallowed ground scratched at his bones and made the little hairs on his skin stand up, but it was a tiny price to pay to accompany his wife-to-be to see her mother.

What would Maris think if she knew her precious daughter was about to marry a vampire? And not just any vampire, but a vampire who’d gotten a child on her? His gut told him she wouldn’t like it.

Jerem hung back a row as Chrysabelle kneeled at Maris’s grave. The wind carried a few of her soft words to Mal’s ears. “Love… marry… baby.”

He tipped his head back and studied the clouded night sky. Here and there a star shone through, but otherwise the heavens were closed off to him. Centuries ago, he might have taken that as a bad omen. Hell, even now it seemed like some kind of sign.

Maris, if you’re up there, you have to know I love her. And the child she’s carrying. I know I’m not the man you would have chosen for Chrysabelle. I know this isn’t the life you wanted her to have, but I’m not leaving her. Ever. I also know I don’t deserve her any more than I deserve this second chance, but I’m not going to waste it.

If you could have gotten to know me… He shook his head. This was stupid, talking to a woman who wasn’t there. Who probably would have done everything in her power to keep him away from her daughter. Including trying to stake him.

He lifted his eyes to the sky again. I will protect them with everything I have until the end of my days. I promise you that.

Thunder rumbled, long and hard enough to shake the car. Lightning shattered the Western horizon but the rain held off. The corners of his mouth turned up with a hint of a smile.

Chrysabelle came jogging back. “I think it’s about to pour.”

“Did you say everything you wanted to?”

She nodded, but her eyes were sad. “I wish she was still here.”

“Me, too.”

Surprise replaced the sorrow. “You do? Even though you know she probably wouldn’t have liked you very much.”

“I could have changed her mind.” He reached for the car door.

Thunder rumbled over their heads. She glanced at the sky. “There’s a storm coming.”

He nodded, his gaze traveling to her belly. “There always will be. And just like always, we’ll weather it.” He opened the car door just as the first fat drops of rain pelted them.

She slid into the car, but he hesitated, flicking his gaze skyward once again. No matter what Maris thought, no matter who came after them, no matter what price he had to pay, he would keep Chrysabelle and his child safe.

It wasn’t a question of if. Trouble would find them again. And until it did, he’d be waiting. Watching. Prepared to fight. Ready to protect.

From this day forward, last blood would always be his.

Always.

The End

Acknowledgments

Writing never gets easier. There are good days and there are tough days; both are hard, but on either kind of day, my support system never fails me. All those who’ve helped me in some way deserve thanks. My apologies for those I’ve forgotten to mention, please forgive me.

To begin with, I want to thank my Creator for the blessings He’s given me.

This series wouldn’t have happened without my amazing, supportive agent, Elaine. She’s the reason many of the great things in my writing life happen.

Big ups to my editor, Devi, for pushing me to delve deeper into the madness I put on the page and to her assistant, Susan, for always being there to answer my questions. You both rock, as does the entire publishing team at Orbit, including Alex, Ellen, Laura, and Lauren.

I have to also give a shout-out to Nekro, the amazing talent behind the art for these covers. I could not be more indebted for your work on them.

Massive thanks to the Writer’s Camp chicks, Laura and Leigh, for their support, their friendship, and their ability to yell at me with kindness when I’m shopping online instead of writing. To Rocki and Louisa, whose friendship gets me through each day and every trial.

To all my readers, you guys are awesome and the reason I do this!

Lastly, tremendous thanks to my parents and my brother for their continuous support and to my husband for being my number one fan. I couldn’t do this without you. 

meet the author

KRISTEN PAINTER’S writing resume boasts multiple Golden Heart nominations and praise from a handful of best-selling authors, including Gena Showalter and Roxanne St. Claire. A former New Yorker now living in Florida, Kristen has a wealth of fascinating experiences from which to flavor her stories, including time spent working in fashion for Christian Dior and as a maitre’d for Wolfgang Puck. Her website is at kristenpainter.com and on twitter as @Kristen_Painter.

introducing If you enjoyed OUT FOR BLOOD, look for RED-HEADED STEPCHILD Sabina Kane: Book One by Jaye Wells

Sabina Kane is half-mage, half-vampire and all attitude. Despite her red-headed stepchild status in the vampire community, she remains loyal to the vampire leaders who raised her to be an assassin.

When a routine mission uncovers startling secrets that could destroy the uneasy truce between vampires and mages, Sabina must find a way to prevent an all-out war. Helping Sabina navigate this treacherous world are a high-maintenance hairless cat demon, a prognosticating nymph who used to work in faery porn, and a mysterious mage with an agenda…

Digging graves is hell on a manicure, but I was taught good vampires clean up after every meal. So I ignored the chipped onyx polish. I ignored the dirt caked under my nails. I ignored my palms, rubbed raw and blistering. And when a snapping twig announced David’s arrival, I ignored him too.

He said nothing, just stood off behind a thicket of trees waiting for me to acknowledge him. Despite his silence, I could feel hot waves of disapproval flying in my direction.

At last, the final scoop of earth fell onto the grave. Stalling, I leaned on the shovel handle and restored order to my hair. Next I brushed flecks of dirt from my cashmere sweater. Not the first choice of digging attire for