Prologue

Galveston, TX- Aug. 1863

After securing a fresh horse, he'd made his way back toward Galveston. For two years he had lived with his troops, sacrificing everything for the sake of the South, the cause for which they were all fighting. It seemed, however, that some of them were losing conviction to fight. The battle was turning in the favor of the North simply because they had better offenses, better weapons and superior tactics. He'd faced the look of defeat in most of his men even before the skirmishes began, their faces still haunting him long after the fighting had ceased. Now on this solitary trip to hunt for stragglers, he could recount and refresh his thoughts.

Still the violent images that had marred his mind for the past two years were always present. Gunfire, bombs and ambushes, always resulting in heavy casualties on their side. His best friends, his brothers falling before him had become almost routine. But it never got easier to see it. No, it never got easier to have to drag a boy of barely seventeen years of age out of the line of Union bombs, limbs missing, life fading drastically from blood loss and a shaky plea to get word to his family rasping from bloodstained and dirt encrusted lips. Even the quiet welcoming warmth of liquor never stayed the images for long. The long days march to the line of fire, foot sore from exhaustion, hot from the heat, hungry and completely parched for lack of water gave many a feeling of dread as if each campaign were a death march.

The gentle swaying of the horse's back almost lulled his state of mind into a trance. The complete absence of sleep had chased him for days, working to overtake his eyelids and force them to close. His grip remained tight on the reins, his only connection to reality. Oh, perchance to dream, to escape the living hell he'd endured for the past two years... But even then he wondered if he would ever really escape.

The sun was setting, casting off a surreal shade of twilight as it ducked behind the clouds and turned the sky an orange shade in preparation for nightfall. The sun's unrelenting heat had eased but the humidity was still clinging to the air.

Three figures appearing in the distance almost caused him to laugh in delirium. Was he going mad? He'd not seen a soul on this desolate road for hours. His vision, clouded by fatigue, didn't grasp the features of these three, only their faint outlines. He mustered what little strength he had left and clucked his horse up into a trot, drawing up the reins in a stately fashion. He'd not had a bath in days, his hair was a mess, his face marred with dirt and grime from days of scrimmage and his officer's coat was crusty with blood spatter from his own men. Stately? Hardly, but he cared little at the moment. He only did his best to keep up the confidence that had served him well over his time in the Confederacy.

Drawing closer to them, his vision gained focus and he realized these three figures were indeed women. Three stragglers, or so they appeared. He'd seen many faces during his time in the war yet he didn't recognize these three.

Maria could hardly believe her good fortune. A smile curved her lips as she stood in the middle of the dirt road, watching the lone soldier make his way toward them on horseback. So eager… They always were, she thought as she narrowed her eyes in appraisal.

"Such sweet blood…" Lucy purred.

A low hiss escaped Maria's lips as she took a step forward. "No," she declared. "This one belongs to me."

"Don't they all?" Nettie growled, the burn in her throat flaring to life as the young man approached.

"You're forgetting yourself," Maria snarled, her voice still a whisper too low for human ears. "We'll feed later. This one, I think, has potential…"

The night was approaching, casting a shadow of dusk across the sky as the stars peeked out across the expansive space. The moon, making its appearance for the night, gave an illuminating glow, almost inhuman, across these three women. They were flawless in appearance, two of them taller and silvery blonde with pale features. The third one was Mexican, smaller than the other two, with raven black hair and yet equally porcelain skin.

He slowed his horse upon approach fixing them each with a questioning look. "Can I help you, ladies?" he asked, letting his gaze flicker over each of them.

"Mmmm," Nettie sighed. "Lovely…and well-mannered." She took a step toward him, her eyes sparkling in the dim light.

Maria's arm shot forward, stopping Nettie in her tracks. She recognized the gleam in her eyes all too well and was intent on stopping the impetuous girl before she had a chance to ruin all of her fine plans. "Concentrate," she reminded her.

He assessed that, judging from the three of them, the smallest amongst them must have been the one in charge. His expression shifted into confusion at the sharpness of her words.

Nettie growled her frustration but relented and Maria let her go, gently pushing her back towards Lucy. "He looks right," she mused. "Young, strong, an officer…" She tapped one long, slender finger against her lips as she assessed him, her gaze traveling from the top of his cavalry hat to the soles of his boots. A feline smile quirked her lips. "And there's something more…do you sense it?" she asked her companions. "He's…compelling."

"Oh yes," Nettie agreed, leaning forward to inhale another deep breath of the young man's scent.

"Patience," Maria hissed. "I said we'd find food later. I want to keep this one."

Nettie scowled, her eyes shooting daggers at Maria's back.

"You'd better do it if he's important to you, Maria," Lucy whispered. "I kill them twice as often as I keep them."

Kill. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and stood on end at the very mention of the word. His heart began to race as he once again found himself looking over the three. He should have run but he couldn't bring himself to move. He'd been brought up to protect women not fear them and no matter how strange these three were they were still women and it was his job to ensure their safety.

"Yes," Maria agreed softly, her eyes drifting back up to the young man's face. "Yes, I'll do it. I really like this one." She spun on her heel, the wistful tone leaving her voice completely as she eyed the two of them. "Take Nettie away," she commanded, her eyes falling on Lucy. "I don't want to have to protect my back while I'm trying to focus."

"Let's hunt," Nettie agreed, casting one last regretful look to the lone soldier. Lucy took her hand and the two of them sprinted toward Galveston, their white dresses blowing out behind them, their feet barely touching the ground as they disappeared into the distance.

Jasper's awestruck gaze followed the two blondes as they spirited off down the road. They were graceful, almost inhumanly so as their dresses billowed out behind them like the wings of angels.

Maria eyed the young man with intent curiosity, the way a cat would eye a mouse while contemplating whether or not to pounce. "What's your name, soldier?" she asked, her voice as smooth as velvet.

Jasper's concentration was broken by Maria's soft words. Before he knew what he was doing he found himself climbing down off of his horse and turning to face her, letting his gaze dance over her flawless features. "Major Jasper Whitlock, ma'am." His voice rang with a nervous tenor as he eyed her warily. Was she going to kill him? No, he couldn't bring himself to believe that. After all women were meek and mild, fair creatures that were supposed to be protected.

Maria took a step toward him and then another until her body was almost pressed against his. She reached up a hand and trailed her fingertips down his dirty face, her eyes fever bright in the moonlight. "I truly hope you survive, Jasper," she murmured in a voice as soft as feathers. "I have a good feeling about you."

He wanted to run. Everything inside of him screamed to do so, to escape that deep primal feeling of fear that couldn't be identified but was instinctually there. His body was locked in place, unable to move, trapped and paralyzed as his heart kicked up an octave. Trembling rattled his frame as the coolness of her fingertips touched his cheek. His instincts again told him to flee but his gentlemanly nature continued to win out. This was a woman in need of help and he couldn't abandon her.

She inclined her head as though she meant to kiss him and for a moment she hung there almost as though she were frozen in time. Then, without warning, the hand that had caressed his face with such gentleness flashed around to tangle in his hair, wrenching his head to the side in one swift motion as her mouth descended on his throat.

His breath hitched in his throat as she inclined her head as if she wanted to kiss him. Was it something else she desired then? His heart pounded against his chest so loud that he couldn't hear his own scattered thoughts. He inched back but an inch was as far as he got before she snared him with her fingers and snapped his head to the side. He gasped as the sensation of razor blades and fire ripped through his neck.

The moment she released him he dropped to the ground in a heap. Pain seared through his veins, eating up every other feeling his body had ever possessed. He twisted on the ground, rolling onto his stomach as his fingers dug into the earth in search of some escape from this sudden hell. His throat contracted and burned heavier than anything else before the feeling spread through his arms, to his legs and concentrated in his chest.

Maria closed her eyes and tilted her head back, a smear of red staining her bloodless lips as she gasped against the hunger that threatened to consume her. One taste of him was nowhere near enough and it took every ounce of strength and self control in her possession to keep from falling upon him in that moment and draining him of the unspeakably sweet blood that flowed within him. She stopped breathing to temper her thirst and opened her eyes to watch as he began the transformation that would make him hers forever…or at least for as long as he proved useful, she thought with a wry smile. And he showed more promise than most…

"Major Jasper Whitlock," she mused. "Somehow I think you will be my greatest creation…"