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    Do You Take: Vampire Assassin League, #16
    Do You Take: Vampire Assassin League, #16
    Do You Take: Vampire Assassin League, #16
    Ebook120 pages1 hour

    Do You Take: Vampire Assassin League, #16

    By Jackie Ivie

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    About this ebook

    Do you take? Or do you give?

    THE ALCHEMIST
    Lucien likes how things panned out. Likes it a lot. The sixteenth century had been hard. Surviving torture sessions by the Spanish Inquisition, even harder. Vampirism was a welcome choice. Now he’s master of VAL’s underground laboratory. It’s his world. Serene. Interesting. Solitary. And then, one morning, everything changes…

    MAJOR TROUBLE
    Ashley’s a thrill-seeker. Mile a minute. No holds barred. Every challenge accepted. So what if everyone thinks it’s a subconscious death-wish? It’s her life. Living it on the edge makes every moment count. But then someone really does want her dead...

    AMPLIFIED
    The moment Ashley enters Lucien’s private sphere, the gloves come off. No time-outs. No referee. It’s man versus woman. XX versus XY. Untouched versus untouchable. Its raging hormones in an enclosed space. Combustible potions on every surface. Every word adds fuel. Every action ignites. And when they touch! This partnership needs a warning label…because they’ve got work to do. They need to find out who planned her murder.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJackie Ivie
    Release dateJan 5, 2014
    ISBN9781939820242
    Do You Take: Vampire Assassin League, #16

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      Book preview

      Do You Take - Jackie Ivie

      CHAPTER ONE

      Number seven! You’re up!

      See you lakeside, kiddo!

      Ashley moved into position and grabbed the bar beside the door with hands that slid despite her gloves. She had a really bad feeling about this jump. She did a last second pat-down of her buckles.

      Now, Ash!

      She dove outward, keeping streamlined for a count of seven before opening her arms, slowing the flight, and just loving it. She loved the rush of air across her cheeks. The chill that meant light rain. The dark. The repetition of history. That’s why they had chosen this flight path.

      This was Dan Cooper’s jump. The guy known as D. B. Cooper. The infamous hijacker who jumped from a Boeing 727 back in the ‘70s, and then disappeared. The man behind the only hijacking that wasn’t solved. They were following his flight path almost to the letter, except for the altitude. They were beneath 10,000 feet. It was safer. And nobody was carrying wads of cash.

      She wore clear goggles. She could have used night vision lenses, but that was cheating. She wanted the full experience. Real. Graphic. Visceral. And she didn’t want anything covered with a hazy green shade.

      This was so cool. And so far, absolutely perfect. Even with the light rain falling, she could see dim outlines of mountains all about her, their peaks luminous in streaks from moonlight that broke through the cloud cover. Beautiful. And nothing like her inner sense had been warning her.

      She checked her altimeter, hanging from a strap around her neck. She’d reached four thousand feet. Already? That was a shame. Nobody was to pull their ripcord until reaching two thousand. That was the pact they’d made. She might go before though. Not because she wasn’t experienced. Hell. She’d had more jumps than any of them. That’s what came of parents who were avid skydiving enthusiasts.

      It was because of the rumble of worry in the pit of her belly. It might even be the one her parents had whispered of just before their fatal dive. When they hadn’t taken her along because she had the flu.

      Enough of that, Ash. She’d scattered their ashes and memorialized them, and now she was just thrill-diving because she could. She looked at her altimeter again. Three thousand. On the count of seven, she was pulling the cord. Nobody would know except her.

      Five.

      Six.

      Seven.

      She pulled the T-bar, and the cord came out of her suit. Nothing else happened. No rapid whoosh of sound that meant a parachute was released. No tug on her back. Nothing. She could still feel the cord in her gloved fingers, useless now. She spent a few seconds tucking it into a pocket. She might need that for investigation later.

      Good thing she’d decided to go early. It usually took 800 to 1200 feet for a chute to deploy. No worry. A reserve chute only needed four hundred feet. No need to panic. The field belonged to clear heads. Always had. Ashley found the reserve cord and pulled.

      And again, absolutely nothing happened, although the cord was still attached.

      Shit.

      Her gloves came off next. She pitched them over a shoulder, going totally against type, but she was barreling toward the Cascade Mountain Range at 120 miles per hour. She could worry about the environment later. After she’d landed. Once she’d joined the others at Meaker Lake. Gathered about the fire they planned. The camp they were going to set up. And she could definitely worry about littering the planet while downing a stiff shot of tequila.

      She ran her fingers along her suit. Nothing anomalous. Everything in order. The ripcord for her reserve chute was still inoperative. Like it was glued in place. And where the cord for her main chute should be was just a hole. Ashley started digging at it, trying to rip tear-proof fabric. And...with a little work...she might be able to grasp the other end of the cord. Maybe...

      And she might actually have done it!

      Sweet! Ashley grasped the stub between thumb and forefinger and yanked. And a frazzled piece of thread came out. Nothing else. And that’s when panic took over. Despite all her training, she started hyper-ventilating. Freaking. Looking up into the clouds above her and even shrieking for several moments while she barreled toward impact. And then her level-headed side took over.

      Stop it, Ash. Now.

      She shut her mouth and started the thought process. She didn’t have much, but she needed to use it. She had her motion. She could slow the descent slightly. Present a larger surface against the air current. Ashley flattened her body, riding the wind in waves that lifted and then dropped her. She checked her altimeter again. Five hundred feet? It wasn’t possible. She’d never descended so quickly. That’s when she started looking for trees to hit. Something to break the fall. Evergreens would be best. They hadn’t lost their foliage. They’d have their needles. It was still going to hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. And she was going to break some bones. But maybe, if she was supremely lucky, she’d survive.

      Damn her decision not to wear night goggles! And thank heaven there was a little snow cover at this altitude. The black area to her left just might be trees.

      Ashley placed her arms to her sides and streamlined, aiming for the darker patch, and just before impact, she thought she heard the strangest note. Like a long, perfectly pitched note. Sung from a gifted throat. It was a C note.

      Oh...hell. This was going to hurt. Ashley slammed her eyes shut and tightened everything...and hit.

      She didn’t know what she hit first, but it might as well be a brick wall. The second one was worse. That was followed by more and more hits. Countless times. Each one breaking something. Why the hell were all the stories wrong? Huh? She didn’t black out. Things didn’t happen in a second. Her life didn’t flash before her eyes. And it was worse than painful. Each hit as she careened through the trees like a pinball caught in a pinball machine was excruciating. It felt like she was on fire before it stopped, and that’s when the real agony started.

      Ashley couldn’t breathe. Not at first. And then she managed a gasp. It was choked with liquid that stained the ground in front of her. Shit. That looked like...blood? Bad sign. She couldn’t even tell how she’d landed. On her front? Back? Legs? Oh...God. Her legs were pinnacles of absolute fire. And her head was level with the ground. That meant a couple of things. She’d survived impact. And she wasn’t paralyzed. But...that couldn’t be. Nothing on her body worked. Maybe every limb was broken.

      A rustling sound came behind her. Footsteps? Maybe a...moose. Elk? Deer? Anything but a wolf. Or worse. A pack of them. That would be really ironic. Surviving a sky fall only to be eaten by wild animals. Helpless. Pinned.

      Something neared her head. She tried to turn her neck and check, but a twinge of liquid agony stopped her as it raced down her spine. Okay. That wasn’t remotely good. She might have a broken neck and by a supreme stroke of luck, she’d manage to avoid touching her spinal cord. But...the slightest move could change that.

      Her view dimmed. Then altered as what looked like a man went to his knees beside her head. She couldn’t tell what he looked like exactly. He was wearing a robe with a large hood that shadowed his features. And he had a walking stick thing that he placed across his knees.

      Or a scythe.

      Well. That was that. She was about to meet the grim reaper. But maybe he’d take the pain away.

      Hello there.

      She opened her mouth to answer. More liquid gushed out. He put a hand up.

      No. Don’t say anything. You don’t have much time.

      But—?

      You only have a minute. Maybe less. How do you want to use it?

      But...I survived.

      She didn’t speak, but for some reason he heard her anyway. Or he must have, since he answered it.

      "Yes. You survived impact. But you have slammed into the forest floor. You’re probably a lot shorter, you have inoperable internal injuries, and I’m wasting time

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