Cross Your Heart: A Broken Heart Novel Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  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

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  THE BROKEN HEART TURN-BLOODS

  GLOSSARY

  Teaser chapter

  Praise for the Novels of Michele Bardsley

  Come Hell or High Water

  “The action and humor are bountiful. Tremendous fun as always!”

  —Romantic Times (4½ stars)

  Over My Dead Body

  “Combining humor with romance and a serial-killer mystery, the return to the center of vampire activity . . . is a fun, lighthearted tale.”

  —The Best Reviews

  “I fell into this story hook, line, and sinker. I just couldn’t put it down. . . . It has everything to bring a smile to your face: vampires, werewolves, pixies, dragons, and more.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Michele Bardsley has done it again! This is one of my favorite paranormal series for sheer entertainment value. . . . Clever, action-packed, and sensual, Over My Dead Body is a helluva page-turner that’s not to be missed!”

  —Romance Novel TV

  “A great paranormal romance that I would definitely recommend to readers who enjoy a fast-paced story that will leave them guessing until the end.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Ms. Bardsley takes readers on a fast-paced journey that turns deadly in the blink of an eye . . . and keeps readers on the edge of their seats with well-crafted suspense and an unfolding romance.”

  —Darque Reviews

  Wait Till Your Vampire Gets Home

  “Has action aplenty and a free-spirited, wittily sarcastic heroine who will delight fans.”

  —Booklist

  “Bardsley has one of the most entertaining series on the market. The humor and wackiness keep hitting the sweet spot. Add Bardsley to your autobuy list!”

  —Romantic Times (top pick, 4½ stars)

  “Witty. If you like your vampires with a dose of humor, I highly recommend Bardsley’s Broken Heart series.”

  —Romance Novel TV

  “Funny and entertaining. I can’t wait for the next adventure!”

  —Manic Readers

  “An enjoyable mix of humor and romance . . . fast-paced, steamy, and all-around entertaining.”

  —Darque Reviews

  “Michele Bardsley’s latest installment in the Broken Heart series is just as hard to put down as the ones before.”

  —Bitten by Books

  Because Your Vampire Said So

  “Lively, sexy, out of this world—as well as in it—fun! Michele Bardsley’s vampire stories rock!”

  —New York Times bestselling author Carly Phillips

  “Five ribbons! I laughed nonstop from beginning to end.... Michele Bardsley always creates these characters that leave readers feeling like they are our next-door neighbors. . . . I’ve been addicted to these books since the very first one was written, but I have to say I think Because Your Vampire Said So is my favorite so far. . . . If I could, I’d give this story a higher rating. Five ribbons just doesn’t seem to be enough for this wonderful story!”

  —Romance Junkies

  “Another Broken Heart denizen is here in this newest, hysterically funny first-person romp. The combination of sexy humor, sarcastic wit, and paranormal trauma is unmistakably Bardsley. Grab the popcorn and settle in for a seriously good time!”

  —Romantic Times

  “Vampire romance readers will enjoy the return to Broken Heart, Oklahoma. . . . Michele Bardsley provides a fun paranormal romance with an interesting undead pairing.”

  —The Best Reviews

  Don’t Talk Back to Your Vampire

  “Cutting-edge humor and a raw, seductive hero make Don’t Talk Back to Your Vampire a yummylicious treat!”

  —Dakota Cassidy, author of The Accidental Werewolf

  “A fabulous combination of vampire lore, parental angst, romance, and mystery. I loved this book!”

  —Jackie Kessler, author of The Road to Hell

  “All I can say is wow! I was totally immersed in this story, to the point that I tuned everything and everybody out the whole entire evening. Now that’s what I call a good book. Michele can’t write the next one fast enough for me!”

  —The Best Reviews

  “A winning follow-up to I’m the Vampire, That’s Why filled with humor, supernatural romance, and truly evil villains.”

  —Booklist

  “Had me laughing from beginning to end. . . . The humor and tension blended together perfectly.”

  —Romance Divas

  I’m the Vampire, That’s Why

  “From the first sentence, Michele grabbed me and didn’t let me go! A vampire mom? PTA meetings? A sulky teenager? Throw in a gorgeous, ridiculously hot hero and you’ve got the paranormal romance of the year. Get this one now.”

  —MaryJanice Davidson

  “Hot, hilarious, one helluva ride. . . . Michele Bardsley weaves a sexily delicious tale spun from the heart.”

  —L. A. Banks

  “A fun, fun read!”

  —Rosemary Laurey

  “Michele Bardsley has penned the funniest, quirkiest, coolest vampire tale you’ll ever read. It’s hot and funny and sad and wonderful, the kind of story you can’t put down and won’t forget. Definitely one for the keeper shelf.”

  —Kate Douglas

  “An amusing vampire romance . . . a terrific contemporary tale.”

  —The Best Reviews

  “A great read.”

  —Once Upon a Romance Reviews

  “A marvelous introduction to the world of vampires and werewolves . . . funny and filled with explosive sexual tension.”

  —The Romance Readers Connection

  OTHER BOOKS BY MICHELE BARDSLEY

  Paranormal Romances

  Come Hell or High Water

  Over My Dead Body

  Because Your Vampire Said So

  Wait Till Your Vampire Gets Home

  Don’t Talk Back to Your Vampire

  I’m the Vampire, That’s Why

  Erotica

  Cupid Inc.

  Fantasyland

  SIGNET ECLIPSE

  Published by New American Library, a division of

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,

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  First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First Printing, September 2010

  Copyright © Michele Bardsley, 2010

  All rights reserved

  eISBN : 978-1-101-44286-9

  SIGNET ECLIPSE and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  To Daddy and Linda . . .

  and to Aunt Rosie and Uncle Benny . . .

  and to all my Arkansas family

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’d like to thank Laura Cifelli, Jesse Feldman, and Team NAL for being awesome. I just write the words. They do everything else.

  I can’t let a book go by without a shout-out to my wonderful agent, Stephanie Kip Rostan (who puts up with a lot), and to Monika Verma (who makes accountants tremble). Smooooooooches!

  You know why my life doesn’t suck (even when it does)? ’Cause Renee George, Dakota Cassidy, and Terri Smythe are my very best friends. They know when to hold my hand and when to kick my ass. I adore you all.

  I also need to say a big ol’ thank you to my Minions, who gather online to support me (and insult me, as needed). I heart you.

  And finally, to all the readers out there who keep me in vodka and chocolate . . . thank you, thank you, thank you.

  For him I sing,

  I raise the present into the past,

  (As some perennial tree out of its roots, the present on

  the past,)

  With time and space I him dilate and fuse immortal

  laws

  To make himself by them the law unto himself.

  —Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

  What’s the point of saving the world if you can’t get a little nookie once in a while, huh?

  —Dean Winchester, Supernatural, “Hunted”

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  At the start of Cross Your Heart, the seventh book in the Broken Heart series, five years have passed since the Consortium vampires rolled into town. The parakind community has been attacked by Wraiths (rogue vampires with bad tempers), Ancient vampires who’ve gone all droch fola (soulless), a dark mage were-dragon, a secret military paraterrorist group, and a bitch demon named Lilith and her Pit-dwelling posse.

  So, you know, it hasn’t been easy. Our heroes and heroines have prevailed, and, with Queen Patricia Marchand ruling both vampires and lycanthropes and the Council running the town (along with the Consortium’s input, of course), Broken Heart has managed to finally become a haven for parakind. Werewolves, vampires, fairies, witches, wizards, pixies, and, hell, even zombies are welcome in Broken Heart.

  You’d think with all the trials and tribulations our citizens have been through, all the obstacles to love that they’ve conquered—and, hey, some of those vampire parents even managed to raise their mortal children to adulthood—that they would finally get some freaking peace and quiet.

  Yeah. Not so much.

  Evil isn’t always an outside force trying to steal or smash its way in. It isn’t always a pissed-off demon, a sociopathic mage, or a soulless Ancient. Sometimes evil is hidden within. This kind of malevolence has patience. And purpose.

  It’s just waiting, quietly, insidiously, to be unleashed.

  The Curse of Broken Heart

  It is said that beautiful and feisty Mary McCree drowned herself in the creek near her farm. She had loved her husband so much that his infidelity drove her mad with grief, and she could not live with his betrayal.

  Before she waded into the water and met her death, she cursed this place and all who lived in it, swearing that anyone who dared to love would eventually know the depth of her own heartbreak.

  Whether or not Mary McCree uttered such a curse is unknown, but she did commit suicide by drowning and her husband was accused of infidelity. No one really knows if, as town lore indicts, Mary’s daughter shamed the founding fathers into naming the town Broken Heart, so that everyone would remember the suffering of Mary McCree.

  Statistics have shown that Broken Heart had the highest divorce and unwed-mother rates in Oklahoma. At least until the vampires arrived and took over the town, remaking it into a parakind community.

  And if harmony was fickle, at least romantic love prevailed.

  The curse of Broken Heart was no more.

  Or so it seemed.

  Chapter 1

  “You wanna make out?”asked the man standing on my welcome mat. He cocked a pierced eyebrow at me, leaned on the doorjamb, and tucked his hands into his pockets. The gesture flexed his muscled, tattooed arms, drawing attention to the six-pack abs defined by his tight T-shirt.

  He was gorgeous and youthful and impetuous.

  “Rand, you make me feel old.” I caved in to the smile flirting with my lips. “And I’m immortal.”

  His grin widened. “Aw, Lizzie. You’re tops in my book.”

  “Don’t call me Lizzie. It’s puerile.” I opened the door and gestured for him to enter. “C’mon. It’s ready.”

  Now twenty-two, Rand moved to Broken Heart when he was seventeen. As a human, he was a rarity in a town filled with paranormal residents. He was also the expert on the care and feeding of dragons.

  I was forty-three when Lorcan O’Halloran, or rather the beast he’d become, attacked and killed me and ten other residents of Broken Heart, Oklahoma. He suffered from the Taint, a disease that reduced the infected vampire to a crazed and rabid state. A cure had recently been discovered, thanks in large part to the revelation of its origins: demon poison. Our resident scientist, Dr. Stan Michaels, himself a Turn-blood, had figured out a real and lasting cure. The Taint was no more.

  Every vampire got strength, speed, glamour, and—unless our heads were chopped off or sunlight got us—immortality. There were eight vampire Families, each with their own particular power. I was from the Family Zela, and our ability was to manipulate and control any metallic substance.

  As a human, I hadn’t been able to conquer my vanity about getting older. Going under the knife, taking the injection, getting the acid peel . . . I had done them all. However, becoming undead rid me of crow’s-feet, stretch marks, and cellulite, and forestalled other atrocities of the aging process.

  “I’ll make tea,” I said as he stepped inside and shut the door.

  “Earl Grey?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  Though I enjoyed my solitary lifestyle, I couldn’t resist having a cuppa with whoever crossed my threshold. Thanks to an accidental fairy wish, vampires within the borders of Broken Heart could eat again and drink liquids other than blood. I had missed taking tea and had been pleased to reesta
blish the routine.

  My old Victorian opened into a wide foyer. Straight ahead was the staircase to the upper floor. On the left side was entrance to the formal living room. On the right side was a smaller room, the parlor, where I typically entertained visitors.

  Rand paused by the antique hall tree. He studied it, then glanced at me. “New?”

  “Yes. It’s French. Hand-carved oak. Circa 1870. See the hooks? They’re cherubs.” The darkened wood had been polished with beeswax. I’d fallen in love with the piece merely from its picture. eBay was a glorious boon for vampires. “The bench seat opens.” I flipped it up and we looked down into the emptiness.

  Rand shook his head. “You’ve got a thing for old stuff.”

  “So do you.” I tweaked his earlobe, and he laughed.

  The kitchen was accessed through a narrow door at the back of the parlor. While Rand took a seat at the small table I used for tea service, I went to the kitchen and put on the kettle.