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  A Vampire’s Thirst: Gunner

  Elaine Barris

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Contact Elaine

  Also by Elaine Barris

  All Rights Reserved

  A novel set in A Vampire’s Thirst World Created by A K Michaels ©

  © 2018 Elaine Barris

  No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author. You must not circulate this book in any format. Doing so constitutes copyright infringement. Thanks for respecting the rights of the author.

  Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictional manner. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Notice: This is an adult erotic paranormal romance with love scenes and mature situations.

  It is only intended for adult readers over the age of 18.

  Cover design by: Elaine Barris and Monica La Porta. All stock purchased.

  Edited by: Kitten K. Jackson, Kittie Kat Tales Editing

  Prologue

  Under the cover of the darkness of a moonless night, Gunner crept into the warehouse through an open window, navigating room after room, dodging boxes and maneuvering around pallets loaded with merchandise wrapped securely in plastic. His sources had told him that he would find what he had been searching for there—proof that someone in the upper echelons of The Directive was endeavoring to tear it apart from the inside out.

  When he leaped onto a tall stack, metal clattered, and he froze, staring ahead to see if anyone had discovered him. Voices murmured, too far away for him to discern the words being spoken even with his vampire hearing. As he waited, perched atop the wooden crates, all fell silent.

  Slipping soundlessly to the concrete floor, he ventured forward, towards the direction where the voices had come from. His eyesight was perfect in the void, and he stepped gingerly, aware that there were other supernaturals with his same abilities or better in the building.

  Then a woman’s terrified scream rang out.

  “Please! No!” she cried. “I don’t want to be a sacrifice! Please don’t kill me!”

  Gunner broke into a run, as he brought his pistol loaded with solid silver bullets out of his holster. They were guaranteed to bring down whatever kind of supe was in there, which was why The Directive issued them to their forces.

  When he burst into the space, forms with black hoods covering their faces fled at full speed. He fired a few rounds at their retreating figures, missing his targets.

  Without questioning whether to go after them or try to save the woman, he went to his knees in front of her. He tried to staunch the blood that was flowing freely from multiple deep slash wounds by placing his hands onto them. Red poured over his fingers from her jugulars and pooled on the floor from her femoral arteries. She had already lost so much of it that he knew she didn’t have enough left for him to try to turn her vampire or save her with his own essence.

  “What’s your name?” he said, as a crimson bubble emerged from between her lips. It popped, sending tiny specks of the red liquid to land on his face. “Who did this to you? What sacrifice?”

  She gave a final gasp, and the brightness in her eyes faded, dulling, as her life ended.

  Who is responsible for this? And why? What did she mean by ‘sacrifice’?

  Gently laying the woman’s nude body onto the floor, Gunner stood, looking around the room at its contents. Dozens of bodies lined the walls, and their distinct scent gave away their species—shifters. He also saw ash piles, the telltale signs of the deaths of vampires.

  Taking his phone from his pocket, he used its camera to snap pictures of the crime scene to document the evidence.

  “No! Help me! Someone, please!” A man came from the shadows, throwing himself to the ground in front of Gunner, as he hollered, “Don’t let him kill me, too!”

  “Stop!” Gunner shouted, training his weapon on the man. “Hands in the air! Now!”

  “Drop your weapon!” a voice yelled from the door. “You’re surrounded!”

  “I’ve got him covered!” Gunner shouted back. “The area is clear.”

  “Not him. You!”

  “Let me show you my ID,” he said, reaching into his jacket with his other hand. “I’m a regulator with The Directive, and I’m investigating this crime scene.”

  “You’ve got two fucking seconds before we start shooting!”

  “Okay,” Gunner said. He released his 9 mm, letting it fall to the ground, and then kicked it away. “I’m unarmed. You can stand down.”

  “We know exactly who you are,” the leader of District 7 said, as he strode into the room. “The question is, why have you done this, Gunner?”

  Straightening to his full height, but tipping his head in respect, he said, “How can you say that, Terrance? You know I didn’t do these things. I was following a lead to this location and found the woman dying.”

  “But what of the others?”

  Terrance waved his arms, gesturing to the bodies and ash.

  “That’s what I intend to find out, who the perpetrator is.”

  “He’s lying!” the other man said. “I’ll testify in court as to what I saw him do! He brought them here and killed them! He sliced her open and then grabbed me to do the same thing to me! Just look at him! He’s crazed with bloodlust! Thank the moon, you found me before he finished me off!”

  “What the hell’s going on? Who put you up to this?” Gunner thundered, as he began walking towards his accuser. “I work for The Directive! I didn’t murder anyone, and I didn’t assault you!”

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, considering your stellar service, but until we get to the bottom of this, I have no other choice. Gunner, you’re under arrest.”

  “You can’t be serious!” he shouted, turning to face him. “This is a setup! Can’t you see it?”

  “I’m bound by The Directive’s edicts, Gunner. You must be taken in.”

  Terrance gestured with his hands, and then two men, covered head to toe in black military gear, burst into the room, tackling Gunner to the floor. Pain laced through his flesh, as heavy silver handcuffs were clicked into place. One of the guys punched some buttons on a handheld device, sending an electrical current from the shackles into Gunner’s body. He writhed on the floor in agony, as he continued to declare his innocence.

  The men hauled him up, jostling h
im roughly between them.

  As they dragged him away, one of them grumbled, “Tell it to the judge, psycho.”

  Chapter 1

  “Prisoner 84971!”

  Gunner lifted his head from the musty yellow pillow on the cot where he was lying, leafing through a magazine that featured naked women on each page. Contraband like that could lead to a longer sentence, so he shoved it under the mattress, as he swung his feet onto the floor and sat on top of the hidden spank bank he planned to use later.

  He’d been inside for six months, a long time without feeling a woman’s touch. The last female he was intimate with was Reina, who had been his girlfriend before he was imprisoned. At the whisper of his being accused, she’d packed her things and run.

  “Yeah,” he replied, as Karl, the guard, came into view.

  Tapping the bars with thick silver cuffs, he said, “Hands.”

  “Why?” Gunner asked, standing, as he shoved his feet into the Directive-issued sneakers.

  They were beige, with black rubber soles, and had no laces, as if any of the supes would choose such useless things to harm each other.

  “You’ve got a visitor.”

  “Who is it?” Gunner asked, placing his hands in the slot.

  Karl clicked the metal around his wrists, and the smell of burning flesh wafted into the air.

  Neither the odor nor the pain registered to Gunner anymore. Around that place, there seemed to be a constant disgusting scent of one type or another.

  The cuffs would have been heavy to a human, at around twenty pounds each, but it wasn’t the weight that hampered Gunner’s ability to break them. It was the high-grade silver with which they’d been formed that was causing strips of his skin to fall from the areas where the metal touched him.

  “You’ll find out when you get there,” Karl said.

  Gunner withdrew his arms and waited, while Karl pressed a button on his shoulder and said, “Got him. Coming out.”

  “Wait for your partner, Officer Landa.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Then another grizzled-looking guard approached with the remaining irons to shackle Gunner. The guy placed locks around his ankles that had a short chain to link them together. Lastly, they were clipped to the handcuffs.

  “Ready.”

  With shuffling steps, Gunner was led down the hallway, passing dozens of other cells, each with at least one prisoner. The number of men inside them was dependent on the severity of the crimes they had committed. The more violent, the more isolated they were from the general population.

  As far as Gunner was concerned, it was good to not have to share the small place he had to call home night after night with someone else. The quarters were cramped enough, without having another man in there, too.

  Tormented by what he’d been accused of, how he’d been tricked, Gunner had vowed to clear his name. While he made his short steps, he recalled all the blood around and on him that night. He thought of the bodies and how the photos of which he’d taken at the crime scene had been referred to as his trophies. His protests of innocence had fallen on deaf ears, and ultimately, the judge had told him he should be grateful for the 500-year sentence, rather than death by fire or beheading. He had said that the lenience was being given to him in recognition of his otherwise commendable service with The Directive. At the thought of another month in that place—much less centuries—he wondered if the flames might have been preferable.

  As he walked, Gunner reflected on how low he’d fallen. He was once a well-respected regulator with The Directive, on target for a promotion, but mere weeks after that one fateful night, he was incarcerated amongst those he’d brought to justice.

  Up ahead, another steel door opened, and Gunner saw his attorney and closest friend Blaine surrounded by stacks of papers. As he neared, Blaine’s head snapped up, and he stood, thrusting his hand out, giving Gunner’s a hearty shake.

  Neither spoke until the shackles were attached to a horizontal beam secured to the floor, and the guards went to the observation post.

  “Nice to see you, Blaine. Not sure why you’re here, though.”

  “I have news,” he said, keeping his voice low.

  Gunner leaned closer.

  “Go on.”

  “Jana Noskova has agreed to meet with me regarding your case.”

  Stunned, Gunner sat back in his chair.

  “Why now?”

  “I’m not sure, but I don’t care. She’s rejected my petitions to review your situation in the past,” he replied, motioning to the papers on the table, “but she’s the one who initiated contact this time.”

  “There’s a chance I might get out?”

  “Don’t get your hopes up, but maybe.”

  “When is this sit-down supposed to happen?”

  “Next week. I’m waiting for finalization of the location.”

  “It isn’t gonna be here, where I can take part?”

  “No. She specifically said that you aren’t to attend.”

  “Why? Who can present the facts better than me?”

  “I suspect that, dependent on the outcome of our conference, she’ll schedule another with you… with me present as your legal counsel.”

  “Blaine! You can’t let me down! You’ve gotta get me out of this hellhole!”

  “I’m going to use all the powers of persuasion I have, my friend.”

  Chapter 2

  A week later

  Jana Noskova twirled a pen in her fingers, as she scanned the reports she’d been given. Most of them were standard, not requiring much of her time to review other than a cursory glance. But the one from District 7 was late again, like it had been for the past six months. Whereas before, she’d blamed the delay on the learning curve of a new commissioner, she wasn’t as certain anymore.

  The prior officer in charge had been killed in a freak accident, and though his replacement was a bit of an unknown, Serge Thompson was qualified enough to be selected by Magno. She’d seen his stamp on the orders when they crossed her desk.

  In her opinion, Serge had shown himself to be unreliable, and she had decided that if the excuses continued, she was going to bring it to Magno’s attention. She wasn’t one to accuse a sworn officer of lying, but there had to be other reasons why something so simple had continuously failed to be submitted in a timely fashion.

  Picking up her phone, she punched in the number she’d memorized. The line connected, and then it rang… and rang. Instead of Serge answering, his voicemail did, and after the beep, she left her message.

  “Officer Thompson, this is Jana Noskova once again, calling to ask why your office has not submitted report O28. I expect your return call and the report ASAP.”

  Placing the receiver back on the base, she wondered what was so difficult about maintaining records of supes in their custody. Then she heard a knock on the door.

  “Enter.”

  “Blaine Batiste is here to see you, Jana.”

  She glanced at her wristwatch and said, “Good. Bring him in.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  A moment later, her secretary ushered him into her office, and she stood and gestured to the chairs in front of her desk.

  “Thank you,” he said to the back of the man who had brought him in, and then he looked at Jana. “And Ms. Noskova, thank you very much for arranging this meeting.”

  “Have a seat, Mr. Batiste.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Blaine said, as he took a chair.

  “Let’s get right down to business. You have to understand that The Directive receives multitudes of entreaties for clemency.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “But those that you sent in…. You see, I’ve only recently reviewed them.”

  “Okay.”

  “Your client Gunner Mead isn’t a typical criminal. He was rising through our ranks quickly. What do you think drove him off the deep end and made him do what he did?”

  “Nothing. He’s innocent. He was framed.”

 
She sighed, “Typical excuse. Try again.”

  “Ma’am, if you would, please hear me out before passing judgment.”

  Rolling her wrist for him to continue, she waited, wondering what story he might weave that could possibly warrant her time, much less her pity.

  As she listened to Blaine, her attention was soon rapt, and she was hanging on every word he said. He’d come armed with times, charts, anything needed to pinpoint each unknown actor’s role in a grand scheme.

  When he finished, he said, “If we’re right, you’ve got a network of traitors within your ranks. Gunner was onto them, close to exposing the entire operation, and they set him up.”

  “Why not kill him?”

  “What would be worse for a dedicated officer, death or humiliation?”

  Jana nodded.

  “I take it, there’s a summary of facts here that I can present to Magno?”

  “Yes, let me find it for you,” Blaine said, shuffling through his papers. “Here it is.”

  “What part of the country was he assigned to?”

  “District 7.”

  Her eyes went to slits at his answer, and she couldn’t ignore something needling her, telling her that Gunner was a lynchpin in whatever was going on. She punched a button on her phone and called her secretary back into the room. He entered with an expectant look.

  “Preston, get your laptop and come back. We’re going to draw up probationary papers for Gunner Mead. What’s his prisoner number?”