June 5, 2014
Amaia was one of the most sought after courtesans in King James’s London when she became a vampire. Together with her sire, Lawrence, she works to birth a new, more powerful race of vampires. She has everything she could want: wealth, prestige, and eternal life.
She fears nothing. That is, until Michael, the first man she killed, walks into a tavern twenty-three years after she killed him. He has more reason than most to hate her; he’s the man who gave her the engagement ring she still wears. She’s convinced he’s come back from the grave for one purpose: to destroy her.
London, February 1623
The skin offered little resistance to her teeth. A bit of pressure and the blood started to flow. Tangy, sweet warmth filled her mouth and coursed down her throat all the way to her stomach, comforting, soothing the fire in her veins. This was heaven. She was dead, and this her reward.
Her racing mind calmed as she drank. Thoughts organized themselves. Killing should be harder. Less pleasurable. Every second she drank from this man drained away his life. There was no question of stopping. She craved every drop. The boning of her stays pinched as she drank faster.
The flow of blood thinned. The vein was running dry. The breathing beneath her slowed. A few more swallows and the life she held in her hands would be no more. A few more gulps and maybe her lust would be sated.
His body hit the ground with a hollow thump.
“Did you get your fill, my girl?”
The blood made its way through her body, lulling her into contented drowsiness. Obscuring fog consumed her mind. She knew the man talking to her, but his name was just out of reach.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Of course. Anything for you.” His blue eyes scanned her face as if he expected to find something. She didn’t know what.
The body at her feet laid askew before the crackling fire, limbs sprawled in unnatural positions. Gray eyes stared blankly ahead. The only life in them came from the reflected firelight dancing in their glassy depths. She felt a chill and looked away. “I think I want to sleep now. Just for a little while.”
The blue-eyed man nodded, beaming. “Yes, my child. You must sleep.” In one swift movement, he lifted her into his arms. As he carried her out of the room, she couldn’t help staring over his shoulder at those eyes. Those gray, lifeless eyes that, only minutes before, had gazed at her with the strangest expression.
Caethes Faron is a bisexual, genre-queer writer. Her books are equal opportunity, featuring gay, straight, and bisexual characters. Her bittersweet tales of love and loyalty are just as likely to leave readers in tears as smiles, and her love scenes don’t fade to black. She enjoys empowering the powerless and exploring the nature of human relationships, especially in differing power dynamics. All of her books feature adults in adult situations. Foul language, diverse sexual situations, aspects of BDSM, and other things that are sure to offend some people make regular appearances in her novels.
Caethes’s writing is influenced by her observations of this imperfect world and the flawed characters who inhabit it. She’s lived in seven states and is always looking for the next place to call home with her husband and two dogs. She currently resides in Florida.