Chapter One
Tarni, 1988, Los Angeles
Feeling like a fool, and only partially due to the fact I’d worn stilettos that’d have me rubbing noses with a giraffe at the zoo, I, Tarni Vanderzee, cool, collected and very much on the rise to stardom, tried desperately to explain away my current situation by too much excess the night before and my inability as of late to curb my need to party until I drop.
I’m chained to a wall.
In a sex club.
It’s 2:00 AM and I have to pee.
That was the least of my worries, however, because the den master had returned, and he was holding the biggest vibrator I had ever seen...and he was grinning at me with the look of someone who intended to use is for a very long time. He obviously didn’t give a fig about my up-and-coming celebrity.
“Can we perhaps reschedule this?” I asked, knowing what the answer would be. My lack of utter self-preservation and zest for the thrill as of late had me forgetting it would be Master Rose tonight and not the more malleable Master Drake as my instructor. He I could usually cajole and tease out of a lengthy session. I was just thankful I didn’t have Mistress McKenna standing before me—nothing could sway that bitch from her sadistic pursuits.
Nothing.
God I loved that woman.
“I miss watching you debased and sullied when you orgasm and your bladder gives out. I’ve already lined up a sub to clean you off...with her tongue.”
That changed things for me in a hurry.
I’ve recently become a bit of a nymphomaniac. Being imprisoned by vampires does that to you.
I could go on and on about my current entrapment, the nightmares I’ve suffered asleep and awake ever since this new phase of my life started. But it’s a long, boring tale of woe. Suffice it to say, I’ve found myself at the mercy of a bunch of powerful fangsters and—much to my surprise—we have a common enemy. One we both wish to see toppled from his lofty pedestal.
Donald and Virginia Bartleby are ancient vampires— so old I think they’ve seen the Fall of the Roman Empire. Yes, that old. That they want to see the end of my father, one Torrent Danu, and watch his empire crumble to ruin, had us in an alliance of sorts. I say of sorts, because they have me on a short leash, not a prisoner per se, but with such a vested interest in who I am and how they can use me to get to my father, I am too essential to be allowed complete freedom—not while the game was in play.
And it was a game. All of it.
And Donald Bartleby intended to be the victor.
Which is why I wear his collar—not proudly, mind you. But content, for the moment, to remain shackled.
Why shouldn’t I profit from his need to see the end of his enemy? Especially since I covet the demise of my father just as much. After all, Donald is responsible for my current rise to fame, albeit a small one for now. While my father, for all intents and purposes, wants me dead...after I’m bred to one of his cronies and produce a male progeny.
Donald hopes to use me to trap my father and the men in his posse and destroy them. But for now, I am his musical Muse, the toast of Hollywood. The gossip rags love me. The new ingenue, an up-and-coming singer/songwriter who just completed creating an album to rock the world, a star tearing through space—leaving a trail of sycophants basking in the warm glow of my creativity. At least that is what Rolling Stone had to say about me.
And to think I don’t have one song out yet.
Publicity…gotta love it.
“Is she that petite redhead I spied when I arrived?” I asked, making sure to keep my eyes lowered and obedient.
Master Rose sighed and rolled his eyes. “Tarni, you do realize I am in the power position here, right? You pay me to train you to have discipline and self-control. You chose the role of submissive...I’m the Master. Subs do not ask questions.”
“Fine. But...is she the redhead?” I asked with a tiny grin. I then parted my lips and may have run bit my lower lip in anticipation.
“Yes.”
I sighed and purred, “Perfect. I think she’ll look delicious going down on me...um, sir.”
“You will never make it as a sub.”
“But I’m really, really trying...Master.”
“Yeah, and I’m a ballerina. Spread your legs and get ready to explode.”
And that was how my weekend started. It was early Friday morning...I had nothing but clubbing and parties to look forward to that night with a long boring afternoon of slumber in between. Ernie promised he’d have a new candy for me to try—candy being drugs. Ernie dealt in the best drugs in all of Los Angeles. He was one popular man with the Hollywood crowd. You wanted it? Ernie could get it for you—after all, his daddy was a pharmacist. His boyfriend, Parker Lovegood, cautioned me lately to ease up on dropping so much money on cocaine—Parker is my stockbroker—so I tended to listen to his advice. This new drug was cheaper—but purportedly packed a punch. Not that it would affect me much.
You see, being a dark witch and a siren, drugs don’t alter me the way they do humans. But I do love a good buzz, especially since it dulls the pain of...well, I’m not going there. Why should I bring up the sting of a lost love when I refuse to acknowledge he still exists?
Fine. Logan MacDuff.
There. I said it.
The man who I fell hard for and the man who abandoned me to the wolves—er, vampires—with barely a backward glance. I guess having a new heiress to bed made leaving me and my broken and shattered heart an easy thing to do. Perhaps he was just over the whole dark witch/siren phase and this new girlfriend of his was more to his liking—you know, not a paranormal being.
Even though I knew Logan was something different. What manner of Breed—what the paranormal world calls those who were collectively inhuman—vampires, witches, werewolves, and the like, was the question of the ages, however. For didn’t I see Logan lift Todd, yet another vampire, and one that was forcing himself on me, up with one hand and dangle him over my balcony railing? You had to be a fairly strong paranormal to be able to best a vampire.
I would know. I tried.
And failed.
The first two weeks of my new life under the constant scrutiny of my captors had me trying everything I could think of to defeat them and escape. Nothing ever worked. I was like a babe in the woods when it came to outmaneuvering the fanged beasts. Especially with a necklace of seemingly innocuous braided leather bound to me, my collar, which I could not remove no matter how persistently I tried. That slim choker gave my captors power to control my magic. What it contained to dull just enough of my abilities, thereby rendering my siren voice useless as a tool of attack, and the instructions on how to remove it, remained a mystery. But as long as it was on, I was theirs to lead on that short leash.
At first, I thought Todd would be the biggest problem facing me, considering our past—I staked him and buried him in Calabasas—I know, right? How was I supposed to know Donald was watching my every move and dug up the bastard a few days later? But after a few snide comments about Logan and his abandonment of me, Todd pretty much ignored my existence except to work in the studio on my music.
Donald and Virginia had proven more difficult when it came to me avoided their wrath. I spent many nights writhing in pain after suffering their retribution for any misbehavior on my part. And misbehave I did.
I just couldn’t seem to help myself. I liked acting out and causing them to suffer unending headaches due to my antics.
I’m not quite sure what had happened to that fairly innocent girl I was only a few months earlier, who’d run away from home to take on the world and become famous, but now, at the ripe old age of twenty-one, is a jaded woman. I’ve perfected the art of ennui, and the scowl of disinterested annoyance to the point men and women my age think me too intimidating to approach, let alone speak to.
Those I do deem worthy of my consideration find themselves unable to keep up with my frantic and effervescent party-going, my vivacious zest for adventure, and my ability to play relentlessly well into the early morning with nary a stop in my level of enthusiasm and pursuit of all things naughty.
Staying up all night kept the nightmares at bay.
Getting into all manner of trouble was an added bonus. One that irked my masters and gave me joy. I thrived in misbehaving.
Donald had to bail me out of jail twice already.
Who knew climbing the Governor’s Mansion in Sacramento and peering in the second story windows would cause such a brouhaha?
And apparently the California Highway Patrol doesn’t take kindly to a civilian joyriding in one of their patrol cars.
So that was my life lately. I’d go from my bed to the studio to work on my album, to dinner at some fancy hot spot, to the next big party like a seasoned pro. Several times a shopping trip would delay the festivities because I’ve become something of a clothing fiend...and with a seemingly bottomless bank account—thanks to Papa Donald. I took to it with the dedication of a breeding stallion to his mares. I spent Donald’s money as quickly as it hit my account and never considered slowing down. And why should I?
My second week in, I was sharing his bed with Virginia an eager participant to the depravity—and trust me, what Donald did to me was beyond any degeneracy Logan MacDuff threw my way. I decided right from the start I wouldn’t let anything destroy me, and I hardened an already growing irresolute heart with the titanium needed to keep me alive, thriving, and sane. Once I chose to survive, I enveloped my heart completely and let my mind take over.
What manifested and became my persona is the stuff of nightmares...and I don’t care.
The strange thing is, I believe this unique personality was always there, waiting to be set free. Maybe I am more of a dark witch than I ever believed. I’ve certainly embraced the darkness within.
So I joined the party set with abandon and always seem to find ways to get into the kind of trouble which caused Donald and Virginia to have their plethora of attorneys on speed dial, creating an entire division whose sole purpose was to spend the majority of their time working my publicity and making all my misbehavior and the resulting fallout disappear. They also hired bodyguards to keep not only the bad guys at bay, but me from burning the city down in the process, I guessed.
It wasn’t until they’d finally had enough of my shenanigans and sat me down to elucidate the reality of my situation that things had gone from bad to tolerable, and I had to give them a begrudging nod when it came to creative ways of getting my attention...and obedience.
I mean, how could I resist the offer to become a trained killer?
