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  Bound by blood, sealed in secrets

  A half-blood Rider, Timon has a duty to anyone under his protection, but his intense attraction to scientist Jamie McCullough is complicating his latest mission. In a moment of desperation, he makes a difficult choice. His bite heals her—and creates a bond that neither of them can resist.

  As she heads for a conclave convened to create new peace between humans and vampires, Jamie carries a secret that could secure peace everlasting. But before she has a chance to reveal it, she’s accused of bringing a vampire-killing virus to the negotiations. Though Timon is willing to pay the ultimate price to save her, can he first win the ultimate challenge of her trust?

  “Teach me, Timon,” she whispered.

  Taking her in his arms again, he lowered her to the ground and laid her on the blanket. Without a word he braced his arms on either side of her shoulders, leaned over her and kissed her.

  This was not like the first kisses. It was much deeper, with that leashed ferocity, but also the tenderness she had felt in him before. His tongue ran along the inside of her lips, and a rush of warmth gathered between her thighs.

  A normal response, she thought. But then she wasn’t thinking about anything but the kiss, hesitantly returning it, touching her tongue to his.

  Then she felt his teeth, and her muscles stiffened.

  Timon drew back. “You’re not ready,” he said hoarsely.

  “Will you...bite me?” she asked.

  “Not unless you want me to.”

  “No,” she said. “Not yet.”

  Susan Krinard has been writing paranormal romance for nearly twenty years. With Daysider she began a series of vampire paranormal romances, the Nightsiders series, for Harlequin Nocturne. Sue lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico, with her husband, Serge, her dogs, Freya, Nahla and Cagney, and her cats, Agatha and Rocky. She loves her garden, nature, painting and chocolate...not necessarily in that order.

  Also by Susan Krinard

  Harlequin Nocturne

  Nightsiders Series

  Holiday with a Vampire 4

  “Halfway to Dawn”

  Daysider

  Nightmaster

  Shadowmaster

  Night Quest

  Dark Journey

  Twilight Crossing

  HQN Books

  Come the Night

  Dark of the Moon

  Chasing Midnight

  Lord of the Beasts

  To Tame a Wolf

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  TWILIGHT

  CROSSING

  Susan Krinard

  Dear Reader,

  Love, and hope. Two of the most powerful forces in the universe. In the world of Timon, half-blood vampire, and Jamie McCullough, a young and beautiful human scientist seeking peace between two warring races, hope and love seem to be in short supply.

  That’s why Timon and Jamie must put everything on the line, even their growing, star-crossed love, to help end a plot that could end all hope of peace between humans and vampires forever.

  I hope you enjoy the sixth book of my Nightsiders series.

  Acknowledgment

  Special thanks to Ginger Tansey, DVM, for her help with information on viruses and emergency first-aid treatment. Any and all errors are mine.

  Dedication

  With gratitude to my editor, Leslie Wainger, who exemplifies everything an outstanding editor should be.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Excerpt from Brimstone Bride by Barbara J. Hancock

  During the fifty years following the post-War Armistice between the Opiri and humanity, the world slowly began to heal. As ruins crumbled and wilderness took the place of old towns and cities, both humans and vampires had to make difficult adaptations and hard choices.

  In the earlier days of the “cold war,” human Enclaves, usually built out of cities that survived the War, paid tribute to the Opiri in the form of “blood-serfs,” criminals sent to the Opir Citadels in return for the cessation of blood raids on human communities. Citadels and Enclaves continued to spy on one another via half-blood agents—the Opiri’s “Darketans” and the Enclave’s dhampires—operating in the neutral Zone between cities, and skirmishes continued to break out between them, challenging the uneasy truce.

  Over time, two significant trends put an increasing strain on the Armistice: the gradual reduction and eventual end to the practice of blood tribute, and the formation of new “mixed” colonies, in which Opiri and humans lived together in relative peace and cooperation.

  This cooperation, however, was largely confined to these smaller communities, and communication between Enclaves and Citadels remained erratic until the rise of the Riders, a brotherhood of half-blood horseman whose work it was to carry messages and escort travelers across the western half of the former United States of America. Known for their skill in wilderness survival and fending off rogue Freeblood packs as well as human raiders, the Riders gained a reputation for trustworthiness and complete neutrality. Facilitation of contact and travel among human and Opir cities led to new alliances and discussions of a permanent peace, one in which the “mixed” colonies would provide an example of coexistence across the entire western region.

  Thus, the original Conclave was born: a meeting of delegations from every major Citadel, Enclave and mixed colony in the West. The Conclave was to be held in the neutral area of the former city of Albuquerque, New Mexico. It was to be the first such meeting since the signing of the Armistice, and the Riders were to take the role of peacekeepers and upholders of the Conclave’s laws.

  Though hope ran high for the success of the Conclave, there were many who resisted the idea of an ultimate peace and the cultural changes that would become necessary to sustain it.

  —Alice J. Armstrong

  Introduction to A Matter of Blood: A History of the First Conclave

  Chapter 1

  “Can you see who they are?”

  Jamie McCullough squinted against the bright April sky, her eyes following Councilor Amos Parks’s
pointing finger. “They’re on horseback,” she said to her godfather. “They must be—”

  “The Riders,” Senator Greg Cahill said, talking over her. “It’s about time they showed up here.”

  Here, Jamie thought. Far from the southern border of the San Francisco Enclave, even beyond the Zone that marked the no-man’s-land between Opir Citadel and human territories.

  But people did live in this land, where wild cattle grazed among the pre-War ruins, alongside deer and pronghorn antelope. Small colonies, well-fortified, with mixed human and Opir residents; pure human settlements, always ready to defend themselves against raiders both human and nonhuman. And human and Opiri who stayed on the move, hostile like the Freeblood raiders or unaligned like the Wanderers.

  Then there were the Riders. Skilled fighters, neutral in their loyalties, always half-bloods and always male. They were the men who rode fearlessly across the West in their tight-knit bands, carrying messages and escorting travelers and colonists through the dangers of the wilderness, facing down rogues, raiders and wild tribesmen. Both humans and Opiri hired them, sometimes even to communicate with one another.

  Today they were coming to escort the San Francisco Enclave delegation to the grand Conclave in the old state of New Mexico, a journey of a thousand miles. With the wagons and frequent stops, it would take about two months of hard travel to reach their goal.

  But without the Riders’ protection...

  “They’re coming fast,” Greg said, his hand moving to the gun at his hip.

  Too fast, Jamie thought. The thundering of hooves was shaking the ground under her boots. By now they should be slowing down, prepared to identify themselves. As they came closer, Jamie noticed that they were wearing hoods.

  Riders weren’t full-blood Opiri, who had to protect themselves from the sun. Most of them would subsist on blood and were faster and stronger than ordinary men, but in other ways they were very human.

  These horsemen covered their entire bodies under heavy coats and cowls and gloves.

  “Raiders,” she said, her voice catching on the word.

  “Freebloods,” Amos said, speaking of the wild troops of masterless rogue Opiri. He signaled for the others in the party to retreat to the wagons, while the four armed soldier escorts, led by Sergeant Cho, moved forward to position themselves between the horsemen and the rest of the delegation.

  “Jamie!” Greg said, dragging her down behind a wagon. “Do you want to end up as some vampire’s meal?”

  She winced at the pressure of his fingers on her upper arm. She mumbled an apology, but Greg had already moved away to shout orders as if he, not Parks, were in charge. The older man, grim-faced, caught Jamie’s eye and nodded. She smiled at her godfather to prove that she wasn’t afraid.

  This wasn’t like that other time. She wasn’t alone. She wasn’t a child. And she wasn’t helpless.

  Someone pushed a gun into her hand. “You’ve had training,” Sergeant Cho whispered, crouching beside her. “Aim for the heart or between the eyes. Don’t fire wildly—take your time.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Jamie said.

  Cho squeezed her shoulder and quickly moved away. Jamie’s hand trembled on the grip. She wasn’t a killer. This was a mission of peace. For it to be born out of violence...

  She’d barely finished the thought when the first horse barreled past her, hooves kicking up clods of dirt as the air filled with the smell of horse sweat and leather, and a sharper scent she thought must be the Opir rider himself. He didn’t stop to accost her, but a moment later she heard a cry and a shot. More horses flashed by; more shots followed, but the shouts were more of anger and defiance than pain.

  Finally it was her turn. The horse reared up beside her, nostrils flaring, while its rider’s eyes seemed to burn down on her from beneath his hood. She raised the gun, and the raider knocked it out of her hand with no effort at all.

  “Please,” she said, addressing him as calmly as she knew how. “I don’t mean you any harm.”

  The horseman laughed. It was an ugly sound. He swept down and grabbed her arm, pulling her halfway into the saddle. His hot breath beat on the back of her neck. She closed her eyes, preparing herself for the bite.

  It didn’t come. He wheeled his mount around and rode away from the wagon, pinning her in place against him. When he stopped and let her slide to the ground, it was clear that the raiders had won.

  Jamie counted. Five raiders, and ten in the delegate party. All ten were still alive, though one of the soldiers, Corporal Delgado, was lying on her side, nursing her arm. Three of the raiders were busy binding the wrists of their captives while the other two remained on their mounts, rifles resting on their thighs.

  But Jamie saw no blood, except the little on the soldier’s arm. The raiders had won almost without trying.

  They’re keeping us in good condition so that they can get the most out of us, Jamie thought, too numb to feel fear. This was a disaster of the highest order. Not only had the delegation been stopped before it truly started its journey, but now its members would serve as a food source for the raiders...kept alive for God knew how long, until they were too weak to keep donating blood. And then...

  “This isn’t necessary,” she said, speaking clearly and loudly enough for everyone to hear. “We’ll be happy to share our blood with you until our escorts arrive.”

  Her godfather, hands already bound, gave her a warning look. Greg’s face was dark with anger, and the soldiers stared at her as if she’d gone crazy.

  The presumed leader of the raiders, one of the two watching on horseback, turned the black circle of his hood toward her. “It is a great comfort to know that you’re so willing to serve,” he said mockingly. “We would not wish to force you.”

  “We are expecting others,” she said, refusing to let herself be intimidated. “Riders. Perhaps you’ve heard of them. They call themselves the Brotherhood, and they’re very good fighters. But there’s no need for more violence, if you’ll only accept our offer and then leave us in peace.”

  The leader of the raiders whistled through his teeth. “You speak for all these humans?”

  “I speak for them,” Parks said, his wispy gray hair floating in the breeze like a halo. “I’m President of the City Council of the San Francisco Enclave. We’ll give you whatever you need.”

  Speaking a language Jamie knew to be rooted in ancient Greek, the leader addressed his mounted companion. The other Opiri gave an appreciative laugh.

  “Put no faith in your Riders,” he said to Jamie. He called to his companions, who gathered up their human captives and forced them into a small space close to one of the wagons. She thought the raiders might take them on a forced march to whatever hideout the Freebloods kept as their base, but instead they left one guard to watch over the humans and retreated to the shade of one of the big oaks to the side of the track.

  Waiting for night, Jamie thought. But they still could have taken blood from any of their captives, and did not. Jamie listened to the harsh breathing of the young medic next to her and tried to catch her godfather’s eye. But there were too many others between them, and there was nothing he could have done.

  From a place of detachment she had fostered long ago, she recognized her own terror. It was perfectly rational to be afraid, under the circumstances...even for someone who had never faced a hungry Opir before. Especially just after sunset, when one of the raiders came to untie her and lead her under the oaks.

  He won’t kill you, she thought, fighting panic as she was brought to stand before the leader. It isn’t in his best interest.

  But when he flashed his very sharp teeth at her, she shuddered in spite of herself.

  “You said you’d offer us your blood,” he said. “Is that all you’re prepared to give for your freedom?”

  Jamie tilted up her chin. �
��I will do whatever is necessary to avoid more violence.”

  “Quite a brave little human.” The Freeblood sneered.

  She took a shaky step toward him. “Do you know why we’re here?” she asked. “We’re on our way to a meeting among dozens of Enclaves and Citadels and colonies, a Conclave to reach a new agreement for peace among all humans and Opiri. If we succeed, you’ll never have to hunt for blood again. There would be plenty of places where humans will give blood willingly, and—”

  “You assume we want such a peace.” The leader grinned. “Come here.”

  Jamie hesitated. Her escort pushed her toward the leader. She stumbled, began to fall, saw the leader jump up before he could catch her.

  For an unknown period of time she lay on the leaf-littered ground, half-dazed. Again there were shouts and cries, hooves striking hard earth. This time there were no shots.

  The others got free, she thought. But the voices she heard were not familiar.

  A hoof stamped down next to her head, an inch away from striking her temple. She froze. The horse’s leg moved away, and a boot came down in its place. A strong, very masculine hand descended to grip her shoulder.

  “Are you all right?”

  She looked up through her tangled hair. An uncovered face stared down at her, but all she could see were a shock of dark hair and vivid violet-gray eyes.

  “You’re late,” she whispered.

  Chapter 2

  “Yes,” the Rider who rescued Jamie said. “I apologize.”

  He helped her to her feet, brushing leaves out of her hair. Jamie put her hand up self-consciously and stepped back, making sure that her footing was solid.

  There was just enough moonlight filtering through the tree branches for her to get a better look at her rescuer. His features were handsome from what she could see of their lines—his chin firm, his cheekbones high and his gaze direct and curious. He had a Rider’s legs, firmly muscled, and his shoulders were broad under his shearling coat. He wore two knives: one in a sheath at his waist and a smaller one in his boot. His rifle was slung over his shoulder by its strap.