Sunday, 18 October 2020



(A reverse harem/menage anthology)

Here's a little snippet from my super sexy vampire story CRAVED BY THEM.


“So tell me.” She glanced at the other customers. No one was taking much interest in them now. “How did you become a vampire? Was it a job offer in some old newspaper? An opportunity you couldn’t resist?”

“Hardly.” He unfolded his arms, spun his espresso around but didn’t drink. “It was a case of die or have a different type of existence.”

She waited for him to go on.

“I was living in Lindisfarne.”

“Wait, I’ve heard of that.”

“Yes, it’s a monastery off the east coast of England.”

“You’re, you’re a monk?”

“Yes, back then, in seven hundred and ninety-three.”

Her jaw fell open. She closed it.

“Robe held tight with a length of rope. A tonsure, which means no hair here.” He drew a circle over his head like a halo. “Very simple life, no frills, no sex, only humility and God and enough food to survive.”

“What happened?” The rest of the world was fading away, there was only Cooper and his incredible story.

Because that’s what it was, a story, what he was saying couldn’t be real.

Could it?

“What happened were Vikings,” he said. “We were attacked, our peaceful and remote tidal island, and the center of Christianity in our country was subjected to dragon boats and pagans, barbarians who poured out the blood of saints around the altar, and trampled on innocent bodies in the temple of God.” He shook his head as though the memories from all those centuries ago were still vivid. “Never before had we been subjected to, or even knew such terror and evil existed. I had been praying beside my bed when one of the marauders burst in. Hulking great Norseman with a horned helmet and huge sword. He took one look at me, hunched on the floor, and drove his blade through my abdomen, held it there for a second, withdrew, and left. I was done for, I knew that, and I prayed to God to save me.”

“Jesus, that’s horrible.” She pressed her fingers to her mouth. “Sorry, you probably don’t like blasphemy, being you were a monk and all that.”

“There are worse sins.” He smiled again, a sudden bright flash of warmth.

“So…then what happened?” she asked.

“I lay on the stone floor, dying, the lifeblood dripping from me, and I saw a woman, a female Viking warrior. Long, braided blonde hair, black war paint beneath her red eyes, the most beautiful female I’d ever seen, perfect in every way.”

“Red eyes?”

“Yes, as red as blood. Not like mine.” He paused. “And she asked me a question.”

“What did she ask you?” 

“Did I want to meet my god, or continue to exist here on Earth? I told her I wanted to live. That is what God would have wanted me to say. So I could continue to serve Him. So, she bit me.”

“Bit you?”

“Yes, just here, with fangs.” He tapped the clear white skin of his neck. There was no scar. “And she drank and drank until I had no blood left to bleed. She gorged until I was drained dry. The pain was intense, as if every bone was breaking, every organ solidifying, every nerve frying. But then…”

“Then what?” 

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s a long time, Corey, since I have talked to anyone about this, it’s…well, private, personal, something I’m glad to put behind me.”

“So why are you telling me?”

“Because you need to know, you need to know so you can understand me, us, and we can get on with the job of catching this shifter killer.”

“It’s helping,” she said. “You telling me.”

“Good.” He nodded. “When I opened my eyes and stood, she was gone. So were the other Vikings. Night had fallen. My monastery had been decimated, looted, murder lay everywhere in the form of my massacred brothers. But I was walking, breathing, seeing, touching, and I was a better version of myself, physically at least. Tall, strong, fit, healthy, and I’ve been that way ever since.”

“That’s a long time.”

“It’s a long time to not truly be alive.”

“What do you mean?”

“To be alive means to eat, sleep, drink.” He pointed at his untouched coffee. “I don’t do any of those things. Being alive means to have new experiences, to procreate, age… that’s not for me. I might appear thirty-six but I’m really not. I’ve seen the world a hundred times over, even the most remote spots. I’ve mastered every new technology as it’s come around. I have more degrees, masters’, and Phds than I can count, achieved every ambition and experience.”

“Show off.” 

“I’m just saying it how it is.” He didn’t look particularly happy about his achievements.

She took a sip of her drink again—it was delicious—then leaned forward. “So tell me, Cooper, if you can’t enjoy a coffee, or a fabulous meal, or the delight at seeing a wonder of nature, getting a qualification, what do you get pleasure from in this sleepless, ageless life of yours?”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes.” She swallowed. Did she? There was that glint in his eye again, the one that made her heart do a funny flip.

“Sex,” he said, his voice low. “I get a lot of pleasure from sex.” He rested his cold hand over hers. “Though I’ll confess it’s been a long time since I have done it, and a long time, when I say it, is a really long time.” 

Pre-Order available on Amazon. Will be on KU. 

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