Carly Bright was born into a long line of witches, but she abandoned her magical heritage for a promising career as a WBPA - World Bureau Paranormal Agent. Teamed up with a vampire partner, Carly wants to make her mark in the world of paranormal investigators, but when they are attacked in public, things change.
Finding out who tried to kill her is only the beginning of Carly’s problems. She has to convince her family that her vampire partner isn’t out to kill her. Or is she?
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Carly Bright
Copyright © 2011 Annie Alvarez
ISBN: 978-1-55487-803-1
Cover art by Angela Waters
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
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Smashwords Edition
Carly Bright
Sex Games
By
Annie Alvarez
Dedication
Everyone who has made my writing career possible.
Thank you all.
Chapter One
My throat was dry, not because I was scared. Nope, I was pissed. I swallowed hard and introduced myself to the same eight people who had known me for the past six weeks now.
“Bright. Carly Bright.” I said it with the same tenacity I had when first arriving at a new crime scene, but this lame-ass group didn’t care. They all looked at me with the same expressionless faces I had come to expect.
I’m a WBPA agent. In plain English, that means that I’m an investigator for the World’s Bureau of Paranormal Activity. I have an E security clearance. I know more than any president of any country does. I had trained with the most rigorous of mercenaries and learned how to perform minor battle surgery to save a fallen comrade, if needed. I had confronted the worst nightmares, and I’m not just talking about human nightmares, but the stuff that gave even the big bad nightmares—alone, and lived to tell about it.
I was a badass and yet, every damned Tuesday night, for the last six weeks, I sat in at this pathetic vampire awareness group whose motto was, Don’t get bit, know your vampires. Lame, I know. As if anyone could tell a vampire just by first sight. I could, but I had been trained by the best. This group had no concept about what was really out there.
I was born into a very long line of witches and my heritage was one thing I didn’t care about. No, not my family, the whole witch thing. I’m twenty-three and haven’t even cracked open a spell book. My mother still threatens me that I will be the death of her. I’d heard it my entire life, whenever I refused to learn anything about our abilities. Her threats didn’t quite faze me the way they used to, but I thought she might have been on to something when I told her I’d joined the WBPA. She survived and that’s the only reason I’m here—my family.
At five foot six, one hundred and thirty-five pounds—okay forty-two pounds, of pure muscle, I could easily overpower anyone of them, but they aren’t the type to get their hands dirty or Goddess forbid, get up close and violently physical with anyone. No, they preferred to throw their little witch spells around from a safe distance. Of which, I was helpless against. I am so different from my family, I actually believed I was the milkman’s daughter, or I was adopted, or even better, switched at birth. I tried to talk to her about it, but she only had one thing to say. Yup. I’ll be the death of her, yet. So that’s where the conversation started and ended.
I left for the academy, graduated with honors and was immediately sent overseas to secure a volatile situation with a rogue vampire. After five weeks of singlehandedly tracking his sorry butt through the scorching desert of one country to the poor, disease-infested jungle of Peru, I finally caught up to him and staked his ass after he took a chunk out of me. My uppers were so impressed with my tenacity to find the vampire, they transferred me into the Investigations Department in the great US of A with, that’s right, a vampire partner. That was almost a year ago, September, but I only recently had the gall to tell them about my partner’s special liquid diet status.
My family had a fit, and I heard it all…the bloodsucker will drain you…carry your cross…don’t forget your holy water…don’t look her in the eye…and of course that I would be the death of her, yet…yada, yada, yada and that’s why I endure a perfectly good waste of a Tuesday night.
“I almost bumped into one,” Sam, the meek, pale skinned, geeky half-witch announced as he pushed his round glasses up the bridge of his nose. “But I told him to back off.”
I slunk further into my seat, closing my eyes, and thought about all the productive things I could be doing on a Tuesday night. I could bathe the dog, though I would have to get one, first, or I could go out and meet some normal people. The latter would be difficult to do now that every class of super and paranormal beings had come out of hiding. I could always resort to my favorite and buy a ton of vanilla ice cream with the chocolate swirl and sit in front of the TV, watching reruns, or, hell, even clipping my toenails would be more useful than this. I was silently brooding when suddenly, my butt came off the little, metal seat.