Welcome to Mandy's Madhouse 

Just when Rylan Saintcrow thinks his life with Kadie is finally settling down, he begins to feel a restlessness he hasn't felt since he became a vampire a thousand years ago. His hard-won self-control seems to be shattering as his thirst for blood grows stronger and it becomes harder and harder not to kill his prey.

 

Troubled, Saintcrow consults the black witch, Izabela, who has speculation but no answers for him.  Similarly, Alara, the two-natured witch of the Everglades, has nothing concrete to offer.  Desperate, Saintcrow, Kadie, and his friend, Kincaid, travel to a cave high in the mountains of Transylvania searching for a cure, but even that turns out to be a dead-end.

 

In time, Saintcrow learns that a vampire he spurned centuries ago has come seeking to avenge her sister, Eleni, the vampire who had turned Saintcrow...and was killed by him when she threatened Kadie's life. Gradually, all the pieces fall into place, but it takes a vampire even older than Saintcrow to bring him peace

CHAPTER 1

 

Morgan Creek, Wyoming

 

Rylan Saintcrow stood at the front window of his lair, staring out into the darkness. He had been a vampire for over a thousand years. The need for blood, while always a pleasure and still a necessity from time to time, no longer drove him to murder. Silver and sunlight no longer had any ill effect on him. His preternatural powers, which continued to grow stronger with each passing year, were truly formidable. He was one of a kind, a law unto himself, his only weakness a woman. Kadie, with a wealth of dark-brown hair, beautiful golden-brown eyes, and a smile to melt his heart. Kadie. His woman, his wife. The only woman he had ever loved.

 

He had made his home in Morgan Creek for the last few hundred years. He had been resting deep in the earth the first time he caught her scent. It had drawn him to the surface. From the moment he saw her, he knew he would never let her go. In those days, Morgan Creek had been home to a coven of vampires. Kadie, a freelance photographer, had stumbled into town. She had hated him in the beginning. Not that he could blame her. Over time, he had won her love and her trust. These days, she used her photography skills to take photos of the town, which were printed in countless magazines and newspapers advertising Morgan Creek, which had become a thriving vacation destination for people from all over the country and all over the word. It often amused him that those who stayed in the cabins or the campground had no idea that the town was owned and operated by a master vampire. So many changes and improvement over the years – a six-lane bowling alley, a multiplex theater, a firehouse, a couple of gift shops and restaurants on Main Street.

 

Others of his kind shared the town with him. His best and oldest friend, Jacob Kincaid, and his wife, the former Rosa Ravenwood, divided their time between Morgan Creek and the villa they had bought in Italy.

 

Ethan Parish and Sofia, also a Ravenwood, her brother, Micah, and his wife, Holly, spent their summers in Morgan Creek. All the Ravenwoods went to Arizona in the winter to visit with the rest of the numerous Ravenwood family.

 

Life was good. The town turned a profit every year. And yet he was filled with a strange restlessness unlike anything he had experienced before. Kadie tried to hide it, but she was worried about him. Had he been mortal, she would have insisted he see a doctor, but in Saintcrow's case, that wasn't an option.

 

"Rylan?"

 

He grunted his reply.

 

"Maybe you should go see Izabela."

 

"The witch?" He glanced over his shoulder. "Whatever for?"

 

Kadie shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe she could help."

 

"Prescribe a tonic?" he asked with a rueful grin.

 

"Maybe. You can't go on like this. This restlessness of yours is driving me crazy."

 

"I know." Sometimes he was plagued with the same edginess he had suffered when he was first turned, a sense of unrest, of not knowing who or what he was. He had been plagued with a relentless need to hunt, to kill. For a time it seemed he would never satisfy his hellacious thirst, something that had taken him decades to control.

 

He felt that way now. He was torn by a desperate need to hunt, to conquer, to destroy. He had shunned mingling with any of the tourists, remained in his underground lair by day, left the town to hunt by night. He refused to let Kadie go with him. He knew it was only a matter of time before he killed someone and he didn't want her to see him when he was out of control, when the beast it had taken him centuries to confine broke loose.

 

He tensed as she came up behind him and slid her arms around his waist.

 

"Talk to me, Rylan. What can I do?"

 

He folded his arms over her clasped hands. "Nothing, love."

 

"Maybe a little of my blood would help."

 

Kadie's blood. Warmer than sunlight, sweeter than life itself.

 

"Rylan?"

 

"It might be worth a try."

 

Taking him by the hand, she led him to the sofa, sat and tugged him down beside her. She had been afraid of him in times past. He was such a big man, tall and broad-shouldered. But it wasn't his physical strength that concerned her, but his preternatural powers. He was capable of unleashing massive destruction with little more than a thought. It was a sobering thought, especially now, when he seemed to be losing control.

 

He took a deep breath as he brushed her hair aside. His tongue laved the tender skin below her ear. Her unique scent filled his senses – the flowery fragrance that clung to her hair, the musky scent of her skin, the tantalizing temptation of her life's blood. Lowering his head, he bit her gently. It was like the first time, he thought, beyond satisfying. Thick and rich as it slid down his throat, spreading through him like summer sunshine. He was tempted to take it all, to glut himself on the sweet nectar. With an effort, he reminded himself that this was Kadie. And still it took every ounce of his self-control to lift his head and seal the tiny wounds in her throat.

 

Filled with shame, he turned away.

 

"Rylan?"

 

"I'm all right. Are you?"

 

"A little light-headed," she said, a smile in her voice. "Did it help?"

 

"For now," he muttered, sorely afraid that if he let himself drink from her again, he might not have the willpower to stop before it was too late.