Dark of the Moon - Amanda Ashley

Prologue

The dream came every day and it was always the same. And even as it unfolded, never changing, the man who had once been known as Jim Hewitt wished it was just that, nothing but a dream …

He had followed the vampire known as Ronan and the woman, Shannah, home, intent on destroying the one and rescuing the other. And he had come so close. Armed with a bottle of holy water and a sharp wooden stake, he had attacked Ronan as they arrived at his lair. The holy water had done its job, burning the vampire’s face, giving Hewitt the window of opportunity he needed to drive the stake into the vampire’s back. The scent of fresh hot blood wafted through the night.

He hollered at Shannah to run away while she could.

But Shannah didn’t run away. With a scream of rage, she grabbed him by the arm.

Startled, he glanced at her. “What are you doing?”

“Stopping you!” She yanked his hand away from the stake, her fingers curling around his wrist in an iron-like grip.

“Are you crazy?” Hewitt exclaimed. “He’s a vampire!”

“Yes!” she hissed, baring her fangs. “And so am I.”

Startled, he could only stare at her, and then he lashed out as fear and fury swept through him.

She laughed as he struggled in vain to free himself from her hold. And then she trapped his gaze with hers. “Stop fighting me,” she commanded.

Unable to resist the preternatural power in her voice, his arms fell limply to his sides. Helpless to move, he watched her drop to her knees beside Ronan and yank the stake from his back. A torrent of dark red blood flowed from the nasty wound.

And then the vampire sat up and uttered the most chilling words Jim Hewitt had ever heard.

“Bring him to me.”

The nightmare grew worse from that point on. Shannah released him from her spell and dragged him effortlessly toward the wounded vampire. Fear spiraled through Hewitt as he gazed into Ronan’s blood-red eyes.

“I warned you,” the vampire said. “You should have listened.”

Hewitt struggled in vain as Ronan sank his fangs into his throat. For a time, he seemed to be drifting between this world and the next. And then, as from far away, he heard the vampire’s voice.

“Listen to me. You have only a few minutes to make up your mind. Do you want to live or die?”

Hewitt stared up into the monster’s face. How could he be expected to make such a decision? He was a hunter. How could he choose between death or spending the rest of his existence as a vampire?

“Your time is running out,” Ronan said curtly. “Make your choice!”

“Live.” Hewitt forced the word from the depths of his soul. “I want … to live.”

With a feral cry, the vampire bit into his own wrist. “Then drink,” he said, and his voice was like sandpaper over steel.

Hewitt grimaced as dark red blood—vampire blood—dripped from the wound in Ronan’s wrist into his mouth. He choked down the first taste, hating what he was doing, hating the creature who had brought him to this.

And then, to his amazement, he latched onto Ronan’s arm with both hands, drinking eagerly, afraid the vampire would make him stop. How could something so repulsive taste so good?

“Damn you!” he cried hoarsely, and then he pulled the vampire’s wrist to his mouth again and took his first step into another life.

Chapter 1

The man who had once been Jim Hewitt jackknifed into a sitting position, the nightmare still vivid in his mind. Not for the first time, he wondered why he had been plagued with the same dream since he’d been turned. He was a vampire now and everyone knew that vampires slept like the dead. Yet the nightmare tormented him night after night.

Jim Hewitt had died that horrible night and the name he’d been born with had died with him. Changing his name had seemed like a wise decision for a number of reasons, but mainly because Jim Hewitt had been a vampire hunter who now preferred to remain incognito. He had considered several alternative names before deciding on Travis Black—Travis for the man who had fathered him. And Black for the monster who had turned him. It had been one of Ronan’s aliases. It seemed only fitting to take his vampire sire’s name, as well.

“Travis.” He murmured it out loud, wondering how long it would take before he answered to it automatically. Of course, it was a moot point at the moment, since he was the