In 1902, Katja, craving independence, ran away from her bond-mate before mating could take place, but had thought about him at least a million times since. There was no time to reminisce as Levkov had a new assignment for her, and introduced her to Lucas, his Sire. Katja was captivated by his charisma, and Lucas invited Katja to his hotel room, revealing her mission... 

Whelan is baffled by a series of murders that had taken place in Italy, and rushed to aid his team in solving this mystery.

Lyn had another premonition that left the team mystified. As a series of horrifying events unfold, the team closes in on the Unsub, when Lyn is abducted in broad daylight!

Devastated and heartbroken Whelan begins his search for Lyn, and comes face to face with his archrival, Levkov! 

In Store Price: $AU25.95 
Online Price:   $AU24.95



ISBN: 978-1-921919-27-5 
Format: Paperback
Number of pages: 222
Genre: Fiction

Cover: Clive Dalkins



Author: D.D. McCarthy
Publisher: Zeus Publications
Date Published: 2012
Language: English


Author Profile

As the only child of separated parents, D.D. McCarthy grew up in two worlds; one the city child with her mother, the other a farm girl with her father and stepmom. Needless to say, she was a tomboy that rode horses and played hockey at school. She hated Home Economics but excelled in Accountancy and hardly ever made it into Maths class. Before the teacher sent her to the principal’s office for, not doing the assigned lessons to disrupting her class, they had a mutual understanding – to dislike each other.

So, from roaming between city and farm she finished public high school to find that she should have been in art school, and she wasn’t ready for the grown-up working world. Lucky for her, she managed to attend a college and studied Land Survey Drafting. A long career began from drawing by hand with pen and ink to working with computers in AutoCAD to 3D. As a child she sleepwalked, but grew out of that around the age of nineteen. Then came the phase when she talked in her sleep, and held her arms in the air, while she slept. That phase passed, and until this day, she has been tormented with vivid and bloodthirsty nightmares!

She decided to share these traumatised dreams, resulting in the characters that appear in this book.


Pacing in his bedroom wondering if he was wearing the right clothes was driving him crazy. Since when did his appearance matter? His good looks had served him well over the centuries, although he hadn’t seen Katja for 18 years. Her image flashed in front of his face, her beautiful twinkling almond shaped brown eyes, full luscious red lips, and porcelain skin, all framed with thick long black hair.

“Merde!” he muttered as a jolt rushed though his inner core. She had been driving him mad with lust since the day he met her 291 years ago. Why was he a Coveted One? He hated not being in control of his own destiny. He has been in training to become one of the Deities since 1550. Igor Mirskii has been his mentor after Lucas, his Sire and one of the Deities has turned him into a Lamia. Actually he loved being undead; that was the good part. The bad part was all the little tests Lucas threw his way. Like this new test, always about his loyalty to his Sire. Not once had he given his Sire reason to doubt him, but it never seemed to be enough! One would think that after 460 years of unswerving loyalty, his Sire would stop testing him. Anger built inside Levkov, when was this shit going to end?


Why did Levkov want to see her? Hadn’t she made it clear enough that if she never saw him again it would be too soon? Since Levkov’s call yesterday Katja had an uneasy feeling about meeting up. It had been 18 years since she had last worked with him and sworn never to go there again, yet here she was doing the complete opposite. He had said it was a matter of life and death, so dramatic and he had pleaded with her...

Whose life? She had to quickly pack and fly from Italy to London on short notice. She should have sent him to hell!

He was nothing but trouble! How she wished she was back in her palazzo in Venice. Fancy not even picking her up like a gentleman, but meeting her in a coffee shop across the road from Victoria Station. It had resembled an anthill being kicked open, with the hustle and bustle of people rushing to make their way home.

Darkness had settled over London half an hour ago and she could see her reflection in the shop window, her black hair was slightly windswept, her black eyeliner perfectly applied and her lips a lovely shade of strawberry. Her appearance was quite sexy, outlined in a black, three-quarter sleeved Chanel dress, the décolletage revealing a little too much flesh but giving her a boost of confidence. Her eyes settled over her Lamia insignia on the right side of her neck, for centuries she’d had to hide the beautiful circular marking. It had a medieval L in the middle with seven pairs of canine teeth spaced evenly in the outer circle. She loved it and with her index finger traced the outer circle. Her eyes wandered to her part mating mark in her neck’s crease, remembering how she had run from Sheikh Omari Berber’s palace in Egypt in 1902. All the time she was on assignment for Levkov, when she entered the palace and her neck started to burn. She dashed away with vampire speed before the bonding process could be completed. She, Katja Galina Petrov, would not be tied to any man, not even her mate. Since then her neck had borne a half circular ‘m’ on each side.

“Shit,” she cursed. How many times has she thought of her mate? Not once, but inexplicably at least a million times over the last century. Dreaming of the best looking perfect man she could.

“Stop it, you idiot! You ran away,” she reminded herself for the umpteenth time.

“Stop what, idiot?” Levkov said as he seated himself next to Katja.

“You’re late,” she chided him and she stopped breathing when she saw his face.

She had forgotten how good-looking he was!

“N-n-nothing,” she stammered feeling like a complete fool.

Her whole body felt awkward and she did not know what to do with her hands, so she clasped them together on the table, feeling utterly unequipped for his charm now starting to pool over her.

“What’s the emergency?” Katja asked giving Levkov her best frown.

“Later, all in good time,” he said avoiding her directness.

“What? You get me all the way from Italy, in a tizz about a life and death situation, then ‘later’ is what I get!” She glared at him.

“I will discuss the matter with you, but not in a coffee shop!” He waved his hand dramatically to take in their surroundings.

“Oh, yeah, I get your point,” she mumbled and felt guilty for attacking him verbally. His sexuality was magnetic.

“Why are we meeting in a coffee shop? You’ve been kicked out of everywhere else, have you?” She tried to recover her form.

“Funny, Katja, but no,” he growled back. “We’re going on a date,” he responded with his best smile.

She hissed at him, nearly swallowing her tongue. “A date?” she repeated totally baffled. Levkov had never asked her out in all the time she has known him, he seemed different tonight. Maybe it was the long separation, or lack of male company in her life, that was making him look so appealing tonight. She fluttered her eyelashes at him and gave him a warm smile. “I do not want your harem coming after me with a shotgun,” she mused.

“That is exactly why I have never bothered to take you out on a date, ever!” he snarled.

Instantly, she regretted her outburst and instead, studied his appearance. He was wearing a very well cut-suit, Armani she guessed, and a pale lavender shirt. His brown hair was cut in a messy-top style, a very sexy look, she thought! She placed her hand over his on the table.

“Sorry,” she whispered and her eyes burned as she felt tears wanting to form, but Lamia could not cry.

“You’re beautiful, Katja,” Levkov responded and took her hands in his. An electric current ran through her system making her insides quiver.

Katja moaned as her heart betrayed her, pounding like a sledge hammer in her chest, knowing Levkov would hear every beat. Everything moved in slow motion as Levkov pulled her close to him and kissed her, leaving her quivering in her chair. His mouth was moulding around hers, begging for her to open and let him inside, and with a sigh she surrendered and his tongue invaded her mouth. She felt like she was floating on air when he suddenly stopped and pulled away. She wanted to protest but he had left her gasping for air.

“Igor will be here any minute to pick us up,” he mumbled in her ear.

“Hi, Igor,” Katja greeted the chauffer, as she stepped into the black stretch limo.

“Nice to see you, too,” Igor sneered at her.

Ignoring him she seated herself in the plush leather seat and, as the car proceeded along Grosvenor Place towards Mayfair, Katja was very aware of Levkov’s presence next to her.

“I have to make a quick stop in Knightsbridge,” Levkov said, stroking his hand over Katja’s and sending an electric jolt up her arm.

Igor pulled up in front of the Sheraton Park Tower Hotel.

“I’ll only be a moment, Kat,” Levkov whispered into her ear, stroking her hair from her forehead, making her breathless.


Katja composed herself. What was wrong with her? She had never acted this way around Levkov before. In the 291 years working together, theirs had been a strict employer-employee relationship. Admittedly, he was breathtakingly handsome and had that boyish charm that made girls weak at the knees. Maybe it was because she hadn’t seen Levkov in a while, walking out on him when he had nearly got her killed in Japan.

Levkov had found a Tachi Samurai sword made for the Emperor of the Kamakura period, its sheath made of old white gold.

He had wanted to take the sword abroad with some other priceless artefacts much to the disapproval of Japanese officials who nearly beheaded him. This desire to acquire treasure had forced him to purposely build a warehouse in London in 1878 to house his vast art collections and antiques.

Levkov and Igor had been treasure-hunting through the centuries and he had recruited Katja for her skills in the research of various artefacts. Objects d’art he tired of always got sold at auction, mostly at Sotheby’s. Levkov also had one of the most impressive car collections Katja had ever seen and he loved statuary; especially nudes.


“All done,” Levkov said as he seated himself as close to Katja as possible, rubbing shoulders with her, leaving her body trembling with pleasure. “We have arrived, my lady,” Levkov bowed helping Katja out of the limo. Katja would have blushed if she could at his old-fashioned gesture.

Upon entering Cirque du Soir, Katja was immediately transported to another world, the music was slightly too loud. Cirque du Soir was half eccentric circus tent and half decadent boudoir. A fire-eater greeted them first as they walked down a wide path resembling a street. There were snake charmers along the side and tattooed ladies everywhere, the nostalgia of it all made Katja feel as if she was in a part of Paris 120 years ago, giving a bohemian Parisian atmosphere to the place. Rococo-style armchairs and sofas covered with spider webs and insect prints adorned the place, and petite double lamp shades and art nouveau mirrors completed the picture. There were two floors but all the action was on the street level. Levkov led her to the VIP area at the back draped with velvet curtains.

“How did you get tickets?” she asked Levkov.

“Members only,” he stated.

“You’re a member?”

A waiter appeared with a bottle of Ace of Spades in a large sparkler set on fire. He bowed at Katja and handed her a bright red rose. “From the gentleman,” he said and gestured towards Levkov leaving the VIP lounge.

A lot of extravagance for an ex-employee, Katja noted, keeping her eyes downcast. Feeling Levkov’s gaze on her she pushed her senses out like a wave, trying to sense his mood or read his mind, all the time aware that his breathing had become shallow and she could hear his heart pounding faster. His mind however, was closed to her.

“Katja, you should know better than to try and probe my mind,” he scolded.

Keeping her own mind locked and telling herself to calm down she looked into Levkov’s eyes. His brown eyes had changed to a sensual burgundy red.

“Katja, you are gorgeous,” he whispered. Leaning forward he kissed her forehead so gently, sending little tremors through her body.

Closing her eyes she leaned towards him and pulled him softly against her, then, Levkov began to sway with the beat of the music.

“Levkov!” Katja sighed, sliding her arms around his neck breathing in his musky scent.

Kissing her temple, Levkov expertly worked his way to Katja’s mouth, gently brushing his lips over her mouth and feeling her quivering in his arms.

A lust from deep inside her urged her on and she opened her mouth.

A burning desire to make her his, as he answered with a passion he hasn’t felt in centuries. He hated his Sire; he wanted all these feelings from her to be real. Man! She tasted good. He could lose himself by just smelling her scent, so fresh and inviting, reminding him of honeysuckle.

If he didn’t respond to her she would know something was wrong and yet by responding he was betraying her trust, and he now regretted that he had just taken a hair sample to his Sire in Knightsbridge. Judging by her response to him the love spell was already cast.

Groaning, he pulled away from Katja and motioned her to sit on the sofa. “Would you like some champagne?”

Levkov poured without waiting for her to answer. He had to calm down or his lust for her was going to make him take her right there on the sofa.

“Merde!” he muttered to himself as he felt his erection growing and the room began to appear bright red, that’s not calming down! He was a fully aroused vamp and his senses would take over, because he needed to feed or he was going to lose his mind.

“Katja,” he whispered, retreating to the velvet curtains.

Smiling, she got up and zoomed to him pressing her soft body to his.

With a growl he folded his arms around her and his fangs started to tingle, springing forth and making his desire surge.

“Drink,” she whispered. “I fed on my way to the station when I took the Underground.”

Shaking his head he let go of her.

“Not on our first date!” he hissed through his teeth.     


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