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  PRAISE FOR TURNED

  “If you’re looking for a hot, sexy, emotional read, Virna DePaul delivers!”

  —J. KENNER, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Release Me

  “With Turned, Virna DePaul delivers a sexy and exciting new take on the vampire novel, one that comes complete with a kick-ass heroine and a to-die-for hero. I can’t wait for the sequel!”

  —Tracy Wolff, New York Times bestselling author of Ruined

  “A captivating start to a fascinating new series with a hero who’s to die for!”

  —Nationally bestselling author RHYANNON BYRD

  “Virna DePaul creates yummy alpha heroes, relatable heroines, and supercharged emotional plots. Run, don’t walk, to snatch up one of her stories.”

  —New York Times bestselling author TINA FOLSOM

  “Turned is intense, intricate, and insomnia-inducing (plan to stay up way too late!). Virna DePaul puts the awesome in the awesomesauce of paranormal romance.”

  —Joyce Lamb, curator, USA Today’s Happy Ever After

  “The chemistry between the two was great and made for some very sexy scenes.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “This book has everything you could want and so, so much more!”

  —Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews

  “Turned is an intriguing story with flawed characters who I connected with immediately. Fans of paranormal romance rejoice, here’s a compelling new series to sink your teeth into.”

  —Harlequin Junkie

  “Gripping! Provocative! Sexy! Intense! Dangerous! Thought-Provoking! These are only a few of the words that come to mind after reading Turned by Virna DePaul.”

  —5 Ravens and a Recommended Read, BlackRaven Reviews

  “Turned, first book in The Belladonna Agency series by Virna DePaul, is a page turner and grabbed me from the beginning and had me reading until the wee hours of the morning.”

  —The Jeep Diva

  “This is an author whose work continues to delight.”

  —Just Talking Books

  PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF VIRNA DEPAUL

  “Seducer and protector—this vampire has it all.”

  —Fresh Fiction, on A Vampire’s Salvation

  “Virna DePaul is amazing!”

  —New York Times bestselling author LORI FOSTER

  “Incredibly well written, different, and hot.”

  —New York Times bestselling author LARISSA IONE

  “A gripping tale! DePaul creates the perfect blend of danger, intrigue, and romance. You won’t be able to put this book down!”

  —New York Times bestselling author BRENDA NOVAK

  “If you have not yet started this [Para-Ops] series … you are really missing out.”

  —The Book Reading Gals

  “This is my first book by Virna DePaul and it will definitely not be my last. Deadly Charade is a suspenseful story full of love, betrayal, and forgiveness.”

  —Fresh Fiction, on Deadly Charade

  “Intense, emotionally charged, and thrilling.”

  —Fresh Fiction, on Shades of Desire

  “DePaul’s romantic suspense has shades of a thriller inside the pages, with damaged characters, love scenes that make the pages almost too hot to handle and hair-raising villains.”

  —RT Book Reviews, on Shades of Desire

  “Plenty of chemistry between the leads—along with edge-of-your-seat suspense—will keep you riveted.”

  —RT Book Reviews, on Shades of Passion

  “DePaul offers up an intriguing world rife with moral dilemmas and mistrust.”

  —Publishers Weekly, on Chosen by Blood

  “Seriously sensual! The sexual tension leaps off the page. DePaul has made a name for herself with paranormal fans who aren’t shy when it comes to titillating dialogue and interaction.”

  —RT Book Reviews, on Chosen by Blood

  Awakened is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  A Bantam Books eBook Edition

  Copyright © 2014 by Virna DePaul

  Excerpt from Turned by Virna DePaul copyright © 2014 by Virna DePaul

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Bantam Books, an imprint of Random House, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company, New York.

  BANTAM BOOKS and the HOUSE colophon are registered trademarks of Random House LLC.

  ISBN 978-0-345-54247-2

  eBook ISBN 978-0-345-54248-9

  Cover design: Lynn Andreozzi

  Cover photograph: Claudio Marinesco

  www.bantamdell.com

  v3.1

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Epilogue

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Other Books by This Author

  Excerpt from Turned

  PROLOGUE

  “Do it.” Gary Maltese winced at how animalistic his voice sounded, but forced himself to continue. “Please.”

  “I can’t!” Nick grated out. “Damn it, don’t ask me to. We can find another way. We can find a cure—”

  “No cure,” he snapped, then, because that made his head hurt, he whispered, “No cure for me. No cure—” His body jerked as he was overcome by racking coughs. The blisters on his lips cracked and oozed. “It’s too late for that,” he managed to choke out. “Do it before the rage takes me again. Do it now!”

  Silence. Struggle. Grief. It swirled around him, as heavy and suffocating as a humid North Carolina summer.

  Home.

  He longed to be back there. He should never have left. Not after he’d returned from the war.

  But he’d wanted purpose again. He’d wanted to prove he was still a man. Still strong. Still capable of serving his country.

  Like Nick …

  Nick.

  He stared into the face as familiar as his own. On some level, he knew what he was asking wasn’t fair. Not fair.

  But he didn’t care.

  He hurt. He hungered.

  Not for food but for human blood.

  His flesh was literally rotting away and the same was happening to his mind.

  With each episode, fit, delusion, it became harder and harder to remember his own name, let alone who he’d once been. He wanted to die while some part of him was still intact.

  Gary Maltese. Soldier. Son.

  Brother.

  He lifted a hand and reached out. For a moment, his flesh hung there, ignored. His fingers shook and he cursed his weakness. Cursed the f
act he couldn’t even hold up his fucking hand anymore. Not until the rage overcame him again and adrenaline pumped through his blood along with insanity. Then he’d regain his strength. Then even Nick might not be able to help him.

  It was coming. He could feel it …

  He was still himself, but he was someone else, too. Someone who’d killed, and not just to protect his country. He’d seen what he’d done. The women. God, the kids. The blood. The memories lingered in his mind, tormenting him further. Driving out all traces of the honorable man he’d been.

  All traces … all traces … all traces …

  But for the here and now.

  Strong, warm fingers wrapped around his own and he knew this was it. His last chance.

  “Please, brother. Look into my eyes. See what I’ve done. See what I need. Do it for me, just like you always promised. Take care of me.”

  He and Nick locked gazes.

  He heard the whimper that melded with his own.

  He felt the rod pierce his heart.

  He saw his life flash before his eyes, years of pleasure and pain, hope and despair, brotherhood and loneliness.

  These final moments, however, were bliss. He was going home …

  But before he got there, he spoke his final words.

  “Thank you.”

  CHAPTER

  ONE

  San Diego, California

  The lurid caption under the live video said it all: Runaway Virgin.

  Unlike the other women on the SexFlash site, this one was scrubbed clean of makeup. With an odd beauty and youthful innocence, she’d attract clients with money to burn and a lot to hide. The kind of clients who’d get off on the fact that the girl’s lips were parted with fear and shock, the same emotions currently ricocheting through Barrett Miles’s body.

  She’d been searching for Jane Small for almost a week, but to actually succeed in finding her … to actually confirm she’d been taken by sex traffickers, never mind sex traffickers that catered to vampires or were vampires themselves …

  After everything Barrett had been through in the past decade—her brother Noah’s death, what she’d seen overseas, what she’d discovered since she’d been recruited by Belladonna—well, she’d have thought she’d be immune to horror by now. Apparently not.

  Before she could stop herself, Barrett pressed her fingertips against the monitor screen, as if she could actually reach in and pull Jane out to safety. Help her. Kill her captors. But how?

  The only information she’d had up to now was that Jane had disappeared, and her aunt, her legal guardian, believed she’d run away with a young man Jane had recently befriended. A young man named Dante who wore a vial filled with Jane’s blood around his neck and liked to leave marks on her that were closer to bites than to hickeys. A young man who had disappeared around the same time as Jane, only he’d been found days later with his neck torn out and “wannabe” penned on his forehead with a red Sharpie. Of course, given Dante’s predilections and knowing what she did, Barrett had instantly suspected a vampire had murdered the boy and taken Jane.

  Unfortunately, Jane could be anywhere. Teenagers were sold for sex on sites like this all over the world. Virgins went for premium prices.

  Purity mattered. That went double as far as vampires were concerned. According to Joseph Powell, the blood of a virgin was the best there was. It tasted like nirvana. It provided a euphoric high no controlled substance could come close to duplicating.

  Apparently, despite her association with the dead fang banger and true to her ideals when she’d been fourteen, Jane was still a virgin, though Barrett hated to think how her captors had confirmed that fact. It was why Jane was probably going to be some vampire junkie’s fix for the rest of her life unless Barrett could save her. Unfortunately, it was Barrett’s fault the girl was in this predicament in the first place.

  All because this girl’s mother had trusted Barrett to keep her daughter safe.

  The last time Barrett had seen her, Jane had been fourteen.

  Though she’d kept intermittent contact with Jane’s legal guardians, the aunt and her husband, Barrett hadn’t seen Jane’s face again until she’d gone missing and her aunt had given her an updated picture.

  Jane’s eyes flickered on the clear screen and seemed to round with recognition. “Miley?”

  Barrett jerked and instinctively opened her mouth to respond.

  Instead, she snapped it shut, forcing herself to remain silent so she wouldn’t give herself away even as Jane was roughly jerked out of the camera’s range.

  Barrett Miles. Miley. It was the nickname Jane had given her years ago thanks to a popular Disney show actress. That meant she could see her. But why would her captors allow that? They had to believe there was absolutely no chance allowing Jane to see her potential buyers could hurt them. That had to mean those potential buyers were trusted. Vetted.

  Barrett didn’t fall into that category.

  A woman in an overflowing bustier took Jane’s place on the monitor screen.

  This one knew the drill. Sultry pout. Thick black hair teased high. Hard eyes. She frowned at Barrett for a moment. “Powell, who the hell is this?” she snapped. “The girl called her Miley.”

  “No, no. This is my trusted friend, Barrett Klein. Don’t worry about her. We are looking for someone special and I think we’ve found her.”

  Powell’s deep voice came from just behind Barrett, causing her to stiffen slightly. She’d almost forgotten he was there, looking over her shoulder. Waiting, with a born vampire’s patience, for her to choose a girl she liked enough to bring into the bedroom with them.

  The image of his gnarled hands on Jane made Barrett sick to her stomach. It was a feeling she was intimately acquainted with. It was how she felt every time Powell put his hands on her.

  “Yes.” Aware the woman on the screen still looked suspicious but also slightly mollified by the thought of a potential sale, Barrett pasted a smile on her face. “Let’s go with the … virgin. I think she’ll be perfect and you said you haven’t tasted virgin blood in quite some time.”

  “Hmm. It won’t make you jealous? Knowing how incomparably delicious I’ll find her?”

  More delicious than me, he meant. And the fact he could joke with her meant he didn’t understand how displeased Jane’s captor was that he’d signed on to the site then allowed Barrett in to see Jane. Then again, as a born vampire he’d be very difficult to hurt or kill so he probably wouldn’t be worried anyway.

  Barrett looked up at the silver-haired man behind her; unlike most vampires, he didn’t bother dyeing his hair, although he did wear contacts that disguised his silver pupils. His tall frame was slightly stooped and his large head hung forward. He reminded her of a vulture.

  “She can give you better blood. I think we’ve already established that I, on the other hand, give the best …” She smiled suggestively.

  Powell studied Barrett for a moment, assessing her. His eyes glowed briefly, an unearthly gleam in their unnaturally dark depths, making her wonder if he was trying to read her mind. But she felt none of the mental probing she’d been warned to watch out for. Maybe he wasn’t trying. Or maybe he couldn’t read her mind because he wasn’t powerful enough or because the heavy gold bracelet on her wrist was doing its job. Concealed, of course, inside a designer cuff of glass-beaded silk.

  That was just one of the nifty secrets Belladonna had uncovered about vampires: wearing pure high-quality gold blocked a vampire from reading not only a human’s mind, but that of another vampire. Neither Barrett nor her fellow Belladonna agents, each covertly employed by the FBI to hunt down vampire criminals in a world where most humans didn’t even know vampires were real, left home without it.

  Not all vampires knew about the gold trick, but since some humans had a natural resistance to being read, they often didn’t make the connection. In Powell’s case, it was entirely possible he suspected she was deliberately blocking his mind-reading powers and was only biding his
time until he strip-searched her and killed her.

  She sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case.

  He did seem to trust her, which meant he had no clue Belladonna existed, or that Barrett’s team members, Ty Duncan and Ana Martin, had been responsible for shutting down Salvation’s Crossing, a vampire blood slave operation in Northern California, two months ago. That could change at any moment, however, and Barrett’s best chance of getting Jane home safe was by getting Powell to buy her.

  “Powell,” she prompted, keeping her voice soft. Cajoling. “I want her.”

  He smiled. Kissed the top of Barrett’s head and reached down from behind her, sliding his hand down between her breasts and then in between her thighs. It was about as intimately as he ever touched her. She’d never actually had sex with him—a small distinction, considering the other things she had to do, but an important one for her. Her salvation—his inability to keep it up for anyone who was older than a teen—was also a curse for what was undoubtedly a long list of young victims.

  He whispered, “We’ll see.”

  Then, even as Barrett wanted to shout out and stop him, he tapped a key and the monitor went black.

  “Now,” he said, “show me how much you want her. Maybe then I’ll buy her for you.” As a vampire, he couldn’t lie, which meant there was a chance he actually might buy Jane for her, even if it was only a small one. She tilted her head, offering herself to him. He kissed her neck, licked it, and Barrett instinctively braced herself for his bite.

  She still jumped when it came. She had no fear Powell would take enough blood from her to turn her into one of his own kind. From what Belladonna had learned before Ty and Ana’s infiltration of Salvation’s Crossing, doing so would result in his own death. Even so, she still felt the swirling nausea that always overtook her when she let him drink her blood. The nausea that signaled her disgust for him and herself.

  Closing her eyes, she forced herself to remain calm. She even managed to moan with what sounded like a decent imitation of pleasure.

  Inside, however, Barrett’s nausea was swiftly morphing into hatred. Hatred for the vampire who still drank from her throat. Hatred for the brunette helping to pimp Jane out. Hatred for the unnamed, faceless others out in the world who were doing the very same thing to hundreds of girls just like Jane.