July 1, 2015
Tag: Adult
Viper Character Introductions: Damien
The next individual I call is someone I wouldn’t even fuck if I was blind. The decrepit motherfucker is some sick combination of everything that could go supernaturally wrong on top of being the result of a fucked up science experiment. Damien. He is a flesh eating vampire, the only one I have ever encountered and one I would have no trouble leaving in the sun to rot. I had heard of horror stories involving victims being allergic to vampire venom and instead of transitioning from human to vampire without losing much of our original physical appearances, these victims transition from human to Igor with fangs and a penchant for human flesh. Not only will they drain a victim dry but they will pick the bones clean of flesh. They are the absolute worse and a threat to vampire survivability and their makers have to control them, otherwise civilization will cease to exist. Damien is an expert at hiding in the shadows, which makes him very difficult to locate considering that his maker was killed ten years ago by another vampire. I am not sure over what, and Damien is not much of a talker so that will always be a mystery to me. He owes me in the sense that since his maker has died, I had made it a point to check on him from time to time to make sure that he is clean with his kills, and by clean I mean that that shit does not hit the news. He will be useful in the event of a confrontation with werewolves and tracking Lucas.
And the Countdown Begins…
Coming July 1, 2015: Viper
Turned into a vampire at the age of 19 and forced into a life of darkness and violence , she is the reason why the gangsters, the murderers, and drug dealers fear the night…Working as a hired assassin for drug dealer turned record label founder, Rio Mendez, Viper is on a high stakes mission to bring down one of the biggest music industry moguls in the world-Lucas Barnes, the man responsible for turning her into a vampire and murdering her entire family right before her eyes twenty years ago. Relying on her wit and will power and with the help of some unlikely friends, Viper must uncover some hard truths before facing the entity that stripped away everything that she once loved.
“I have more than nine lives you son of a bitch. I am coming for you.”-Viper
Escape: Coming 12/31/2015
I awoke with a start to the sounds of an engine roaring to life. I shivered in the chill of the early morning, the sky had not yet been greeted by the first rays of light, and though every muscle and bone ached with a vengeance, I knew I had to get up, otherwise it would have been well into the afternoon before I would have returned to my bleak reality, and I definitely did not want to miss my opportunity to shower and regain a sense of normalcy. My eyes burn with fatigue and my corneas feel as if they are being scratched by sand paper, and as I stretched and yawned and tried to regain my bearings I cannot figure out how I managed to sleep for so long in such uncomfortable conditions.
I am begging my aunt to let me stay with her, even if I have to drop to my knees to do it.
I folded my ratty blanket and double check that my only three outfits which included two pairs of faded blue jeans, two bras, three pairs of colorful panties that my former social worker bought for me three years ago, a couple of pair of black socks, two hoodies, a matted ball of Scrunchies, half a bar of soap, an old tooth brush and a comb that was missing half of its teeth, a couple of sanitary napkins (thank goodness my cycle is irregular), my ID, my social and birth certificate, and three crew necks. That was all that I had to my name. Tying my hair back and smoothing my edges down as best I could, I pull my dingy hot pink hoodie over my head, slip on my beat up grey and white Nikes, hook my duffle bag over my shoulder and prepare to walk the fifteen or so blocks to the mission and I send up a silent prayer that all will go as planned. I believe that someone upstairs owes me for the life of pain that I have had to unfairly deal with; and just maybe, today, my life was going to turn around for the better.
I made it to the mission in less than 45 minutes. The local vagabonds that walked the city streets nodded in my direction before returning to their daily routines towards survival. A man whose path I have crossed many a time since I opted to remain in the downtown area screamed violently at the invisible offender; cursing and flailing his skinny and frail arms about, while blank black eyes stared in my direction. He looked as if he had not had a bath in years, and judging by the yellow and thick callous that covered his bare feet, he had not. I used to wonder if he had a family that was somewhere out there looking for him, but then, I remembered that I once had a family and they stopped caring to look for me. I reckon that is what happened to him too.
Bums, vagabonds, homeless folk, society’s failures, whatever you want to call us make up our own society-our own community. One would never understand the struggle to simply achieve the basic of necessities unless one walked in those shoes. And what wearisome shoes they become. The crazy thing about me being homeless is that I often have felt like I was right where I needed to be: I could disappear into the shadows of the streets, away from…
A nun greets me at the door, and welcomes me with a warm smile. She is familiar with me and my situation and has offered several times to let me stay in the nunnery, but I quickly got the impression that she was hoping to recruit, and I have to face it, my situation is too fucked up to even want to dedicate my life to a being that never showed He cared about me in the first place. No, I am not an atheist; I do believe in God, but I think the Lord and I have some unresolved issues that we have to work out before I give one prayer of thanksgiving.
The nun goes by the name Sister Mary; she is barely five feet tall, with peachy toned aging skin, stringy blonde hair and welcoming brown eyes. Dressed in the typical head to toe black and white nun garb with a gold cross hanging from her neck, she guided me inside the Cathedral where row after row of sporadically filled pews of sinful parishioners sought penance for whatever sins they committed. The colored glass windows with varying depictions of the Madonna and her child graced the walls of the massive church. The melodious melancholy hum of the organ playing in the background reminded me of my mother’s funeral, and as the nun quickly guided me into the hallway that led past the cafeteria where they fed what they could to the starving masses of people that greeted them day in and day out, I fought back the surge of emotions threatening to break free. I did not cry for neither of my parents…not even my mother when I found her lying in a pool of her own wastes, and I was not about to start now.
Sister Mary and I engaged in the usual small talk. You know, the “how are ya’s”, and “Why wont you come stay in the Mission” to “God is merciful and forgiving”, etc… I don’t see why I need to be forgiven for dead parents who happened to be drug addicts, but I let her go on with her attempt at laying on the guilt trip on me in hopes that I will see that my sinful nature is the reason why I am living on the streets. I suppose she is under the impression that I am involved in some sort of prostitution ring, which is the only reason in the world why a young woman such as myself would be destitute and living on the streets. For someone who claimed to love God and took pride in doing God’s work, she never once asked me why and what led me up to this point. She already had in mind my history and everything was my fault. Typical.
We bypassed a row of occupied rooms and continued down the stretch of the corridor until we finally reached the last door in which she removed a heavy bundle of assorted keys and opened the door. Flipping on the light, inside the tiny space was a cot with several blankets laid on top of it, a full length mirror that leaned against the plastered wall, and there was a single window that overlooked the parking lot that was saturated with last night’s festivities: used needles, used condoms, and shattered glass. What a view. “I just need a shower, some food and I promise I will be out of the way,” I say, struggling to find that balance between sounding grateful yet firmly against what was being offered to me at the same time. “And where will you go?” Sister Mary pushed with a frown that deepened the lines in her face. “Back to your pimp?” “Um excuse me?” I say feeling slightly offended. “You are too young to throw your life away to the streets,” she scolded. “Stay here. If anyone comes looking for you trust me you will be safe.” “I don’t have a pimp Sister Mary,” I say dropping my duffle on the ground. “I am not a prostitute. I am more of a runaway than anything, and like I said I just need food and a shower and then I will be on my way.” “A run away? Good heavens child! What could you possibly be running away from?” Her normally even toned voice hit a higher pitch and before could say or do anything more she ushered me out of the room and into the room next door where I was greeted by several shower stalls and a couple of unoccupied toilets. “In the long cabinet to your left is soap, clean towels and some shampoo. When You are done I need for you to head to the cafeteria where a hot meal will be waiting for you.” “But-“ “But nothing young lady! It has been placed in my spirit that I am supposed to look after you. Do you know how many times I have thought about you since our last few encounters and I swore to the Almighty that the next time you walk through those door I was not letting you go on in the manner that you are. No woman should be on the street. So shower, and please do something with your hair. I know dread locks are a form of cultural expression but you do need to wash them!” And with that she slammed the door behind her.
I hope that my aunt forgives me. I do not think that my destiny begins and ends in this Cathedral.
I lock the door even though the room was meant to accommodate multiple people, but even on sacred ground one could never be too careful. I choose the larger shower stall which was built to accommodate the handicapped, turn the water on to as hot as I could stand it, grabbed the soap and shampoo and let the hot water transform me into a new person with a new beginning. But, even with a shower, freshly washed hair and a new attitude, nothing was going to change the fact that Fate definitely played a hand in what I was to become: and most importantly, what I am to remember.
Viper: Final Excerpt
Molecular travel gives me an interesting advantage. I get to see shit that I don’t want to see, and I get to see shit that is beneficial to me, and not one of the humans that bypass is none the wiser. Somewhere in these walls Michael was on lock down with two or three other criminals awaiting trial. I bypass several other officers underneath the bright lighting of the hospital sterile hallway and on the elevator. I can sense the presence of a non-human entity, and the most I can do is remain hopeful that it is Michael and not something else. Werewolves had the most advantage when it comes to blending in with humans because they are human-until they shift, but for the most part they can live pretty normal lives without having their jobs or relationships impacted. It would not surprise me if I came across a werewolf who happened to be a cop or some other jail house worker. My main concern is though I remain undetected in this state of invisibility, a wolf can sense me without ever having to see me, and I do not need a physical encounter with a known enemy.
I continue moving through the airwaves, navigating the second and third floors, eavesdropping on what was supposed to be private but non work related conversations, and ignoring the various combinations of blood scents and my increasing thirst. How I would love to sink my teeth into the neck on one of these hot blooded and self righteous cops…as soon as my thoughts shift to my more basic needs, I catch Michael’s scent just down the hall in one of the many locked cells that contained men awaiting their day in court. A custody assistant is locking the cell containing an inmate clearly high off of some sort of hallucinogen. I can smell the toxin coursing its way through his veins, pumping straight into his heart and forcing its way to his brain. He reeks of a sour, musty odor, evidence of his lack of personal hygiene; his eyes are wide and wild with confusion and panic; and he glanced over in my direction, where I hovered in molecular form and screamed in terror. The officer, a white man in his early thirties with a receding hair line, looking slightly unnerved shoved the inmate inside and locked the door, before hurrying off to put in some much needed space between himself and the drug addict. In the room next to him sat Michael, along with two other roommates who seem to be more concerned with their personal issues rather than the excitement that had taken place right outside of their door.
Michael senses my presence because he glances up from the cot on which he sat, solemnly with his hands folded in his lap. He looks across from him on the bunk beds, where a wannabe hardened thug lay spread eagled on the top bunk, in his oversized orange jump suit and unkempt afro, and then on the bottom bunk sat a preppy looking white kid, no older than 22 with that Justin Bieber styled hair and scrawny body. I hope that Michael has sense enough to not alert his two best friends that there was another presence close by, and thankfully he doesn’t as he returns his gaze back to his folded hands. Just outside his door is an air vent. Perfect. I can slip in through the vent and into his cell, feed and then dematerialize both of us out of this shit hole without a second thought.
Once inside the vent, for dramatic purposes I filter myself out as a mist, and creating a set of bewildered looks from the two wannabe’s. I only do this when I have a particular man of wealth and power and who is use to extending his hands as if he is a living persona of godhood, and I need him to know that he is not in control: I am. It is a perfect method in creating an atmosphere of terror, and I love the kick that adrenaline gives me. I filter out of the vent in a cool white mist, like the morning fog that blankets the busy city streets into my solid form and then as usual…all hell breaks loose. Why can’t things just run smoothly for me?
The wannabe thug screams like a little bitch, and in a flash I silence him with a snap to his neck. The prep turns a ghostly white, his blue eyes wide like a deer caught in some headlights, and without thinking I snatch him in a vicelike grip and sink my fangs into his throat in a cobra like strike. Michael watches with an amused sort of curiosity, yet I am too consumed in the richness of this young man’s warm blood as it fills my belly and calms my thirst. The fire in my throat is gone, and the muscle cramps in my gut have eased. Now I can focus.
Several officers obviously heard the commotion and came rounding the corner like a heard of buffalo. I break the handle to the door and motion for Michael to follow me. I don’t have time to clean up after myself so I grab Preppy’s body and sling it over my shoulder for future disposal. In my twenty years of living my life in the shadows, I have yet to create any progeny of my own and I am not about to now. We are greeted by at least five officers, two of which are on their walkies demanding back up, the other three with their guns drawn. Michael, who happens to be standing to my left takes a fighter’s stance, which instantly pissed me off. He should have done that shit prior to his arrest. “Freeze! Don’t move!” An older, more seasoned officer commands; his knees bent and his heart rate steady. I glare at him, and use my will to force him into submission. The other officers glance at each other uneasily and one even takes a step back. “Don’t move!” Another commands boldly. I maintain my focus on the seasoned officer, my will crushing his psyche, twisting the very confounds of his mind until he buckles from the mental pressure. I tighten my hold, bending his will until it snaps and he cries out in agony. I crack his cranium without having to move anything but my will. He drops to the floor sobbing, his ears bleeding, his peers rush to his aid, and another one shoots. I step to the side, barely dodging the bullet that had my name on it, and in a blur too quick for the human eye, I decapitate all five officers. The inmates scream in terror, their cries echoing throughout the halls in a chorus of fear. I gotta get out of here before more reinforcements come, and I can hear their heavy hurried and desperate movements scattering about the halls. I grab hold of Michael and dematerialize all three of us (if you count Preppy’s dead and drained body) to the one room dungeon where Damien had stood guard over my unconscious body.
And thank God he wasn’t there.
Blind Salvation: A Quick Overview
“And so the light fell in love with the dark, even though it was the light that could not see and it was the dark that bathed in the sun…”- Blind Salvation
The first installment of the Dark Royals Series, Blind Salvation is an interracial, 80,000 word paranormal romance novel about a vampire prince who finds his soul in the heart of a blind woman. Damien is being forced to marry through the will of his father, Hadrian, The Great Vampire King of their bloodline due to a prophecy that he perceives to be a threat to the races’ survival. Kennedy, legally blind since birth, is an African American woman nearing her thirties has spent the last five years of her life alone-her only companion, an incredibly intelligent Golden Retriever by the name of Hubert, is rescued by none other than Damien one evening from a gang of thugs and as fate should have it, he connects with her instantly. Awed by her independence despite of her obvious handicap, Damien is smitten by her and desperate to protect her from what should have been an ordinary and mundane existence of a blind person. Unfortunately, his kind are being hunted by a relentless Slayer by the name of Rothbart all because of a misunderstanding orchestrated by his older sister Lucinda, in the quest to protect his family and the new love of his life, Damien and Kennedy discover that she is an heir to the “lost” Fae King and as the story unfolds both of them fight against time to find the salvation they both had been searching for all along.
Coming soon…
Happy Valentines Day
As we all rush out like madmen to purchase cards, chocolates, sexy lingerie, and toys to create magic in our otherwise mundane love lives it should take one day to make the person that you care about feel special. I have never really cared for the commercial holiday; it has always been just another excuse for men to get laid and for women to acquire an often cheap piece of jewelry and a dinner date. And let’s face it, after 50 Shades of Grey, no man alive can compete with a fictional character whose sexual prowess and romance skills are on an unachievable level. So I will keep this blog short and straight to the point: book boyfriends are so much better.
Love At Last is now available starting at its discounted price at .99 on Amazon Kindle. Trey will never disappoint.
Love At Last… Sample Chapter
Chapter 14
Trey
Damn she looks good, Trey thought to himself when he saw Danielle walk out from behind the elevator doors. It was as if she had stepped out of Heaven and this was one shot of meeting an angel. That skirt she wore, hugged her slender curves tight, cupping a nice handful of a perfect behind. He cocoa brown skinned glowed from underneath the fluorescent lights and this time, she wore her hair down, framing her oval face. He could have kissed her right then. She looked much taller in her heels and those long legs of hers were something to die for. Pain still shown from the depths of her eyes but only a person who knew pain could see it. But her smile is what made his heart beat fast and pray that when he hugged her, she didn’t notice his hard-on.
He had a surprise for her. As corny as it was he it would be nice for them to take a trip to Disneyland. First date at the happiest place on earth, go figure. He wanted to show her a good time but also be at ease with her and he figured a theme park was the way to do it. The tickets were ridiculous but he had not done anything like this for a woman in long time so it was worth it. He took her hand and led her to his car which was parked out front. Her eyes widened with excitement when she saw his ride. “You have a nice car.” She said. He opened the door for her to get in. “Thanks ma’. What? You thought I drove a bucket?” she smirked. “No, well? I don’t know. At the end of the day it really doesn’t matter. You thought I didn’t have a car.” Tray barked out a laugh. “Ok you got me, but you did ride three trains ma’…I’m just saying.” “Whatever.” She laughed. “You look beautiful,” Trey told her. He had already given her a dozen compliments but it just didn’t seem like it was enough, especially since each time he did it he could tell that it made her blush. “Thank you Trey. And I must say you look very nice yourself.” She said. “Good enough to eat.” Well that did it. Trey needed to get them moving lest he ruined the date before it even began by making a move on her. “Don’t talk like that ma’,” he said. “You make a nigga wanna do things and this is only our first date.” She chuckled. “I’m sorry.” “Naw, don’t be,” Trey started the engine. And with that, they were on their way.
The drive from Downtown Los Angeles to Anaheim was a breeze, despite the traffic. Fortunately, the theme park was closing late which even though they didn’t make in the gate and into the park until almost four, Trey was happy as hell that he had decided to take her. She nearly jumped out the car with excitement when she realized where they were. “Oh my God Trey!” She said. “You brought me to Disneyland? I haven’t been here in ages.” Trey had tried to play it off like it was no big deal but inside…he couldn’t explain it. Once inside the park, they held hands and what Trey was assuming was out of pure joy she surprised him with a kiss on the lips. It wasn’t a quick peck either, she lingered just long enough for him to ease his tongue into her mouth. She pulled away embarrassed at being so forward but Trey just pulled her in again and kissed her the way that he had been wanting to from the moment he saw her. Her lips were soft and full and light to the touch. Trey didn’t kiss her with too much passion or force, but just enough to where he pulled her so close to him, he could feel her heart beating through her chest. It told him she was just as nervous and scared as he was but she wanted him. A few cheers were heard in the background, and one of the theme park’s photographers had snapped a few shots of them. The moment was magical. He pulled away from her and gently slid her from his embrace and realized that they had been locked in a kiss for more than a few minutes. She looked like she was in a daze and quite frankly he was too. He still had her by the waist and when she tried to gently pull away, Trey said, “Uh ma’? Could you give me a minute to get it together? You blew a nigga’s mind so that I can’t think straight.” She looked like she didn’t know what the it was for a second but then once she caught on she hugged him so more and kissed his cheek.
Her closeness didn’t make his situation better, but after some adjusting he managed to get himself at least halfway together so that they could enjoy the park. They rode as many rides as they could; Space Mountain, the Manahorn, and Indiana Jones (twice), she even convinced him to get on Rodger Rabbits Wild Ride just for the hell of it. Trey couldn’t remember the last time he had so much fun. After two hours however, they had to stop at a gift store to buy her a pair of sandals because she had forgotten hers in the car. He was almost outraged at having to pay $22.50 for a pair of paper thin sandals-not that he couldn’t afford to, but on principles. But the annoyance quickly dissipated when he saw how relieved she looked taking off her wedged shoes and slipping her feet into something much more comfortable. Damn, even her feet was pretty. Perfectly pedicured toes, painted with a turquoise blue… “Hey ma’ let me help you with that,” Trey said stooping low to take off her left shoe and slipping on her sandal. “Dang Trey, you make me feel like Cinderella.” She gushed. Trey smiled, which was something he had been doing the whole day. “I could be your prince any day if you let me…” Trey stood up and gathered her into another embrace. She leaned in and whispered into his ear something that damn near broke his heart. “I’m scared Trey…each second that I am with you I am falling for you and I shouldn’t. I don’t want to feel this way because, I think that once I truly fall, I am going to hit the ground hard.” He pulled away and stared into her eyes which had begun to water. “I don’t know if I deserve this Trey…I have been abused, and scarred and I am still hurting. I just want you to understand that I can’t go through another round of heartache again. So if this is a game or a ruse, be honest with me now.” She wiped her face. “Aww shit I have ruined everything huh?” Trey didn’t know how to respond or what to say. He knew there was pain lying just beneath her skin and all of it having to do with King. But what moved him the most was the fact that she felt she didn’t deserve to be happy. Trey was no sucker for a woman; he had been with many and most of them had attempted to run all types of game on him but to no avail. Yet, he could not deny the fact that she wasn’t the only one who was falling. Hell, if he could he would make her his girl right now, but he figured that they needed a little more time. She looked so vulnerable and even though she was pretty tall, in her fragile state she was small. He took her hands in his and kissed them. “I’m not playing a game with you Danielle. Even if I wanted to, I can’t. There is something about you that makes me want to be there for you as your friend and hopefully one day soon, as your man. I can’t change what King did to you and what he put you through but I can tell you that I won’t hurt you. I’d leave you before I do that. Just know that I got you and…”He leaned in and whispered,” I will catch you, so feel free to fall.” Her smile slowly crept into a full grin. “You know you this is the first time you said my name since we met?” she asked. He laughed. “I do call you ma’ a lot don’t I? Well, what do you prefer?” She looked at him sheepishly. That shy smile of hers a beacon for all the wrongs that went on in his life again reappeared. She didn’t say anything, but he knew the answer. “Ma’ it is then. So what ride you want to get on next?” “I’m hungry actually,” came her reply. “Good me too. Let’s go find us some ribs or something’”, Trey said taking her hand. “Ribs?” she laughed. “Hell yeah. I aint have none in a minute. Let’s go, I think there is a restaurant over by that Dumbo ride.” She laughed some more. “Ribs it is then.”
Blind Salvation: Lucinda
Lucinda
Lucinda could not stop the tears from falling as she recanted the days when she had first taken a sip from the cup of true love; and what a sweet, addicting taste it was. Better than blood. The night that she had met Rothbart had changed her world forever; and despite all that she had been through she would gladly relive those moments again, even for just a short while so that she may remember what it was like to have her own slice of heaven. She had just been crowned future queen; her parents just having concluded one of the grandest balls in her honor featuring the most prestigious vampires from across the globe to offer their tribute. She was the bell of the ball so to speak, the envy of every vampire female and the object of every male vampire hoping to make a name for himself and claim a seat of power. Lucinda, daughter of Hadrian the Great and his darling wife Phaedra of the Draco line, was to be the first and only to be named Queen without a male consort or a king. It was a first of blooded royals, and Hadrian would have it no other way. She had proved herself fit and capable to rule over the Draco line with fairness and brutality (if needed); she was fearless, strong, intelligent and strikingly beautiful. She was the eldest of her siblings, Damien barely being what humans would consider a teenager at the time and it would centuries before he became the male that the line would need to rule; and she commanded attention in the same manner her father: without effort. Life could have not been any better. She was a true celebrity of her time and it was during this time when she would have to choose what was more important: love or her family.
She had just dined on an aging man of middle class status and was parading down the dark foggy streets of London in one of the sapphire blue, silk gowns that covered the shoulders yet made a V shaped dip deep into her bosom before curving around the rest of her luscious body all the way down to her ankles. It was of course the 15th Century, a time that in her mind remains the highest peak of humanity, and of course she was barefoot, but who would dare notice at such a time in the darkest hour of night? She was sated, excited about her future and the plans she had for the direction she planned on taking her family in. She planned on going on the offensive with the Slayers; they would become the hunted until each and every last one of their heads were mounted on her bedchamber’s wall. She planned on seeking and rooting out the last known remaining werewolf clans and subjecting them back under vampire rule; but not before she successfully aligned her family with the most powerful wizard of the time: Merlin.
She had been frolicking childishly along, lost in her own thoughts and schemes when she noticed a man trailing behind her, and based off of his stealthy and carefully orchestrated movements, she could tell he was a Slayer. How ironic, she remembered thinking to herself as she continued to pretend like she did not notice him.
Her plan was to isolate him in the alley that was coming up ahead, and there she would use the darkness to her advantage and ambush him there. She could take him. He was a young Slayer too. Blond hair. Around Six feet. Bronzed skin, broad shoulders with thick muscular padding wearing nothing but a pair of plain brown trousers, beat up leather shoes that she assumed he robbed from a bum, and a trench coat that more than likely concealed dozens of weapons. He was only a few feet behind her, and she could feel his eyes burning on her. If he thought she would be an easy kill, he was going to be highly disappointed when he was resurrected however many years from now when he realized it was she who killed him.
“Milady,” he called from behind her, his voice raspy and cold…and tingly deep. She stopped and slowly turned to face him, offering her warmest, toothiest smile with a hint of fang. “Yes?” “You should not walk the streets barefoot,” he said coolly as he took his time approaching her. “You might catch fever.” She laughed. “Let us not play this game Slayer,” she said dangerously. “You know that my kind are not subject to fever.” “I am not trying to play a game with you vampire beauty,” he said once they were less than three feet away from each other. “I only said what I said to get your attention.” “And what kind of attention do you seek? Most Slayers only seek one kind of attention and many of them died once it was achieved.” “Only to be brought back to life to finish the job started,” he challenged looking at her straight in her eyes. She raised an eyebrow. “Then what do you want?” “I want to get to know you. You are like the night’s mystery to me and I want to solve it.” “The night’s mystery?” She snorted. “Can you blame a lad for trying? I just want to get to know you. Why would I hunt the very one who makes my heart quicken without a trace of fear or hatred? Listen. I know you can hear it.” She did not want to and told herself that she should kill him and be done with it but she listened anyways. His heart did beat faster and when she took a moment to closely examine him, she realized that he was strikingly handsome. His features were fine and full of youth and promise. His cheeks lightly flushed, and for a man who was probably older than the city’s oldest senior his face was baby boy soft. Not a trace of hair. He stood there, without a weapon drawn, waiting for her to hear his heart beat and he smiled when she did. “Why would you want to get to know the very thing that you love to kill?” She asked, unsure of where this was going and where it could potentially go. “Because when I look at you, I see more than the strength of a bloodline that has survived centuries of hunting and killings from Slayers. I see a woman, divinely created in search of the one thing that she has yet to find just I have searched and have been unsuccessful…” “And what is that Slayer?” “That one thing that can stop and restart time and give hope to the hopeless all at the same time: love.” She scoffed and laughed and dematerialized quickly leaving the Slayer standing in the dark alone, baffled by his obvious sense of buffoonery. Little did she know she would see him again. And again. Always after she had finished her hunt . She knew that he was watching her, studying her, and working desperately to capture her attention…something that she began to find quite endearing.
This went on for months, her parents none the wiser. They trusted in her ability to hunt alone, without being accompanied by an escort or even going as far as to have her prey waiting for her at their castle. Rothbart seemed to always be waiting in the shadows until one night when she lured him out. Dressed in a petticoat, her red hair free and flowing in the gentle breeze of the night, she sat on a park bench listening for her latest victim. She could sense Rothbart’s presence somewhere in one of the nearby thickets and called out to him, tired of the game. “You can come out Slayer,” she cooed. “There is no point in hiding when we both know that I know you are there.” He slowly emerged from behind the thicket, his hair damp from perhaps showering before stepping out to begin this routine of theirs. Dressed in what she noticed were new breeches with a wine colored tunic, it warmed her to know he dressed to impress her. He did not look so…ratty. As a matter of fact, he looked quite handsome. “Join me as I wait for my meal,” she said with a sly smile.
He cautiously inched his way to the park bench and took a seat, less than a breath of a hair away from Lucinda. The instant that their elbows brushed each other, the connection was breathtaking. She hissed slightly as he jerked. “What is this magic you bring Slayer?” She demanded, rubbing her elbow. “The magic I bring to you princess is that of my heart,” He responded calmly. “How do you know my station?” Rothbart sighed and shook his head. “I tire of these games. Ye be Hadrian’s daughter. How could a Slayer not know that?” When she did not answer immediately, he continued. “Are you mated?” Her eyes narrowed but she answered, “No.” “But you are to be queen and you have found no mate befitting of such station?” “You ask dangerous questions Slayer,” she hissed. “Indeed. Have you a fear of the male species?” She growled. “I fear nothing!” “Then, why do you push me away?” She turned her head, debating on simply dematerializing but then changed her mind. “Do you not find me attractive?” He asked innocently. She tried to maintain the resolve to not look at him but he pressed her again. “Lucinda, tell me you do not find yourself attracted to me and I will leave you alone forever.” That made her turn her eyes to meet his, and the moment she did her heart began to beat erratically and her breathing slowed. His mouth, lush and pink and full-how she wanted to press her mouth against his and taste the sweet nectar that she knew he had to offer. He stared at her in a way she had never experienced, not even from her own kind that made her body crave something much more carnal than blood. “What do you do to me?” She questioned as she lost herself in his hypnotic stare. “Nothing. Yet.” His last statement shocked and aroused her, and being a virgin vampire she could only imagine the things that he would do to her. “I am a Royal Vampire in all manners. My bite is-“ “I am immune to your bite,” he said. “My father would not approve,” she said, thinking about the punishment she would face if her father found out about their brewing forbidden relationship. “Does your father make the final decision in everything?” If his question was meant to provoke her, he succeeded. Her nostrils flared and her face turned beet red. “No. If I am to be queen then I am free to make my own decisions.” He smiled, displaying a perfect set of white teeth on a strong, chiseled face. “Then are you saying that you are free to choose me vampire?” For the first time in her 200 years of living, she smiled genuinely. “I am. But the question is do I choose you Slayer?” He held his grin, his eyes twinkling at her question. “Then choose me vampire,” he whispered. “Choose me and I can show you what the love of a man is like. You vampires are so cold and calculating. Let me warm you with my love and you will never regret it.”
Since that meeting on the park bench they stole whatever moment they could with each other and a few weeks later, Rothbart made love to the virgin vampire; opening her up to all of her secrets and mysteries that came with a female-human or not, and she gave him her heart. He even surprised her with a small cottage that he purchased on one of the more secluded areas of London. Their affair lasted a good five years before its discovery, and once it reached Hadrian’s ears he launched an attack on the Catholic church of London, nearly razing it to the ground. He stripped Lucinda of her title before the courts, humiliating her in the worse possible way and sent her to live across the seas to Romania for a time being. Hadrian almost lost his life to Rothbart, had one of his men not sacrificed his own. Her father had sent her away so quickly that she did not have time to send word to Rothbart her whereabouts and by the time she had discovered the nature of the results of her affair, Rothbart had all but disappeared. She was under close guard for a good decade before she was trusted to be on her own once again, only for her to find herself forced to marry Alexander and what was once her throne handed over to Damien. She lost everything all because of what the man she chose to love was: a Slayer. And now, this same Slayer, sought vengeance against her family because he too suffered a broken heart.
She concluded her story with a sob and once she was done she dematerialized to her room where she could finish morning the loss of something she knew in her heart she would never experience again. A part of her hoped that the saying about vampires only loving once was false; she wanted to love again and she hoped that if such a second chance existed, that it would not end tragically and that she too could look forward to a happily mated life filled with babies and dreams for the future. Damien simply did not understand his blessing.
Miss Jenkins Books 