Born in Twilight: Twilight Vows Read Free Page B

interest in him. He knew—had known since he was a boy—that he was different. His blood type was rare, shared with only a chosen few. The belladonna antigen made him a subject of study for these so-called scientists. The few, rare individuals with this blood type were the only mortals capable of being transformed. Being made over…becoming vampires. And every living vampire had claimed the belladonna antigen during their mortal lives.
    DPI, in their quest to learn all there was to know about the undead—and thus enable themselves to rid the world of them—often used live research subjects. But they’d had their chance with Jameson long ago, when he’d been just a boy. And they’d nearly killed him then. Would have, if not for his undead friends. Roland in particular. Still, they’d had their time with Jameson Bryant. Surely there was no more they could learn from him now.
    God, to think Tamara had once worked for these bastards! But she hadn’t known. She hadn’t known.
    Jameson didn’t know why every preternatural being on the planet didn’t band together and destroy DPI the way DPI was intent on destroying them. They didn’t deserve the constant harassment, the fear they were forced to live with due to this secretive government agency. Oh, certainly, there were evil ones among the undead. Just as there were among any race of beings. But for the most part, vampires were the best people Jameson had ever known. They’d taken him in when his mother had died. Practically raised him.
    Well, if Roland and Eric and the others wouldn’t raise a hand to bring this organization to ruin, Jameson would. It was time. Long past time.
    They had their “specimens” he’d heard them say. The experiment had been completed in record time, and now they could go on with phase two, whatever the hell that was. Well. They weren’t fools then. DPI knew from experience that Jameson Bryant’s friends were not the kind of people they wanted to tangle with. And now they would “dispose of the subject” before any of his undead protectors were the wiser.
    He pulled against the straps that held his arms and legs to the cold, metallic table. They had a surprise coming if they thought he’d go down without a fight. This might not be Jameson’s first involvement with DPI, but it would damned well be his last.
    One way or another.
    â€œJamey!”
    At the harsh whisper, Jameson turned his head as far as the restraints would allow. And then he swore, because Roland stood at his cell, bending the bars apart as if they were made of rubber.
    â€œWhat the hell are you doing here?”
    â€œWhat the hell do you think?” Roland stepped into the cell and easily tore through the straps that held Jameson pinned down. “Are you all right, Jamey?”
    â€œFine. And it’s Jameson now.” He sat up, jumped down from the table and faced down the man he loved like a father. A man who was centuries old, but who appeared not much older than Jameson was now. Though a bit paler skinned, and with eyes that gleamed a little brighter than a mere mortal’s would.
    Roland smiled. “I keep forgetting. Look at you. You dwarf me now.”
    â€œWhat you keep forgetting, Roland, is that I don’t want my friends risking their lives for me.”
    â€œIt would have been riskier to leave you to them,” Roland said, and he shrugged sheepishly. “Rhiannon would have fed me to her cat.”
    Jameson tried to hold on to his anger, but that was a useless effort. He could well imagine Roland’s mate, Rhiannon, threatening just that, and since her “cat” was no less than a panther, it was a threat not to be taken lightly. Not that she’d ever carry it out. She adored her husband.
    Jameson embraced Roland, who hugged him back just as fiercely. It had been a long time since they’d seen each other. Jameson had been leading a