So! Here it is. It's 24,000 words long, which makes it the longest yet (though not by much) and the most important part--a whole bunch of stuff is on sale this week!
Drain Me Dry--FREE (as always) on Amazon US, and Smashwords. UK, if you report to Amazon that you got this title free at smashwords that would be awesome--getting this story free in the UK would boost my sales a LOT.
The Punishment--FREE on Smashwords.
Deadly Liaisons Volume 1 (the first 3 stories)--Only $2.99
Bloodlines (book 4)--Only $1.99
Buy it on Amazon
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Both Jamie-boy and Damian have been suffering since their break-up, but they are thrown together when a vampire is brutally murdered. Damian is too depressed to care and ready to let the cops deal with it--Jamie-boy is willing to do some investigating on his own. And then there's Lucas, a vamp tramp with a Daybreaker's tattoo on his neck. Whose side is he on? How many people is he willing to hurt to get what he wants? This is a M/M romantica containing explicit sex, rough sex, BDSM, blood play, and violence.
Hot blood thinned with alcohol gushed into Damian’s mouth. He drank deep, not even savoring the intoxicating flavor. He didn’t know the name of the half-dressed young man under him and didn’t particularly care. Just some vamp tramp looking to get in with the vampire in charge. He still wore his t-shirt, his jeans around one ankle. Damian had fucked him hard, the boy coming even as he moaned in pain.
The human was gasping in pleasure now as Damian drank long and deep, the alcohol in the boy’s blood adding to what already coursed through his system. He wasn’t sure he even remembered what sober felt like. It wasn’t a state of being Damian was particularly comfortable with anymore.
He took one last gulp and pulled away, not taking much care and ripping the flesh around the two puncture wounds left by his fangs. The tramp lay on the bed, a smile on his face. He didn’t even notice Damian tucking himself back into his pants and leaving the room, not bothering to shut the door behind him.
Veronica met him at the base of the stairs. “Where’s your friend?”
“Taking a nap,” he answered and walked on.
“That isn’t how the rules are supposed to work,” she called after him, but he ignored her.
The club was overflowing with people. It was Saturday night, winter was setting in. Vampires were fond of winter. Longer nights meant more time on the streets, more chances to find someone tasty to spend the night with. The band that night, The Pack, played heavy death core, and members of their mostly werewolf and human fan-base added to the usual crowd.
Damian sat down at the bar feeling heavy and full. Jilly finished filling two pitchers of beer and sent them off with a pair of vamp tramps before turning her attention to him. “The usual,” he said.
“Your old usual or your new one?” she questioned, giving him a disapproving look. “Because I’m not sure you’ll be able to stand if I put much more booze in you.”
“Just get me a drink.”
“No need to yell,” she huffed and waltzed back down the bar, returning with a wine glass dark with blood. He took a sip. There was barely enough vodka in it to call it a bloody driver. He sighed and sipped at it anyway.
Simon joined him. “The same as he’s having, but triple the alcohol,” he ordered.
“You’re cut off,” Jilly told him.
“You can’t do that. Damian, tell her she can’t do that.”
“She’s the bartender,” Damian said. “She makes the rules.”
“You’re cut off too,” she said.
“You can’t do that. I’m the boss.”
“And I’m the bartender.” She stalked away. Damn, the fledglings were getting uppity lately. Of course, Jilly had more sense than the rest of them combined, so Damian let her get away with it.
Jilly returned with a glass of blood and set it down in front of Simon. “What’s wrong with you tonight anyway?” she demanded of Simon. “I got enough trouble dealing with his drunken ass all the time.” She cocked her head in Damian’s direction.
“Has no one ever told you to respect your elders?” he asked.
“Yeah. But my elders need to give me good reason.”
“It’s November thirteenth.” Simon said, answering her original question.
“So? What does that mean?”
Damian knew. He’d forgotten what day it was, but the date November thirteenth would always be burned into his mind. “The Philly Riot of sixty-four,” he answered for Simon.
“You were there?” she asked Simon, slightly impressed. “I thought all the vampires in that riot were killed.”
“All but two,” Damian said.
“He pulled me out,” Simon told her, sipping on his drink. “I would have stayed and gotten myself killed.”
“His sire was one of the ones killed.” Damian left out the part where she was the one who orchestrated the entire massacre. Fifty-one vampires and a hundred and fourteen humans, all dead.
“I’m very sorry,” she said. “That must be terrible for you.” She reached under the bar and gabbed a bottle of vodka, pouring a generous shot into Simon’s drink. Damian held his glass out, but she ignored it.
“He only knew her for three weeks,” Damian said, annoyed.
“Man, don’t think I won’t fight you,” Simon snapped.
“Boys,” Jilly warned. “If you don’t behave yourselves I’ll cut both of you off for a week. How do you feel about that?”
“I’m in charge,” Damian protested again.
“And I’m…almost in charge,” Simon agreed.
Her long brown ponytail flew around her head and she turned briskly and marched away. Damian watched her make drinks with efficient precision, passing them out and collecting cash. Maybe he needed a new protégé. Simon was all grown up now. He could handle himself in any situation and was as capable of running this town as Damian. Maybe he needed a new project to get him out of this rut. Jilly could be that project…she was cute too, in a bitchy sort of way. Maybe she could be two projects at once.
The phone at the bar rang and Jilly picked up. He watched her entire body language change in an instant, from relaxed and playful to tense and still. Damian was on his feet before he could process what he was seeing, and Simon followed suit, stumbling as he got off his stool and knocking into Damian. What a graceful pair of idiots, Damian thought.
Jilly hung up the phone and waved one of the waitresses over to her. Rachelle took Jilly’s place behind the bar and Jilly walked over to them. “That was Detective Nova. Someone’s killed a vampire.”
“Where?” Damian demanded, but instead of answering him Jilly’s hand shot out to unclip his keys from the belt loop of his jeans. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Driving you,” she answered. She waved at Rachelle, who stepped over to their end of the bar. “He’s cut off,” she said pointing to Simon.
“Fuck it,” he said. “I’m coming too.”