Whisper to Me (Borne Vampires Book 1) Read Free Page A

Drawing in a lungful of pine-scented air, the demon
in him was quiet, something he’d not experienced in a long time. Whether it was
her blood or his near demise, he did not know, but was grateful for the
reprieve.
    Exhausted and sore, he needed to go to ground and
heal. Walking into the woods behind the cabin, the feeling he should stay close
to her struck him. It persisted enough he gave in and stopped. Within sight of
the cabin, he waved his hand and the dark, loamy soil parted, making a grave big
enough for him to sleep in.
    Floating down into the grave, a thought struck
him. What if she awakens as the Damned? Perhaps that was the reason for his
reluctance to leave her. It grieved him to think of her turning into a demon
vamp, especially after she had bravely saved his life.
    There was another matter bothering him. “How did you know where to find me, Mariah
Jordan?”

 
    ✝✝✝

 
    Running.
      She
was running, but she could still feel those terrible eyes on her. Desperate,
she summoned the darkness, hiding in the nothingness. Roaring his fury, the
sound deafening, he cursed her, furious at being denied her flesh and blood — her
soul!
    Loud banging on the door tore Mariah free the
clutches of the nightmare and sent Bear into a barking fit. Opening her eyes,
the bright sunlight sent splinters of excruciating pain shooting through her
skull. She ducked under the quilt.
    The pounding persisted, and so did Bear’s barking.
    Flipping back the quilts, she saw she was naked.
Why did she undress before she went to bed?
    The knocking continued.
    “Bear, be quiet.” Wincing, her throat sore, she
slipped on her green plaid robe and tied the belt secure around her waist as
she unsteadily made her way to the door.
    Opening it a crack, she saw a lanky, heavyset man,
who had his back to her. He wore a white cowboy hat, beige work shirt, and blue
jeans. Strapped at his right hip was a holstered gun. She stifled a groan.
    A cop. Great.
    “Can I help you?” she croaked out.
    He turned around to face her. Tipping the brim of
his hat in greeting, he casually rested his hand on the butt of his gun. “Sorry
to disturb you, ma’am, I’m Sheriff Orland Willard, and I need to ask you a few
questions, if yer up to it.”
      Opening the
door wider, she tried to smile at him. “Sure, what’s going?”
    “We’re conducting a door to door search, trying to
find an escape felon,” Sheriff Willard replied grimly.
    A gaunt, blond-haired man stood beside the
sheriff. Clean cut and wearing a black polyester suit, there was a sickeningly
sweet and sour odor emanating from him, reminding her of a landfill after a hot
day baking garbage. When she met his cold, lifeless, blood-shot eyes, she
couldn’t help comparing him to an animated corpse. He put his hand on the door and
shoved, entering her cabin.
    Salish growled and lunged at him, forcing him to
stumble backward into Sheriff Willard. Seizing her collar, she was stunned at
her wolf's uncharacteristic, aggressive reaction toward a human.
    “Sheriff, what's going on here? What happened last
night?”
    What the hell happened
last night, and why can’t I remember anything?
    Sheriff Willard pushed the man aside and shot him
a disgusted glare. “Sorry about Special Agent Murphy, here, he appears to lack
manners. As to your question, last night Murphy called in and said he lost his
prisoner, a convi —”
    Furious, Murphy interrupted him. “I told you,
Sheriff, the man jumped me and he escaped on foot. He’s around here. I just
know it.”
    “Calm down, Murphy, I meant no disrespect. Ma’am,
did you see or hear anything last night?”
    Bits and pieces of last night began to emerge. Fog
and fear. Hunters. Hunting what or who? Forcing herself to act casual, she
shrugged her shoulders. “Sorry, I didn't hear a thing. Heck, my dogs didn't bark
or even twitch an ear.” Where had she heard that same phrase before?
    “What's your name and occupation?” Murphy demanded
of