Nine hundred years since his sire and
life-mate died, Preston remains emotionally scarred and alone.
A series of grisly murders rattles those
under his protection and threatens to expose his ilk to the mortal world. All
evidence points to a delusional vampyre who is in league with an ancient
shape-shifter—who has an agenda of his own.
To make matters worse, a strange woman
tells Preston he will find love in the arms of a fire-breathing hellion named
Lindsey. Despite his efforts to defy the foretelling, Preston finds himself
embroiled in a tense war to win her heart—a battle he is intent on losing
Excerpt:
My never-ending dream usually began this
way…
His skin felt like electricity crawling
over it like scattering ants. He clawed at malnourished flesh as if trying to
shed body cover; he wears tattered, second-hand clothes and lives in a place
suffused in shadow. He vacates a room, destroys whatever rests in his path.
Voices whisper behind closed, locked doors when he moves along the hall. Those
unlocked were latched … the click drawing his attention and infuriated him.
Outside, he slammed the door in his wake.
The night fails to soothe his bitter nature but he lets the silence rule.
Behind him, he perceived a sigh of relief from those still inside the house.
Someone thought: Perhaps something in the night will devour
him…
Did they not know he heard their thoughts?
The pale, gnomish man trembles with bridled
rage. Turning, he breaks, yells at the top of his lungs, “Rot in hell, all of
you!”
The dream settled yet his bitter presence
continued to smother me.
History, this vile creature thinks, has repeated itself—once revered for bestowing
immortality’s kiss, his converts now plot to overthrow him. Insurrections bore
him. And traitors deserved no mercy.
Come …
The man turned, stared at the night
shadows. His head throbs, pain severe enough to drop him to his knees. He
strikes himself about the temple in the hope it would offer relief.
It did not.
Who was he? He wondered. Julius. Yes, his name …
“Come …”
the voice beckoned again, louder.
Lips drawn tight in a sneer, he crouched,
prepared to fight.
“J…uliu…sss.”
The voice surrounded him on a strong current of chilled air.
“Show yourself!” Julius screams at the
night.
Hearing nothing, he stumbled across the
uneven dirt surface aiming for a mountain range ahead. It took a while but he
finally located what he sought—a crevice leading into the foothills. The
passage is narrow but he maneuvered easily, the only sound is gravel crunching
beneath his worn out shoes.
The path opened into a large cave,
illuminated with a faint glow where no light should be. Something indistinct
vacillated in a dark shadow—a willowy shape then emerged into the faint
afterglow shrouded in a cloak; the garment hood pulled close exposing only a brown,
knotty chin. “At last, we meet.” It greeted.
“Who, what are you?” Julius demanded in a low, taut
growl.
“One who walked thousands of years before
the Nazarene,” It answered—something under the cloak behind it twitched—“I am
Thad…de…ussss.”
About the Author:
L.M. David has
been writing novels since Jr. High school. Originally drawn to the genre of
Science Fiction, she developed a fascination with paranormal/urban
fantasy/romance, attracted to the dark erotic world of vampires which sparked a
deep interest with the folklore and legends.
L.M. is an
avid reader and in her spare time builds computers, quilts and makes jewelry.
She has worked as a legal assistant and now as an insurance medical biller and
coder. Born in New Jersey, she relocated to California and now considers
herself a Southern Californian.
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