Roaring Dawn: Macey Book 3 (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 10) by Colleen Gleason Read Free Book Online

an undead, to be attracted to that enthralling loss of blood and control while in the throes of passion. To need it.
    Macey shivered, and her last bit of warmth and pleasure evaporated. She’d been fed upon by Nicholas Iscariot, and though she feared and loathed the vampire, she’d felt the base stirrings of lust mingling with the evil and darkness that came along with being enthralled.
    She couldn’t imagine how difficult it was for Chas.
    “That must’ve been some memory.”
    Temple’s voice jolted Macey back to The Silver Chalice and the glass sitting in front of her with the rosy-gold liqueur.
    She looked up to find her companion’s eyes on her, far too shrewd and knowing, and Macey took the opportunity to lift her glass and place a barrier between them while she sipped. Somehow the liqueur didn’t feel quite as warm and soothing as she remembered.
    “We got trapped in an alley with six vampires,” she explained. “It was a very intense few moments.”
    “That explains the mortar crumbles in your hair and the—er—condition of the back of your dress,” Temple said blandly.
    “Like I said…it was intense.”
    “You’re going to get hurt,” Temple told her, slamming her hand onto the pointy bottle stopper a little harder than necessary to shove it home. “Ouch.” She looked at her palm, then up at Macey. “Or he is.”
    “I’m already hurt,” Macey said flatly, and slid off her stool. Now she didn’t feel much of anything but weariness and apprehension. And cold. Empty cold.
    Even the hot, wild moments in the alley hadn’t changed that. The thing that frightened Macey the most was the fear that nothing ever would.
    She changed the subject again. “Did you see the paper last night? The evening edition?”
    Temple sobered. “Yes. Iscariot right on the damned front page. Have you been in touch with Wayren?”
    “No,” Macey said, then continued in a burst of frustration, “No, I haven’t heard a thing from her since that night…the first night we had this.” She lifted her glass with the special liqueur, then set it back down without drinking.
    “I’ve been studying the prophecies a bit more,” Temple said. “Going back further, and ahead a little more too. A bit of light reading, shall we say, before bedtime.” Her voice was flat and ironic. And maybe a little lonely.
    “And…?” Macey was hoping she’d say something finite and specific, like: And Chas is the dauntless one. Or, We were wrong—the root of malevolence doesn’t refer to Iscariot after all .
    Not that Macey thought for one minute there could be anyone more malevolent at the root than Judas Iscariot’s vampiric son.
    “And…I’ve come to no further conclusions. But I think it’s a mistake to rely too heavily on what the damned prophecies say, anyway, sister.”
    Macey nodded grimly. “I agree. The only reason we even know about it is because of Al Capone, and he was wrong anyway.”
    “It still tickles me, in a laughable way, that Capone thought he was the dauntless one’s other half.”
    Macey’s smile was grim. “But not that he thought I was the dauntless one.” She sighed. “Could he be right after all? About me?”
    “We’ve been through this. The dauntless one is a man, but either way, you don’t fit the description. You did not root from ‘the deepest bowels of madness and grief,’ sister. Your parents loved you and cared for you—”
    “Until Max Denton left me.” She found it difficult to refer to her father by anything but his formal name. “After my mother was mauled and torn to shreds. He sent me away.”
    Temple gave her a sympathetic look. “And look what you’ve done to Grady as well.”
    Macey gritted her teeth and sent her friend and mentor a very dark look. “At least he doesn’t remember me. I still remember my father.” She watched Temple, who was once again industriously drying glasses. “Regardless, I’m going to forget about the damned prophecy. I want to find out