Excerpt from Undercovers

Jasmeene LeCourt smoothed her sweaty palms down the length of her jean clad thighs, blowing out a long, shaky breath. Butterflies fluttered in her belly, but she ignored them and lifted her fist to rap softly against the door.

The deep, brusque voice on the other side called for her to come in, and before she lost her nerve she stepped inside.

Lieutenant Roarke Dimitru’s head was down, his attention focused on the stack of papers littering his desk. Jasmeene studied the older vamp, and the impressive swell of muscle and sinew beneath his grey t-shirt, the corded thickness of his large biceps straining against the soft fabric. He was a ruggedly handsome man with his stubbled jaw and chestnut brown locks that curled lazily around his broad shoulders.

His head snapped up then, and her gaze collided with his piercing emerald green eyes that she swore could see straight to her soul.

“Can I help you, Detective?” His full lips curled into a flirtatious grin and he leaned back in his chair, his hands clasping behind his head, drawing her attention to his broad and defined torso.

She fought not to roll her eyes, her lips twisting into a frown. He thought he was God’s gift to women—all women—supernatural and human alike, and he never passed up an opportunity to display the reason why he held that notion. She hated men like him, men who took advantage of women just because they could. Men who were liars, cheats and users. Had she not been a rookie, and had he not been her superior, she would have told him what to do with his conceit. But she needed this position, this assignment in particular, and was determined to do a good job. She was the first, and only of her kind to be recruited to the Las Vegas Supernatural Crime Unit. She had a lot to prove—mainly that she was just as capable as any other supra.

“Captain Alekseev sent me. Said you needed a single female for this assignment.” She’d thought it was a strange request, the need for a single female, until she’d read the specs for the case. There were already few females who worked for the unit, even fewer single females, and none who possessed her unique talents. The captain had picked her because she was the only one in the entire unit who could actually complete the assignment.

Roarke raked his gaze over her, and she bristled when his eyes settled on her breasts, before dipping lower to stare at the juncture between her thighs. Her temper—that blasted Southern temper of hers—flared to life, and a fiery insult was on the tip of her tongue when Roarke abruptly shot out of his seat and propped himself against his desk, his arms folding across his chest.

“So Gabe sent you? A rookie.”

Excerpt from Sacred Talisman

"Fuck. I hate Halloween."

Rafe walked along the sidewalk, his collar turned against the late fall rain. He cursed the endless drone of humans parading down the street, dressed up as vampires and demons. The morons wouldn't recognise a demon if the fucking thing bit them in the ass. And their take on vampires...hell if he bumped into one more cape wearing, cliché sprouting, Angel wanna-be, he'd forgo his usual animal fare and suck the asshole dry.

He huffed and turned down an alley, needing to distance himself. The constant cheer only emphasised his own inhumanity, and he didn't need the reminder. The distant thrum of music vibrated through the air, as he stopped midway, shouldering up against the wall. He recognised the beat, familiar with the type of dancing that accompanied the song. Women, dressed in nothing more than bras and boy shorts, undulated across the dance floor, rubbing against any male body within reach. Then they'd follow their catch into the back rooms, fucking them against the wall or on any handy surface. The rooms were videotaped, but he doubted most of the lovers gave a damn.

A sharp clicking rang behind him, drawing his attention. He turned, pushing his back into the rough brick. A woman strutted along the pavement, dressed in what he guessed was a black cat costume, sporting a bustier with a lace garter and matching thong. Her fake velvet tailed swished across her calves, the soft sound echoed by the light patter of rain. She stopped several feet in front of him, casting a long, seductive gaze back across her shoulder. Her lips twitched into a smile as she rubbed her leather flogger across the sensual curve of her ass, slapping it against her pale flesh. She shrugged at his indifference and continued up the alley, no less confident she'd be able to sell her wares inside the bar.

Rafe growled, letting the rain cool his skin. How long had it been since he'd felt any form of desire heat his body? Since he'd revelled in the feel of a woman's skin against his, her feminine scent surrounding him like a sensual fog? Breathed in the earthy sweet aroma of arousal until he could taste the flavour on his tongue? He loved eating a woman's desire, the warm, wet juice filling his mouth until the succulent essence was all he knew.

There was a time he would've been more than willing to take the woman up on her offer. To watch her body beneath his, her hands bound in silk ties, stretched out in front of her. He liked to bind both arms to the same post, accentuating the play of muscles across her back as she fought to free herself. Her skin looked pale, and he couldn't help but wonder how dark the bands would contrast against her flesh, or how much it would flush as he brought her within reach of her climax.

Rafe cursed, slamming his fist against the wall. It'd been over a century since he'd indulged in pleasures of the flesh, his ability to couple fading along with his hope. He was a vampire, for fuck's sake. Yet one cursed like few others-an Enforcer-destined to roam the earth searching for the sacred talisman he"d been created to protect.

"A vampire with a overactive conscience...who would have thought such a wretched creature existed."

He turned towards the street when a faint whimper vibrated the air. He looked over his shoulder when it sounded again. "Damn it." He glanced longingly at the street. He shouldn't care, shouldn't get involved. He was supposed to be a soulless, bloodsucking parasite...what the hell did he care if some woman was raped or killed? He'd saved his share of damsels in distress, and was just as likely to get a knee to the groin as a simple thank you.

"You fucking whore…that hurt!"

The words cut through Rafe like a knife. He shook his head, allowing his body to shift, giving the illusion he simply appeared at the end of the alley.

"You know. The more you fight, the more this will hurt."

The creep chuckled, trying to rip the woman's pants down. She countered his attempt, deftly connecting with the moron's cock when he opened his legs to get a better vantage point. The guy doubled over, cupping his shaft in one hand as the other locked around her hair, pulling her face even with his.

"You'll pay for that."

Excerpt from Beneath the Changing Moon 

All vampire rituals took place beneath the cycle of the Blood Moon. Our blood was thick in the heat and sluggish in our veins. I wasn't quite twenty-five when my mom took me to the Blood-Seer. Mom had a fresh manicure and the sick-sweet smell of the chemicals made me gag. I didn't know how she could stand it. My appointment was early in the month, because we weren't rich enough to afford the Seer's work beneath the full moon, but she was wise and her power always great.

Her fingers were dry and rough like gnawed bone when she took my hand and led me into her workroom. The lights were dim, the windows curtained. Night fell late and I was often tired in the summer, but anticipation stirred me, wound me up.

She laid a fire despite the heat, and the warmth of the room was oppressive. My eyes dried out and my skin tingled. When her fingers passed along my arm, numbness followed her touch.

It was better that way, for she lifted my wrists and laid open my veins.

I had felt nothing like it before. I would feel nothing like it ever again.

The Blood-Seer put her mouth to my skin and drank me down, but did not pierce me with her fangs. If she did, her venom would contaminate my blood and she wouldn't get a good reading from it. That was almost the worst thing which could happen.

She drank for so long my head lolled back and my eyes closed. It hurt too much—it felt too good—to sleep, but my bones were heavy and my joints ached. I was due another growth spurt soon. Mom measured my progress on the wall. She was pleased I was tall like her. I could tell because she smiled widely every time I grew even a centimetre.

"Be still." The Blood-Seer's voice was as dry as her hands. I slit my eyes open and watched as she gathered my blood into little glass vials. She would smell it, analyse it, put it under the microscope, add her powders, do her science-magic. No one but a Blood-Seer could know the exact process. We trusted that she was well trained. We trusted that she knew.

No one ever questioned her.

My dad, like all the other fathers, waited for the results of her tests to throw me as extravagant a party as we could afford. It would still be a simple party because we couldn't afford anything else, but if the Blood-Seer's prognosis was good enough, he, like all the other fathers, would go into debt to make sure all of the best families—all the rich families—knew my blood was pure, my body ripe for pregnancy.

I fell asleep in the car on the ride home, my head on the cool window, lulled by the steady throb of the engine. I'd helped rebuild it the last time it broke down. When Mom woke me, her voice was warm and filled with happiness. She believed the Blood-Seer would tell us great things. At twenty-five, she had gone to a Blood-Seer beneath the almost new Blood Moon and had been told she was barely Fertile and would have difficulty getting pregnant. She feared she'd never find someone to bind with and never be a mother. She had been lucky, she always told me, that Dad had looked past her bad blood. When Dad had gone to the Blood-Seer in his time, he had been deemed fully Fertile. She believed—she hoped—I would take after him.

It was a whirlwind two weeks of work and preparing the celebration for my coming of age. At the end, mere days before my party, word came from the Blood-Seer and my world crashed down.

I was Infertile, she said, and my mother sank to her knees and clawed at her face because her tongue had died and her hope melted away.