A Vampire’s Mate – Dark Protectors Read Online Rebecca Zanetti

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Novella, Paranormal, Suspense, Vampires Tags Authors: Rebecca Zanetti Advertisement1

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There’s nothing Jasper Maxwell likes better than a good chase. He is patient and cunning, and he is known as one of the coldest hunters in the immortal realm. As a vampire with a hint of demon blood in him, he stands out even amongst the finest trackers in the shifter world. So the fact that his mate has managed to escape him for the past five decades is something that keeps him intrigued and more obsessed with every passing year. The game is beyond delicious until a century old enemy resurfaces, putting his sweet little mate in danger. At that point, he has no choice but to secure her.

Leah Ferry enjoys immortality almost as much as she thrills at the cat and mouse game she’s playing with the Maxwell hunter. Once human, she figured she’d live her life wearing pearls and vacuuming in pressed dresses only to be thrown into the immortal world where freedom is intoxicating. On a mission to take down degenerate humans and make them pay, things go wrong, so per her usual arrangement, she starts to run. But this time, her sexy and deadly vampire mate stands in her way. She quickly learns that the sensual chase between them was nothing compared to the real danger coming for her.

Every 1001 Dark Nights novella is a standalone story. For new readers, it’s an introduction to an author’s world. And for fans, it’s a bonus book in the author’s series. We hope you'll enjoy each one as much as we do.

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One Thousand and One Dark Nights

Once upon a time, in the future…

I was a student fascinated with stories and learning.

I studied philosophy, poetry, history, the occult, and

the art and science of love and magic. I had a vast

library at my father’s home and collected thousands

of volumes of fantastic tales.

I learned all about ancient races and bygone

times. About myths and legends and dreams of all

people through the millennium. And the more I read

the stronger my imagination grew until I discovered

that I was able to travel into the stories... to actually

become part of them.

I wish I could say that I listened to my teacher

and respected my gift, as I ought to have. If I had, I

would not be telling you this tale now.

But I was foolhardy and confused, showing off

with bravery.

One afternoon, curious about the myth of the

Arabian Nights, I traveled back to ancient Persia to

see for myself if it was true that every day Shahryar

(Persian: شهريار, “king”) married a new virgin, and then

sent yesterday's wife to be beheaded. It was written

and I had read that by the time he met Scheherazade,

the vizier's daughter, he’d killed one thousand

women.

Something went wrong with my efforts. I arrived

in the midst of the story and somehow exchanged

places with Scheherazade – a phenomena that had

never occurred before and that still to this day, I

cannot explain.

Now I am trapped in that ancient past. I have

taken on Scheherazade’s life and the only way I can

protect myself and stay alive is to do what she did to

protect herself and stay alive.

Every night the King calls for me and listens as I spin tales.

And when the evening ends and dawn breaks, I stop at a

point that leaves him breathless and yearning for more.

And so the King spares my life for one more day, so that

he might hear the rest of my dark tale.

As soon as I finish a story... I begin a new

one... like the one that you, dear reader, have before

you now.

Dedication:

This one is for the dreamers who see a shadow pass overhead and believe, just for an instant, that it might be dragons, not birds. You know who you are.

Prologue

1944

Her body shaking and her nose so cold she could barely feel the brutal wind, Leah tugged the metal straps from her back pocket to attach the Composition C explosives to the bridge’s central supports, her knees tight against the frozen metal as freezing flakes drifted down to cover her shoulders. Gulping, she edged her way down the abutment, careful to avoid looking at the frozen ground below. While she lacked a fear of heights, she had a very healthy terror of death. If she fell from this distance, she’d be lucky if she broke her neck and the end arrived quickly.

Her high-waisted, wool trousers kept her legs warm, and she’d tucked the silly, flared bottoms into men’s combat boots. An old military friend had loaned them to her, and if she wore three pairs of socks, they almost fit.

Finally, her body barely functioning, she reached the bottom of the support beam and dropped to the ground, ducking her head against the storm as she ran toward a forested area below the bridge.

John and Peter were still installing their explosives and would follow soon.

A rumble echoed, and she paused. “What in the world?” Fear grabbed her around the throat, and she turned just as the universe silenced. The explosion was thundering, and she screamed, but the blast picked her up and threw her yards into the forest, where she hit a tree.


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