• About the Series - Titles and Excerpts

  • Cast of Characters

  • Where to Buy

As the moon rose over Philadelphia, Pennsylvania on January 20, 1983, nobody could have known what was about to take place. Inside a coffee shop by Temple University Hospital, a meeting between a young resident doctor and a redheaded vixen would leave a night of bloodshed in its wake. Two people would be dead by the night’s end. Three when their killer ran into the waiting arms of a vampire.

“Outside Reading Market at Night”

Rather than being met with eternal condemnation, Dr. Peter Dawes would wake several days later as a new creature. No longer possessing a pulse and with sharp teeth itching for purchase on human skin, Peter’s first days as an immortal would blossom into years of decadent, sadistic killing. Exchanging the scalpel for a dagger and the scrubs for a suit, the man who once sought to heal would come to be known as the deadliest vampire ever to wield a sword. The covens referred to him as the Black Rose Assassin. To his maker Sabrina, he was known as Flynn.

Her instrument in an ambitious struggle to gain control of Philadelphia, Flynn amassed a collection of conquests. All the while, cloak and dagger secrets circled around him, speaking of second sight and a human destiny left behind upon his turning. It would take an immortal named Anthony, a mysterious pendant, and a human sorceress named Monica for Flynn to learn the truth behind his turning. And what resulted would send a shockwave from the City of Brotherly Love outward to the rest of the world.

Join Flynn on his journey from ruthless assassin to immortal seer. In a mission which takes him to Chicago, Seattle, and the darkest corners of the globe, a vampire will reconnect with his humanity and a villain will become a reluctant hero. Along the way, wicked immortals, unlikely allies, and a society of gifted humans called the Supernatural Order will test the mettle of the reformed killer. In the end, a man divided will be forced to reconcile with his darkness, and two beings shall emerge from one.

Greetings, faithful followers, and many thanks for joining me once more. I do apologize for my relative silence. There is no rest for the wicked, vampire or otherwise, but in my absence much work has been accomplished. The next time we convene, I shall have a few scintillating morsels from the third book in my series - Fate of the Seer.

I also might have been swept up in yet another of my adventures. No more on that for now, however. I have no doubt you shall read about that sometime in the future.

In the meantime, while I toil away on Fate, my friend Ciaran Dwynvil has agreed to keep you all company with another visit from he and his cadre of companions. Ciaran also has a treat for those of you who stay with him to the end.

Without further ado, welcome once again, dear friend, and do make yourself at home…

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Wake Up to Shine: Behind the Scenes Interview with Rick and Sam
 
Thank you for having me as your guest, Peter. I’m really excited to be here today to share Wake Up to Shine, a brand new gay BDSM fantasy romance, with you and your readers. But first a little bit of housekeeping: everything in this blog post is intended for adult readers only. If anybody younger than eighteen stumbled upon the article by chance – please don’t read further.
For the rest of us, let’s go ahead and see what the book is about before we peek behind the scenes.
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The blurb: “Let a real life dominant pull you into an electrifying gay BDSM fantasy.”
 
Mortal pets create only problems. But if your lover is Belial, the Prince of Trickery, the Lord of Lust and the Antilight, the chances that he will stop growing his collection of playthings are slim. Adhemar knows it, and the only way to win in this situation is to accept a bet that makes his stomach clench.
 
The stakes are high but so is the prize, and if he plays his cards well, he will show Belial what little allure mortals hold. Then his demon will resign his plays. Adhemar only needs to find two men with zero probability of falling in love with each other.
 
Wake Up to Shine - 200x300Charismatic, successful, and handsome music producer Sam Nuada. A bored dominant man cherishing an impossible ideal of an independent submissive. He doesn’t do contracts, safe words, and scenes. He isn’t clad in leather and despises collaring ceremonies. If he were a king, he would want his first knight. A man who would follow him willingly and at the same time would use his own wits if the situation demands it.
 
Plain Rick Sherlan whose only alluring trait is his voice. A submissive virgin with a strong desire to please and obey. If Sam were a king, Rick would be happy as his squire, as his servant boy. He would bend over backwards just to hear Sam’s satisfied purrs… if he weren’t plagued by an unhealthy addiction to seeking the longest, most dangerous, and least effective shortcuts to his goals. But it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t live a fantasy full of kings, knights, and pages. He lives a fairy tale… about the ugly duckling. Only in his version, the duckling never transforms into a beautiful swan.
 
But Love is the strangest god, and events set in motion by the bet, a quiet summer night on San Malo beach, an old song sung in a tenor of unearthly beauty, and one intense physical examination unfold in ways Adhemar would never have seen coming.
 
Sam takes Rick in hand quite literally, and the feedback he provides to his young charge is… rather physical in its nature. Domestic discipline rules, ideals blur, and hearts speak.
 
And when Adhemar’s own past and his longing for the stage kick in, when fascination with the dynamics between the two men creeps up on him, he is no longer so sure he will win the bet. Maybe, just maybe, it would be better to see Rick shine and win the Pop Star contest and Sam’s love.
 
Will he? And what role will Adhemar play in his fate?
***
Intrigued? Then you might enjoy an interview with Rick and Sam. Both have graciously agreed to squeeze it into their admittedly busy schedule, and now are lounging on the comfortable sofa in my writer’s den, waiting for me to descend in my armchair. Well, truth to be told: Sam is sprawling, relaxed and self-confident; Rick, though he had lolled around here many an hour, is far more cautious now. He just dislikes interviews, I know. But a bottle of cider standing on the coffee table, as well as the already filled glasses show Sam has taken steps to help him unwind and enjoy the moment.
 
“It’s just a chat,” I smile at the shy star. “And you can always resort to ‘No Comment’ if I get too nosy.”
 
Rick snorts with a half-repressed chuckle. “As if that ever works with you,” he complains, but the tension is already melting. His writer… that he can handle, and the press is nowhere to be seen, so he allows himself to loosen up and lean back in the sofa to seek a contact with Sam’s body.
 
Sam tugs him into a light cuddle, draping his arm around him loosely but protectively at the same time. And the simple gesture makes Rick beam a smile that lights his face like autumn sunshine lights the shire. He’s beautiful, and I still sometimes doubt he fully realizes it. Fixing his emerald eyes on me, he gives me a small nod to signal he’s ready to start, and I coax: “Tell the readers something about your world.”
 
“Hmm,” he hums, pondering what I might want to hear. “Our world is your world, really. You know London, Paris, San Malo… you’ve walked their streets,” he offers in the end, unsure what else to say.
 
“Yes, I have, but some of the readers haven’t,” I prompt him to elaborate a bit.
 
“True. Well, Sam and I spend quite a lot of time in his house in Paris whenever we can, tho we’re both from London. Paris is quite unlike other big cities. She’s got that French charm around her, and she smells wonderful and awful at the same time. Croissants, coffee, and urine… find that smell anywhere else in the early morning,” he grins. “But… my favorite place really is San Malo. That’s where I fell in love.” The confession slips off his lips and though he still looks at me, his fingers twine with Sam’s. Locked together like pieces of a puzzle they are, and the image speaks louder than words.
 
“We’ll grab a couple of days for ourselves there before the tourist season starts,” Sam promises quietly, interspersing his words with light nips targeting Rick’s earlobe.
 
Squirming, Rick fights to bottle up giggles, and for once the next question is going to save him. Though only momentarily. “Sam, what do you want the readers to know about you?”
 
Sam ignores me for a few seconds, happily nibbling away until he elicits the helpless snicker. Only then he lets go of Rick’s ear, and turns his attention to me. “You’ve already told them everything of importance,” his brows climb as he playfully accuses me of indiscretions.
 
“You know, consorting with a writer…” I let that trail off, and he chuckles. “Gets you written in a book, okay, I get it.” Shaking his head, he volunteers: “My life had been quite empty before I met Rick. So, really, everything important is in the book. That tells our story from the start.”
 
Rick presses closer to him man, so much in the fire of love that he could set the sofa aflame. But they have to wait a little longer for the private moments. There still are a few questions to go through, but I know I should speed up before they grow impatient. I give a nod of agreement to Sam’s answer, and shoot the next question:“What are you proud of?”
 
The reply comes without a second of hesitation: “Of Rick. Many think he’s a born star. And few know how hard he has worked for his success, never giving up however rough things have been on him.”
 
“Or how tough a manager you are, that they don’t know either,” Rick purses his lips in a feigned complaint.
 
“Kiddo,” Sam warns softly, but we all know it’s just a play. Rick apparently wants something from his lover, and is going to get it a little bit later.
 
I smirk knowingly and get almost imperceptible shrugs in response. Oh yes, we share some bedroom preferences. Which leads me to the next nosy question: “What would you never share?”
 
“My lover,” they answer in unison, and they mean it. However fond they are of Adhemar’s and Belial’s company these days, they aren’t going to partake in any group sex orgies. Sam’s possessiveness prevents any such intentions. And Rick is only glad. His paradise lies behind the door to his and Sam’s bedroom, and it’s a very private place for both of them. Though… they know they’re watched from time to time.
 
But now we’re not about to discuss instances of voyeurism. Instead I ask: “What is your most intense memory?”
 
Rick closes his eyes to lure the recollection closer, and Sam slowly pulls him into a tighter embrace. Neither of them speaks for long moments. Sam respecting the memory, Rick lost in the past. Only after a while Rick opens his eyes again and his irises shine like precious stones when he says: “Singing my professions of love to Sam, that I will never forget.”
 
“Neither will I, baby,” Sam murmurs, while his fingers get a gentle hold of Rick’s chin to turn his face to him. A second later I witness a slow and tender kiss. I doubt they even know I’m still here, so absorbed they are in claiming each other’s mouth.
 
Well, I can wait, and do… until they pull away from their caress. Only then I ask:“Who is the greatest love of your life?”
 
Their names twine in the answer, but they don’t even look at me. They just gaze into each other’s eyes and I have a precious little time to bring our chat to a finish before they start to fidget in a barely concealed need to dispatch me out of my own room, or to take the stairs to the upper story by two.
 
“Tell me about your best ever kiss,” I prompt, and Rick releases a wistful sigh: “The first one.” For a moment Sam glances at me, a crooked grin plastered on his mouth. “You know all the juicy details, and have our permission to share them. Now if you…”
 
“Excuse us, I know,” I nod, and stand up. Our today’s session is over. The answer to the last question: “Where can the readers meet you again?” is obvious. In Wake Up to Shine. As for me, I can meet them later. Here. But I’d better knock the door.
 
Now… the kiss Rick spoke about:
***
And before he knew it, he danced. Hesitantly melting into the rhythm and Sam’s touches, he let himself be led and guided. And boy, did it feel good. Sighing softly, he closed his eyes and just followed every nudge and hint given to him by Sam’s body. It was like flying through the skies, free and protected and… loved.
 
His breath hitched. He shouldn’t allow himself such hopeless dreams. And the hitch promptly turned into a gasp when he suddenly felt a wall behind his back and Sam’s lips on his. It was but a mere brush of soft flesh against soft flesh, but it made his knees buckle and his hands cling onto Sam tighter. He wanted this, wanted this, wanted this… and didn’t know how to let his Satan know.
 
“It’s alright, baby. I won’t hurt you,” caressed his pouts, and he almost gave a sob in return. He was already hurt and in pains of unrequited love. It could hardly be much worse. How could Sam ever love him? They would walk side by side and just everybody would have to shake their heads in disbelief. He was like a donkey paired with an Arabian entire. This would never, never work.
 
But still his lips opened ajar, inviting Sam’s tongue to fondle them. Warm, moist velvet stroked his sensitive skin again and again until he thought he would dissolve under its slow teases. He longed for more. There was something more to be had. Only he didn’t know what it was.
 
A frustrated keen escaped his mouth, and his Lucifer took it as an encouragement. The next second Sam’s tongue tapped on the closed gate of his teeth patiently, persuading it to open. A kiss. Rick couldn’t believe his senses. He had dreamed of this moment for so many nights. Now it was here, and he didn’t know how to react. Craving the caress and fearing it at the same time, he grit his teeth. But soon he learned that while bones were harder than flesh, the gate couldn’t resist the gentle assails of the warm ram and let it in with feverish exultation.
 
Sam’s presence sailed into him like a slow inebriation. Bitter sweet oranges. He was drowning in their almost narcotic flavor mixed with the heat of spotlights. His Lucifer tasted like success. Just as heady. Moaning sweetly into the caress, Rick began to suck on Sam’s tongue, led purely by his instincts, savoring the caring dominance exercised over him.
 
Sandalwood, green lemons, and the glamor of fame… Sam’s scent fumed up his nose and wiped off everything. The whole world but for the taste of Sam’s kiss, the feel of his touches, his sensual smell. Warmth and firmness of Sam’s body enclosed him like a prison he didn’t wish to escape. Every thrust of his tongue, his fingers tangled in his hair, his thigh wedged between his legs… Rick needed it all. So much that he was almost choking on his desire. It pulsed, it swelled, it filled his mouth, his mind, his soul. It burst in his heart and shred it to bleeding pieces. It would never be whole again. Not after this kiss.
***
This gay BDSM fantasy romance belongs to the Guardian Demon Series that will hold you prisoner to unforgettable stories of life, love, and lust. Set both in an intriguing fantasy world and modern France, Wake Up to Shine combines the paranormal fantasy and contemporary romance genres. If you like reading about gay men, enjoy explicit erotic scenes, and love complex characters and plots, this is a must have for you.
 
Own the book now and savor this romance, spiced up with the hottest gay BDSM. Kink, domestic discipline, and a tender gay love story wait for you on the pages.
 
Buy links:
 
Erotic content: gay spanking, medical kink, enema, anal and oral sex, soap punishment, and an intense orgasm in bondage and silk. You won’t believe what can be used as the restraints until you read the story.
 
And if you read it, you can win another title from my backlist. What you need to do to enter the giveaway? Just answer my question: “What did Sam use as the restraints in the night of bondage and silk?” Send your answer to ciarandwynvil@yahoo.com
 
The first and the thirtieth person who will send me a correct answer will get another title from the backlist of my Guardian Demon Series. Please include the title of your choice in your e-mail, so that I can send you your copy right away in case your entry wins. The giveaway runs until the 30th of September 2013, and I will contact the winners by e-mail.
 
You might be wondering if it’s needed to read the other titles in the series before opening the pages of Wake Up to Shine. No, it isn’t. It can be enjoyed as a stand-alone book, though people who are already familiar with the other titles in Guardian Demon Series will love references to its preceding volumes. In a way, Wake Up to Shine is a free sequel to In Blue Poppy Fields, and it contains also a short reference to Trails of Love I Crawl.
***

Thanks again for having me and my men over today. It’s been a real pleasure to visit you.

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It is always a pleasure to have you, Ciaran. And to my readers, do be certain to drop by next week. I promise to entertain you personally then. *slow, wicked grin*

Let a real life dominant tell you an electrifying story of dominance & submission.”

When my dear friend Ciaran offered to grace my blog again with such a tantalizing promise, I could not refuse. One of the little known facts about my brother Robin is that he, too, favors the lifestyle when given the chance to indulge it.

Needless to say, he does not do so with me.

But it has made the topic a curious for me, especially with the humans’ current interest in the topic of “alternative” lifestyles. As such I hope more than a few of you enjoy this guest post and find it… enlightening. As for me, well…

I believe I shall go out for a hunt. *wicked grin*

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Thank you for having me as your guest, Peter. I’m really excited to be here today to share In Blue Poppy Fields Parts 1&2 with you and your readers. But first a little bit of housekeeping: everything in this blog post is intended for adult readers only. If anybody younger than eighteen stumbled upon the article by chance – please don’t read further.
 
For the rest of us, let’s go ahead.
 
inbluepoppyfieldsfinal200X300In Blue Poppy Fields: This irresistible gay erotic paranormal fantasy belongs to Guardian Demon Series that will hold you prisoner to unforgettable stories of life, love and lust set amid a fascinating fantasy world. That’s what you can read in the books’ description. But… where will I really take you?
 
Taste it:
The dance was both heaven and hell. Promising pleasure and denying the immediate satiation of lust. Giving a little that was never enough. Again and again they stamped, again and again they swirled around, again and again their palms and orbs met in need, again and again their fingers avid for pleasure groped and stroked firm flesh. Until he almost couldn’t bear the fever of this night longer.
 
And then, just in his mind, he heard a husky and rich, though slightly breathless:“Choose two of them.” Hunt and Trickery and Blood. Now. Craving pulsed in his every nerve when his eyes roved over the circle. A young red-haired stud with bare chest caught his attention. And then a youth with long golden locks. Their color in the light of fires was like molten gold, and his slender body promised cat-like litheness.
 
Dancing closer to the one whose mane was on fire like the sky at sunset, he saw in the corner of his eye Belial approaching the other one. Their hands reached out almost at the same moment and dragged the prey onto the dance floor. And the crowd roared its throat hoarse in shrieks and whoops. The nobility chose their mates for tonight. In the night of Bain all were equal. And all was possible under the sky where the full moon was making love to midnight clouds veiling it in tender embraces.
 
The two young ones Adhemar had chosen were enraptured, enamored, aroused, and excited. Life radiated from them in strong, desirous waves. They were breathing, dancing, and longing. And their very desire was bringing them closer and closer to their deaths. They knew nothing of their fate. With young passion, they wanted to give themselves to the bewitching strangers. For tonight. He read it in their minds. In those impetuous heads that wouldn’t throb with hangover tomorrow.
 
Tomorrow their lifeless eyes would stare into the morning light. But they didn’t know and kept dancing closer and closer to their demise. Several times the four of them changed their partners in the dance of death. Reapers and harvests. Palms and eyes and short breath. Heads spinning and chests heaving with need. Loins heavy with want. Legs quivering with effort. Midnight shadows and fire reflections all around. Violins, bagpipes, and flutes raging in a wild crescendo.
 
***
inbluepoppyfieldspart2-200X300As you sit there reading this, I know that you’re craving to embark on a journey to a marvelous place where you can let your soul soar and experience life, love and lust in their naked, raw form.
 
Well, you can put that desire to sleep for now… but wouldn’t you really rather take my hand and make a leap into a story that will overwhelm all your senses?
 
I must warn you though, our world is not for the fainthearted. First fear grabs you in its ironclad fist. You can barely breathe. It hurts as you pull your inhales in and push your exhales out. Your wide-open eyes smart, you writhe in physical agony as you feel every sensation together with my men. You’re dying to avoid the pain… but you’re not a coward. Your pride kicks in and helps you through the bleakest hours, through the moments when all hope seems to be lost. Then relief floods you as you narrowly escape death. Exhilaration fills your every nerve as tremors of adrenaline rush rake your body from head to toes. In this very second you love life more than anything. You clutch it, you cling to it, so that nobody can pry it away from you. You want to live… and you feel it in your guts, in your chest, in your throat. You smell it in the autumn mist, you taste it in deep and hungry kisses, you hear it in your own heartbeat, you see it in the desire-filled eyes of your companion. You feel it under your fingertips as you touch his body. And you shudder with the need as you realize what his look demands. No, you are no longer reading the tale, you are living it. Passionately.
 
Would you like it?
 
Have you answered my question?
 
I truly hope you did. But if you’re scared by dominance & submission, stop reading here. These books aren’t for you. Otherwise – let me take you on a mesmerizing ride you will never forget:
 
A victim to another man’s cruelty, talented and beautiful theater actor Adhemar Lebeau learned not to trust and not to love anybody but himself. Falsely accused of his master’s murder, he has to accept assistance of mysterious Count Sanyi Arany to later discover his savior is a vampire. Forced both by a fatal illness and aftershocks of torture experienced during his unjust imprisonment, Adhemar agrees to the only possible cure. Rebirth.
 
Healed in body but not in mind, he guards his independence, free will and heart. He is not able to give love, only the fulfillment of lust. Yet, satiation of sensuous longing is not enough for his Sire and he knows it. When an eerie malady strikes and seems to deplete Sanyi’s life energy for unknown reasons, Adhemar understands his fears and agrees to keep a street boy, Reyach, as a pet for both of them in hope it will soothe the unspoken worries.
 
Out of necessity he finds himself in the role of the only hunter in their company, and out of attachment he accepts the responsibility readily. Indulgence in blood and carnal pleasures fill his nights and vampiric powers give him the feeling of safety. Until the evening when he carelessly falls prey to High Demon Belial’s plays that quickly turn into more than either of them has bargained for.
 
In spite of a hard start, Adhemar feels burning urge deep in his heart and no matter how much he denies it, the cause of the strange sensation is a budding seed of affection brought to life by the insufferable demon. But letting Adhemar learn to love somebody other than him is not what seemingly innocent Reyach plans.
 
Own both books now. For less than the price of a movie ticket you will gain hours of excitement and reading pleasure. And the more you’ll read, the more you’ll crave. Do you need a proof?
 
From editorial reviews: “Another really imaginative and brilliantly written book. …I can’t wait to read more and see where Ciaran takes us next. Really looking forward to the next one.” Booksessed Bec, #39 top reviewer on Goodreads
 
Earlier on I asked you the question: “Wouldn’t you really rather take my hand and make a leap into a story that will overwhelm all your senses?” Since you’re still here with me, reading this, I’m going to assume you answered: “Yes.” Well, now that I’ve shown you what a ride packed with emotions I’ll treat you to – it’s time for you to act on this. See you soon – In Blue Poppy Fields.
 
Buy links:
 
Still lingering here? Not completely sure if the Guardian Demon series is the right companion for your reading pleasure? Well, you can dip a toe in our world for free. In the prequel to Guardian Demon books: Throne for the Idol, which has earned Compulsion Reads coveted endorsement.
 
“The Compulsion Reads endorsement is all about discovering and highlighting the best indie books on the market and the talented authors behind them,” says Leslie Ramey, co-owner of Compulsion Reads. “When a reader sees the CR seal on a book’s cover, they know that they’re in for a good read. Throne for the Idol meets this standard, and Ciaran Dwynvil is definitely an author to keep an eye on.”
 
This tale will carry you to the monastery in Lindisfarena to witness dark, forbidden love between Brother Rikard and High Demon Semiazas, the First of the Fallen.
 
How can you lay your hands on this book? Sign up to my newsletter here:http://wordpress.us6.list-manage1.com/subscribe?u=9dabb45c4503d00d58299e0f5&id=25f613cd4a
 
And I will send you a coupon for a free download. 
 
Thanks for staying here with me until now. I must have really grabbed your attention. *grins* If you’d like to keep in touch, the best way really is through the newsletter subscription. Just imagine that tomorrow there are no social platforms. How can you still get news from me? Well, provided that at least e-mails work, you have your answer – through the newsletter. And you can always reach me onciarandwynvil@yahoo.com
I also talk about my writing, Guardian Demon Series world, D/s & S/M on my blog:http://ciarandwynvil.wordpress.com/ I would love it if you dropped by to say hello. True, I’m a dom. But quite a friendly one. I won’t bite you unless you absolutely want me to… aaand we better stop here before I get too carried away. *smirks* Thanks again for having me over today.

 

Today, on Day 4 of the Blogger Book Fair, it pleases me to welcome another wordsmith with a scintillating book to offer. I could talk wonders about N.R. Wick and the novel, Land of No Angels, but instead, I think I shall allow a story excerpt to speak for itself.

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Excerpt from Land of No Angels (Dark Ascension, Book 1)

Carter followed Fox’s directions until they reached a street completely blocked from one shattered building across the street to another. The barricade consisted of a school bus, two garbage trucks, and a number of other heavy machinery that fit snuggly together. Concrete barriers from construction sites had been lined up on top of the vehicles to provide extra height. Carter slowed to a stop a hundred feet in front of the barricade. Fox exited the truck, followed by Carter and Rebecca.

“What the hell is this?” Carter said.

“They must have blocked the rest of the street to deter the demons,” Fox replied.

“Is there another way to get to Crown Center?” Rebecca asked.

“Yes, but they will most likely be blocked as well.”

“You think so?” she asked.

“Are those people?” Errol asked, coming up from behind them with Jupiter held against her hip. She motioned towards the top of the barricade where several human faces appeared over the edge.

“Oh great, maybe they have a way over,” Carter said. “Hey, hello!” He gave a wave and started towards them.

Rebecca felt uneasy as she looked at the faces. From this distance, she had a hard time distinguishing their facial features. Several more faces popped up from behind the barricade.

“Can you help us?” Carter called.

“Maybe we should find our own way in,” Rebecca said. She looked at Fox who was staring at the faces in a way that bore into them, as though staring hard enough would bring him answers.

“This isn’t right,” Fox whispered. He began to back up and nudged Rebecca to come with him. One of the faces moved to the highest point on the barricade, which exposed its hunched, hairless body. The body was lean and shaped like a cross between a large wolf and a gorilla.

Carter stopped. “I think you might be right.” [Continue Reading...]

It pleases me to have author Nathan Squiers visiting the Vampire Flynn blog today. Mr. Squiers, beyond being a fellow wordsmith, is also an enthusiast of my kind, with his own spin on the genre. But allow me to say no more. He has brought with him an excerpt from his book Crimson Shadow: Sins of the Father with him today. It is our genuine hope you enjoy…

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CS2CoverKindleXander narrowed his eyes, unsure if his mind had just been read or if Harper was just astute. “Has the old fart really become so desperate as to ask a vampire for help?” he chortled—a sound that made Xander’s insides wretch—and shook his head, “My my! The lengths a desperate human will cross.

Xander nodded once as he reached for Yang’s handle, “From what I’ve been told he’s traveled with far stranger company. And besides,”—he pulled the bone-white, custom-made, eight-chambered revolver from its holster under his left arm and held it at his side—“the priest knows when it’s time to admit defeat and call upon someone who can get the job done before something like you can get out of hand.”

Harper leered at that and stood upright once again, trying his best to appear regal despite everything about him working against the effort. His misshapen head rolled about on his twisted shoulders before cocking to one side as he sized-up his opponent. “And for this he sent you? You? A boy; nothing more than a fledgling? The priest must be far, FAR crazier than I’d guessed!” he snickered, “That, or you are far stronger than you seem. Strong enough to be called upon to handle an exorcism of such”—he paused to look at his own hand and grinned, making an example to wave the mutated limb at Xander—“grand proportions.”

Xander smirked at Harper’s assumptions. He understood that his appearance wasn’t at all intimidating, especially not to a creature like Harper. Having been changed into a vampire only a year earlier on his eighteenth birthday, he still retained the same boyish features he’d had as a human. And though he wasn’t short, his scrawny frame—hidden beneath his bulky jacket—and his wind-licked shaggy black hair did make him look like an overgrown child who’d just woken up and decided to play dress-up with his biker-daddy’s clothes. The only menacing feature he could think of that might work in his favor was his blood-red right eye and its pitch-black pupil that, along with its hazel partner, now narrowed at Harper. “There’s not going to be any exorcism.” Xander tapped the gun against his hip several times, “And I can’t vouch for being something special, but I guess it got Tennesen’s attention”—he smirked—“when he heard that the son of Joseph Stryker was taking on jobs.”

There was a flash of intrigue in Harper’s sunken eyes and he gave Xander a once-over in this new light, “You are of Stryker’s blood?

Xander smiled, letting his fangs extend and fall past his lips, “That’s right,” he said in a mocking tone, knowing full-well that he had heard of his late-father, a powerful and world-renowned auric that had co-created the once-proud Odin Clan. “Does that mean anything to you?”

Harper growled deep in his throat, “Only that your blood will taste all the sweeter!” [Continue Reading...]

Part Five – A Dance With the Devil

Story Beginning

ResurrectionIf not for the excruciating pain in his arm, Martin Sanchez might have almost believed he was dreaming.

The knife pinning him to the wall made the most compelling case that this was no dream, though. The blood trickling down his arm aided in the testimony; and had Martin the notion to peer down at his hand, he would’ve seen the drops of blood hitting the ground right near his fallen pistol. His eyes remained locked with the suspect’s, however, and Martin knew better than to look away.

Not that he could any longer. Not after being thrown violently into the surreal.

When Martin first spied Peter Dawes, he saw the medical student from the photo, but noted the differences as well. A few years older. His demeanor quite unlike the person described by his former co-worker. He had no doubt Dawes’s clothing and grooming habits had probably changed, considering the former doctor now bore more resemblance to a hitman than a humanitarian. One key difference had escaped his notice, though; something he knew he had failed to recognize purely out of blissful ignorance. Peter Dawes looked like he hadn’t seen the sun in years.

‘… doctor sold his soul…’

“There’s no such thing as vampires,” Martin muttered to himself as Dawes paused less than a foot away from him. The detective’s breaths turned shaky and erratic. The words themselves automatic, they slipped from his mouth as the death throes of skepticism. Dawes acknowledged as such, another broad smile parting his lips to issue a rebuttal. The protest fell dead, right next to Martin’s blood and sidearm.

Two of the sharpest teeth Martin had ever seen grew in length until they hovered just above Dawes’s bottom lip. The former doctor laughed, as though Martin had issued a dare and he had accepted the challenge. Unless Martin was hallucinating – which he still considered a strong possibility – those were indeed vampire fangs.

“He nearly covered it up with that knife wound, but there were two fucking puncture wounds and the knife wound barely bled out.”

“What is it, Detective?” Dawes asked, his voice strangely quiet. Cunning. Beginning the dance he threatened no more than a few seconds ago. “Did your delusion just cease to exist? I am familiar with the sentiment. One moment you’re shrouded in ignorance, moving about the world of mortals without a second thought and the next you’re acutely aware that you’ve stepped down on the food chain a notch. Pity, is it not?” [Continue Reading...]

photo by: Untitled blue

It brings me great pleasure to have Ciaran Dwynvil with us today. I shall not linger long on introductions, as my fellow wordsmith speaks quite well for himself, and equally well on a topic with which I have rather… intimate… familiarity. Dear Ciaran, the floor is yours…

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Thank you, Peter, for having me as your guest today. I’m very excited to be here to tell you about my newest gay erotic paranormal fantasy, In Blue Poppy Fields. The book will please not only all fans of Belial, the Prince of Trickery, the Lord of Lust and the Antilight… aka Guardian Demon, but all readers who love vampires.

Maybe not all… as vampire stories differ greatly. Some have gloomy, horror atmosphere, some are full of blood and violence, still others brim with dark sensuality. How should you know ours would be to your liking? Apart from reading a sample chapter on Amazon or Smashwords to get a feel of the tale, you can learn about various aspects of a vampire’s life in our world during In Blue Poppy Fields release tour. Let’s first take a look at the book and then we will move on to our topic for today. Vampires and pain.

inbluepoppyfieldsfinal200X300In Blue Poppy Fields blurb: A victim to another man’s cruelty, talented and beautiful theater actor Adhemar Lebeau learned not to trust and not to love anybody but himself. Falsely accused of his master’s murder, he has to accept assistance of mysterious Count Sanyi Arany to later discover his savior is a vampire. Forced both by a fatal illness and aftershocks of torture experienced during his unjust imprisonment, Adhemar agrees to the only possible cure. Rebirth.

Healed in body but not in mind, he guards his independence, free will and heart. He is not able to give love, only the fulfillment of lust. Yet, satiation of sensuous longing is not enough for his Sire and he knows it. When an eerie malady strikes and seems to deplete Sanyi’s life energy for unknown reasons, Adhemar understands his fears and agrees to keep a street boy, Reyach, as a pet for both of them in hope it will soothe the unspoken worries.

Out of necessity he finds himself in the role of the only hunter in their company, and out of attachment he accepts the responsibility readily. Indulgence in blood and carnal pleasures fill his nights and vampiric powers give him the feeling of safety. Until the evening when he carelessly falls prey to High Demon Belial’s plays that quickly turn into more than either of them has bargained for.

In spite of a hard start, Adhemar feels burning urge deep in his heart and no matter how much he denies it, the cause of the strange sensation is a budding seed of affection brought to life by the insufferable demon. But letting Adhemar learn to love somebody other than him is not what seemingly innocent Reyach plans.

Alright, the blurb itself didn’t give any insight into a vampire’s relationship with pain. The truth is that it is a love and hate relationship. Here is why:

A vampire’s heightened senses sharpen every perception. Whisper sounds like loud talk, taste of blood differs from victim to victim, the night sky glimmers with myriads of stars, the air is full of wafts of pleasant or not so pleasant aromas. He can learn to control the extent to which he allows himself to be engulfed in such a gale of sensations. But one sense he seldom tries to block. Feeling. It provides incredible satisfaction in carnal pleasures which quickly becomes addictive. But there is a downside to it. Delight and agony are just as intense.

If you cut your finger, you feel a moment of sharp pain and then a relatively long, annoying throb. Magnify the first sensation tenfold and you will understand but an echo of a vampire’s agony stemming even from such a minor wound. Fortunately, a vampire can heal himself fast and also has an enormous capacity to withstand pain. So, even if he suffers greatly, it seldom stops him from whatever he is doing at the moment when the throes jolt through his body.

Not every time does a vampire attempt to heal his body fast though. He distinguishes between a good and bad kind of pain. While he will, like any other being driven by self-preservation instinct, try to recoil from the latter and heal any damages to his body as soon as he can, he will not try to stop the former.

The good kind of pain occurs only in situations that do not put his life in danger. A typical moment involving this kind of pain is the point of Turning, also known as Rebirth, seen from the perspective of the Sire. While it is a painful experience, the adrenaline rush coursing through his body at that moment can become just as addictive as pleasure.

The boost of energy, the increase in his strength, senses heightened to their maximum resemble seconds before an orgasm so much that vampires seek to live through this rush again. Combined with endorphins released both in pleasure and pain, it provides them with a powerful feeling of being alive.

Yet, it would be impractical to give birth to a new vampire every time they wish to get enclosed in such sensations. That is one of the reasons why a vampire loves to indulge in bloodsharing if his lover is one of his own kind. Lovemaking twined with giving and taking blood stimulates even higher release of endorphins and floods a vampire’s body with intoxication of pleasurable pain. Not speaking about the fact that the adrenaline rush and endorphins coursing through one’s veins change the taste of blood for better.

And that reveals a reason why many vampires like to inflict pain before they feed or in a sensual play. But this is already a topic for another article in the release tour program.

If you are interested to learn more, you can find a list of topics and the schedule of the whole tour here.

We spoke about pain today and so also the excerpt will be full of agony. The following two paragraphs are from a scene involving Adhemar, Sanyi and Vincent:

Once again his digits found a bloodied, ferocious mouth without any negotiations and prized it open. Holding Sanyi’s jaws apart, Vincent wrought him off Adhemar’s throat, repeating again and again: “It’s Adhemar,” until the words finally sank into the vampire’s mind and his straining body sagged in his tight hold. “Good, good, ’tis done, ’tis done, Sanyi,” Vincent whispered right into his ear, holding him close, feeling him tremble with guilt and pain. Adhemar’s fangs weren’t considerate, he could tell that much still before a first anguished moan leaked out of Sanyi’s mouth. In agony of piercingly dull throes assaulting his wrist unknowingly and in shame of his earlier behavior. “Shh, it won’t take long. You’ve given him new life,” Vincent cooed, pressing his cheek to Sanyi’s head, soothing and calming the vampire’s memories. The blindfold of bloodlust Sanyi had had on allowed him to do it. To lie for both men’s sake. He knew that without him there would have been just death without rebirth but it didn’t matter. He didn’t need the credit but his Sanyi was desperate for it. And so he lied without a tinge of shame, praising, crooning, encouraging him to hold on a little longer. Convincing him not to think of the other night. “You’re his Sire, ’tis done, ’tis done,” he kept murmuring, feeling Sanyi’s body pressing into his embrace in need for reassurance. He understood. No vampire should be made to Turn somebody so soon after his own Rebirth. But this time it was the only way. And he could only help Sanyi through the moment and through the flood of painful recollections.

Laborious breaths and growls as the two vampires worked their way through the Rebirth pangs mingled with his soothing whispers in a strange melody. In a mesmerizing melody permeating the darkness of the room. He knew Adhemar couldn’t really hear him now, completely enthralled by his first feeding, but Sanyi could and he kept murmuring to him softly, softly, softly.

Did the little peek into our world capture your attention? In Blue Poppy Fields is currently available at Amazon and Smashwords.

It can be read without being familiar with other books in the Guardian Demon Series but you now have an opportunity to win one of the twelve copies of Trails of Love I Crawl Part 1 that opens the beguiling world of this series. Participation is easy enough for anybody over the age of eighteen. The more you help others find me and Guardian Demon Series books, the more chances to win you will have.

What can you do?

  • Recommend my books in reader discussions on Goodreads, Shelfari or other platforms you are active at
  • Follow my blog, like my FB page, follow me on Twitter
  • Rate my books on Goodreads
  • Review my books on Amazon, Smashwords, B&N or Goodreads
  • Feature my books and your reviews of them on your blog if you have one
  • Tell your friends about Guardian Demon Series
  • Tweet about In Blue Poppy Fields, FB links to release tour articles, reblog them, Pinterest them, Stumble upon them… whichever platform you fancy is welcome

My giveaway form will give you more suggestions. Winners will be announced on my blog on the 11th of April.

I hope to see your entry in the giveaway and thank you for your help in spreading the word of mouth about Guardian Demon Series.

With this I hand over Peter’s blog back to him. It has been my pleasure to be your guest, Peter. Thank you for having me over today. [Continue Reading...]

Part Four – Finding a Ghost

Story Beginning

Hanging a map of Philly had required removing a few pictures from the wall, but Martin couldn’t be bothered to care. Hand clutching onto a notebook, his eyes jumped from the page to the pins he’d positioned across the metropolis, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. The project had taken two days and required weeding through not just his initial twelve cases, but the other unresolved ones on his docket. Honing in on the ones which featured postmortem knife wounds consumed the most time. Those got the red pins.

AshtrayRunning his fingers through his messy hair, he reached for his cold cup of coffee and swallowed a gulp. A half-eaten bagel and an ashtray full of cigarette butts lay on the table beside his files, which were strewn about in a haphazard mess. Martin sighed, knowing he should shower and wishing he could summon an appetite, but the crime scene photos from the Davies murder kept playing in his head like a bad song on repeat. Pools of red had soaked through the plush, white carpet. The victims bled out, the same way Jill Franklin should have, had she merely been stabbed.

Peter Dawes must not have had a taste for the stuff yet.

Martin shook his head. The rational part of his mind still thought this was all insane, but the dots were finally connecting in what was once a nonsensical investigation. Even if the improbable wasn’t true, Dawes could have been acting under the influence of this woman – whatever she was – and locked in some form of hypnotism. Maybe Carlos only thought he saw teeth. Or maybe the woman had dental prosthetics and was using Dawes as her muscle. Martin hadn’t figured out how to explain the supernatural yet, but he was sure something could force this to make some twisted sort of sense.

Vampires didn’t exist. Regardless of how he was treating this case now.

Reaching into his pocket, Martin plucked a cigarette out of his pack and continued staring at the wall. Bill had done a meticulous job of picking out the cases he felt had the strongest connections, but there was still an undercurrent of suspicion within the other cases; an eerie omen that told Martin they could very have been orchestrated by Dawes, too. “People snap…”

… The doctor sold his soul to the devil…

“… All of the time,” he told himself. “This one just happens to have a vampire fetish.”

Smoke rose from the end of the cigarette when he lit it. Martin reached for the notebook and went back to revisiting the crime scene locations on his list. The collection of red dots had formed a cluster, with a few others scattered about the city as though he’d wandered off and…

Got hungry

… Pursued another victim somewhere else. But the largest concentration of points seemed to be establishing some sort of base of operations. Perhaps that’s where he’d been living this whole time while surviving off the radar. Martin stuck the final pin into the map and backed away, his eyes fixed on the Strawberry Mansion area of Philadelphia. The pins branched out several blocks to a couple of miles in each direction before becoming sparse, but this only served to affirm where the killer’s home was. [Continue Reading...]

Part Three – The Red-Headed Woman

Story Beginning

The Feds only glanced at the case once before dismissing altogether.

I Was LegendMartin remembered sitting in the corner of the room, drinking coffee as the FBI agent shrugged off Carl Powers. “You’re looking for a serial killer when there’s nothing to support the idea,” he said brusquely, walking past the rank and file detectives as though the building was on fire. “At best, you have a few homicidal Goths or a gang of vampire wannabes who’re concealing their work using knives. I’m willing to bet, though, that half of these cases are just stabbings that your department has mislabeled.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Powers said, looking something like the small dog chasing after the big one. “These murders are not random. In fact, we have reason to believe there may be more. We have a ton of unsolved homicides that…”

“That just seems to suggest your department is inept, sir. What do you want the Federal Bureau of Investigation to do about it?”

“Help us!” Powers stopped in his tracks. The entire homicide department watched as he threw up his hands and raised his voice to the federal agent. “You barely looked at the Franklin murder case, Agent Blane, and didn’t bother to listen to two words I had to say about the other cases. We have enough evidence to suggest these murders are linked together. Fucking hell, they’re all happening in the same section of Philadelphia!”

Blane turned around, facing the latest piece of meat being tossed at the dogs for consumption. Truthfully, Powers was just at the end of his rope; that’s why he called the Feds in the first damn place. The federal agent was less-than-sympathetic to his cause, though. “Sir, what you have are some fringe Goths or a gang war – just like every other city in the United States – and that’s your jurisdiction, not ours. A serial killer has a modus operandi and ‘he prefers women’ is not enough. You don’t even have the physical evidence to link the same killer to each murder. No fluids. No hair, fabric, anything that has appeared at each crime scene that you can use. All you have is a hunch and I’m doing you the favor of saying you’re wrong.” He nodded to Powers. “Good day, sir.”

The fed stormed out of the office and, in his wake, left Powers’ hope for salvation, shattered into a thousand pieces. Powers stared at the doors, looking more like a madman than Bill Frazier had ever looked to Martin.

It was hard for Martin to buy that Bill started believing in the undead. [Continue Reading...]

photo by: Munir Hamdan

badge veryinspiringbloggerawardInterrupting the posts of The Vampire Murders (and my serial work “A Maker and His Child” on the BloodTide site)  for a moment of frivolity, if you will. A dear acquaintance, Ciaran Dwynvil, bestowed me with a nomination for something called the “Very Inspiring Blogger Award.” Flynn and I are only left to reason it is because tales of our exploits inspires one to either run for their lives or find religion, and quickly.

Ciaran himself is a gifted wordsmith who favors paranormal fantasy of the erotic variety. Flynn favors such things himself, but that usually ends poorly for the other person involved.

Here are the rules…

The Rules:

  1. Display the award logo on your blog.
  2. Link back to the person who nominated you.
  3. State 7 things about yourself.
  4. Nominate 15 bloggers for this award and link to them.
  5. Notify those bloggers of the nomination and the award’s requirements.

Now, as part of the rules dictate one must list seven things about them, allow me to share the honors with Flynn. [Continue Reading...]

Part Two – An Unlikely Killer

Martin could almost see the conversation.

The nurse’s name was Chloe Poole, a fifteen year veteran of Temple University Hospital that often worked the same shifts as Dr. Peter Dawes. On several occasions, she assisted him and seemed to know him better than any of the other nurses they had interviewed. Martin formed a mental picture of this nurse sitting down with the interviewing detective, possibly inside one of the hospital’s waiting rooms. “Miss Poole,” the interviewing detective had said, “Please tell me what you know about Peter Dawes.”

Crime Scene [evidence shot 001]By now, she knew what happened to Peter’s girlfriend, Lydia Davies. The newspapers were right on top of the story when two bodies were found by Davies’ neighbor, Regina Donaldson. The front door had been left open, providing Miss Donaldson the jarring sight of two warm bodies and a room covered in blood when she entered the apartment. Martin figured it still haunted her in the wee, small hours of the morning. Hell, it would have unnerved a seasoned veteran like him, too.

Lydia Davies had been ushered into the afterlife next to a man named Liam Collins. Although there was no proof the two had been romantically-entangled, there was enough circumstantial evidence to see how Peter Dawes could have thought so; Collins was only partially-dressed and both bodies had been found in Miss Davies’s bedroom. The initial news reports never named a suspect and subsequent stories possessed a strange apathy toward even speculating motive.

Chloe Poole could read between the lines sufficiently enough, however.

“I know he was no murderer,” the tape-recorded voice said, speaking from three years in the past. “That’s why you people are asking about Peter. I don’t know who killed Lydia, but he wouldn’t ever harm her.”

“How do you know that, Miss Poole?” the detective asked from the corridors of time as well.

“You didn’t know him, sir. Peter wouldn’t harm anyone, especially not Lydia. Lydia meant the world to him.”

“Not even if Miss Davies had been involved with another man?”

Chloe Poole laughed. “That’d never happen.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She felt the same way about Peter. They weren’t attached at the hip or together every day, but every time I saw them, I had no doubt about their relationship. In fact, she was just here a couple of weeks ago to meet Peter for dinner after one of his shifts.”

“And everything looked alright between them?”

“Peter was stressed, but he looked happy to see her. Nothing seemed wrong with her.”

“You say stressed?”

“Yeah, you try working the emergency room for twelve hours straight. It had been a tough day. This place takes a lot out of you.”

The interviewing officer paused to switch tracks. “How long did you say they’d been dating?”

“Two years, I think.”

“So, during the course of two years, they never talked about getting married?”

“It’s the 80s, dear. Couples wait years before getting married these days. Peter had started mentioning it recently, that he was thinking about proposing to her.”

“Any problems between them during that time? Notable fights or threats or anything?”

“Nope. Never saw any spats. He never complained about anything other than the fact that they were always so busy.”

“And Mr. Dawes has never done anything that would alarm you?”

“No,” she said, chuckling again. “Sir, no offense, but he was a typical guy. Would get mad, happy, sad, frustrated just like anyone else.”

“Now, what’s this about Dr. Dawes being absent from work for five days prior to Miss Davies’s death?”

There was a pause. Martin raised an eyebrow.

“Miss Poole?”

She hesitated again. “Sir, no matter what, Peter wouldn’t kill someone.” [Continue Reading...]