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  Teased

  A Dark Protectors Novella

  By Rebecca Zanetti

  1001 Dark Nights

  Teased

  A Dark Protectors Novella

  By Rebecca Zanetti

  Copyright 2015 Rebecca Zanetti

  ISBN: 978-1-940887-72-2

  Foreword: Copyright 2014 M. J. Rose

  Published by Evil Eye Concepts, Incorporated

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  TEASED

  A Dark Protectors Novella

  By Rebecca Zanetti

  The Hunter

  For almost a century, the Realm’s most deadly assassin, Chalton Reese, has left war and death in the past, turning instead to strategy, reason, and technology. His fingers, still stained with blood, now protect with a keyboard instead of a weapon. Until the vampire king sends him on one more mission; to hunt down a human female with the knowledge to destroy the Realm. A woman with eyes like emeralds, a brain to match his own, and a passion that might destroy them both—if the enemy on their heels doesn’t do so first.

  The Hunted

  Olivia Roberts has foregone relationships with wimpy metro-sexuals in favor of pursuing a good story, bound and determined to uncover the truth, any truth. When her instincts start humming about missing proprietary information, she has no idea her search for a story will lead her to a ripped, sexy, and dangerous male beyond any human man. Setting aside the unbelievable fact that he’s a vampire and she’s his prey, she discovers that trusting him is the only chance they have to survive the danger stalking them both.

  ABOUT REBECCA ZANETTI

  Rebecca Zanetti is the author of over twenty-five dark paranormals, romantic suspense, and contemporary romances, and her books have appeared multiple times on the New York Times, USA Today, and Amazon bestseller lists. She has received a Publisher’s Weekly Starred Review for Wicked Edge, Romantic Times Reviewer Choice Nominations for Forgotten Sins and Sweet Revenge, and RT Top Picks for several of her novels. She believes strongly in luck, karma, and working her butt off…and she thinks one of the best things about being an author, unlike the lawyer she used to be, is that she can let the crazy out. Her current series are: The Scorpius Syndrome, The Dark Protectors, The Realm Enforcers, The Sin Brothers, and The Lost Bastards. Find Rebecca at: www.rebeccazanetti.com

  ALSO FROM REBECCA ZANETTI

  Click to purchase

  SCORPIUS SYNDROME SERIES

  Scorpius Rising

  Mercury Striking

  Shadow Falling

  Justice Ascending

  DARK PROTECTORS

  Fated

  Claimed

  Tempted

  Hunted

  Consumed

  Provoked

  Twisted

  Shadowed

  Tamed

  Marked

  REALM ENFORCERS

  Wicked Ride

  Wicked Edge

  Wicked Burn

  Wicked Kiss

  Wicked Bite

  SIN BROTHERS

  Forgotten Sins

  Sweet Revenge

  Blind Faith

  Total Surrender

  Maverick Montana Cowboys

  Against the Wall

  Under the Covers

  Rising Assets

  Over the Top

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I am truly thrilled to be included with the amazing authors in the 1001 Dark Nights group! Liz Berry combined a love of reading and a brilliance for business in this exciting venture, and I’m excited to be part of the fun. I’m also honored to call her a friend, and I can’t thank her enough for the good talks, ingenious ideas, and phenomenal work. Thank you also to MJ Rose, Kimberly Guidroz, and Pam Jamison for their dedication and awesome insights. A huge shout-out goes to Jillian Stein, the most amazing social media manager in the world, and the woman who has greatly reduced my stress level. Thanks also to Asha Hossain, who creates absolutely fantastic book covers.

  Next I need to thank Alicia Condon and Kensington Publishing for helping me create and grow the Dark Protector world and fan base, as well as for being so supportive with my branching out a little with the series. My next shout-out goes to Caitlin Blasdell and Liza Dawson, my insightful and very hard working agents, whom I appreciate so much.

  As always, a big and heartfelt thank you goes to Big Tone, my own six-and-a-half feet tall grumpy badass Alpha male. The man takes care of things, even during a recent unexpected natural disaster, and I can’t express how secure this makes me. Thanks also to Gabe and Karly, our terrific kids, who definitely keep things interesting, and who I love dearly.

  Finally, thank you to Rebecca’s Rebels, my Facebook street team, who have been so generous with their time and friendship. And last, but not least, thank you to all of my readers who spend time with my characters.

  ~ RAZ

  Sign up for the 1001 Dark Nights Newsletter and be entered to win a Tiffany Key necklace.

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  Click here to subscribe.

  As a bonus, all subscribers will receive a free

  1001 Dark Nights story

  The First Night

  by Lexi Blake & M.J. Rose

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Book Description

  About Rebecca Zanetti

  Also by Rebecca Zanetti

  Author Acknowledgments

  Foreword

  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

  Also From 1001 Dark Nights

  Tricked by Rebecca Zanetti

  An excerpt from Mercury Striking by Rebecca Zanetti

  Rising Storm

  Special Thanks

  One Thousand And One Dark Nights

  Once upon a time, in the future…

  I was a student fascinated with stories and learning.

  I studied philosophy, poetry, history, the occult, and the art and science of love and magic. I had a vast library at my father’s home and collected thousands of volumes of fantastic tales.

  I learned all about ancient races and bygone

  times. About myths and legends and dreams of all people through the millennium. And the more I read the stronger my imagination grew until I discovered that I was able to travel into the stories... to actually become part of them.

  I wish I could say that I listened to my teacher and respected my gift, as I ought to have. If I had, I would not be telling you this tale now.

  But I was foolhardy and confused, showing off

  with bravery.

  One afternoon, curious about the myth of the

  Arabian Nights, I traveled back to ancient Persia to see for myself if it was true that every day Shahryar (Persian: شهریار, “king”) married a new virgin, and then sent yesterday’s wife to be beheaded. It was written and I had read, that by the time he met Scheherazade, the vizier’s daughter, he’d killed one thousand women.

  Something went wrong with my efforts. I arrived in the midst of the story and somehow exchanged places with Scheherazade – a phenomen
a that had never occurred before and that still to this day, I cannot explain.

  Now I am trapped in that ancient past. I have

  taken on Scheherazade’s life and the only way I can protect myself and stay alive is to do what she did to protect herself and stay alive.

  Every night the King calls for me and listens as I spin tales.

  And when the evening ends and dawn breaks, I stop at a point that leaves him breathless and yearning for more.

  And so the King spares my life for one more day, so that he might hear the rest of my dark tale.

  As soon as I finish a story... I begin a new

  one... like the one that you, dear reader, have before you now.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Chalton Reese stepped smoothly around several women wearing Christmas garlands in lieu of clothing, ignoring their outstretched pamphlets. New York winter was setting in, and the wind was attacking the garlands, revealing way too much flesh. Street vendors hawked theater tickets to his left, and fluffy creatures from children books mingled to the right, trying to get tourists to pay for photographs.

  Massive blinking billboards showing holiday sales bombarded him from all sides in a sensory overload that slapped him with an instant migraine.

  He hadn’t been in Times Square for nearly six decades, and that wasn’t long enough. Not even close.

  Yet the woman he followed hummed quietly beneath her breath, winding through the throng, a definite hop in her step. She had to be truly crazy to enjoy the crowd milling around.

  He barely tolerated crazy, and he hated crowds. What he wouldn’t give to be in his secluded computer control room deep in the Idaho mountains. But no. When the king of the Realm ordered a vampire on a mission, a vamp went on a mission. Even if that guy hadn’t been on a mission in a century.

  He hadn’t been away from his computers for decades. Like most vampires, he employed logic and order...and couldn’t for the life of him figure out why Dage had sent him on this mission. But the king always had reasons, and he usually kept them close to his vest.

  Chalton stepped over a pile of what appeared to be chilidogs and hastened his step to keep the woman in sight. Olivia Roberts. A no-nonsense name with just a bit of softness. Unlike the woman. She was all soft and curves. Deep brown hair, light green eyes, and a figure that could literally stop a trolley cart.

  He’d always liked curvy, and the beauty in front of him was overflowing with curves. Once again, he frowned, and a hot dog vendor jumped out of his way, fear sizzling from him. Chalton shook his head and tried to force his face into harmless lines. The last mission he’d been on had involved firing from a distance. Most of his missions had included guns, shooting, and death. But he’d given up the life of an assassin to become a computer geek.

  Yet here he was in bone-chilling cold, surrounded by cement and glass, chasing a woman who filled out her blue parka like he’d drawn her on a notepad. Perfectly.

  She clip-clopped on surprisingly high-heeled boots down a cross street, easily winding between people and stepping too close to moving vehicles. He calmly followed her, pleased to be finally getting somewhere. After watching her for two days just write news articles in her apartment, he’d started to wonder if she’d ever meet her mysterious source in person. He needed to find out who was feeding her information.

  A dark van pulled up next to her, its windows blackened out. The side door slid open.

  Hell. Chalton burst into a run.

  A man wearing a ski mask reached out, yanked her inside, and shut the door before she could let out a scream. The van jerked to the right, horn honking, inching through the traffic.

  Chalton reached it and grabbed for the door handle. Metal scratched his palm and cut deep. Bugger. It was locked. The rusty metal ripped away from the door, and he threw it to the ground.

  The van veered away from him, hopped the opposite curb, and careened down the sidewalk. Bystanders yelled and jumped out of the way, spraying snow. A display of holiday T-shirts flew up in the air and crashed down in the middle of the street. The van continued on, horn blaring. Chalton jumped over a downed bicycle and ran after the careening vehicle, measuring the distance between it and the four-way stop up ahead along with the probability of an accident if the driver ran a red light.

  He calculated the timing of the street light signals, catching view of a yellow light up ahead. Yep. It’d be red soon, and the van would run it. The woman probably wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. The van was older and weighed around six thousand pounds. It’d withstand an accident, but without a seatbelt, Olivia might get injured. He couldn’t let her get injured before he discovered her source.

  Besides, after keeping an eye on her for a few days, he felt an odd sense of responsibility for her. The pretty brunette wouldn’t become harmed on his watch.

  The van scraped against a brick building and sparks flew. People scrambled out of the way, throwing purses and shopping bags, dodging into the street. Horns blared, and vehicles screeched to stops.

  He kept his heart rate slow and his mind sharp, maneuvering around frantic people while keeping pace with the van. Two cabs collided in front of the van, careening through ice, no doubt trying to get out of the way. The driver of the van hit the brakes, but it was going too fast and impacted the yellow taxis with a loud crunch of metal on metal.

  One taxi driver jumped out of his cab, swearing loudly and rounding his car.

  Chalton ran in front of the guy and grabbed for the van driver’s front door. Locked. The window was shaded so heavily he couldn’t see in, but the hair on the back of his neck rose. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in the cross hairs of a gun.

  A muffled scream came from inside. Olivia.

  He jumped up on the hood of the van, ignoring the hiss of steam coming from the engine. The front window was dark but not as dark as the sides. A shorter man sat in the driver’s seat with a SIG pointed straight at Chalton.

  Panic threatened to consume her, so she struck out. Olivia struggled against her captor and yanked off his ski mask, her nails scraping down his face.

  “Bitch,” he yelped, slapping her across the cheek.

  Pain exploded beneath her cheekbone. Her ears rang and she scrambled away from him. Sirens sounded in the distance, giving her hope. She leaned to the side to see the driver of the van pointing a gun out the front windshield.

  A man crouched on the hood, gaze on the gun.

  She shivered.

  No fear showed on the guy’s hard-cut face. No emotion whatsoever. Black eyes seemed merely curious as he and the driver played some weird game of chicken. But she could almost feel the driver’s stress and could definitely smell his body odor.

  “Um, there’s nowhere to go,” she whispered as the trill of sirens came closer.

  The guy in the backseat reached over and grabbed her hair, pulling back her head. Pain lanced down her scalp, and she hissed. “What do you want with me?” she muttered.

  “Who’s your source?” the driver asked.

  She blinked. Her source? Chills cascaded down her back. “I don’t know.”

  The hand in her hair yanked, and she cried out, her eyes watering from the pain.

  The man outside the car switched his gaze to her, and she felt the impact of those eyes through her entire body. He lifted an eyebrow.

  What the hell? He had a gun pointed at him, there was pandemonium all around, and he seemed mildly interested. Who was the bystander? Was he some undercover cop?

  “Shoot him,” the guy holding her ordered.

  Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to yell a warning. Before she could get out a sound, the guy on the hood punched through the glass. Shards sprayed along with red. Blood.

  She screamed and tried to duck away from flying glass.

  The punch was so powerful the guy kept coming, one hand swiping the gun out of the way and the other snaking around the driver’s neck. The driver screamed and wrapped both hands around the guy’s arm, flopping like a beached fis
h.

  Olivia yanked her head free, turned, and plowed her fist into the other guy’s nose. Cartilage crunched. He howled and grabbed his face, fury darkening his eyes. She scrambled back, reaching for the door handle and kicking out. Her boot tip caught the guy under the chin, throwing back his head.

  Her fingers scrambled along the handle and she jerked, sliding the door open and falling backward. Her arms flailing, she managed to kick her kidnapper once again as he lunged for her before her ass hit the pavement. Water from a puddle splashed over her legs.

  Pain vibrated up her spine.

  Her mind fuzzing and her heart beating so fast her throat clogged, she scampered to her feet and stumbled away from the van. The guy she’d kicked shoved free just in time for the blond guy to finish with the driver, grab the doorjamb, and swing his legs around. Both knees clamped onto the guy’s neck and twisted, throwing him to land on the snow covered pavement.

  Olivia stilled, her gaze meeting her savior’s as he landed on his feet, facing her.

  Except he didn’t look like a savior. Standing next to the van, his size became apparent. Well over six-feet tall, muscled and tight, with blond hair tied at the nape, he looked like an avenging...what? Not an angel. Definitely not an angel. He wore black slacks and an expensive looking button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. One arm dripped blood from deep scratches, and he didn’t seem to notice.

  The crowd milled around, some passing by, some glancing into the van.

  But nobody existed except for the man. His face was an intriguing blend of hard angles: prominent jawline, slashes for cheekbones, high brows. Handsome in a too-sharp-to-be-real look. But those eyes...intelligent and knowing.