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  Redeemer of Shadows

  Tribes of the Vampire

  Michelle M. Pillow®

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  Redeemer of Shadows © copyright 2004 - 2019 by Michelle M. Pillow

  Third Electronic Printing October 2016

  Second Electronic Printing October 2012

  First Electronic Printing July 2004

  Cover art © Copyright 2019 Book Cover Media

  ISBN 9781625010018

  Published by The Raven Books LLC

  * * *

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  All books copyrighted to the author and may not be resold or given away without written permission from the author, Michelle M. Pillow.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any and all characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or events or places is merely coincidence. Novel intended for adults only. Must be 18 years or older to read.

  Michelle M. Pillow® is a registered trademark of The Raven Books LLC

  Contents

  Praise for Redeemer of Shadows

  About Redeemer of Shadows

  Tribes of the Vampire

  Michelle’s Bestselling Series

  Author Updates

  Note from the Author

  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

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  The Series Continues…

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  About Michelle M. Pillow

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  Please Leave a Review

  Praise for Redeemer of Shadows

  5 Stars!

  “I can honestly say that I have not enjoyed a vampire story this much since reading Anne Rice’s novels. Ms. Pillow has written a book which I found difficult to put down, and I highly recommend it. “

  RJ Reviews

  5 Stars!

  “The story took me over so completely that I was unable to put it down. “

  Novelspot

  5 Stars!

  “Michelle Pillow has again shown us what a versatile writer she is. She has now explored the domain of the vampire and has given us a very deep, dark story of vampire love and legend...The plot moves along smoothly and will have you turning the pages in anticipation.”

  LoveRomances Review

  5 Stars!

  “With her penchant for creating memorable, immortal characters, Michelle M. Pillow has penned one the darkest yet tormented vampires I have ever had the pleasure to read...REDEEMER OF SHADOWS will capture your attention until the heart-stopping ending.”

  eCataRomance Reviews

  About Redeemer of Shadows

  Urban Fantasy, Dark Paranormal Vampire Romance

  Tribes of the Vampire Book One

  Destiny brings them together, while powerful and dark vampiric forces conspire to tear them apart.

  Vampire Servaes, the Marquis de Normant, never asked for his dark gift. He has survived immortality with restrained anger against a master who stole life from him. Not to mention the foolish young ones who abuse their supernatural powers. Eternity seemed endless…until Hathor.

  Hathor Vinceti has never felt as if she belonged in the world around her, yet she never imagines more could be waiting for her. After moving to London to help an aunt, she uncovers a thriving underworld where bored vampires congregate to feed on “deserving” humans, each trying to outdo the others as they forge their monstrous reputations. What could be worse than immortal beings with nothing to do and forever to do it?

  Behind the scenes, the council rules the eight Tribes of the Vampire. Sometimes their actions are justified, and other times they're not. When news of Hathor reaches them, they become fearful of what she knows.

  Tribes of the Vampire

  Redeemer of Shadows

  The Jaded Hunter

  Eternally Bound

  In Her Shadows

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  Updated Reading List and Links here: MichellePillow.com

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  Michelle’s Bestselling Series

  Qurilixen World Novels

  Dragon Lords Series

  Barbarian Prince

  Perfect Prince

  Dark Prince

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  Space Lords Series

  His Frost Maiden

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  Dynasty Lords Series

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  Temptation of the Butterfly

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  To learn more about the Qurilixen World series of books and to stay up to date on the latest book list visit www.MichellePillow.com

  Author Updates

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  http://michellepillow.com/author-updates/

  To the men in my family.

  Note from the Author

  I can’t believe it has been well over a decade since I wrote this book. While I enjoy writing other genres, the Tribes of the Vampire series has always been a favorite of mine. The research demands, attention to detail, and large world-building make it a fun
challenge—not to mention all the naughty vampires demanding their turn on screen. You try telling them no!

  What a wonderful and wild trip being an author has been thus far. I have no complaints. I love being able to create worlds and take adventures of the mind with my readers.

  This book is being presented in its revised third edition. Though the original story line remains the same, it has undergone some changes.

  Thank you to my loyal readers. I can’t wait to entertain you for many more years to come!

  * * *

  Happy Reading!

  Michelle M. Pillow

  Chapter One

  London, England

  Stormy blue eyes rounded in shock, glancing in all directions. Surely she couldn’t be in the right place. This hidden, modish London nightclub looked nothing like her aunt Georgia’s description of a delectably auspicious café run by a middle-aged couple from Germany.

  “Maybe in Germany their idea of delectable includes licking various body parts in public,” Hathor mused wryly, trying to mask her nervousness from the crowd. Again her gaze darted around, but none seemed to pay attention to the lonely spectator in their midst. She wanted to laugh, thinking of her old aunt, the owner of an upper crust English bed-and-breakfast, reclining on one of the very decadent couches lined before the stage. Then, realizing that the liberal Georgia could very well come to such a place, she did giggle. Had her aunt tricked her into getting out of the house?

  No, Hathor thought with a firm shake of her head, Georgie wouldn’t have gone to this extreme.

  The club looked like an underground dance hall and brothel straight out of the turn of the twentieth century, with a dark and modern twist. Leather G-string panties with gem-studded adornments clasped against the bronzed and glittering skin of the dancers as they sauntered past the curtain to take their place on the narrow stone stage.

  The dancers’ dark faces smiled in wicked promise as they glided through the smoke-filled air. Their spike-shaped bras were tipped with steel and gleamed as they thrust their breasts forward with wild abandon. The thump of their high-heeled boots ground out a lusty rhythm, pounding steadily with the beat of the hard music and the aroused shrills of excited spectators.

  Hathor huddled in the entryway, refusing to make her way through the scattered tables to the trendy stone and cushion benches. Her blue floral sundress seemed oddly out of place amidst the leather, rubber, and furs hugging the teasing peaks of naked flesh. She gripped her purse firmly, holding it closely to her chest, drawing no comfort from the conservative handbag as her fingers worked against the beaded pattern on the front. Never had she felt so conscious or so very aware of herself.

  You’re in London, she thought, doing her best not to be overwhelmed.

  Hathor wasn’t so much shocked as she was uneasy. The dancers attracted her eyes, even as she tried to pull her gaze away. The rhythm of the music pulsed inside of her, mesmerizing her blood with its hard and wicked sound. Her heart began to beat faster to make time. She hadn’t been invited to come into this place.

  The forgotten stone walls, barely visible in the dimmed light, were decayed and leaked in places, like the weeping of teary, old eyes kept awake a century too long. The air was damp and cool, only slightly heated by the small crowd. To her left was a long bar, the newest fixture in the place, made to look as if carved from stone. But, oddly, few seemed to be drinking the warm glasses of liquor the portly bartender tried to dispense. The apathetic man ended up shooting back that which he poured.

  Around the curious stage, lounging in the long cushioned seats, near figurines gilded with gold, sat only couples—peculiarly matched. There was a stoic businessman. His arm wrapped possessively around what Hathor could only assume was an English prostitute. A young kid, clearly American by the proud flag displayed on his shirt, crushed his lips to the exposed cleavage of a shockingly older woman. A starkly handsome man, whose dark hair hung about his shoulders to spill forth over his naked chest, naughtily licked the cheek of a balding middle-aged fellow. The balding man’s wedding ring shone brightly on his finger. As his head turned, Hathor was afforded a glimpse of his passion-hazed eyes. However, it was something else that caused her to pause. Each couple seemed comprised of one captivatingly beautiful person—those only seen in movies—and one very ordinary and plain.

  Eerily, the stage lights dimmed into a bloody red. The smoky air cleared in coiling snake-like patterns as a silent exhaust fan opened on the roof of the old stone building. The crowd became quiet in respectful anticipation of the performance. Eyes turned to the stage in unison, drawn to the dancers as a possessed group. A look of astonishment washed over their captivated faces as they watched. The thrusting hips of the dancers came together in sexual forthrightness.

  Hathor’s eyes widened. She froze in stunned bewilderment. She was both fascinated and horrified, and couldn’t turn away. The chorus girls formed a kneeling circle on the platform. Her heart began to pound curiously, cemented in edging fear as she watched white illumination open in the bottom of the stage with a dramatic flash. She could hear the beating in her head, like the drumming of wild horses in flight. A figure moved in the dimming center radiance. The dancers kneeled in worship, leaning back to press their pointed breasts into the shadowed air. A slight moan escaped from the depths of the impassioned crowd, and then another.

  Oh no! Hathor thought in growing desperation as she finally managed to look around. I’ve stumbled into an underground sex club. These people must be prostitutes. I don’t understand. I know I got the address right. I checked the map three times before leaving the house. Damned European cities! Why can’t you have streets that lead in a straight line? I shouldn’t be in here. Is prostitution even legal in London?

  Hathor grabbed her purse, intent on checking the map once again. Her fingers shook slightly. She glanced around, wondering if she should just leave. No one seemed to be paying her any mind, and the front passageway leading to the entrance held no attendant.

  Stepping a bit from the shadows into the light, she moved closer to the bar. The bartender glanced at her before throwing back another shot. His eyes couldn’t meet the crowd. Hathor’s fingers began to dig into her purse, blindly searching for the crumpled map of London’s streets. Finding it, she started to pull it out. Then, as if by a will outside herself, her eyes were drawn to the center stage. Instantly the music changed, its hard beat turning seductively soft. A strange chanting stirred in the back of her mind. The words refused to let her focus. Her body lit as if possessed by fire.

  Hathor’s lips parted in a gasp before she held her breath steady and her eyes alert. The lighting dimmed to red to reveal a man who was like no other—strong arms, broad shoulders tapering to a well-formed chest, and then a slender waist.

  The pulsing tones of the music fell low and captivating. The tune was from another time, erotically archaic, with the sweetly aching cry of a lonely violin. She felt the strange thump vibrating through the stone floor. It unfurled enticingly inside her, awakening her with a quickening she never dreamed possible. It was as if a lethargic spell was being woven about her senses. Everything faded and blurred and blended from her sight but the man.

  The performer was dressed all in black—snugly fitted slacks and a loose linen shirt cut in a style from the end of the nineteenth century. The old style suited him well, and he wore it with a dynamic ease that said it undoubtedly belonged on him. His dark eyes, encased by the paleness of his skin, glittering a devilish red in the light, pierced through the crowd in dominant pleasure. The defined lines of his diabolically firm mouth lifted up at one side in sensual boredom. As he lowered his chin, his gaze peered through the long tresses of his extremely dark hair. He watched the dancers flip over to push their firm backsides up for his viewing. His languid smile revealed stark white teeth, two of which pointed into sharpened fangs.

  “Vampire,” Hathor whispered in awe as he whipped his arm leisurely through the air. The man on the stage fascinated her. As she
watched him, she detected his every movement as if it were part of her soul. His limbs swayed impassively in the ease of the music. She forgot where she was. Shivers racked her spine in shuddering tickles of the flesh.

  Her hand fell from her purse, the bag dropping forgotten to hang at her side. Her shoulders stooped as if she couldn’t control her arms. His very presence seemed to cast shadows over everything else, mesmerizing her like a drug. In her head, she knew it was only an act, but the man had an enigmatic power about him.