Genre: Erotic paranormal romance
Publisher: Samhain Publishing
Date of Publication: March 17, 2015
Number of pages: 211
Word Count: 80k
Cover Artist: Kanaxa
Consumed by the need to feed…
After an out-of-control spell triggers the zombie apocalypse, Lizzy Addams is left in the ruins of Chicago with only the slightly unhinged commentary—and endless erotic appetites—of her inner demon for company. Her blood supply dwindling, she is forced to find survivors to feed from, or die trying.
Officer Angela Kinney was on duty when hungry corpses overwhelmed the city. The survivors look to her for leadership, but nothing prepared her for a beautiful monster who offers safety in exchange for blood.
Sean MacMillan never expected to see Lizzy again after she rejected his attempts to lure her back to the vampire fold. But with his flock threatened by the horde and his murderous vampire brother, Lizzy is the only one he can trust to keep them safe.
The veil of secrecy shrouding the supernatural world torn apart, humanity’s only hope is to forge an alliance with vampires, werewolves, and things that go bump in the night. Though accepting their aid could be a devil’s bargain that puts humans at the bottom of the food chain.
Warning: Contains vampire orgies, angsty demon sex, a frisky lesbian werewolf, light kink, and enough sex toys to start a store.
Available at Amazon BN iTunes Kobo Samhain Publishing
About the Author:
Robyn Bachar enjoys writing stories with soul mates, swords, spaceships, vampires, and gratuitous violence against the kitchen sink. Her paranormal romance Bad Witch series, historical paranormal romance series Bad Witch: The Emily Chronicles, and spicy space opera romance trilogy Cy’ren Rising are available from Samhain Publishing.
Her books have finaled in PRISM Contest for Published Authors, the Passionate Plume Contest, and twice in the EPIC eBook Awards.
As a gamer, Robyn has spent many hours rolling dice, playing rock-paper-scissors, and slaying creatures in mmorpgs.
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I opened my mouth to ask for a volunteer, and noticed just a fraction too late that a priest’s collar peeked out from under Manuel’s overcoat and that he was eyeing me in an unfriendly manner. He spat at me in Latin and pulled a cross that exploded with blinding light. The image seared into my retinas as holy fire hit me full blast.
I’d rescued a damn priest. What a fucking way to die.
My inner demon shrieked, and I hissed like a pissed-off alley cat and bolted. I slammed against the roof ’s edge and toppled over it like a drunk after the bars close, then crashed through the plastic top of a Dumpster in the alley. For a moment I was relieved to be out of the burning, but it was quickly followed by the sudden onset of the what-the-fuck pain of my landing.
The world had ended before garbage day, so I was up to my ass in trash bags that stank like rancid vomit. Mobs descended on my Dumpster in a sea of arms outstretched to grab and devour me. Like sharks in a feeding frenzy, they were programmed to bite first and ask questions later. My pink Chucks had no traction as I tried to climb atop the Dumpster, and I slipped and struggled. Ugh. Death by fashion. I should’ve gone for the Doc Martens.
Mobs weren’t good at ladders, but they could handle climbing short distances, and two toppled over the edge and into the garbage. I tried to kick myself into flight, but my magic fizzled and refused to cooperate. No fuel, no magic. One of the trash zombies’ rotted teeth sank through my jeans and into my leg, and I screamed at the top of my lungs.
I ripped my leg away, losing a chunk of flesh and muscle in the process, and with a rush of pure terror I vaulted out of the garbage and into the alley. When I hit the ground my wounded leg buckled and I collapsed. The dead closed over me like an ocean wave and clawed at my cashmere coat with frostbitten fingers until I wriggled out of it and broke free. I booked it as best I could, ducking and weaving through the crowd.
Despite my fear, I had enough sense left to run down the alley away from the spot the humans had been. I emerged into the street opposite, found it likewise occupied by mobs, and cursed as I headed into the next alley. A metal fire escape clung to the side of the building to my right, and I leapt, pulled the ladder down and hustled up it as my wounded leg fought me the whole way. When I reached the roof I sighed with relief and lay flat, staring up at the full moon as hunger raged through me like a slavering, rabid dog.
I needed to feed, and the only living humans in Chicago were traveling with a priest with a grudge. I wouldn’t make it home without blood—hell, I wouldn’t make it off this rooftop. In a few hours the sun would rise and I’d be Lizzy Addams flambé.
It sucked to be a vampire at the end of the world.
We emerged from the coffin to find a note taped to the inside of my closet door, with the instructions, “Sean, read this first.”
No good would come of that. Irritated, I handed him the note and opened the door. I emerged into an empty, silent bedroom. Blinking in confusion, I paused after a few steps. No flock, no werewolves and no one seated at my computer. The door was shut and locked, and my stomach dropped as I was blasted by an icy wave of fear.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, whirling on Sean.
He stood in the doorway to the closet, lean and so tall he nearly scraped the doorframe. Sean studied me silently, his face a placid mask, and then he slowly unbuttoned the jacket he’d just donned and set it aside.
“Sean…” My voice dropped in warning as he began unbuttoning his shirt. I growled for added effect, but he continued, stripping the shirt and then the undershirt beneath until he was bare-chested. He didn’t seem interested or aroused—Sean looked like a man being led to the gallows. I growled again, but instead of a threat it was a sound of interest voice by my stirring demon. She was captivated by the landscape of pale skin across his toned abs, wondering what his skin would feel like beneath our fingertips.
“Lean and strong, like our Athena. Wouldn’t they make a striking pair in our bed?”
“Elizabeth, come here,” Sean ordered.
I was halfway to him before I realized what had happened—anger at falling so easily into the reflex warred with my demon’s desire to obey. With a snarl I froze, planting my feet in a fighting stance just out of arm’s reach.
“What the fuck is going on?” I snapped.
About the Author:
S. K. Gregory is an author, editor and blogger. She currently resides in Northern Ireland.
“Description begins in the writer’s imagination, but should finish in the reader’s.”