Embrace the Heat

By
Cassandra Lawson

Copyright ©2014 Cassandra Lawson

Smashwords Edition

Cover image © Maryia Bahutskaya - Fotolia.com

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of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement
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Psy Vamp Series

Vampires and Vixens (Book 1)

Safe Hex With a Vampire (Book 2)

Vampires Prefer Blondes (Book 3)

Moon Virus Series

Raven’s Blood (Book 1)

As always I am awed and humbled by the
support of my readers. Thank you all for taking a chance on my
writing. A special thanks to my aunts, Donna Lee and Edna for their
kind words and encouragement.

I am also grateful to my fabulous beta
readers, Kari, Levenia, Melissa, Ria and Trista. They are always
here to help me work out the bugs in my final draft.

While I design my own covers, I could not do
that without the help of my cover design and critique team, Daniel,
Josh, Kari, and Levenia.

Finally, I want to thank everyone who takes
the time to write a review for one of my books. I know we all get
busy, and I really appreciate the time you take to tell others what
you think of my writing.

Trent Whitaker never expected to find himself
living in California. A die hard Texan, he’d always looked down on
the inhabitants of this liberal hell hole. When his good friend,
Charles Graham III moved his main pharmaceutical plant to
California, Trent called him every kind of fool.

Charles was a fool. The man had wanted to
kill off most of the poor and had come up with a plan to do just
that, but that plan had gone horribly wrong. While Trent agreed
that poor people wasted precious resources, he was smart enough to
realize the value of having them. Trent liked having people below
him on the food chain. Power was better than sex.

Power was the motivation behind Trent’s
little enterprise back in Texas. Bringing in illegal immigrants to
sell off to the highest bidder was risky, but the thrill was too
irresistible. The whole thing had always been about power, not
money. Forcing mothers to act like whores to save their children
got him off like nothing else. He’d recently started selling men
and found it to be quite lucrative. Many people wanted to feed
their fetishes without having others find out. They’d also liked
the idea of being able to punish their property for tempting them
to sin. Yes, it had been a shame to lose that business.

Now, he stood to gain even more power. Better
yet, the government would fund this venture, and nothing he was
going to do was illegal. It was the perfect set up.

Sitting across from him, in his new home was
his long time friend, Charles Graham III.

Trent shook his head. “I still can’t believe
you turned people into vampires,” he said with a chuckle. “Who
would have believed that was even possible? I won’t lie; I was
pissing my pants when this all started. Not just about the vampires
runnin’ around. I had to close up my side business when they shut
down the borders. You caused me no end of trouble, my friend.
Demand actually increased as a result of your mistake, leaving me
with orders I couldn’t fill. Seems men get real horny when they
think they might be killed by vampires.”

“As far as I can see, this situation is
working out pretty well for you, Whit,” Charles said with a genial
smile.

“That it is, Charles,” he said and stared out
the window at his expansive yard which seemed small compared to the
ranch he’d left behind. “Too bad Texas didn’t start reservations
for their vampires. I really didn’t want to move out here to
California.”

“What are they doing with the vampires
there?” Charles asked.

“We hunt and kill ‘em.” Trent said. “Don’t
matter if they come to us for help or not. We don’t tolerate any
dirty bloodsuckers in Texas. I agreed with that until I heard what
y’all had planned in California. Hell, I was even considering
setting up a side business to let people hunt the less violent ones
in a more controlled environment. I figured it would draw in the
tourists when some of the fear died down.”

“This seems more your style,” Charles said.
“I’ve managed to get all of your permits fast tracked. As soon
as you have the area set up, they’ll deliver your vampires right to
your gates, and you can do whatever you want with them.”

Trent rubbed his hands together in
anticipation. He’d purchased a large chunk of Emeryville for the
reservation. That was one of the areas that had been hit hardest,
and any survivors had moved elsewhere. It was perfect. Now they
were building everything they’d need to run things, and the
government was even footing the bill for construction.

“I do have one minor problem with the
original plans,” Charles said hesitantly.

Trent took a deep calming breath. Problems,
he did not have time for. He of all people knew how fickle the
government was. Had the government decided to put restrictions on
how he could treat the vampires? Damn Charles for waiting to drop
new information on him. “I’ve given up everything for this, so it
had better not be anything serious,” he said almost angrily.

“The mothers have to be allowed to bring
their children,” Charles explained calmly. “We argued that all
vampire children be sent off for experiments, but the liberals
fought it. Stupid vampire rights activists tried to impose
restrictions on how the vampires could be used at the reservations.
The children with no one to care for them can be taken for
experiments, but the ones with a guardian of some sort are to be
shipped to the reservation with their parents, and blood must be
provided for them.”

Trent couldn’t help but smile at the news.
“This isn’t a bad thing. I can always have the parents work extra
hard to earn the blood for their little blood brats. This also
gives me a fresh supply of vampires. There are likely to be some
casualties. I can’t promise that my patrons will treat them with
care.” He laughed at the thought. “I imagine they’ll draw quite the
following from people who want to be a little on the rough side.
Don’t worry; the children won’t be a problem. Hell as soon as they
can walk, we can put them to work doing menial labor. Then the
adults can spend more time servicing patrons.”

The movement just outside of the room caught
his attention, and he knew it was his son. “Roger,” he called out,
“why are you lurking around outside the door?”

Trent’s son, Roger, and nephew, Miles slowly
walked into the room. Both boys were thirteen and could pass for
brothers. Sadly, both looked more like his sister than him. They
were skinny and unremarkable with brown hair and eyes. Trent’s
sister had moved with them to get away from her vampire sympathizer
husband. The talk had been wearing off on Miles, and no one wanted
that.

“We were just curious,” Roger said.

Miles nodded.

Trent had to admit that he was a little proud
of the boys for showing a healthy interest in what was going on.
“Don’t you boys worry, when I get things set up, you’ll be allowed
to learn all about sex with a skilled blood whore. How would you
like that?”

Roger looked curious. Miles looked
apprehensive.

Charles laughed. “I think I’ll get my son
over there for lessons too. He’s a little older than your boys and
ready to learn about women.”

“After I get things started I’ll figure out
which of the blood whores are the most skilled and get the boys
some lessons,” Trent said. “I’m sure I’ll get a lot of business
from fathers wanting their boys to learn how it’s done. Back in
Texas, I’d planned to train one of the illegals for Roger. She was
going to be a gift for his fourteenth birthday.”

Charles laughed. “How would you boys like
that?” he asked Roger and Miles.

“Do we have to treat them nice, like they’re
ladies?” Roger asked.

“They’re just whores and not even human ones
at that,” Trent scoffed. “You can treat them however you want.”

He was proud of his boy’s almost sinister
smile. Someday the boy would take over the reservation, and he’d
never feel sorry for those beneath him. He’d do what had to be done
to keep the whores in line.

Miles on the other hand looked sick. “What’s
wrong, Miles?”

“My dad said the vampires are humans with a
disease and we should help them,” he said softly.

Charles laughed. “Don’t tell me you have a
budding vampire activist living in your own home, Whit.”

Trent scowled at his friend and fought the
temptation to beat some sense into Miles. Best to wait until they
were alone and his temper was under control. “His father is no
longer in the picture, and we’re working to repair the damage to
Miles.” He turned on Miles with an angry scowl. “They
were
human. Now, they’re just monsters. We’re doing them a favor, do you
understand me?”

Miles nodded but clearly didn’t understand.
Trent knew it was going to take time to make Miles see how wrong
his father was, but Trent was willing to work on it. This was his
blood, after all, and he would not let him down.

“I understand your worries,” Charles said to
Miles. “What we’re doing here is much more humane than what’s
happening in Texas. Sad as it may be, they are no longer human and
they could be a danger to everyone. Do you want vampires raping and
killing your mother?”

Miles shook his head wildly.

“They are very sexual and violent creatures,”
Charles explained. “We’re giving them a way to survive and take
care of their baser needs.”

Trent watched as Miles processed what he'd
just been told, glad that his own son wasn’t this squeamish.
Finally Miles nodded his understanding. Trent made a mental note to
use Charles’ explanation later. That was a wonderful way to assuage
the fears of some of the people who were still on the fence about
the reservations. It wouldn’t work with the idiot activists, but
you couldn’t win everyone over.

Soon he would be living like a god! Yes, this
was going to work out very well.

Fifteen Years Later

Simon sat in the dirt behind the wash house
and inhaled. He loved the smell of the laundry soap and fabric
softener they used. Whenever laundry needed to be done, he
volunteered to do it just to have an excuse to breathe in those
smells. When he’d been younger and forced to do laundry for the
bastard humans, the smell had nearly made him gag.

Not in a million years would he have believed
that he’d miss the days of having laundry duty. Now he imagined
those scents masking the filth that constantly covered him. This
kind of filth wasn’t visible. This kind of filth didn’t wash
off.

Simon stared down at the sharp rock in his
hand. He’d tested the sharpness on his hand earlier, and while the
rock didn’t cut through easily, it did break the skin. The jagged
cut had sealed and now looked like the beginnings of an ugly pink
scar. By tomorrow, the cut would be almost unnoticeable, and in two
days it would be gone. The only way to scar would be to keep
opening up the wound as it tried to heal. The process was long and
painful. His friend, Connor had scars all across his back. That
thought made Simon feel guilty about his own self pity. Connor
was beaten several times a week. Sometimes the beatings happened
more than once a day.

Simon had never been hit and should be
grateful for that. Still, at the age of fifteen, he was at the end
of his rope. Whenever he and his friends found a spare moment, they
trained and planned a rebellion. They made and stole weapons. Every
day, they had a few moments to dream of freedom. Then Simon went
back to reality and doubted the misery would ever end.

The scar wouldn’t save him from being used.
No, it would just be trading one misery for another. Maybe it would
be worth it though. If he was lucky, he might be able to stop
hating himself as much as he hated the humans.

His face was a curse. The humans called his
hair golden and said he looked like an angel. One woman had told
him that he had the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen. He
was taller than many of the humans and already possessed a lean
muscular frame. The humans saw a pretty toy. Simon was nothing more
than a toy to be used and discarded. The humans wanted to use his
body and didn’t care about him or what he felt. Of course that
wasn’t the worst of what he did.

Simon brought the rock up to the side of his
face and closed his eyes. His hand shook ever so slightly as the
sharp point of the rock came in contact with his cheek. Coward that
he was, nothing happened. The rock dropped to the ground, and he
drew his knees up to his chest. Others passed, but no one stopped.
No one formed attachments outside of their own home because
attachments were a dangerous thing. If you cared about people, they
could be used against you. He’d never had to hurt anyone he cared
about, but it was only a matter of time before that happened.