Cora's Secret: A Vampire Ménage Urban Fantasy Romance by Tracy Cooper-Posey Read Free Book Online Page A

are Elvish,” the dryad said, forcing Lindal to reassess her gender. Her voice was light, almost bodiless. Like the wind in the trees.
    “I am Elvish.”
    “I do not know any Elves.”
    “You’re a first for me, too.”
    “You speak as human.”
    “I have lived among humans—I have lived as human—for several years.”
    “You have not been discovered?”
    “I have friends who protect me.”
    “From the Grimoré.”
    Lindal drew in a sharp breath. “Yes,” he agreed, letting it out, but his heart was running heavily. “They’re here, aren’t they?”
    The dryad shifted on her toes, as if even contemplating the Grimoré was more than she could bear. “Their whelps are here.”
    “The Vampeen?”
    She nodded. “They grow here.”
    “They’re born here?” Lindal was startled.
    “They grow here. They only grow.”
    The dryad could speak English, but her vocabulary was limited. “Grow like trees,” Lindal interpreted. “They thrive here?”
    Again, the nod. “While their masters are elsewhere, they grow stronger and bigger.”
    “The Grimoré farm them out here to feed and grow stronger,” Lindal guessed.
    “Yes, feed. Feed .” She repeated the word fiercely, like it was exactly what she meant. Then distress seemed to erupt from her like radiation. Lindal could feel it and his heart lurched.
    “They feed on your kind?”
    “They feed…on all.” She looked at him, her expression sad. “You have the mark. You know them. You stop them.”
    “You can see a mark?”
    “Is here.” She touched her chest. “Here.” She patted her cheek and Lindal guessed she meant in his head. His heart and head had a mark that others could see. Others who were sensitive to their world. Well, that wasn’t a big surprise. Whatever forces had foreseen the coming of the Grimoré and orchestrated the prophecies had anticipated almost every need.
    “You need my help with the vampeen that move among your trees?” he asked.
    “We are faster.” She smiled in a way that seemed to be full of mischief. “Silent like trees.”
    The dryads out-ran the vampeen, who probably clomped through the trees like wild boar on a scent trail, ramming down anything that got in their way.
    She stepped closer, this time turning her body to face him and looked up at him. She wasn’t much shorter than him, but three of her could fit into the same space he was taking up. Her eyes were the same brown as her skin. “You. Me.” Her hand moved between them, the long fingers pointing to each of them in turn. “Together?”
    Lindal puzzled it out. “Friends?”
    “Together,” she repeated. Then her fingers shaped a circle. “Grove.”
    Together. Grove. A group of trees. “We’re on the same side,” Lindal told her. “I will help you if you tell me what you need.”
    “My friend. Go with you.”
    “A dryad?”
    She shook her head.
    “Someone not as fast as you?”
    A nod.
    “Someone the vampeen can reach?”
    Another nod, this one more vigorous. She held up her hand, above her head, the wrist bent so that her hand was flat, facing the sky. Then she called out something. Lindal couldn’t say for sure it was even a language. It didn’t seem to have any syllables.
    Then she smiled.
    A tiny creature appeared on her hand, settling onto the platform with a glitter of gossamer wings.
    Lindal stayed very still in case he startled it, his mind racing. The little lady walked to the edge of the dryad’s fingers and bent over from the waist to examine Lindal with big eyes. She was a human woman in perfect miniature, except for the wings that stirred on her back. Her long loose hair lifted at the movement of the wings. So did the very fine robe she wore, the hem fluttering. She was standing perfectly still, but she seemed to be in constant motion. She was barely two and a half inches high.
    “What is she?” Lindal spoke softly.
    “Ailill.”
    Lindal recognized the name. It was very old and very Irish. Ailill were elf-kind, except that no