The Blood Spell

J. Elizabeth is here to finish her story, I know you all are on pins and needles to know what’s going to happen next.

The Blood began to shiver. They weren’t supposed to get cold, but it shook as if in a blizzard. Jansen lunged forward, but skidded on his knees, colliding with it. The chains pulled them both to a stop. This time, it didn’t scream. Its head snapped back, eyes wide open as tears of blood poured down the pale cheeks.

Lips skinned back to reveal clenched teeth and fangs. Jansen felt a brief flash of pity for the thing before squashing the feeling.

Desperate, he seized the one remaining option, placing his fingertips on the vest-like contraption along the bands that encircled it. The pressure pushed the tips closest to his hands deeper into Cantor’s skin, but it wouldn’t matter how much he hurt the thing if it died. And Jansen was in no doubt it would die. The cursed mage had betrayed him. He’d hunt her down and make her pay. But first things first.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on his blood, trying to ignore the doubts and rage that flooded him as always when he tried to use his inborn magic.
Nothing happened.

Jansen knew what he should feel. He’d been successful before but this time, the surge and heat didn’t come. Damnation, why did it have to be this way the one time he needed it to work without fighting him? He tried again, concentrating on what he knew was happening within him.

Blood flowed through his veins. The power he needed was within that blood. Just a little surge, that was all it would take. The blood was his to command. It wasn’t like the undead freaks who’d destroyed humanity for their own gluttony and greed. This blood was his, and it would obey him!

Fire licked his insides, everywhere at once. Knowing his concentration wouldn’t hold long, Jansen vaporized a small amount of the raging tide in his veins. He sighed, intoxicated by the way magic caressed his insides as it was released.

A crack and clattering sounded in the room and pain blossomed in his shoulder. He looked down. The bands under his fingers had fractured. Gears had fallen to the ground. Some had flung themselves away from the device. One must have nicked his shoulder on its way by, drawing enough blood that the surge within him lessened, compounded by the quantity of his own blood he’d used.

He forced himself to move through the shock of success. One day, he swore it would be his to command with confidence. For that moment, he didn’t have time to marvel.

He tore the pieces of the spiked cage from Cantor’s body. Though the holes in its skin continued to smoke, the quaking lessened with every piece that was removed. he waved Wallen off when he tried to help. This was too dangerous. He had no way to control the beast now, and Jansen had no wish to risk the older man’s life. What Wallen knew, the things he could do for the rebellion, were too important to risk.

At last he had the Blood free, and the creature crumpled forward. To Jansen’s surprise, its wounds still didn’t heal. He’d been sure it would be able to close the wounds once the spikes were removed. The mage was going to answer for this.

The breathing of the two humans and the slow drip of blood tears onto the floor was loud in the silence. He wondered if he’d have to kill Cantor after all. What if the contraption had damaged the Blood too much for it to function as needed?

A hand suddenly gripped the front of Jansen’s overalls and pulled him forward. Eyes, entirely red now, danced with rage-thirst. Jansen knew what came next. Death. His, Wallen’s and every other human unlucky enough to be in this section of the Pavros ghetto. Plasma-crazed Bloods were impossible for any human to bring down. Jansen said a prayer to gods he didn’t believe in anymore, asking them to shelter the innocent at least.

“Thank you.” Pain made Cantor’s voice rougher than it had been before.

“You don’t know,” it began, then paused as another tremor wracked its body. “What you’re playing with.”

“We’re trying to survive. You’ve given us no choice!”

Jansen clamped his lips together. As long as he said nothing more, the creature still didn’t know anything important, not about him, or Wallen or the Rebellion. The anti-Blood movement was still safe.

An ugly sound came out of its throat, halting and jagged. Laughter? “We said the same thing at the beginning.”

Wallen’s boot scuffed on the dirt floor. Without looking away from Jansen, the Blood rasped, “I wouldn’t try anything if I were you, human. Not draining your friend here is taking all of my control. If you distract me any more than this, his death is quite likely.”

Jansen couldn’t afford to let his sudden fear disrupt the plan. “What do you want?”

“I was going to ask you the same. While I owe you my life, you’re also the reason it was in danger in the first place. I wouldn’t ask too much of me beyond sparing yours.”

It was Jansen’s turn to laugh. This undead thing spoke as though it had a life to cherish or protect.

“My existence, if you prefer that term. You shouldn’t play around with such dark magic, fool. Perhaps that advice will suffice to cover what debt I feel exists between us.”

Cantor released his shirt with a light shove. Jansen slid across the floor, bumping into the wall. It was on its feet when he looked up.

“And I suppose I can’t report this. Were I to tell Lord Dametri, or any of my kind for that matter, you’d be hunted down and put to death. After they interrogate you to find out where you got that thing, that is.”

Jansen had to salvage this. Having the mage make that damned thing had been expensive. But there was more at stake than money. Humans were dying in the effort to bring the Bloods down, yet they were making no headway. “Information.”

It paused, turning back from the door to the street. “Excuse me?”

“That’s all I was after, information.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you? Or care?”

All the tears in the Blood’s skin he could see were closed now. Time was running very short. “That’s all I want in exchange for saving your… life.”

The crimson eyes fixed on him. Jansen refused to flinch back. “Bold. I like that. If we could freely make more of my kind, I think I’d take you for my own. You’d make an interesting Blood.”

His stomach lurched even as he tucked away that fact. Then he gambled. “There’s something in the Ghettos Dametri wants. I know that much.”

Cantor took a step closer. “What makes you think you know anything about what our Blood Lord wants?”

“It’s subtle, but enough of us have noticed the patrols by constables, not to mention shapes in the night. Dametri’s involving Bloods as well as his lap dogs, which makes it important. What is it?”

“If it’s that important, what makes you think I’d tell you? I keep my Lord’s secrets.”

“You said you owe me.”

Cantor nodded, as if he’d expected the response. His reply dripped with derision. “And if I told you, I’m sure you’d retrieve it and hand it over to him.”

“What I’d do with it isn’t your concern. I want to know what he’s looking for.”

The creature was back across the room in a second. It held him against the wall by the throat with his feet dangling in the air. He fought against the panic flooding his mind at the constriction of his windpipe.

“You’ll seek to use it against him. I know your type. Honorless. Depraved. You refuse to acknowledge what we’ve wrought here, how we’ve made your lives better than the brutal existence it was before we rose to rule you.”

“Lies,” Jansen choked out, slipping his hand behind his back.

“You don’t know how to do anything other than kill, do you? You’d seek Dametri’s destruction, even though he’s done nothing but keep peace and ensure all humans have food, shelter and clothing.”

“Like cattle.” He forced out the words he could manage. “Food to him. Not people.”

“I won’t help you kill him, or even harm him. I owe him everything, you arrogant speck of dung!”

Cantor’s hand squeezed tighter. Pain spread out from Jansen’s neck as he heard bones creak. It was so loud, almost deafening. What was he doing? Why was his hand gripping something? The leather ridges were so smooth under his fingers.

Leather. The hilt of his dagger.

He pulled it out of the sheath and rammed it into the Blood’s side, under the rib cage. The twin blades slid in deep, almost to the hilt.

Cantor paused in the middle of what it had been yelling and looked down. The Blood laughed. “Is that the best you can do? You’ve used up any debt I had to you already. Now I am going to make a meal of you. Well, perhaps an appetizer.”

Jansen pressed the button on the side of the hilt. He felt the small click of the compartment between the blades opening. With a faint smile, he envisioned the small object slipping deeper into Blood’s body, the first spell on it driving it relentlessly toward the thing’s heart. Their one known weakness. The Rebellion had taken generations to learn of it.

Jansen needed to feel the second spell take hold, so he concentrated on his blood and the magic there again. There. The reverberation. The spell had triggered. It was unstoppable now and under his control.

“Release.” That was all he could get out past the constriction of his airway, but it was enough. The hand was gone the instant he said it and he dropped to the floor, coughing and massaging his throat.

“How did you do that?”

Jansen looked up. Cantor stood there, staring at its hand in confusion. He smiled. “So, how about that answer, Blood?”

“Two boys we lost a few years ago.” Cantor slapped a hand over its mouth. The red eyes bulged.

“And what are the boys’ names?”

From behind the hand, muffled words. “Eben and Vandis.”

“And why does–”

“Why can’t I keep from answering?” Cantor shouted.

“I have my ways. You’re mine now. And don’t try to fight me too much. You won’t die, but it’ll hurt a lot.”

This was probably a lie. Jansen suspected enough fighting would burst the Blood’s heart and that would kill it, but he wasn’t about to let it know there might be a way out of this. “Now, why does Dametri want these boys?”

“Vintages. Lost. Must resurrect. Bloodline.” Cantor fought and lost one word at a time. It amused and gratified Jansen, partly because the concept for the spell had been Jansen’s.

For nearly an hour, he picked the creature’s brain, digging out everything he could on the boys. He was fairly sure he knew who they were, though he kept that to himself.

Wallen sat nearby, making notes in a small notebook. Cantor was more of a find than Jansen had even dreamed of. It was so hard to judge what went on inside the Blood Lord’s towering home from outside, so this one’s true relationship to Dametri hadn’t been suspected. A confidant as his own slave!

“I’ve told you all I can. Let me go. I’m of no further use to you. Damnation, if Lord Dametri learns of this, he’ll destroy me.”

“Then you’ll have to ensure he doesn’t figure it out. I have other work for you. You’re to conceal from everyone, human or Blood, what happened to you today, whatever that takes. You will do nothing to endanger your life or your current position in Dametri’s household.”

Horror filled its red eyes. “What are you going to make me do?”

“For now, you’re my spy. You’ll report back to us. Once a month, you’ll take a walk as you were doing today and stray close to Gate Eight of the North Enclave. If something important or urgent comes up, you’ll report to one of us right away.” Enclave was what the Bloods called their human ghettos, like that somehow made it better that they penned up humans who wouldn’t serve them.

“And then?”

Jansen leaned in close, sure the spell would keep Cantor from harming him. “I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise for you. Now, return to your master before it worries too much.”

The Blood shot him a look of pure loathing, then left. A long moment of silence followed before Wallen broke it.

“Are you sure this’ll work?”

“Oh yes. Possibly even better than we could have hoped. I heard about Vintages once. Dametri won’t let such rarified blood escape him. Come on. Let’s go find those boys. I think they’re in District Four. Tommy had a couple boys with him last time I was there. I’m certain they match the description. If needed, we can get Cantor to confirm it’s them, but I think we’ll manage fine without that. I don’t want to risk Dametri finding out we have a mole in his home prematurely.”

“You’ve got a plan, don’t you?”

The hope in the other man’s voice was sweet and Jansen let his own fill him, bringing a smile to his lips. “Yes. One better than anything we’ve come up with before. I think we can finally bring the bastard down if we play this right. First, we grab the boys and getting them ready for their part in this plan. Then, when the time’s right, we put them in position. Once Dametri has them, it’ll be smooth sailing to our goal, cutting that beast’s heart from its chest.”

Wallen stared at him.

“The only sure way to kill a Blood. I’m not taking any chances.” Jansen grinned, unable to hold back the joy the vision brought him and the one that followed it. Humanity free, at least in one of their cities. He’d sacrifice anyone for that, even those two boys.

The End

Incase you missed the links yesterday:

The Blood and the Cauldron Part 3

Karen is back to give you the final installment of The Blood and the Cauldron

The Blood and the Cauldron – Part 3

Mark pounded on the door of the cottage. He hated going behind Ewan’s back, but his friend was in over his head this time. ‘Kate! Open up!’

‘Good Goddess!’ The door flew open, revealing the Witch – as she was known to nearly everyone. Most people didn’t want to know her name, or any more about her than they needed to. At this moment, Mark saw why. Her arms were covered up to the elbows with leaves and sap, and in her left hand she held a bundle of twigs which was crawling with spiders.

‘Kate, I need your help,’ panted Mark. ‘It’s Ewan.’

‘Get in here.’ Kate hurried back inside.

Following her, Mark glimpsed something steaming away in her stillroom, before he was whisked into the kitchen. She threw the twigs out of the window, then scrubbed her arms at the huge Belfast sink.

‘Tell me,’ she commanded, ‘While I get this stuff off.’

Mark decided against asking what the ‘stuff’ was. ‘Ewan’s been seeing a girl,’ he began. ‘Someone new to the town. She went to explore the House, and got taken. Now Ewan’s gone after her – on his own.’

Kate dried her hands, and frowned at Mark. ‘Someone new? Mark, no-one new has moved in for months. You know I keep track, because of our – vampire problem. Where did Ewan meet this girl?’

Mark’s brow furrowed. ‘Just in a bar, I think.’

‘Have you met her? Do you know her name?’

‘No…they’ve only been together a few weeks.’ Mark looked down at his feet. ‘And he was really soppy about her…I kind of didn’t want to be a spare wheel. Oh – she’s called Cara.’ He raised his head sheepishly, to a blazing stare. Alarmed, he asked, ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Cara!’ Kate was throwing off the robe she always wore when conjuring, and marching towards the stillroom. ‘That…oohh, I knew I sensed something, but I couldn’t see it!’

Mark scurried after her as she grabbed a small bag and slung it over her shoulder. ‘You know her?’

‘She’s a vampire.’

Mark recoiled. ‘What?’

‘An old acquaintance.’ Kate was filling a bottle from the cauldron. She stepped into the circle of protection chalked on the stillroom floor, and held out her hand. ‘Come on! And grab one of those.’ She nodded at the long stakes leaning against the wall.

Mark seized one. She pulled him in close, and reached into her bag. Rubbing her fingers together, she scattered a red powder all around them, forming another circle inside the chalk. Mark wrinkled his nose. The powder had a cloying, coppery smell, almost like…

‘You might want to shut your eyes.’

Mark forgot about the powder. ‘Why? What are we doing?’

‘Getting there fast.’

The world tilted and threw Mark across the room – or at least that was how it seemed. When his vision cleared, they were standing at the main door of the House. Kate’s eyes searched his, and he nodded. They darted into the hallway, Mark holding his stake like a quarterstaff. No-one about. Kate pointed at the stairs, and the two of them ran up silently. As they reached the landing, they heard whimpering cries.

‘That’s Ewan!’ Mark made as if to dash forward, but Kate stopped him.
‘You know what we might find?’

Mark’s eyes narrowed. ‘We’ll save him, or avenge him.’

‘Good lad. Come on then!’

They raced through the furthest doorway, Kate calling out words in spell speech. Three vampires jumped to their feet, leaving what resembled a pile of bloody rags on a bed. Cara flew into the air, shrieking with rage as Kate’s magic pinned her to the ceiling. Mark screamed obscenities at the other two as he charged at them.

Ewan’s eyes flew open as the pain and pleasure were torn away. He stared around wildly. Where had Cara gone? A dark figure had the acolytes trapped against the wall with a wooden staff. Ewan glimpsed Mark’s black hair and flashing eyes as the weapon was twisted and used to stake both of the vampires at once. Strong arms were gathering him up. He looked into the face of the Witch as she lifted him, as though he weighed nothing. He tried to speak, but his mouth might as well have been sandpaper. The room swirled around him, and everything went dark.

Mark left the pile of dust that had once been the acolytes, and ran to the bed.

‘Here!’ Kate held out her hand, the other arm wrapped round Ewan. She glanced up at the screeching Cara. ‘I can’t hold her there for long…’

Mark took Kate’s hand, and the world dissolved as all three of them were pulled through the air. It was as disorientating as the first time; like being on a scary fairground ride. When his surroundings took shape again, they were back in the stillroom. He felt sick and dizzy; it had all happened so quickly.

‘Take Ewan out of the circle!’

Kate’s voice jolted through him, and he half-carried, half-dragged his friend from the chalked area. Ewan was a mess. His shredded clothes revealed bite marks all over his body, blood trails striping every inch of skin in shades of red.

‘Kate – Ewan, he needs…’

‘I know! I have to do this first.’ Kate stood in the circle, drawing symbols in the air and muttering. The red powder rose from the floor in a cloud and surrounded her – and the figure taking shape beside her.

‘So you stopped me before I could finish off my little lover.’ Cara’s mocking voice came from a distance. ‘I see age hasn’t slowed you down. And you have a new warrior. Such a pity for me he and Ewan are friends – you might not have made your rescue in time, otherwise.’

Mark gulped as he realized who Cara meant by warrior. He had known his family’s association with the Witch Clans was dangerous, but…

‘You were very sneaky, getting into town without me seeing you.’ Kate’s voice was calm, but Mark knew she was furious at having missed a vampire entering the boundaries. ‘Care to tell me how you did it?’

‘Not really.’ Cara sounded nearer this time.

Mark could hardly see Kate now for the red mist rising from the floor. On the contrary, Cara was becoming more visible by the second. He clutched Ewan closer.

‘Didn’t think so.’ Kate reached into the bag strapped across her body. ‘So you’re just going to follow me in here and finish what you started?’

‘Of course. Your pathetic circle of salt can’t stop me.’

‘It’s not supposed to. You’re not the only one who can work tricks unseen.’ As Cara materialised, Kate held up the stake.

Cara laughed. ‘You know that won’t stop me either.’

‘Depends whose blood is on it.’

Mark had never seen a vampire grow pale before, but he swore that Cara did. The red mist rushed towards the weapon as it was plunged into Cara’s chest.

The vampire’s scream was so piercing, Mark let go of Ewan and clutched his head, sure this time he really was going to be sick. He clamped his mouth shut and breathed through his nose, and the dreadful sound died away. Kate appeared beside him, her hands stained red. She laid them on Ewan’s abdomen, murmuring unintelligible words.

Ewan’s wounds began to close, and his skin took on a healthier pallor. As her hands moved over his friend’s body, the red on Kate’s skin faded.

She caught Mark’s questioning eye. ‘A spell,’ she stated. ‘The powder contains my blood. Stronger than a vampire’s – although not much stronger than hers. But enough to put her out of action for a while, and heal him.’

‘She’s not dead?’

‘No. She’s too powerful.’ Kate stroked Ewan’s matted hair away from his face. ‘Come on; let’s get this young man to a comfier place.’

‘Is he going to be okay?’

‘Well, that depends what you mean by okay.’ Kate scooped Ewan up, and Mark scrambled to his feet and followed her to the living room couch. ‘For one, in spite of our rescue, he’s not going to be happy that you came to me. You know how his family feels about witches.’

‘Stupid,’ muttered Mark, gazing at his friend with affection. ‘Narrow-minded, idiotic…’ He looked away as Kate peeled off Ewan’s ruined clothes.

‘Also,’ she continued, ‘there are consequences to healing him with my blood. His own removed by a vampire, then replaced with mine? Do you know what that makes him?’


‘Neither do I.’

Oohh. Well, that’s where we leave the story – for now. What will happen to Ewan? Don’t worry, there will be more in the future, just wait and see…

I know. I know. I can’t believe she did this to us! At least there’ll be more and as soon as I find out where you can go to read the rest, I’ll be letting you all know.

Thank you, Karen for entertaining us with this wonderful tale.

The Blood and the Cauldron – Part 2

Everyone who knows Karen’s writing knows it gets HOT and steamy. She’s about to make it hot and steamy up on this blog. You know if you’ve got Little “eyes” all around you or not. If you do, I recommend you come back once those little “eyes” take their naps. 😀

The Blood and the Cauldron – Part 2

‘No,’ he whispered. ‘It’s not true. It can’t be. I’ve seen you in daylight. You can’t…you can’t…’
The corners of Cara’s mouth turned up. ‘Never full daylight, Ewan. At dawn and dusk. If I’ve consumed enough human blood I can withstand the light. It lulls people into a false sense of security.’
He scrambled towards the door, but the acolytes caught him. His body betrayed him, refusing to fight as lust surged at their touch. Forcing his mind to overcome his treacherous limbs, he struggled in their grasp. He might as well have fought against steel. They held him easily as Cara approached.
‘Ewan.’ Her voice slid over him like silk. ‘Don’t fight. It’s a long time since I’ve met anyone like you. So passionate, so determined. I want you. I want you to want me.’
‘I did want you. I thought we – we…’
‘We were. We are. Give yourself to me. I’m still the same woman you wanted. Be mine.’
‘I’ll die.’ His voice was flat. He couldn’t escape. The acolytes would kill him, if Cara didn’t.
‘That’s up to you.’
‘I can’t become one of you. Not after…’ He refused to think of his sister. He had sworn revenge for her death. Now the other woman he loved was one of the enemy. He was drowning in horror and lust. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t move.
His vision swam as he gazed into her eyes. Please, he begged silently. He was no longer asking for release. Instead, he was pleading for it not to hurt, for her somehow to take away the pain at discovering her true self. She understood.
She wrapped her arms round him, and her lips met his in a gentle kiss. He was falling, falling into oblivion. She tasted of cinnamon and chocolate. The sensible part of his mind screamed for him to reach for his stake and destroy her, to at least die fighting. He dismissed that voice, giving into desire. Base instincts took over as he pressed against her and writhed in her arms.
‘Give yourself to me,’ Cara murmured again. Ewan closed his eyes and moaned, at war with himself. The other two vampires had let go of his arms, and were running their hands down his back, his thighs, reaching between his legs and stroking his most sensitive flesh. His mind became a blur of hot wet longing. He kissed Cara back fiercely, and sensed her exultation as his last defences dropped. She licked the roof of his mouth and bit his tongue, drawing blood and already feasting on him. He was lifted, carried, floating as light as a feather while they caressed him. Pleasure coursed at every touch, every stroke, every kiss. Now they were laying him on something soft…he opened his eyes and saw the canopy of the four poster above.
The vampires spread him out on the bed. His body revelled in their sensual touch even as his mind screamed at him to resist, to fight, to run… His pinioned wrists were kissed and caressed by soft lips and tongues. Cara sat astride his legs, and ran her nails down his chest and abdomen. He groaned at the sensation and closed his eyes. Fight! The tiny voice that was his mind shouted. Throw her off! His body dismissed that voice, writhing in ecstasy as the two holding his wrists suckled his fingers and licked the soft skin on the insides of his arms.
Ewan’s back arched as Cara continued to caress his chest, running her fingernails over his nipples. Pain suddenly shot through him as the others sank their teeth into each wrist. His eyes flew open as the voice in his head broke through the pleasure for a second, and he tried to pull away from their grasp. Cara ran her hands down his body and placed them on his groin, stroking him through his jeans and banishing all thoughts of escape. The pain receded to a dull ache as the young vampires drank slowly, softly, saving the best for their mistress. He pressed his erection against Cara’s hands, desperate for more. With a wicked smile, she unbuttoned his fly and freed him. She lowered her head and brushed the tip of his cock with her lips. He moaned and tried to raise his hips from the bed, aching for a firmer touch.
Cara slid him further into her mouth. His world dissolved until all sensation was centred on that one part of him. The other vampires were forgotten. The voice of reason inside his head receded to a distant murmur. His body was a thing apart, trembling with desire and lust. It no longer mattered that the acolytes were slowly but surely draining his blood. All that mattered was Cara, sucking him harder and harder. Her nails raked the tender skin of his belly, slicing his flesh so that the blood flowed freely. Dimly, he was aware that she was licking that blood from his cock as she fellated him.
He was growing dizzy. His vision danced and he closed his eyes once more as his orgasm approached. The tiny voice of reason inside broke through for one last time, but he was too weak to fight even if he had wanted to. Yet he knew what would happen the moment he came. Cara would sink her fangs into his flesh and suck him dry in more ways than one. On the other side of this pleasure and pain lay only death.

To be continued in Part 3…

Embrace the Passion

Today I’d like to introduce you all to an amazing vampire author. Caris lives in Arizona, she knows a thing or two about heat. Her stories can prove it. She’s here to talk about “Embrace the Passion”. I could go on and on but my goblet has run dry, I’ll go get a refill while Caris takes over.
*Turning to Caris* Thank you so much for coming over tonight.

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000030_00040]
Hi, Everyone! I’m so happy to be here today sharing with you about my beloved vampires. In the Blood Rose Series, I pose the question: what if only one woman could meet the blood-needs of a mastyr vampire? What would that look like and would the woman even want the job?!?

In EMBRACE THE PASSION, the fourth book in the Blood Rose Series, our beleaguered and very isolated mastyr vampire, Seth, meets his match in the form of a beautiful bodyguard assigned to him against his will. He doesn’t want a distraction in his life, especially not one as beautiful and as wild as the shifter, Lorelei….

Seth has lived a solitary life and needs no one…

Mastyr Vampire Seth craves Lorelei, his new bodyguard, but he has a hands-off policy with those under his command. However, the sexy glint in her eye, as well as her wolf-shifter ways, keeps him in a fevered state. He’s lived a life of enforced solitude as Mastyr of Walvashorr Realm, but when the enemy arrives, ready to invade his land, he must rely on his bodyguard more than he ever dreamed possible. So much proximity breaks through his resistance and he takes the woman, marking her in a shocking shifter way that overturns his careful, analytical world. But when her connection to the enemy puts his realm in danger, how can he embrace a serious relationship with her?

She’s loved him from the first moment she saw him…

Lorelei guards Seth night after night, her heart on fire. She’s loved him from the time she snuck into his workout room and watched him go through his rigid exercise routine. Now serving as his bodyguard, she wants to take her relationship with the Mastyr of Walvashorr to the next level, but Seth holds back. That he desires her comes through in his wicked mossy scent, which in turn ignites her inner wolf. When he finally gives in to his own cravings and makes his move, she shows him how hot shifter-love can be. But will she ever be more than just his bodyguard?
Blood Rose - Deepest Needs 1

Excerpt from Chapter One:

Chapter One

As the snowy December evening gave way to full-dark, Lorelei took up her bodyguard position outside Mastyr Seth’s backdoor. She was about as qualified to guard the mastyr of Walvashorr Realm as a rabbit taking on a hawk, but she was here by Queen Rosamunde’s orders, so here she’d stay.
Her real problem, however, went way beyond her lack of any real battle skills, since she’d done the unthinkable and actually fallen in love with the man. Seth had a long history of keeping his distance from anything that smacked of a relationship and he had absolutely no reason to be interested in a realm-person of questionable parentage.
Lorelei’s mother was the present scourge of the Nine Realms and the power behind the recent, deadly Invictus insurgence. No self-respecting mastyr could ever involve himself with the daughter of the ancient fae, Margetta, the one responsible for the deaths of tens of thousands of realm-folk.
Yet hope, as always, refused to die.
She trembled now as she waited for him, standing in the snow, her heart thumping heavily in her chest. She savored this first moment of the night, anticipating the long hours ahead in Seth’s company, traversing the realm beside him, hunting the enemy of the Nine Realms, the dreaded Invictus wraith-pairs.
She heard him moving through the house, heading in her direction. He knew by now to expect her the moment the sun set fully in the west.
His wonderful mossy scent reached her first, an erotic musk that rippled along the air and teased her shifter vibration first, then her overworked fae mating vibration. From the first time she’d seen him at the queen’s castle two months ago, she’d had the worst crush on the vampire.
A moment later, he came into view through the glass door.
He arrived at the kitchen threshold and paused to buckle the belt that angled across his long leather Guardsman coat. Meeting her gaze though the glass door, he frowned, his expression, as usual, disapproving.
He lifted his chin. “You might as well come in. I have a call to make and you’re shivering.”
She couldn’t tell him the truth, that she wasn’t cold at all, that she shook because of him and not because of the below freezing mountain temps.

0 ETP - Embrace the Passion






You can find
​ Caris Roane​ at:

Author of:
Guardians of Ascension Series – Warriors of the Blood crave the breh-hedden
Dawn of Ascension Series – Militia Warriors battle to save Second Earth
Blood Rose Series – Only a ​B​lood ​R​ose can fulfill a ​M​astyr ​V​ampire’s deepest needs
Blood Rose Tales – Mastyr V​ampires who hunger to be satisfied
Men in Chains Series – Vampires struggling to get free of their chains and save the world

About the Author
Caris Roane is the New York Times Bestselling author of over 70 books. Currently she writes paranormal romance, both as a self-published author and for St. Martin’s Press. She began her career writing Regency romance for Kensington publishing and was awarded the prestigious Romantic Times Career Achievement Award in Regency Romance in 2005. Caris currently lives in Phoenix, Arizona with her two cats, Sebastien and Gizzy and she really doesn’t like
​​scorpions ​! ​​! For more information, visit Caris at
000 Caris Roane - Author Photo 2

Caris Roane
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author
Available Now…
EMBRACE THE PASSION, Blood Rose Series #4
DARK AND DEADLY: Eight Bad Boys of Paranormal Romances: Boxed Set $.99
And Available for Pre-Order…
SAVAGE CHAINS, Men in Chains Serial in Three Parts – May 27th!

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Vampire Conspiracy

I met Daven almost two years ago. He’s first novel Vampire Syndrome is pretty awesome. You should read it. I’m confident the second novel is the same. He’s given us an excerpt. Thank you Daven for coming by. 😀

Jack Wendell:

The good news: Zetania’s still alive.

The bad news: The Pures want to trade her for me.

I’ll do it. I can save Zetania and prevent a war between the
Human Vampires and the Pures. She can’t declare a war if the Pures keep their bargain. I wouldn’t let her. I might have to be a servant to those shark-toothed monsters for the rest of my life, but thousands of human Vampires will get to live in peace because of my choice. At least I will know in my heart that I am a hero. Sometimes heroes don’t get recognized for what they did, but a real hero doesn’t care about that.

Damien’s not gonna like this. He wants to go into the Pures’
hideout with me, to “keep me safe.” Hah. He wants to attack them. I saw how he looked at Gl’Ag on the video screen. I told Damien we’d be way outnumbered in the cave, but he didn’t seem to care. Problem is, he might not be planning to get out of the Pures’ hideout alive. I’m afraid he’s gonna hide a big bomb in his leather coat. Then we’d all be dead. Zetania told me about how she visited heaven and saw her family after the car crash. I’d want Coach Ron and Diane to be in heaven with me after I die. But that could take a long time, since they’re Vampires now.

Or maybe not. Coach Ron and Diane just told Damien they’d be
willing to go in the Pures’ hideout with us.

“No, don’t do it!” I yell. “Please, I beg you. Stay
outside and be safe.”

“Zetania would do it for you,” Diane says.

A tear slides down my cheek. Diane’s right. I know Zetania
would. Damn it all, we’re doomed.

Daven Anderson spends his nights modifying cars for the Council of Thirteen’s elite Venator law enforcers; because when you’re a Vampire, there’s no such thing as “too much horsepower.” Daven brings supercharged concept cars to life, so the Venators have the power they need to chase rabid vampires, chupacabras, cattle-mutilating aliens, vampire hunters, and whoever or whatever else the Council deems a threat to the security of the Vampire community.

The Venators love to have long conversations with Daven while he works on their cars. Unbeknownst to them, Daven has been secretly recording the Venators’ tales, using them as the basis for the Vampire Syndrome saga. After a long night’s work, Daven plays back the tapes, transcribes the best excerpts and sends them as “fiction writing” to the unsuspecting staff members at PDMI Publishing, LLC.

The normal people’s constant misrepresentations and misunderstandings of Vampires over the last three centuries, culminating in the most recent shimmering, over-emoting caricatures of “vampires”, finally motivated Daven to “hide the truth in plain sight” with the Vampire Syndrome saga. Thanks to Daven’s transcriptions, with the assistance of PDMI Publishing, LLC, the normal world can at long last read the tales of the Vampires’ elite law enforcers, without the sugar-coated glittering stardust that passes for modern “vampire fiction.”

Daven has just finished his second volume of transcriptions from the Venators’ tales, soon to be released as a “fiction novel” titled “Vampire Conspiracy” (coming soon from PDMI Publishing, LLC)

Available now: Vampire Syndrome (Kindle)


I’m so happy to have Dylan J. Morgan here for Vampire Month. Morgan is one of my favorite authors, I’m sure he’s yours too. 

Excerpt of Bloodlines by Dylan J. Morgan
1917 A.D

Darkness—deep, foreboding, concealing. He’d hated it as a child, always wondering what horrors lay buried within its blackness, and even now—forty years after leaving adolescence behind—he continued to detest it. Despite having been turned into a vampire and recruited into a centuries-old coven, the secrets night kept unnerved him still.
The fact that there were werewolves out there, gathered just beyond the reach of his nocturnal eyesight, didn’t help his demeanor.
Dmitri swallowed but failed to dislodge the ball of mucus at the back of his throat. Shifting from one foot to the next, he ran the fingers of his right hand across the elegantly decorated pommel of his forty inch sword.
Beside him, his commanding officer stood deathly still. “Take it easy, soldier. They can smell your fear and that will give them an advantage.”
They had one anyway, as far as Dmitri was concerned. Monstrous creatures, most standing over eight feet when fully transformed, lycanthropes possessed a level of strength like no other beast he knew. They were cunning and powerful, callously indifferent, with a single desire to slaughter their enemies. He nodded; not so much in accord with his commander’s admonition but more an agreement of his own assessment: they had enough of an advantage already.
Thirty-six years ago Dmitri had been a farmer struggling to survive in barren lands forty miles south of Moscow. His children were starving, his wife threatening to leave him, and when six black-clad horsemen turned up on his doorstep one autumn evening he thought his problems had just become a hundred times worse. At that moment he’d had no idea that thirty minutes later his mortal troubles would disperse quicker than his arid soil when touched by tumultuous summer winds. As he stood in line with his new comrades, staring into thick darkness surrounding Palace Square, he thought briefly about his two loyal sons and long suffering wife. He hoped they rested peacefully and their pain prior to death hadn’t been too great. Their screams had told him different but Dmitri had always been one to expect the best.
It’s what he hoped for now.
Being in the front line of an undermanned brigade protecting the palace, the best one could wish for when faced with an onslaught of ravenous werewolves would be a quick, painless death.
Dmitri glanced to his left then right, along the column of vampires stretched across the square immediately in front of The Alexander Column. They looked as nervous as he: eyes wide in unconcealed fear, tongues licking the thin pink lines of vampiric lips. All lights around the courtyard had been extinguished, and Dmitri’s brethren appeared whiter than normal against the dark backdrop of the General Staff Building. Thirty vampires strong, possibly; he had no idea how many more guarded the interior of the palace but for the moment he wished he’d been assigned to that group. They, at least, were in the warmth of the building with any number of places to hide. According to the stories he’d heard these last few weeks there were no fewer than six escape tunnels out of the palace, although only the vampire hierarchy knew their locations. Searching the building for a concealed exit would be better than standing exposed in the courtyard waiting for hell to open up and spew forth its demons.
His rank within the coven assured he’d been placed in this precarious position. Not yet a vampire for four decades, his life compared little to those more superior, warriors guarding the palace walls. He looked young, felt energetic, but hadn’t yet lived as long as a mortal lifetime—a time span he hoped to exceed by many years.
The smell came first, rank and horrid—the odor of unwashed bodies and undigested meat. Dmitri’s guts tightened with fear. The sound of shoes scraping across cobblestones alerted him to the fact he wasn’t the only vampire backing away from the darkness.
“Hold your ground,” his commander whispered. “Anybody breaks ranks and I’ll kill them before the werewolves get a chance to.”
Dmitri’s knees locked. He told himself he was bracing for combat but knew terror had been what really froze his joints.
Not long after the stench of approaching lycanthropes drifted through the courtyard, came the first rumbling of a deep throated growl. It seemed to echo off the surrounding buildings, amplifying in volume and making it appear as though they were encircled. Hairs rose on Dmitri’s ashen skin, and a deeper chill settled in his blood.
“Shit,” someone whispered.
“Draw swords,” his commander uttered.
The sigh of hardened steel being removed from leather scabbards whispered throughout the courtyard, shortly followed by the harsh panting and heavy footfalls of approaching monsters.
Dmitri swallowed hard but the mucus remained. His eyes widened, and in the depth of his nocturnal vision the shadowy outlines of brutish lycanthropes disturbed the darkness. How many were there he had no idea—they advanced so quick he had no time to count—but their numbers were so great determining their quantity would be worthless. Freeing the left hand from his sword for just a moment, he instinctively drew the sign of the cross upon his body.
Clinging to the last vestiges of human memory, Dmitri prayed to the mortal’s God that his life would be spared.
Steel clattered to the cobblestones. Dmitri turned his head as one of the vampires sprinted towards the palace, his defensive position abandoned. For a brief second Dmitri felt like following him, but realized almost immediately that even if he survived the impending lycanthropic onslaught the coven would behead him for his spinelessness.
“Coward,” his commander whispered.
The superior vampire didn’t chase the deserter. Dmitri understood why, and the reason gripped him with a sickening twist of fear: the werewolves were too close.
“Good luck, men,” the commander said. “Defend the coven with your lives.”
Raising his sword Dmitri stared in eternal horror at the shapes charging out of darkness wallowing around the staff building. He’d seen a few werewolves during his short time in the coven, but nothing like this. Monstrous bipedal wolves hurtled from the shadows, thick thigh muscles propelling them forward, arms outstretched towards the vampires with sharp talons extended. Dmitri had yet to see the damage they could do, but he’d been told many stories of werewolves disemboweling vampires in a single swipe of their razor-sharp claws. For the moment though he focused on the eyes piercing the blackness—fiery red as if the very depths of hell itself burned in the creatures’ minds.
Dmitri grunted loudly, a feeble attempt to join in the determined battle cry of defending vampires.
He ignored the line of brave vampires that broke ranks to engage the approaching monsters, and instead locked his vision on one brutish lycanthrope charging for him. One sweep of your blade—right to left, below and upwards—should be enough to rent this hellish creature in two.
The moment of truth had come and he wondered how much good his limited training would do.
His commander launched his counterattack on a werewolf. In less than ten seconds the three hundred year old vampire was being ripped to pieces on the cobblestones.
Dmitri stepped forward, raised his sword in readiness, and only then did he notice the second wave of lycanthropes leaping off the old slate roofs of the surrounding buildings to join the battle.
Fear solidified the ball of mucus in his gullet. His bladder released its contents.
Large claws sliced through his flesh, assaulting his nerve endings with burning agony. As cold blood poured from his rent body, Dmitri wondered if his wife and children would forgive him if they ever met again.

Bloodlines is a novella by Dylan J. Morgan and book one of the Blood War Trilogy, which details the early battles of a centuries-old supernatural war between vampires and werewolves. Beginning in the late thirteenth century, when vampires betrayed lycanthropes, the war has raged for mortal generations in the hidden darkness of man’s cities, obscured by the conflicts mankind has fought.
Introducing a cast of intriguing characters, this opening novella travels to many picturesque locations such as England, Austria, France, and New Zealand, culminating in modern day battles in Germany and Italy. Spanning centuries and continents, Bloodlines has been described as “The raw material for your nightmares.”

To celebrate Mari Wells’ Vampire Month in July, free eBook copies of this novella are now available. Simply like this blog post or leave a comment, and Dylan J. Morgan will be in touch to arrange delivery of your free copy of the first installment of a gripping supernatural series.

You can find Dylan J. Morgan at




Smashwords Author Page Author Page

I want to say Thanks to Mr. Morgan.

Readers, if you haven’t read this series yet. . . leave a comment, I’ll be connecting you with a free copy of this amazing series. 😀

The Light-Bearer :: Book Review

Emily Guido has a series of Blood Hunters, because they drink blood, I’m going to review the three books I’ve read.

The Light-Bearer Series has a delightful array of angels and blood hunters.I really enjoyed the first three books in the series. I devoured (ha ha pun intended) them in 4 days.

The three novels I read tell us about some very damaged men, life sucks ( ha ha this pun was intended too) and these men know it. Most have lost their soul mates.

In Charmeine we meet Tabbruis a wealthy man with an appetite for blood. We follow the story as he meets Charleen a teacher who feels like something is missing from her life. Both meet at a Billy Joel concert. Neither wants to admit that the other causes them to feel feelings that they haven’t felt before. At the end of Charmeine they’re together.

Mactus gives us Charmeine and Tabbruis together, loving each other and learning about each other’s past. OMG! They were married thousands of years ago in heaven! I’m not saying anymore about that, if you want to know you’ll have to read it. We’re also introduced to the other men in the castle. How I said, these guys know just how much life can suck.

In Accendo war is about to break out between the blood-hunters and a very old blood-hunter council. Charmeine and Tabbruis are married, this pisses off the council even more. Why? Because Charmeine is a Light-Bearer, basically she’s an angel. There’s a lot of fighting between newly weds. There are some massive surprises in this novel.

I can’t wait to read the rest of this series, I really enjoyed it.

Charmeine: Light-Bearer Series (Volume 1)

Mactus (Light-Bearer Series Book 2)

Accendo (Light-Bearer Series Book 3)

Dancing on the Beach

I refuse to let Juliette aka Vampire Maman go. As such, she’s going to tell you another story. . .

A story from Juliette Kings aka Vampire Maman (

Dancing on the Beach
As told by Dr. Shawna Greene

For three days we watched the human like form sitting motionless near the beach. We decided if it was human it was probably dead because no human could sit for so long in the heat and the cold and the wind the way this one did. More than likely it was garbage someone had dumped. A few people had traveled through over the past few weeks, near the abandoned mining town near the isolated stretches of desert and beach where we’d set up our summer research station in Patagonia.
We’d come to look for dinosaurs (with success, finding eggs and giant bones).

Dave, Blane and I trekked an hour down the hill to the spot where the mysterious lump sat. It was indeed human, wrapped in a blanket, large brimmed hat, dark sunglasses and a scarf covering the face. It almost looked like a modern mummy. The, without notice it moved.
“¿Estás bien?” Dave asked the stranger.

The man unwrapped the scarf from his face and removed his sunglasses. “I’m fine. I speak English too. But thanks for asking.”

He was tall with long chestnut colored hair and sparkling hazel eyes. Of course I noticed. I couldn’t help it after being out in the wilds for a month with my fellow researchers. My two college aged kids were in summer internships, my ex-husband was off on a honeymoon with a woman 10 years younger than me and I was doing something I loved – discovering the past.

But today, we discovered something quite different and unexpected. His name was Andrew. He was tall (I figured 6’2″) with a quick smile and a musical voice that captured the attention of all when he spoke.

Andrew said he’d been researching folk music, writing songs, savoring the local flavor and hinted at getting over a broken heart. A kindred spirit I thought. Well, I have to admit, my heart had mostly healed after my husband left two years ago – the day after our youngest child graduated from high school.

Had it been anyone else, we would have let him stay, but Andrew was so delightful and charming, and helpful that we let him stay on. His knowledge of just about everything was astounding. In the evenings he would sing songs ranging from Argentinian folk songs to Italian Opera. Everyone on the team did better with Andrew around.

The younger women, especially the graduate students Courtney and Kaitlin were enchanted by Andrew. No surprise there. He’d dote on them without being a predator. Then again the men were enchanted by him to. We all were.

Sometimes Andrew and I would share a glass of wine under the stars and talk of everything under the stars. He didn’t give away much of his personal life. He’d been living in New York and London, but thought of moving back to California where his family was. His first love was Opera, but he was taking notes on a book about how music takes the mind and soul to new places. He was more interested in finding out about us than telling us about himself.

I felt a bond with this appealing and mysterious man. He was so mysterious but I was so comfortable with him, like I’d known him forever.

One evening we walked the beach after dinner, just the two of us. We talked about time and space and he opened up in an unexpected burst.

“Time travel,” Andrew began, “will be possible, a reality, but it will be squandered by idiots who don’t appreciate the past or the possibilities of the future. They will be selfish short-sighted buffoons only interested in entertaining their own shallow minded pursuits and never seeing the power of the invention of the time machine.

And think about this…we are here on Earth with no knowledge of ANY life on other planets, yet we spend time and brain power on theories of what is out there and life in the universe and how the universe started and… what if nobody else is out there.

Or what if someone else is out there and they’ve figured it all out and we’re wrong, or we’ve figured it out and they are wrong. But we don’t know, because while you look for your giant dinosaur bones which seem like they’re from another planet, we ponder if there is life on other planets. And why is it all so random. You might disagree because of your scientific mind and experience with creatures of the past and because of the sheer amount of wonder in your soul…but…oh Shawna, we’re so different you and I.”

I didn’t know what to say. Andrew held out his hands. “Dance with me Shawna. Dance with me under the stars.”

Taking his cool hands in my own I found myself suddenly transfixed, dancing in the dark, with a long haired stranger who indeed was so different from me.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered in my ear. And against all better judgment I closed my eyes only to find myself transported into a ball room, wearing a silk gown the color of roses and sunsets, dancing with a handsome hazel eyed man in tails and white tie. And then I opened my eyes to find myself in cargo shorts and a fleece jacket on a desolate beach on the bottom of the earth.

“What are you?” I asked him that surprised that I didn’t ask who but what.

He laughed and I caught something different in his smile. His teeth. He looked like he had fangs. “I am a genetic wonder and mystery. I am the Velociraptor of the human subspecies.” Then he looked serious. “Shawna, don’t be afraid of what I tell you for I would never harm you. I am a Vampire.”

“Like in the movies?” I stupidly asked.

“No, like the guy standing next to you. Like the guy who came down to the ends of the earth to heal a broken heart and soul, to give up, to write songs and wallow in my misery only to find you.”

“You have fangs.” I had to say it. I just had to.

Andrew gently brushed my face with the back of his hand. “Yes, and I use them. I drink the blood of Regular Humans. I live for a long long long time. I have relatives who are over 1,000 years old. I was born in the 19th century, before the Civil War, during the California Gold Rush. But, I am just part of the natural order of the world, of the universe, and I hope of our two souls.”

“I have to admit you’re scaring me Andrew.”

“And the thought of you being afraid scares me more than anything Shawna. I’ve trusted you enough to tell you what I am. Now let me trust that you will not be afraid or reject my offer of friendship.”

“Will you turn me into a Vampire?” It was fear in my voice now, not hope that he would.

“Only if you want me to. Maybe. It isn’t anything I take lightly. But, but, Shawna, that isn’t what is important here. It is evolution, the very thing you’ve spent years studying, the difference in species and life forms and life forces and life and…” He ran his hands through his hair and closed his eyes then opened them looking right into mine. “And love. It all comes down to love and of course passion. You have that passion. I can see it when you speak of your work, your life, your children. You have what so many can only dream of.”

“You’re a Vampire.” I couldn’t get that out of my head, despite his remarkable words and way of speaking.

“Yes, and I’m cool with it. Are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“I understand.”

“Do you want my blood?”

“I would never harm you Shawna.”

“Have you taken blood from any of the others here?” I thought of my fellow scientists and grad students.

“Yes, but…why do you think they’re so happy all the sudden? Sure I took something from them that I needed but I gave them what they needed. Do you understand? Can you attempt to understand. I mean, really, it isn’t any different than finding a new dinosaur. Isn’t it?”

Then we just looked at each other for the longest time. It was a time that ended up in his cabin on the hill, in the creaky iron bed with the colorful quilts, with his cold body wrapped around my hot human one.

It was still dark when I awoke, brushing my hair out of my eyes. Next to the bed, sitting on a wooden crate was a woman. Her chestnut hair the exact same rich color as Andrew’s.

“I didn’t know he had company but…there is something about you Shawna that makes me glad he bonded with you. He is charming but my son can be exhausting and so emotional at times.”

I had to say I was in shock seeing this beautiful woman who didn’t look more than twenty six years old. “I’ve come to take him home, not away from you, but…what I’m trying to say is that you touched Andrew’s heart and maybe…”

Andrew opened his eyes. “Mom. Have you met Shawna?”

Well, this was awkward. They packed up and left, but not before they both left me with their contact information. This was weird. Vampires leaving contact information. Then again, it would have been weird for Andrew to just leave without a word. Of course my ex-husband left without so much as a word, but that is another story.

But before he left, he kissed me one more time then whispered in my ear, “I love you.”

The summer and our time in the desert is almost over. I still savor my short time with Andrew and the memory of his voice and his touch.

Will I contact him when I return? I don’t know. We both live in California where there are plenty of beaches to dance on and where the stars shine bright on the night.

Then again…he is a Vampire, or maybe that shouldn’t matter.

The Queen of Swords

I had the pleasure to read this a few months ago. I really enjoyed it, I can’t wait for her other books. You vampire lovers need to get this novel. 😀



Queen of Swords Cover_final

Author: Nina Mason
Publisher: Vamptasy Publishing
Heat level: sizzling
Formats: Kindle and paperback
Where to buy:
Kindle: The Queen of Swords: A Paranormal Tale of Undying Love
or The Queen Of Swords UK
Paperback: The Queen of Swords


When Graham Logan, a Scottish earl turned vampire by a dark wizard’s curse, draws the Queen of Swords, he knows he’s about to meet the love of his life. For the third time. But surrendering his heart will mean risking her life…or making her what he is. Neither of which his morals will permit him to do. Graham, who believes he lost his soul to the curse, rages at God: Why give her back only to take her again?

Cat Fingal, the third incarnation of Graham’s twin flame, won’t let him escape so easily. As soon as they meet, she feels she knows him and begins having past-life flashbacks. A white witch, she casts a spell to summon him, wanting answers and to fill the void she’s felt all her life.
Graham has other problems, too. Like the seductress who wants him for herself and the dark wizard who cursed him and killed his beloved the first two times.

Will he find a way to save her this time around? Or will she save him?

How I picture Graham:


Trailer embed code:

Steamy excerpt:

When the night grew too cold for comfort, they moved indoors, stripped out of what remained of their clothes, and got into his bed. He spooned her, holding her close so close she could feel his erection in the small of her back, the warmth of his skin against hers, the moist heat of his breath near her ear.

“Roll over. Onto your back.”

She did as he asked, suddenly afraid, but some deep-down part of her wanted him to; wanted him to take part of her into his body just as she’d taken part of his into hers. As he came over her, she saw his eyes. They were yellow, like a wolf’s. Tense and brilliant, fierce, not loving. She wanted to look away, but her will was gone. She could feel those eyes pulling her in, down and down into their depths. She was drowning, but it was a peaceful, euphoric feeling. His woodsy scent filled her nostrils, making her lightheaded and strangely detached. It was as if she watched it happening to someone else.

She shivered, dimly aware of his knees pressing between hers and his hands on her breasts, squeezing gently, teasing her nipples, sending sweet tremors all the way down to her sex. She shivered as he came over her and touched her lips with his—petal-soft—before moving to her ear.

He nibbled her lobe. “Are you sure?”


Returning to her mouth, he nipped her lower lip before moving to her throat. She clenched, bracing herself for the bite, but he only nuzzled and licked the thick cord of muscle. He then kissed her shoulder, her collarbone, and the indentation at the base of her throat. Finally, he proceeded to her left breast, where he circled the aureole with his tongue before closing his lips around the nipple. As he sucked it, thrills twitched deep in her abdomen.
When he bit down, she came back to herself with a jolt, cursing and bucking under him. Excruciating pain echoed through her body. As he sucked, the pain gave way to euphoria. Then began a pleasurable sensation, like electrical pulses surging to points of ecstatic brilliance, making her insides quiver and melt. It went on for what seemed a long while, and then he let go, rose over her, and came into her with a smooth, deep thrust. The feeling of their merger overwhelmed her, threatened to consume her. It was too much, too intense, too amazing. She clung to him, afraid of what was happening to her. He wasn’t just inside her, he was part of her, fused with her. For the first time in her life, she felt truly alive.

The orgasm broke over her like a tidal wave. She came around him in shuddering sequences, again and again, her body spent, but unable to refuse the pleasure. By the time he finished, she felt both ecstatic and utterly depleted.

About Nina Mason, author

Nina Mason is a hopeful romantic with strong affinities for history, mythology, and the metaphysical. She strives to write the same kind of books she loves to read: those that entertain, edify, educate, and enlighten. Her first novel, The Queen of Swords, an urban fantasy/paranormal romance, was published in March 2014 by Vamptasy Publishing. Her next book, The Tin Man, a political thriller, will be released on August 30 by Crushing Hearts and Black Butterfly (CHBB). Next year, Lyrical/Kensington will introduce a new paranormal/fantasy series by Ms. Mason titled the Knights of Avalon. Each of the four books in the series will be named after one of the knights of the tarot (Wands, Cups, Pentacles, and Swords, in that order). The knights are the breeding drones of Morgan Le Fay, the legendary queen of Avalon.
When not writing, Nina works as a communications consultant, doll maker, and home stager. Born and raised in Southern California, she now lives in Woodstock, Georgia, with her husband, teenage daughter, two rescue cats, and a Westie named Robert.

Nina’s Stalker Links:

YouTube Channel

I’ve also got a Pinterest account where I’ve got boards for each of my books (as well as one featuring hot men with long hair). Hot guys in kilts coming soon! Here’s the link: Pinterest



Thank you Nina, for coming by and being a part of Vampire Month. 😀

Awakening 3 Deleted scene

I told you all, I’d hook you up with links to buy your won copy of Awakening 3, but Jeanine Grey gave us something better!
I’m stepping aside and letting Jeanie take over.

Guest post by Jeanie Grey: Exclusive content – Deleted scene from AWAKENING 3

Thank you so much for letting me do this guest post on your blog in celebration of the release of Awakening 3, Mari! 🙂 I’m thrilled to offer you a deleted scene that’s available nowhere else. But first, a little about my new book!

Short description: A suspenseful science fiction vampire romance, Awakening 3 is the final book in the Lilly Frank trilogy, intended for readers 18+.

Books synopsis
Nearly fifty years after the events of Awakening 2, Lilly decides to stop running away and returns to Italy only to find the threat of a vampire civil war growing. With the help of Beth, Carrie and Jamie, Lilly learns how to face her feelings about her tragic past and to accept that, whether Torren wants her or not, her heart wants him. But when she finds Torren in Rome, not only is he still with Vittoria, he doesn’t seem to remember Lilly at all.

Can Lilly convince Torren to leave Vittoria to be with her and help the Organization find a peaceful solution to the conflict, or will Vittoria and a vampire war come between Torren and Lilly and their happily ever after?

Format: e-book
Length: 44,700 words (approx. 150 pgs)
Language(s): English
Price: $0.99 USD
Buy links: Smashwords – Coming soon to Amazon, the iTunes store, B&N, Sony, Kobo, Diesel, Oyster & Scribd!

Deleted Scene
Lilly’s chest constricted and she began to tremble.

“Lilly! What’s wrong? What is it?” Beth reached across the table and took Lilly’s hands in hers.

“I— I’m so afraid, Beth. I think I’m a rogue vampire.” Lilly took a deep breath and found her courage even as the tears began to spill from her eyes.

“What do you mean?” Beth said, her eyes wide.

She’d been living with the guilt long enough, and if vampire law dictated that she had to die for her mistake, then at least justice would be done.

“I’ve killed someone.”


She’d been roaming the wilds of Canada for several months. It was harsh country and food was scarce, but it gave her an opportunity to test how long she could go without feeding. It had been several weeks at this point, and she was definitely feeling the effects. She was disoriented and shaky. She might have been hallucinating. There was a storm coming and she was making herself a shelter. The knife slipped and she cut herself. The blood took several seconds to ooze to the surface, and when it did, it was nearly clear. Lilly panicked. The experiment had gone far enough. She half-stumbled, half-ran. She didn’t know where she was going until she came upon the cabin and heard the heart beat. There was a horse in the stable, but as soon as she smelled the human she knew she had to have him.

The next thing she knew she was inside, the man cradled in her arms as he exhaled his last breath. His eyes were open and staring at the ceiling. They were blue and lifeless. His blood was still warm in her throat and belly, but his body was starting to cool. She’d left the door open and the freezing-cold air whipped around the room as the storm gathered speed.

It had been an accident. She hadn’t meant to kill him. She’d run from the cabin, run out into the storm that raged around her as her guilt and fear raged in her chest, had washed his blood from her hands and face in a stream so cold it burned. She’d left the wilds again and fled to civilization, ending her time of self-testing, but the guilt had followed her wherever she went.


By the time she finished telling them the story she was sobbing. She’d never been so ashamed of herself in all her life. Beth had come around the table and was holding her, rocking back and forth and making soothing noises. Carrie had tears in her eyes, too, and looked like she wished she could do something.

“Oh, Lilly. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“To me?” Lilly squeaked, incredulous. Hadn’t Beth been listening? She’d killed a man!

“You’re not the first to make the mistake of going too long without feeding, Lilly. Other vampires have tested their limits and lost control.”

Lily sniffled and sucked in a few shaky breaths. She waited until she thought she could speak again and said, “And then what?” Her voice broke again on the last word. As guilty as she felt for having killed the man, she didn’t want to die for it, and she felt even more ashamed to realize that she hoped she could somehow get out of it. Is this how all criminals felt?

“Lilly, it is written in The Pact that a vampire shall not kill a human because the founders of the Organization recognized that in order to stay hidden and avoid war with humans, we needed to respect human life and not leave bodies drained of blood lying around—“

A chill as cold as ice formed in Lilly’s solar plexus and she began to tremble more violently.

“—but an amendment clarifies that in order to be considered a betrayal of The Pact it has to be an act of willful murder, intentional and without a direct order from the Organization. The Pact was created to keep the vampire community safe, not to punish vampires who did not know their limits and lost control.”

“Really?” Lilly said. She sniffled again and began to calm. Then the image of the dead man’s eyes came back into her head and she began sobbing again. She realized she had never allowed herself to mourn him before. Who had he been? Had he had a family, perhaps a daughter who loved him the way Lilly had loved her mother? Who had found him? And what about the poor horse? What had happened to it, without a human to care for it?

She cried long and hard while Beth merely held her.

Eventually her breathing slowed and she could speak again. “But if I remain unpunished, what justice is there?”

“You must live with the knowledge of what you have done. Do you not think that is punishment enough?”

Author bio: Jeanie Grey is a feminist reader and writer of romance and erotica who lives in Oregon. Her short stories have been published on and For more about her work and her views on writing romance and erotica, please visit her website at You can also connect with her via Twitter (@jeaniegrey), Facebook fan page ( , or email (

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