Excerpt from Byeond the Poison Chalice

Along the river, the fires had finally burned down to timid, smoky wisps rising little by little into the night sky. If I strained my eyes, I could pick out the bodies arranged like soldiers at the foot of the arch. Only char and silver buckles remained. I’d been thorough this time. No runaways to call for reinforcements, no lapses of judgment to come back and bite me in the ass. Mercy was costly.

As I smoothed a pleat in my camel-hair coat, my fingers caught on a rough, murky patch. I wrinkled my nose. Blood washed out, but still. I stood violently, my boots pelting the concrete a hundred feet below with a rain of loose pebbles. It served me right for wearing my favorite coat on the job.

I made a mental note to keep an eye for some of that witch-hazel soap at the market come Sunday night. Maybe washing powder, assuming I found any. I kicked up from the ledge, landing in a barrel roll from which I rose smoothly, if a little dusty.

The Mom and Pop stores had gone bust decades ago, yet still I picked my way over their rooftops like a ghost. A whole five hundred people slept below, some underground, most not. I kept the streets clear, didn’t make a fuss when my fee was late, and we all went on pretending the quarter was naturally more peaceful than all surrounding boroughs—all except the south side.

Most of us tried not to dwell on what went on in the south side if we could help it.

I crept down at the end of the block, grabbing hold of a gutter to slow my descent before I hit the ground. My landing was smooth and silent, like a gust of wind rippling across the concrete. I blew a strand of blonde hair out of my eyes as I stalked across the potholed tarmac.

A faint breeze was blowing in from the north, ferrying in the blessed chill of winter. I was looking forward to the long-delayed snows. Humans generally lost their appetite for conquest in glacial weather. Long nights kept them cloistered in well-defended strongholds, provisions aplenty to shield them from itinerants of my kind. Bad weather heralded peace, for the most part.

My smile soured at the notion. I had no grounds to complain, but we should have found better ways to grow our numbers by now.

The next fork in the road presented a range of options. A left would take me to the roadhouse by the Mississippi and open the door to Antwan’s bottomless supply of moonshine. I’d curl up in the back of the bar and let him tell me about his day until the first blades of sunshine crept through the window. Or I could take a right and make for the nearest manhole. A splash of pink-and-green graffiti on the grille of an ancient bakery invited me to renounce the Devil, which was no choice at all, seeing as I was purportedly cut from the same cloth.

The humans I’d recently dispatched certainly believed so. They hurled slurs like silver bullets, all equally ineffective.

I slowed my steps. Echoes drifted from across the street, bearing the feeble sounds of a struggle. None of my business. The last time I’d interrupted what I assumed was a werewolf getting a little handsy with a new pack initiate, I’d nearly lost a limb.

I made to continue my journey to Antwan’s, already fantasizing about the sharp burn of homemade liquor as it slid down my throat.

A growl cleaved the silence of the night. I stopped in my tracks.

Once, I would’ve had to watch out for cars zooming along the streets like motorized arrowheads, red-eyed humans clutching their steering wheels and seeing nothing. No more. I’d cleared the streets of troublemakers a long time ago. Antwan’s people should’ve known better.

I tracked the racket into the shadows. My eyes adjusted quickly, but still I registered the scene in a series of flashes, like snapshots from a movie.

Two bloodsuckers ganging up on a lone wolf. Click. Blood smeared on his collar and staining the front of his checkered shirt. Click. The fetid scent of human fear wafting in the air like a white flag. Click. The human himself, backed into a corner, his blown-open eyes darting nervously in the low light.

Here was trouble. 

Excerpt from Steal Your Soul Away

This city came to life once the sun went down.

Standing in the walled rooftop garden that had persuaded her to take the apartment, Angelique looked out over the Brighton skyline. The September night retained some heat, though it did not warm her skin, and she wrapped her silk shawl a little tighter around herself. Her preternaturally sharp hearing picked up the sound of music playing and laughter in a bar a couple of streets away. In the distance, the sea was a flat, calm expanse of black.

Tempted as she was to drink in the atmosphere a little longer, work called. Mick might be among the best of the many bosses she’d had in her working life, but the one thing he didn’t tolerate was tardiness. With some reluctance, she left the garden, picked up her bag from the living room, then set off for the club.

Club Peekaboo was housed in what had once been a public house in the Lanes, a good fifteen minutes’ walk from Angelique’s apartment. Some of the other girls who danced there raised eyebrows at her willingness to travel everywhere by foot, even in the small hours of the morning or on the coldest winter nights, but she never felt afraid. Any would-be mugger who tangled with what they took to be just another slender, fragile-looking brunette would quickly discover their error.

By the time she entered the club, the evening’s show was already well under way. Walking along the corridor towards the dressing rooms, Angelique bumped into Sally, a girl no more than five feet tall, with dyed scarlet hair and an almost cartoonishly voluptuous figure, all tits and hips. Sally performed under the stage name of Dusty Kaboom. She trotted along carrying her stage outfit of a saucy little nurse’s uniform, her round bottom almost totally on display thanks to the tiny thong she wore. When she stripped out of that uniform to the strains of Robert Palmer’s version of Bad Case of Loving You, accompanied by saucy stroking motions along the shaft of an oversized thermometer, she damn near brought the house down.

“Hey, Angelique.” Sally’s impish face broke into a grin. “How’s it going?”

“Not bad. Mick’s not asking where I am, is he?”

Sally shook her head. “He knows you never let him down. Though I’m sure he’d allow a bit of leeway for the star of the show.” As she pushed open the dressing room door, she added, “I’m off for a drink in that new cocktail bar down by the pier later on. Meeting up with Chrissie and her new man. D’you fancy joining us after you finish here?”

“That would be nice.” She hadn’t seen Chrissie in months, not since the girl had landed a job in a vintage clothing shop in North Laine and returned to the daytime world. And Angelique had made no plans for tonight. She often liked to walk the streets till just before sunrise, luxuriating in the quiet darkness of the sleeping city.

The two women went to their usual dressing tables, Sally to change back into what she referred to as her ‘civilian clothing’, and Angelique to begin the process of turning herself into a figure of pure fantasy.

She peeled out of her wine-red dress and hung it up, before taking off her underwear. Like Sally, Angelique was not in the least self-conscious about walking round naked—she’d had a long time to grow used to the way her body looked, after all—and she stretched out the kinks in her limbs before stepping into a nude-coloured silk thong. Next, she fitted diamanté pasties over her nipples. After that came the corset, with cups designed to just about cover her breasts and offer tantalising glimpses of her pale flesh as she moved. She completed the outfit with elbow-length gloves in ivory satin, nude stay-up stockings and a feather fascinator that she clipped into her neat updo.

As she applied another coat of ruby gloss to already slick lips, Mick popped his head round the dressing room door. He let in the sounds of dance music with a slow, grinding beat and voices raised in excited conversation.

Excerpt from Taken In

“The Earth will never be safe again.” Kitty Davis peered out of the picture window of the Store Front. “Not until the balance is restored.”

The street lamps glowed above the sidewalks and a few cloaked figures made their way up and down the main drag of Clarke. She didn’t recognize anyone on the street, but then she wouldn’t know many of them. Humans no longer owned the world. The Vampires and Shifters now ran things. The humans had become little more than slaves to the supernatural beings and were locked in perpetual darkness.

“I don’t want to live in the darkness and bear children,” she muttered. “I want the chance to be free and find a person who loves me—not this.”

Couples paired off around her and disappeared into the various rooms of the building. The law had come down from the Governor stating the humans existed for the sole means of creating children with the shifters and as a blood source for the vampires. She pulled her robe over her shoulders to stave off the chill. The darkness depressed her. She had no future beyond the Store Front.

“You’re safe inside,” her friend Maddox said. She hiked up her bra top again. “We could be out there trying to fend for ourselves. I’m not saying this is great, but it’s better than starving.”

Kitty respected Maddox’s tendency to see the bright side of the situation, but she couldn’t see the bright side of being a blood slave.

“What if there’s more to our lives than being what we are? I want a life, not a virtual death sentence.” Yes, being at the Store Front meant protection. The women were there as courtesans for the supernaturals, and were kept safe in order for them to provide those services. The rules didn’t forbid her from leaving if she chose to go, but why bother? If she did leave, she’d be subjected to the law of the supernaturals. Too many bad things could happen—being killed, being attacked or dying of starvation. She refused to risk her chances of staying alive.

Maybe her men would come in today. She hadn’t seen Vic or Gale in what seemed like forever. They always treated her with respect and care. Her blood warmed just thinking about them.

“Girl,” a male voice shouted. “Kitty.”

Kitty shuddered. The command from the owner, William, meant one thing. She was being requested as a blood slave. She shrugged out of her robe and handed the garment to Maddox. “Wish me luck,” she murmured, then strode over to the vampire at the counter. The guy didn’t look familiar. Maybe he wouldn’t come back.

“Feed him,” William snarled. He wrapped an arm around her and his tone changed. “Not much longer and you won’t have to service them. You’ll get your heart’s desire.” He offered her a smile before he shoved her forward. “Now do your job, honey. You’re not here to look pretty unless they want you for a good time.”

Any good feelings she had toward William evaporated the moment she stumbled into the patron’s arms. The man smelled of garbage and sweat. Kitty crinkled her nose and grasped his hand. If she had to provide him sustenance, then she wanted to do it away from the prying eyes of the rest of the club. She led the vampire down the plush carpeted hallway to her private room.

“Before we enter, show me your bracelet.” She turned his arm over. The bracelet determined what services he’d paid for and what she was to provide. He wore a purple band—feeding only. Thank God. Screw the job. She refused to have sex with anyone other than her boys.

The vampire reached out and palmed her breast. “Soft,” he mumbled. “Pretty.”

“Yes, it’s soft and pretty.” She swatted his hand away, then opened the door. “Go in and sit.” She nudged the vampire ahead of her then closed the door behind them. One day she’d be free of the Store Front. She’d have someone who cherished her, not someone who wanted her for her blood or reproductive capabilities. One day…

Excerpt from Intervention

“Land, what time is it?”

“It’s seven.”

“What do you mean it’s seven? Why didn’t my alarm go off?”

“You needed the sleep, Em,” Land replied.

“So you decided to go off on your own at night just so I could get a little shut-eye? Land, we’ve watched enough horror movies to know that splitting up is not a good idea.”

“I know. But we’ve also watched enough reality TV to know that not getting enough sleep also isn’t a good idea.”

“Touché. Did we get a call?”

“No, Em. I found him.”

Emily sat straight up in bed. “You found Matt?”

“The lures worked. He’s in the trap.”

Emily rocked out of bed and yanked on a pair of leggings. Then she did some fancy moves to get a sports bra on without taking off her long tank sleep shirt. “That’s great. That’s really great. Is he okay?”

“More or less,” Land replied.

Emily stopped rushing through their dark bedroom. “Is something wrong? You sound weird.”

“The important thing is that we found him. You should come down. We need to do the intervention together. He won’t listen to me. He’ll listen to you.”

“Um, okay. I’ll get my coffee and drive right over.”

“Love you, Em.”

“I love you, too, Land. Are you sure—”

The call abruptly ended.

Land had never hung up on her like this, not unless they were in a knock-down, drag-out kind of fight, and they’d only had that twice in their relationship. And both times, Emily had known they were in one.

Her stomach tightened, but she forced herself not to overanalyze.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t hurry. By the time she made it to the warehouse, it would be full-on dark.

She grabbed a large bottle of iced coffee from the second shelf of the fridge. Then she hopped into her subcompact. Land had the company car, but hers had an extermination kit or two for emergencies, so she wasn’t going out to the warehouse district half-cocked.

As she drove away from the glittery, bustling part of the city, the blue velvet of the sky went black.

“Ladies and gentlemen, lock your doors,” she whispered.

* * * *

Three years ago, if someone had told Emily that she was going to be in pest control, she would have laughed in that person’s face while spraying a line of Raid around her apartment.

These days, she could pick up a cockroach without flinching. They were nothing in comparison to the kinds of infestations she, Land and Matt had to deal with in addition to the usual suspects. It just so happened that the usual suspects tended to hang around the unusual ones so often that they’d get paid on the books for the usual, then off the books—cash, goods or services—for the unusual. Because how were they supposed to put ‘rat-sized cockroach demon spawn’ on the invoice without raising some red flags during an audit?

Their unconventional night job had started as an accident, evolved into a hobby then turned into a full-on occupation.

The accident had happened during a bit of urban exploring that had followed Land’s side job at the time as an exterminator’s apprentice. When rats started having red eyes and a person didn’t have holy water on hand, they’d better hope they had a cross necklace or a rosary. Emily had. Land hadn’t.

Back then, it had been a good thing the vampire family hadn’t really been interested in bothering or being bothered, otherwise Land might have died then and there.

After that encounter, though, they’d felt like they had a responsibility. ‘Once seen, never unseen’ and all that. Balancing the work with school had meant creative hours, cat naps, copious amounts of caffeine and a few prayers, but it was totally worth it.

Excerpt from Darker Nights

‘This business is all about repeat clients,’ Delia’s father had once told her, and she’d realized this was true the first time she’d handled a vampire divorce case.

The vampires were wealthy—all of them. At least, all of the ones who got divorced. It was a function of interest rates and the upward trend of the stock markets. Her father again. Except Delia couldn’t quite believe that the restless, beautiful creatures who came to see her at the office checked their margin accounts or even knew what a margin account was. Even less could she picture them once poring over newspapers or ticker tape.

They were too modern. Relentlessly so. A vampire never wore last year’s fashions, much less stuff from the eighties or nineties. It was almost as if they tried to hide their immortality in the styles of the day.

Her new client, Rosa Linden, was dressed in haute couture. More incredibly, she managed to pull it off, as so many wealthy women were unable to. It helped that her body would have made a supermodel weep in envy.

That was the only way a normal woman could get such a body, Delia reflected with a healthy dose of self-mockery—to never eat. To never have to eat. Delia didn’t think she could give up the pistachio macaroons from La Table, even for the black-and-white graphic sheath Rosa Linden was wearing, which must have cost what Delia made in a month. She would rather her boring gray suit—and the macaroons.

Rosa made Delia nervous and she seemed to know it, if the half-smile etched on her exquisite face was any indication.

“Where’s your father?” Rosa asked. Again.

Delia smiled with her teeth alone. “Retired.”

Actually her father was in respite care for his advanced stomach cancer but she didn’t see the need to tell her client. Vampires exhibited two reactions to the subject of death—relish or pity. Delia wasn’t in the mood to deal with either.

“He was such a good lawyer,” Rosa said, as if she knew exactly where he was and figured it was the equivalent of actual death. “He handled my last two divorces and my takeover of my ex-husband’s company. Do you practice corporate law as well?”

Delia looked up from the figures on her computer screen, figures that were making no sense. “What? No, I don’t do corporate.”

Rosa nodded with that same irritating suggestion of having known the answer beforehand. “No, I can’t imagine it would suit you, not like it suits your colleague.”

Delia had more than a dozen colleagues, but she immediately knew which one Rosa meant. To the female patrons, there was only one who mattered.

Henry Merrill.

God’s gift to women. Young and old. Mortal and immortal.

“Henry is competent in a lot of areas,” Delia agreed, meaning to point out that her own specialty was the exact type of law Rosa seemed to require most often.

“Indeed, he is,” Rosa murmured with another half-smile. “I’m just wondering how you would possibly know.”

Her bright stare moved over Delia just slowly enough to be insulting.

Delia felt her face color but she did not give way to her first instinct, which was to meet rudeness with rudeness. She was too much a professional. The blood running through her veins was shot through with lawyerly caution, several generations of it, and that caution told her never to insult a customer—no matter how aggravating they could be.

“Are you afraid of all your clients? Or just the vampires?”

Afraid? What a thought. Delia wasn’t afraid of vampires. She was turned on by them.

But she couldn’t exactly share that fact with the other woman, now could she?

Delia ignored the taunting questions and somehow made it through the rest of the meeting, but inwardly she was tumbling back years into the past to her first real interaction with a vampire.

Excerpt from Sated

A human, a vampire and a werewolf walked into a bar. Sounds like the start of a bad joke. I can assure you it isn’t. And telling you that, actually, the human and the vampire walked into the bar together, and found the werewolf already there, probably doesn’t make it sound any better. Well tough, because that’s the way it went down.

Ace and I met at a Halloween fancy dress party. I know, I know—cliché of clichés. And yes, he was dressed as a vampire, albeit a horrendously exaggerated one—all slicked-back hair, über pale skin and visible fangs. In real life, he actually looks no different to you or I. Okay, he is a bit pale. But at the time, I’d laughed at him and asked if he thought vampires weren’t a bit overdone—it was when Twilight was at the height of its popularity—all angsty teens and stalkerish behavior.

He’d laughed right back, a joyous, melodious sound that had heat pooling in my groin—then as suddenly as it had arrived, his mirth disappeared. Then he’d said, “Overdone or not, we’re here to stay. And I don’t fucking sparkle.”

My heart had been pounding, and my mouth had gone dry. Somehow, I’d known he wasn’t joking. And, although my conscious brain had shut down, my subconscious had had my back, because I’d heard myself say, “Well, thank fuck for that, because I’ve never been a fan of glitter.”

He’d laughed again, the sound tugging at my very core. And—apologies for yet another cliché—we’ve been together ever since.

Several years later and we’re still as madly in love as ever, and still fucking like rabbits. Sex with a vampire is everything you’d expect it to be—energetic, powerful, finessed, mind-blowing and packed with stamina. Providing you can keep up, that is.

In addition to our unquenchable lust for each other, Ace and I have engaged in bondage, sex toys, spanking, anal, pegging—almost an A to Z of things to do in bed. Some we’ve tried and discarded, others have been a regular part of our sexual repertoire.

And yet, our latest adventure was the most exciting yet. You see, after mine and Ace’s initial meeting, I was given an almighty education in everything it meant to be a vampire. Myths were dispelled, other beliefs were confirmed—he definitely didn’t sparkle—and yet more things I’d never even thought of were seared into my brain.

So when Ace announced he had a friend who was a werewolf, I didn’t even bat an eyelid. It was the follow up information that surprised me.

“He wants to what?” The tone of my voice by the end of the sentence was so high that probably only dogs could hear me. And yet it was genuine surprise, rather than disapproval, that fuelled my reaction.

Raising his eyebrows, Ace gave me that sexy smirk that always gets my blood pounding through my veins and my pussy aching to be filled. “You heard me, Aneesa. My friend Barton would like to screw you. With me present, of course, and actively taking part.”

“A th-threesome?” I stumbled over the word—not because I was horrified. Quite the opposite, in fact. Being fucked by two hot guys at once had long been on my sexual bucket list—a list that, since meeting Ace, had had items checked off it at a rate of knots. I was going to have to start thinking of some more shit to put on it. I was way too young to have completed my bucket list—sexual or not—for Christ’s sake!

“That’s right, baby. And, from your reaction, I’m guessing you’re up for it.”

“My rea—” The penny dropped. Thoughts of two pairs of hands on me, two firm bodies pressed against mine, two hard cocks… I hadn’t said a word that affirmed how much the idea turned me on, but I didn’t need to. With his super senses, Ace would’ve picked up on my elevated heart rate, possibly an increase in sweating, the scent of the slickness growing between my legs…and that didn’t include the stuff a human would have noticed—widened pupils, pink cheeks and perky nipples.

Ace’s talents didn’t extend to mind-reading, but it didn’t matter. He’d pegged me right away.