The Nasty Vamp:The Dragos Clan 00

By: Gail Koger

Prologue





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All I wanted was to be a normal, ordinary girl whose biggest worry was what to wear to her twenty-first birthday party. I needed for a few hours to forget about my mother's murder and the monsters that inhabit the night. With all my heart I wished for a little romance, for a man who could make me forget the bloodshed and death. I longed for a prince charming who would sweep me off my feet and kiss me under the stars. Then fate kicked me in the teeth and granted my wish.

My perfect prince charming turned out to be a vampire. If I hadn't been so blasted drunk I might have noticed his fangs a bit sooner. Not when they were buried in my neck and the supernova of orgasms was tearing through me

I had given my virginity to Ian McGregor, an eight-hundred year old master vampire with magical abilities, who knew I would become a slayer on my twenty-first birthday. The bastard deliberately crashed the party, lured me to his bed and took my powers. Uncle Fester's timely intervention saved my life but my slayer powers were gone forever.

My dreams shattered and in a royal snit I tracked McGregor down and blew up a garage full of his expensive antique automobiles. Big mistake! Who knew a Highland warrior that had been turned way back in 1186 would be so rabid about his cars?

I certainly didn't need Uncle Fester's snarky comment that riling up a master vampire was about as smart as whacking on a hornet's nest with a stick. You're gonna get bit, repeatedly.

Uncle Fester dragged me to a creepy old witch and held me down while the bitch magically welded an Amalfi Medallion to my neck. I was now stuck with a freakin’ silver dog collar complete with spikes and weird carvings. The Amalfi would supposedly protect me from McGregor. What I really needed was something to protect me from Aunt Tessa.

After a two hour lecture on the stupidity of spreading my legs for a vampire, Aunt Tessa promptly shipped me off to the University of Alfred.

No. It's not a school for butlers. Aunt Tessa's eccentric and very dead husband had been a big Batman fan and he named the highly secretive school after the ever faithful Alfred.

My Aunt said it was the perfect place for me to put my talent for blowing stuff up to good use and the instructors would teach me some badly needed discipline.

Since I could no longer be a slayer, it was a good fit. Alfreds are weapons, explosives and surveillance experts.

My name is Ann Dragos but everyone calls me Bunny. My idiot, dead uncle stuck me with this swell nickname because I'm so itty-bitty, cute, and cuddly. Gag me. At least I wasn't named after a Disney character like my cousin.

My psychic abilities are the only reason I'm still breathing. My mom was forced to drink from a vampire when she was pregnant with me and that transfusion has given me some pretty nifty powers.

Powers the nasty vamp couldn't take away. I'm telepathic which lets me eavesdrop on all of McGregor's dirty little plans and stay a step ahead of him. My ace in the hole is I can't be mesmerized and forced to do their bidding. This allows me to get up close and personal with my Mister Pointy. Another gift is the ability to read auras and sense any supernatural beings within a mile of me.

Since vampires are freakishly fast, it gives me enough time to set up my booby traps and fry their asses.

McGregor placed a million dollar bounty on my head and three years later still actively hunts me. I guess I should quit blowing up his cars.





Chapter One





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The supernatural community considers Las Vegas an all-you-can-eat smorgasbord. It's stuffed with drunken idiots who truly believe what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Unfortunately, if you party with monsters you can expect to get chomped on. Protecting these morons is a full time job.

Perched on the rooftop of a parking garage I surveyed the street below me. A broken neon light bathed the bustling sidewalk with bright psychedelic flashes. My mouth tightened in irritation. Oh goody. Tonight the predators outnumbered the prey and once again Bambi was late. Her reason? She couldn't decide on what color of nail polish to use. I'm In The Mood For Love or Pretty In Pink? Like the monsters gave a crap.

My jaw dropped when I finally spotted her. Unfreakin’ believable. Bambi, the wannabe fashion queen, strutted down the walkway in a skintight, black leather cat suit. The plunging neckline barely contained her girls. Did I mention that she wears a D cup? Any sudden movement and those puppies were popping out. The vamps would probably enjoy the show right up to the point where they started gnawing on her neck.

To complete her “slayer” outfit the twit wore neon pink four-inch stilettos that were a perfect match to her Pretty In Pink nail polish. How in the hell did she expect to fight in those? Oh wait. She didn't.

My shoes? Steel-toed combat boots. My “slayer” outfit? A black Ninja suit complete with body armor and I was armed to the teeth; but I'd bet my last hundred dollars that Bambi was once again weaponless.

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