Surrendering:Regent Vampire Lords Novel(6)

By: K.L. Kreig

Dev looked up, meeting Ren’s icy blue eyes. “Have you heard from Thatcher?” Detective Mike Thatcher was a Milwaukee detective with whom they had an…understanding.

“Not yet. I have a call into him as well.”

Dev sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Have you spoken with Damian and Romaric?”

Damian DiStephano was Vampire Lord of the East Regent and Romaric Dietrich was Vampire Lord of the West Regent. Together, they ruled the United States.

Ren blew out a breath, nodding. “Just got off the phone with Damian. He hadn’t heard of anything unusual, but said he’d check it out. I have a call into Romaric as well, but haven’t talked to him yet.” Ren stopped wearing the carpet thin, leaned toward Dev and slammed his large hands on the expensive desk, the items on the desk rattled, threatening to fall. Dev arched one thick brow in response, but didn’t say a word. They exchanged knowing glances, having been through this once before.

“I have a really bad feeling, Dev. I think that motherfucker is up to his old tricks again.”

As Vampire Lord, Dev was ultimately responsible for enforcing their only two laws within his Regent. Except in very controlled instances, do not expose their entire race to the human population and do not kill your blood donor. Most vampires lived easily within those two confines and those that didn’t were swiftly dealt with.

But it appeared that Xavier, the most depraved offender of both laws, had finally resurfaced. It was almost as if he were taunting them. The question now was, how were they going to find a rogue vampire that had remained elusive for the last one hundred years?

Chapter 3


Kate walked into the Milwaukee Police Department, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wanted nothing more than to turn, run and forget she knew what she did. She wanted to, but she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She should have come yesterday but spent the entire day trying to convince herself the girl in her dreams was just that…another bad dream. She wasn’t real. She wasn’t the same missing girl that she had seen on the news the other evening.

But she was. And she couldn’t deny it any longer.

She’d dreamed of Sarah Hill again last night and the things she witnessed were unspeakable. Horrific. While she struggled to wrap her mind around what she saw, she could not continue convincing herself to sit on her thumbs and take no action.

No. She’d done that once before. Kate couldn’t live with herself if this girl suffered the same fate as the last one. She could barely live with herself now. If Sarah Hill ended up murdered, it would break her.

Sarah Hill could end up like Jamie Hallow.

God, it made her physically sick to think about Jamie. How Kate had done did nothing to help her.

Jamie had been twenty-one. Coincidently, she was also a student at Northwestern. Kate had dreamed of the missing girl held captive in a dark, dank basement, hands and feet tied with rope to a dirty, bare mattress. Eyes covered with a filthy white cloth. Naked. Crying. Bruised. Pleading to go home to her parents and to her little sister.

Kate’s parents had dismissed her once again when she tried to talk to them about it. After that, she never mentioned another dream again.

She’d dreamed of Jamie for three weeks straight and then…nothing. When the dreams stopped, she didn’t think twice about it. She was sixteen at the time. At sixteen, she wanted to dream about boys, dances, boys, football games. Boys.

A week after the dreams stopped, while doing an assignment on current events for school, she ran across a picture of a fresh-faced, platinum blond beauty in the newspaper, which gave her pause.

It was a picture of the girl from her dream. Jamie Hallow. She was real. And she was missing, presumed a runaway. But Kate knew better.

There were no leads, and to this day, her body hadn’t been found.

Kate tried to assuage her guilt by convincing herself she was just a teenager at the time. What could she possibly have done? How could she have known this was real instead of a horrible, wretched dream? Who would have believed her?

But nothing worked. The guilt she felt was immense, both then and now.

She would not stand by this time and do nothing. There had to be something in her dreams to help the investigation. She would just conveniently leave out the part about fangs…and vampires. She had no desire to be labeled as mentally unstable, although she often felt that way.

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