Friday, August 12, 2022

Beth Crowley- In The End (Based on The Witcher) (Official Music Video)

In the end by Beth Crowley is a gorgeous song, and it fits most of my characters so well. 




LYRICS

I saw you and
Recognized right from the start
We're both ruined
With matching insatiable hearts
And I knew that
One day we'd take this too far
My misgivings
Fade into nothing when I
Touch your skin and
Feel your heart beat next to mine
I'm not living
If I don't have you at my side

I can tell that we're
Going to destroy one another
Our twin flames could ignite
The whole world for each other
But something this powerful
And dangerous
Will burn until there's nothing left
I can tell that we're
Going to destroy one another
In the end

Separated
At opposite ends of the earth
Is it fated
The way my path leads back to yours
Though I hate it
I've never desired something more
Yes I hate it
But you leave me desperate for more

I can tell that we're
Going to destroy one another
Our twin flames could ignite
The whole world for each other
But something this powerful
And dangerous
Will burn until there's nothing left
I can tell that we're
Going to destroy one another
In the end
In the end

I don't want to
Stay away from you
So I won't even try
You say you will
Stay away from me
We both know that's a lie

I can tell that we're
Going to destroy one another
Our twin flames could ignite
The whole world for each other
But something this powerful
And dangerous
Will burn until there's nothing left
I can tell that we're
Going to destroy one another
In the end
In the end 

Friday, November 12, 2021

HALFBLOOD BETRAYED: prompt inspired novel.

Enemies-to-lovers is my favorite trope, so when I saw this prompt my imagination ran wild.


HALFBLOOD BETRAYED

CHAPTER 1


WHO AM I?

Blood poured out of the wound and ran down my leg with every heartbeat.
I applied pressure on the deep stab with my red woolen scarf, the fabric completely soaked through. My body tilted to the left, and I barely had time to reach out a hand and hold on to the grimy wall of the dark alley. If I fell, I wasn’t sure I had the strength to get up again. Breathing hard, I leaned my back against the wall, looking at the full moon, its pure white light slowly being extinguished by thick clouds that promised rain.
Two of the largest clouds combined and a flash of light came. Even though the following near-deafening sound was logical, I startled along with the black cat eating what looked like bolognese leftovers.
Part of me was tempted to allow my shaking legs to surrender and simply sit in that damp alley that smelled like decomposed food.
But a loud, desperate voice in my head screamed that I had to keep moving and find refuge before he tore me apart.
I had no idea who he was.
Hells, I had no idea who I was.
All I knew was that someone had stabbed my abdomen with a silver, cursed dagger and that I needed an antidote and rest if I wanted to recover.
Five more minutes, I bargained with myself.
Just five more minutes to gather my strength and look for the address I’d hastily scrawled on my inner forearm with black ink.
I vaguely remembered writing it. The pain of the wound had been beyond searing. I recalled the anguish clawing at my insides. The ache of betrayal that made my heart race…
Why did I feel betrayed as I ran for my life and who had stabbed me remained a mystery.
My head pulsed with pain. Every nerve ending was painfully alight with a primal warning. The stench of gargoyle magic, that pungent smell of iron and stone, clung to me like an oil stain. Whoever had attacked me used gargoyle magic to erase my memory.
Was it one of the stony bastards who tried to kill me? I wasn’t so sure. Most of us supernaturals had little to no hope of surviving a gargoyle attack. They either killed us or locked us away in a dungeon, condemning us to never see the daylight again. That much I remembered.
Could it get worse than this? Bleeding and weak and chased down by someone who I knew in my gut wanted to silence me forever?
And then, as if the universe were answering, it poured.
Grunting and nearly gagging with the sharp pain, I straightened and walked again. My left leg was half numb by the poison and the pain. I almost had to drag it. One more block, that’s all I had to walk, but it seemed like a mile.
I stopped at the opening of the alley across the back of the apartment building.
The imposing twenty-story building was pristine. Painted in white, the design sleek and modern, not what anyone at all would imagine a vampire den to look like. Admittedly, not only vampires lived there. According to the rumors, there were even human residents, but I knew vampires dwelled within. Those were a few of the recollections that remained; holes in the thick black cloud obscuring most of my memories.
Even the alley was clean, which was a relief for my too-sharp senses.
Gritting my teeth, I made my way towards the service entrance, nearly crashing into a petite human whose head barely reached my chest. I held onto the door before it slammed shut.
The woman, who smelled of cleaning products, squealed in shock, taking in the wound in my stomach and then my face. Fear buzzed from her at once, her pale skin turning almost ghostly, brown eyes wide. Wounded or not, I was still not human, and she could sense it.
“Mind your business,” I warned, opening the door further to step inside.
“You-you’re bleeding,” she mumbled. “D-do you want me to call an ambulance?”
I looked over my shoulder, pain lancing down my leg and up towards my chest. The poison was spreading, and if it reached my heart…
I considered flashing my teeth at the woman, Ella, as stated by the tag pinned on the white shirt of her uniform. But she was scared enough, and some deeply buried instinct made me loathe the idea of being mean to an innocent woman for no good reason.
“No, I know someone inside,” I said. “They’ll help me.” It was technically not a lie.
She nodded, unconvinced, but didn’t try to stop me as I entered. The smell of fresh laundry, lavender, and mint welcomed me, along with warmth that made me shiver and realize how cold and soaked I was. White walls and polished concrete floors. A wide hall with doors led to several large rooms to the right and the elevators to the left.
My sight swam, and my ears ringed.
Minutes. I had minutes before collapsing and then perhaps an hour before a painful death came.
Breathing hard and barely noticing the surprised gasp of a young man and an older half-fey female who were carrying linens, I limped towards the promising silver doors of the service elevator. Nearly groaning in relief when they opened in seconds with a soft ring.
I hastily pushed the button to close the doors before anyone tried to drag me to an ambulance, and then automatically chose floor sixteen. That detail I hadn’t scrawled onto my arm, and I had the feeling I’d been here before. A violent shiver shook me from head to toe. I leaned my head against the cold metal of the elevator and held onto the side of the panel for dear life.
The apartment on floor sixteen was safe. I knew that even if I didn’t know my own name.
The doors pinged open, and it took every last drop of strength I had left to limp to the tall wooden door and knock.
My mouth flooded with saliva, and I would’ve vomited if there was anything in my stomach. I held onto the door frame and lifted my hand to knock again just as the door opened and my eyes landed on…
A vampire male.
So tall his head was almost half a foot above mine.
Pale skinned, buttery blond hair reaching his collar, platinum gray eyes that showed the same shock I was certain was etched on my face. Outrageously and unsurprisingly handsome, with stark features that seemed carved by an artist.
And that was the wrong moment to get caught up in the beauty of a six-foot-and-a-half predator who was sniffing at my blood.
Vampires and werewolves had stopped fighting each other millennia ago when humans had started to burn us all down at the stake. Still, instinctive wariness rose in me. Perhaps because I wasn’t just a werewolf, but also half-fey, and therefore not as strong as him.
And how did I know all that and not my gods-forsaken name?
“Aylana,” the male said, rich voice laced with surprise.
Aylana, my name was Aylana.
Something clicked inside me. A mix of recognition, relief, and fear flooded me as I heard the echo of different voices in my head calling that name. Some sounded loving, others were full of rage and disdain.
I blinked. The vampire’s face was blurring. “I’m safe now, right?” I asked.
And then I was staring at the bone-colored ceiling, which meant I was half a second away from falling back on the floor…
Strong arms circled me, halting my fall. I reached out and my hand landed weakly against a firm chest, right above the thrumming beating of a heart that evoked relief I felt down to the center of my sore body.
Worried platinum eyes were the last I saw before darkness claimed me.

SEBASTIAN

I’m safe now, right?
What the Hells was that supposed to mean?
Aylana’s head lolled back, completely unconscious, probably comatose given the stench of silver and rotten magic stuck to her, overpowering the smell of her blood… Which was probably a good thing. Her heart’s cadence was slow, labored, both because of the massive blood loss and the poison invading her veins. She was pale, her usually tawny skin almost yellow; dark circles surrounded her eyes like bruises, her long raven hair tangled and out of its usual braid.
Part of me wanted to leave her to her own luck. It served her right for all the ceaseless harassment she had subjected me to for weeks.
But my arms were refusing to let her go. Quite the opposite. I was drawing her smaller frame closer, lifting her off the floor and closing the door with my foot nearly on autopilot.
It was a bad idea.
No, it was a terrible idea to settle the bleeding halfblood on the white leather couch.
And there was blood everywhere. My hands, my white shirt, her once light blue t-shirt, the sodden black jeans and jacket she wore. I removed her makeshift bandage, the knitted scarf I’d seen her wear several times before, and cursed.
The two-inch-long wound on the left lower side of her abdomen was viciously deep. It had almost run through her body. Still, the stab itself was far from being lethal to a semi-immortal like Aylana. I was certain she’d have healed in a matter of minutes if the wound had been made with a regular weapon.
But it wasn’t.
It had been performed with one of those magic-laced daggers gargoyles use to hunt us down.
I pulled the fabric of her shirt up to her torso and cursed. Silver tendrils stretched from the wound, further than I expected; even if I rushed her to the hospital, it was unlikely they could fix the wound completely. Aylana would have crippling side effects for years, or perhaps the rest of her life.
Who’d done this? I wondered as I rolled my sleeves. Gargoyles were not allowed in the city, so it seemed unlikely. I knew the cursed daggers could be obtained on the black market. But what kind of miserable coward would do this to Aylana?
The half-blood’s breathing turned shallow, listless body shuddering without control.
I’d have all my answers once she was awake.
Lowering my fangs, I bit down on my inner forearm, cutting through a vein. The taste of my blood hit my tongue, and I pulled back, pouring the crimson liquid over Aylana’s wound. Her stomach rose and fell quickly, her heartbeat sped up. Even while unconscious, I was certain she could feel the agonizing pain caused by the collision of my healing blood and the poison wreaking havoc in her system.
Not wasting time, I squeezed my forearm to draw more blood out of the rapidly closing wound, leaving a small puddle right above her navel. I called for my magic, that well of cool power that rose from my solar plexus and made my eyes shift into their vertical pupil, bright azure form, sharpening my eyesight. Dipping my finger in the small puddle of my blood, I drew a spell I’d seldom used before on her stomach, composed of a sacred geometric figure and glyphs. Blue magic ignited the blood, turning it into translucent energy that sank through Aylana’s skin, leaving behind a faint impression of the spell. A gasp came from the halfblood, her back bowing. My heart raced. What if I’d made it worse? What if I killed her instead of healing her?
Ten slow—goddess, too slow—heartbeats later, Aylana let out a long breath and relaxed against the sofa. Her breathing and pulse stabilized.
Knowing it was going to give me heartburn—but that I had no other option if I wanted to make sure she healed as best as possible—I drew closer and licked her wound.
Hells, gargoyle sorcery was even more repugnant than I remembered. Her contaminated blood burned a fiery path down my stomach, despite being neutralized and diluted by my blood and magic.
Aylana’s heady, red-wine-like essence laid beneath the unpleasant flavor, however. It awakened part of the predator in me, but I beat it down into submission. Saliva flooded my mouth, which was good. I applied as much of it as I could to the wound. I let out a breath as the cut knitted itself back together and the bleeding stopped.
Feeling bizarrely exhausted, I sat back on the coffee table, watching the now steady rise and fall of Aylana’s chest, ignoring the desire to get up and drink a gallon of cold water until the sting in the back of my throat disappeared.
Her dark, damp hair looked like spilled ink on the white cushion. Her exquisite face—all sharp angles, and high cheekbones softened by plump lips—was half swollen, bruised. The swift point of her left ear was bloody too, as if her eardrum had been pierced.
Someone had beaten her and stabbed her.
It was almost hard to believe anyone could cause so much damage to the feisty female. Half fey-half werewolves had the best traits of both races. Some shifted into their lupine forms, some didn’t, but they were strong as Hell, magically gifted, and healed at the same speed pure werewolves did. And Aylana could pack a punch. I knew that from experience.
So who had hurt her?
The daggers she usually had strapped to her legs were absent. So perhaps she was caught off guard?
I sighed, almost running a hand through my hair before I remembered the blood.
Why should I care?
Aylana was a part of Cayne’s pack. The self-righteous, annoying werewolf who patrolled the streets with his buddies, ‘protecting’ humans and supernaturals alike. Or so they claimed. Power should never be given to those who carry prejudices. I knew that all too well. And Cayne hated vampires, especially if they had royal blood as I did.
The enmity between vampires and werewolves had ended over a millennium ago when the church had received a ‘celestial blessing’ in the shape of the gargoyles and thousands of our species were cut down like wheat. But according to my sources, Cayne’s daddy was an old, mean bastard who upheld the age-old tradition of being a racist asshole.
And Aylana…
She was young, younger than me, but she had joined the ‘let’s harass and accuse the newcomer royal vampire of all the crimes in our town, shall we?’ crew at once. And alright, that was a bit my fault, too. I’d been an asshole to her in revenge for her baseless accusations.
Still, the smart thing to do would be to take Aylana to the nearest hospital, where her pack would no doubt find her. Let her be their problem and not mine before they accused me of being the one who had almost killed her.
Yes, that was definitely the best course of action.
But every instinct I have told me she’d be in mortal danger if I did.
And I had the feeling Aylana had felt the same way. Why the Hells would she have limped to the door of her greatest enemy if the hospital or her damn pack were the more logical options?
Her voice echoed in my head; I’m safe now, right?
Fuck.
Goddess helped us both, but yes, she was safe.
For now.

©Selene Kallan, 2022. Halfblood Betrayed.
___________________________________
HALFBLOOD BETRAYED is a spicy paranormal fantasy with enemies-to-lovers romance, action, mystery, and snark. Perfect for fans of Midnight Breed and Lost Girl. 
Tap the image to download or read with Kindle UnlimitedπŸ’œ

Disclaimer: violence, mentions of SA, gore, and steamy scenes 🌢️🌢️🌢️

Thursday, November 4, 2021

NEPHILIM HARBINGER: The Cursed and the Fallen 2 by Selene Kallan

 


PROPHECIES ARE A GIRL'S WORST NIGHTMARE...
I definitely angered a god in a past life. I was minding my business and enjoying my burning chemistry with Nox, my demon warden, and then bam! I'm getting dragged to literal Hell under the orders of Lilith, Queen of Hell... and Nox's mother.
It turns out there's a lovely prophecy that says I am the Harbinger, the Catalyst for the Apocalypse that will burn down Hell and Earth. And Lilith wants to kill me to prevent it. Cornered, Nox and I bargain with Lilith, and she agrees to let me live... as long as I keep my dirty Nephilim fingers away from Nox.
Naturally, Nox and I find as many loopholes as possible for our bargain, but our relief is short-lived. New enemies pop around like daisies, and old ones come back even from the dead. Light and darkness lay their claim on us, determined to render our connection to ash.
Are we strong enough to subvert the prophecy before Heaven and Hell cleave us apart? I don't know, but I sure as Hell will fight with everything I've got, even if I burn.
I’ve always loved playing with fire, anyway.

The second installment of The Cursed and The Fallen series.

Praise for DEMON WARDEN ★★★★★ “Holy angelic WOW - this is the pandemic escape I didn't know I needed. Fantasy author Kallan has reached new fantasy heights with this sexy romance-action-adventure.”—Laurie Forest, Bestselling Author of The Black Witch Chronicles.

Fans of Hush Hush, Crescent City, and The Dark Elements will love the mix of urban fantasy and romance fantasy in NEPHILIM HARBINGER.

GIVEAWAY

Saturday, October 2, 2021

How not to stalk a vampiress

This reminded me of a scene from Huntress Prey. Only it's a fangs-to-the-neck instead of a blade-to-the-heart situation. 


HOW NOT TO STALK A VAMPIRESS


The door of the vampiress' apartment was made of steel.
I cursed under my breath. While steel didn’t hinder my magic as much as pure iron did, it wasn’t easy to get it to bow to my will either. It would heat the metal and leave a trace she would notice.
But I needed to know who she truly was.
I placed my palm against the cold metal and sent a mix of mental force and magic with a murmured spell. The heavy bolts clicked open.
I pushed the door, closing it behind me quickly. The apartment was tidy and as impersonal as a hotel room. Decorated in a mix of deep green and white, with a plush sofa and a 40-inch flat-screen TV on a mahogany shelf, bracketed by two other shelves containing books. A quick browse placed most of the titles in the science fiction and informatics genres.
“Meow!”
I looked down at the vampiress' tricolor, chubby, huge Maine Coon. He was walking towards me, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
I arched a brow. “Are you going to attack me?”
The cat sat down and flicked his tail.
“I’ll take that as a maybe,” I muttered, heading towards the immaculate, near-sterile kitchen and opening the stainless steel fridge. Glass bottles with water, a couple of bottles of wine, and six bags of A+. Curiously, there were also eggs. I saw from the corner of my eye how the cat jumped to the counter.
“Are those for you?” I inquired.
“Meow.”
“Interesting.”
I walked to the bedroom, the door slightly creaked when I opened it. Strange, considering the borderline obsessive neatness. The bed was made with a pine green duvet; a genetics book on one of the nightstands and two small lamps. I turned one on. The bulb gave the same soft, buttery light as the one in the living room. Vampires have hypersensitive, eagle-like eyes that suffer under fluorescent lights and sunlight.
I opened one drawer, spotting something I was certain she didn’t want to be found, but nothing that said anything about who she was. The dresser was the same story, neatly folded clothes, and clean shoes.
The cat—who had followed me into the room—also entered the bathroom. With a jolt of surprise, I noticed she used the same brand of organic products we did. The company was run by fae. Behind the mirror, in the cabinet, she had little bottles of mouthwash, rubbing alcohol, and hand sanitizer.
There was hardwood across the entire place, except for the bathroom. She could very well have a stash of valuable information somewhere. I went back to the bedroom and crouched near the bed, deciding that was a good place to start.
The sound of a key tinkling and a muffled curse made me stand.
“What the hell?” came the feminine voice.
The cat, now sitting on the bed, gave me a smug look. 
The bedroom window was too small, so I bolted for the one in the living room. The same she had jumped through before. I caught sight of the vampiress, of her wide teal-sky eyes and ruffled long, dark hair just before crawling through the open window and jumping with more force than intended, which sent me several yards ahead—beyond the corridor of grass and the iron fence of the apartment complex several stories down—before falling. I turned in the air to break the fall, landing on a half-crouch on the road and seeing the bright lights of a large truck a second too late.
Something, no, someone, collided with me with enough force to steal my breath, getting me out of the way of the bright lights and sending me back to the ground a few yards from the road, into the border of the tree line.
The vampiress was standing a few feet away, gaze wide and breathing hard as she looked back towards the road, where the massive truck loaded with logs passed by faster than it should have. The crash wouldn’t have killed me, but the recovery wouldn’t have been pretty either.
I stood, facing her, keeping my eyes on her as I slid my hand to my back and summoned my stake to my hand from one of my many interdimensional pockets. The vampiress didn't notice the slight flash of green magic. 
I closed my fingers securely around the stake made of an alloy of diamond and quartz, with a sapphire as a channeling stone. A Light Weapon capable of focusing my power. One stab would sear her heart beyond immediate repair and buy me time to cut her head off and set her on fire.
“You could have died,” she said, her melodic voice showing surprise. She pressed her lips and frowned. “Which is what you deserved for breaking and entering and damaging my lock.”
“You’re exaggerating a tad, don’t you think?” I asked, holding the stake tighter.
She narrowed her eyes. “Who are you, really?”
“Is your memory that bad? I am your genetics professor,” I retorted.
Her fists clenched. “I didn’t know sneaking inside a student’s apartment was part of the duties of a college professor.”
I gave her a faux smile. “It depends on the student.”
I could practically see smoke coming out of her slightly pointed ears. 
She inhaled, stared. “You’re not human.”
“Neither are you,” I shot back.
She took a step closer; I backed down, measuring the space, pondering whether to use my power or see if I could take her down without it.
Her pale eyes—bright in the darkness—widened. “Did—did he send you?”
Whoever he was, evoked a shiver of fear so strong in her I could sense it as if it were mine.
“Funny, I was about to ask the same,” I admitted.
She clenched her teeth, stepping closer. “I’m done with your little game. Tell me who you are and what you want from me, now.”
A wave of invisible power slammed against my forehead and curled around the nape of my neck. Her hypnosis was strong, ridiculously so. Only once before in my near six centuries of life had I felt something like that.
“No, I don’t think I will,” I said, pretending nonchalance even as my spine tingled and my heart raced. “I’m a gentleman, you see, so ladies first.”
She growled and moved to grab me by the neck.
I swung the stake and missed slicing her neck by half an inch. She was fast, more so than I had imagined. Still, I didn’t stop, but launched an attack. Her eyes widened, and she dodged each attempt, looking over my shoulder and hers, seeming tempted to run away instead of fighting.
Her defense faltered, and my stake sank in her right shoulder.
“Ouuch!” She cried out, surprise and indignation in her voice.
She hit me, open hand against my chest so fast I barely saw it and I flew back, stopping as my back hit a tree. With a low growl, she tore the stake off her shoulder and tossed it aside. Moving fast enough to be a blur even to my eyes, she grabbed me by the neck.
Her strength was colossal.
Many human hunters had assumed female vampires were weaker than the males, by the logic of their biology. They’d soon discovered they were sorely mistaken. Female vampires have a small edge in strength and twice the viciousness of their male counterparts.
Her eyes changed from teal-sky to silver-azure, pupils enlarged and vertical, like a cat’s. Her hand tightened around my neck as she curled her lip, exposing pearly, almost-inch-long fangs.
“You can tell me what you want with me or I can drain you dry and figure it out on my own, which is it?” she snarled, an inch away from my face.
“How about neither?” I managed to say, hitting her solar plexus with my knee.
Her hand loosened slightly, and it was enough. I twisted her right arm to her back, eliciting another scream, and tried to break her neck. She tossed me over her shoulder with a snarl. I rolled to break the fall and summoned the stake back to my right hand. She hissed, face transformed into a mask of anger and pain, and launched herself at me. Instead of just dodging like before, she fought back, each blocked and landed blow reverberating in my bones. Her strength nearly doubled mine.
It wouldn’t be the case if I let out the hot power stirring in my core, demanding an out.
A blast of light power could stop her enough if the stake was not an option, and it was looking like it wasn’t at all. But if she managed to dodge me, if others were watching, using Light power would be a terrible idea.
If her vampire allies found out about me, about my true power, and what kind of fae I really was, they would torture me until I confessed my mother's whereabouts. And I couldn’t jeopardize Alanna or the others.
I needed to know if she’d been sent by that vampire beast.
I had to read her, and since her mind was armored, in such a way I had no hope of breaching her shields easily, I'd have to use my empathy. But the rage and despair—the fear and wariness coming from her were revealing nothing. I’d have to touch her to properly gauge her intentions.
My survival instinct blared in alarm, but I fought against it. I slowed my moves just enough, allowed her to breach my defenses in a way that wasn’t obvious, but put her closer, even as every cell in my body screamed in protest.
She kicked out the stake from my hand and tackled me. Her legs came around my waist and her hands clenched my wrists in an iron grip that threatened to break my bones.
She let out a tiger-like growl just as I breathed in. To my surprise, her breath didn’t stink. A swathe of her long mahogany hair fell over her shoulder and tickled my neck.
“Who the hell are you, you pointy-eared psycho?!” the vampiress demanded.
I blinked. The glamour wasn’t working with her?
She sniffed, her eyes moving to my forehead. Just then, I felt the slight sting of an open wound. It would be closed in half a minute, but it had been enough. She made a choked sound and shook her head, pinning me harder.
My power core stirred, hot and demanding an exit as a reflex of the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I reined it in, wary of letting her know the kind of fae that she had in her clutches. But I could summon my stake and drive it right through her heart if need be.
“What are you?” she asked, her voice holding more wonder than rage.
I snorted. “As if you didn’t know already, as if that’s not the reason you took my class.”
She blinked. “Excuse me? I was in that class before you showed up. And I’d not be asking if I did know.”
“I don’t believe you,” I snapped, carefully sliding my empathy towards her, taking advantage of her unexpected questioning.
Her upper lip flickered in a miniature sneer. Her eyes slid to my neck. My heart hammered, a curling, cold sensation wrapping around my chest. I honed my power into an invisible blade and summoned my stake.
©π’πžπ₯𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐊𝐚π₯π₯𝐚𝐧 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏

Did you enjoy it? This is a scene from HUNTRESS PREY, which you can order by clicking this image:





Saturday, September 25, 2021

HUNTRESS PREY: Bonded by Blood and Magic by Selene Kallan

Preface and the first chapter of HUNTRESS PREY: Bonded by Blood and Magic 1.





PREFACE.


VALENTINE
After almost three centuries of running from my past, I should be used to loneliness. Being a mythological monster isn’t compatible with relationships. My heart bears the burning wounds of the times I’ve forgotten this. But the craving for company grows stronger every day, turning routine into an endless nightmare, consuming what’s left of me, and making me wish for an end to my immortality.
The explosive encounter with someone who knows what I am and how to destroy me reminded me of that proverb: be careful what you wish for.

AXEL
I thought fate could not surprise me after almost six hundred years. And then there she is. The echo of the brave young woman I’ve heard legends about. Only she isn’t human anymore, but a vampire—the greatest enemy of my species. After a fight that could have killed us both, and an uneasy truce, I am left with burning curiosity and so is she.
But will curiosity be enough to quench her thirst for my blood and my impulse to kill her before she strikes?

CHAPTER 1

Faster, faster; I thought desperately, silently urging my trembling, exhausted body to move. 
The sodden, muddy, heavy skirts did not help what was already a difficult trek across the forest. Barefoot and sore. Parched and terrified. 
“You can’t run away from me, little girl, I can smell you!” the bastard mocked.
I bit my tongue to avoid crying out as my right foot slid on a sharp rock and pain lanced up my leg. Bleeding was the worst thing that could happen right now.
Please, please.
But who was I begging for help?
Long ago, had I forsaken the idea of a merciful god. 
“Where are you?” he chanted. His voice sent yet another bolt of fear down my spine. 
I knew what he was, what kind of monster had hidden behind the refined appearance of a wealthy man. I had seen it so many times before, cruelty and evil wrapped in an attractive package, but not like him. Not like the beast that preyed on innocents and was now determined to destroy me.
Something hit my side and sent me flying. I crashed down against a tree trunk, sprawled on the wet ground, unable to draw air to my lungs, a cry trapped in my burning throat.
I fought against the heavy press of unconsciousness; feared being at his mercy without being able to fight.
A groan left my raw throat as I gulped air and forced my body up. Frantic, I looked around, back against the rough bark of the tree. It was an eerie night, with no moon or stars to illuminate the dense expanse of the forest. I flexed my knees, reaching out and desperately trying to find something, anything, that could serve as a weapon. 
My hand closed around a rock just as I saw a flash of bright feline eyes in the gloom. 
“Got you,” came the rough, inhuman voice.
Faster than I could react, he was standing in front of me. 
Unbidden, a cry left my lips, cut off by the hand that closed around my throat. He was almost a foot taller than me, something bizarre considering I was almost six-foot-tall. I tried to hit him with the rock, but he trapped my wrist, squeezing. His strength was colossal, impossible. He clenched his hand tighter, and I heard the crack of my bones. My hand opened reflexively, letting go of the useless rock. A strangled sound left my lips. It would have been a piercing cry if not for the pressure around my neck.
Fetid breath hit my face, my eyes locking with the beast’s eyes. As if by some thrall, I couldn’t look away.
“Do you know how much it cost me to get such high-quality cattle?” he growled.
Cattle. People, they were people, you miserable bastard! I wanted to scream.
He came closer to my face, growling low. Painful fear ran down my spine, my whole body shook, my heart thundered. His hand tightened around my neck and I began to drift.
He violently shook me back to consciousness. My head throbbed.
“Not so fast,” the beast said, upper lip curling to expose sharp, inch-long fangs that glinted like blades in the gloom. “Let’s see how you taste first.”
My eyes widened. I kicked out and smacked with my left hand, but it was as useful as hitting a wall of rock. He released my neck, and I drew in enough air to let out a weak croak just as he savagely bit me and lancing pain cut through the base of my throat. 
It burned. 
I could feel the beast’s sharp fangs embedded deep in my vein; hear his long gulps. My body became paralyzed with fear as my lifeblood was taken. The beast growled and released me. I fell to the ground like a discarded rag doll.
The beast snarled and spat my blood. “Disgusting,” he sneered. “A complete waste of time and money.”
An echo of pain pulsed in my heart. The knowledge that the man I had called father not only trafficked with the lives of innocent people but was also willing to sell his own daughter to the best bidder was sickening.
I supported part of my weight with my left hand and tried to move, fueled by fear and the desire to live. 
A blow to the side had me flying again. My chest smashed against another tree. All the air left my lungs, a few of my ribs cracked. I couldn’t scream, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Could do nothing but watch as the beast neared me. And I could see him now, see the muscular frame and the wind-ruffled black hair, the disturbingly handsome face, and wicked silver eyes with cat-like pupils. There was so much malice in him I would have retched if my stomach hadn’t been empty; if I could move.
“Should I just kill you now or take you with me?” he pretended to muse. A cruel smile spread across his face, making him look demonic. “I do not think you have received the punishment you deserve.”
Why am I not dead yet? I agonized.
I didn’t have the energy to stand. The sharp ends of my broken ribs stabbed me with every ragged breath; I could taste blood on my tongue. 
“Yes, I think we can still have some fun together,” the beast said, taking a step closer. 
I hated the tears that clouded my sight, the sheer terror that made me want to beg for mercy. But I wouldn’t. I knew that would please him and the last thing I wanted was to give any satisfaction to that monster. 
He knelt beside me, silver eyes bright with repugnant excitement. A surge of adrenaline shot through my body, giving me the strength to rise on my elbows and stand, barely managing one step before being yanked off my feet to fall face-first onto the ground, my skin breaking and burning as the bastard dragged me to his side. He turned me roughly to face him, his hand clamping down on my throat. I kicked and scratched, no air entering my lungs. My chest was heaving, my broken ribs an unrelenting agony that blackened my sight. Slowly, my body went limp.
The beast shook me roughly to keep me from drifting. A shivery sensation wrapped around my skull. 
“Open your eyes,” he commanded.
I did at once, knowing he was invading my mind, hating it even though I had the terrifying suspicion that was the least he was going to do to me. 
Still, I fought back against his clutch in my mind, imagining talons tearing through the invisible hands choking my will; throwing every bit of mental force I could summon against him.
His eyes widened, and his upper lip curled to expose those huge fangs. “Interesting, such a waste of potential,” he jeered, looking down at me as if I were an item on a shelf. “Who knows? Maybe after you receive your deserved punishment, I might still find a purpose for you. What do you say?”
An unbidden cry rose in my throat. His iron clutch turned it into a barely-there whimper. 
His other hand took hold of my corset, tugging. Panic flooded my veins, chilling me to the bone. His eyes locked with mine, holding me prisoner so I couldn’t fight. I gagged, not wanting to imagine what it meant that he was tearing my clothes off, begging the universe my body would break and give up soon.
Please let me die, let me die, let me die—

***

I woke up with a jolt, kicking the blankets and backing down. The back of my head smashed against the solid wall of my dark bedroom. An undignified meow came from inside the room. My eyes grew accustomed to the dark at once, but the shadow near my bedroom door seemed to move, to be walking closer. I lurched for the lamp on the bedside table, turning it on. The sudden yellow light made me flinch. I squinted as I examined my empty room, save by the chubby, multicolored cat flicking his tail by the foot of my bed. The ajar door had produced the shadow that had seemed so terrifying.
Nevertheless, my eyes darted frantically around, looking for danger. I let go of my empathic skills as well, casting a web of awareness that stretched out nearly half a mile away. My heart thundered in my chest for the ten seconds it took me to fully realize the fear clutching my gut came from the nightmare. 
Well, the memory.
The memory of the night I became a vampiress. 
I swallowed hard against my parched throat, my body trembling with the vivid sense-memory of that beast breaking my bones, invading my mind. Of the long hours of torture that had left me speechless for days. 
And then when he left—thinking I’d be mauled by a mountain lion—a new searing pain invaded every shattered bone, torn muscle, and destroyed joint. The scorching agony lasted for hours, even in unconsciousness, as my mortal body healed and changed into something else. 
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, focusing instead on the bittersweet pang of nostalgia that remembering the mountain lion elicited. He had kept me warm while I woke up and had stayed with me long after that. Even though I had turned into a monster, despite the wariness I knew he sometimes felt.
Freckles, my thirty-four-pound Maine Coon, jumped on the bed, yellow eyes reproachful as he moved his tail. 
“Sorry about that,” I said. 
He kept the baleful look for a couple more seconds and then sat on my lap, purring softly. 
I caressed him with still slightly trembling hands and decided all cats were nuts, big or small. Dogs were smarter, they could tell something was off with me and either barked at me until I hissed at them or cowered and fled.
Freckles meowed and jumped off my lap.
“What?” I asked. 
He pointedly looked towards the door and walked outside of the room, fluffy tail up.
I sighed and got up, following him to the kitchen. He was already waiting for me, sitting on the quartz kitchen island.
I rolled my eyes at him. “You are a spoiled brat.”
“Meow?”
“Yes, you,” I grumbled, but still went to fetch a can of premium salmon. I couldn’t help but wrinkle my nose as I poured the stinky meat into a porcelain plate and placed it in front of the chubby cat. 
“Enjoy.”
Freckles made a contented sound and dug in with relish. My throat was dry. I opened the fridge and took a bottle of cold water, gulping the cool liquid as I looked at the unappetizing bags of A+. They were never particularly tasty, but at that moment, the idea was almost repugnant. Perhaps because of the memories I was trying to ignore, or because every once in a while my body demanded I fed on the source. 
Bagged blood wasn’t quite as nutritious, and wasn’t that a creepy thing to know?
I closed the fridge door and slid to the floor, closing my eyes. Unbidden, the questions formed inside my head, as they usually did.
What if the beast found out I was still alive? What if he came after me? What if one day I woke up, and it wasn’t the shadow of my door, but a six-foot-ten vampire?
I snorted. After all the people I had killed in the last two, almost three centuries, I didn’t have the right to fear my own kind. But fear is rarely a rational thing, is it?
A heavy someone landed on my legs and I opened my eyes, meeting the worried yellow gaze of the only being who knew the truth about me.
Maybe that was part of the problem. The only friend I had was a cat. A smart one, admittedly, but some days I worried about my sanity. And others, I hated being weak and craving for human interaction. The last time I’d tried to pretend I was normal and taken a human for a lover had ended horribly.
I hugged Freckles and kissed the fluffy spot behind one ear, where his scent was stronger and comforting. He let me; purring and licking my cheek. When Freckles gently pulled away, I released him and he left, full and content, towards the bedroom. 
Just the thought of trying to sleep again made me anxious.
I sighed and got up. 
After washing the dish, I grabbed the sneakers I’d left by the door. I had the habit of sleeping in leggings and T-shirts, so I didn’t need extra clothes. Instead of going for the door, I opened the living room window. My apartment was on the fourth floor of a fairly new building. A narrow stretch of grass and then a ten-foot-tall iron fence separated the building from a road next to a large park, which suited me fine since I often suffered from insomnia. Taking a minimum impulse to avoid the fence, I jumped forward, twisting in the air and landing on the road, silent as a cat. There was always something exhilarating about those seconds of weightlessness. 
Ever since the change, I was only able to sleep three times a week tops. I didn’t tire, thankfully. It seemed to be one of the aspects that had changed with my new biology. Along with the lack of sweating, the superior senses, speed, strength. Oh, and that pesky hunger for blood. 
I shook my head, deciding to keep the maudlin thoughts at bay. Yes, I was a bloodsucking monster, but others had it worse. I didn’t have the right to complain. I kept a slightly faster pace than most humans were capable of; the park was deserted at such a late or early hour.
My stomach clenched with the almost painful hunger. Just that morning, I had consumed two bags, and I had actually bothered to heat them. But when was the last time I had fed on a human? 
I cast my mind back and winced, remembering the filthy basement and the scared teenage boy. A low growl left my throat. I’d made the degenerate bastard who’d kidnapped the boy scream. I had almost been too late. The cops would have certainly never arrived in time. 
That had been four months ago.
I felt no remorse whatsoever for taking the lives of degenerates. Not only did they seem to be an unlimited source of food, but their death brought safety to good people. A monster I might be, but oftentimes it takes a monster to destroy another. 
My thoughts spiraled down towards the insidious fear that had been a constant and unwanted companion for centuries: what if he came back for me? I was certain immortals could hold grudges forever, I certainly could. So, what if I ran into another like me, and what if this hypothetical vampire knew him and told him I’d survived? What if he captured me and tortured me again? 
I was stronger than several dozen humans, something I had discovered in the most violent way, but something told me he was even stronger. 
And what if, instead of being found and killed, I ended up losing my sanity, or what was left of it? 
It wasn’t such a distant possibility. More than half a century had passed since I’d had close company; since I had allowed myself to care for someone. It had ended horribly, and I promised myself to never allow it to happen again. The closest thing I had to a friend was a young woman at work, and of course, Freckles. 
But I still felt empty and each day more. Selfish as it was, in my moments of weakness, I craved for someone who knew my truth, someone I didn’t have to hide from behind a facade of humanity.
It was more than selfish; it was irresponsible. What if I became close to someone, and they died in the hands of the beast who turned me? 
And what if I became an even worse monster because of the loneliness eating me up inside? 
My stomach clenched violently again, leaving me breathless. My heart kicked into a race, something unusual unless I was scared or in pain. I placed my hands on my knees and breathed deeply. A hysterical laugh bubbled up in my throat. I was having a panic attack. A vampiress having a panic attack. There was irony there, I was certain of that. 
A muffled cry echoed in the distance. I stood straight, opening my senses. And there it was, another faint cry that was distinctly feminine. 
My body was moving before the decision was fully formed. I would be little more than a blur to human eyes at that moment, my speed more than doubled that of a cougar. 
It took me less than half a minute to find the origin of the sounds. A man straddling a young woman wearing pink sports clothes; he had a knife pressed to her neck. 
I yanked him off her by the collar and sent him flying away. The moon was bright enough for the pervert to see my silhouette, but I hardly cared. I turned my attention to the young woman, crouching beside her. She had a cut in her forehead that was bleeding copiously and her pink hoodie was half torn, but she seemed to be unharmed otherwise. The feeble light of the lamp that marked the path about ten yards away wasn’t enough for her eyes to distinguish me clearly. She cried out and landed a few feeble blows to my chest.
“Easy,” I said. My voice was slightly scratchy thanks to the thirst. 
“Please,” she begged, wide brown eyes full of tears. 
“Shh, I won’t hurt you,” I promised, even as the clean scent of her blood twisted my stomach further. 
“Watch out!” she cried, looking over my shoulder. I stood and turned, grabbing hold of the man’s wrist, squeezing hard enough to make him lose the knife. Not that it could actually hurt me much. He cried out, eyes wide with shock. I delivered a punch to his solar plexus that made him fly back and land with a thud, unconscious. 
The woman’s eyes grew wider. She must’ve gotten used to the dark enough to see what I’d just done. Her wound dripped more blood, a crimson rivulet running down her face and staining her clothes as she recoiled and her back found a tree. My mouth watered, but I pushed the hunger down; it would soon be satisfied, but not with her.
Still, she needed to leave before I unleashed the monster stirring inside me. 
“Listen,” I commanded, my voice turning icy as it always did when I used hypnosis. She obeyed at once, even as her heart thundered and I smelled the metallic tang of her fear. “Stay still, I will not hurt you.”
She watched with wide eyes as I approached and crouched in front of her, cradling her face. Her velvety, dark skin was hot under my hands. My temperature was usually ten degrees lower than a human’s, and it cooled further depending on the weather. I licked my parched lips and braced myself as I lowered my head and licked her open wound. It was bad enough to need stitches, and she would lose consciousness unless I stopped the bleeding. My saliva was excellent at coagulating and healing wounds, something I had discovered out of desperation long ago.
She let out a muffled sound of surprise and fear. I ignored the way my mouth watered and my stomach clenched with the clean taste, swiping my tongue over the wound again and pulling back to examine the result. The cut began to knit back; the blood flow effectively staunched.
I released her and met her wide, dark eyes. “You will leave straight home, clean yourself up, and then go to the doctor. You fell and hit your head because you tripped, the lighting was poor. But you won’t do that again. You will subscribe to a gym or buy a walking machine. It is dangerous to be out there alone. Repeat what you’ll do.”
Her eyes lost most of the fear as she recited my instructions, and I hated having to push her like that. And I hated even more that no matter how much the world supposedly improved, some humans remained the same repugnant beasts. 
“Good,” I approved, helping her to stand. “How far away do you live?”
I looked back to see the man still sprawled on the ground, unconscious. 
“Not so far. My building is just a block away,” she responded.
“All right, go,” I instructed. “Once you get home, you will forget about me.”
She nodded, waking steady enough for me not to worry. I trailed after her for a few yards, then waited by the path until she disappeared from sight. It was highly unlikely she would run into yet another predator. 
She had found two tonight, after all.
A groan sounded behind my back, followed by clumsy, hurried steps. I waited for a heartbeat and then trailed back towards the human predator. Less than ten seconds later, there he was, reeking of fear and looking around him frantically, his dark eyes landing on me. 
He was holding his knife in the hand I hadn’t broken.
He curled his lips, leering at me, hesitation and revolting lust mixing in him.
It was always the same. 
They saw me as prey even after I’d stopped them from harming innocents. Their feeble minds tried to find a logical explanation for what had happened.
I waited, keeping my shift in check, letting him think he had even the slightest chance of overpowering me.
The fear his ilk felt once they realized they’d fallen into the clutches of an inhuman monster amused me. I could not deny it. 
I could read the confusion, fear, and anger warring in him. His breathing sped up, the clutch he had on the knife so strong his knuckles were bone-white. The instinctive fear that came from being in my presence mingled with something darker, repugnant. 
I stayed still and let him get closer.
“Wanna dance, bitch?” he asked, still torn. 
Unbidden, his muddled thoughts reached my mind. 
‘She’s tall, but she can’t be that strong. It must’ve been just a lucky blow. Yeah, I can take her down. She looks even better than the other bitch—’
I clenched my teeth, blocking the repugnant thoughts. Over the last half-century, it had become harder to keep my empathy and telepathy leashed. My stomach ached with hunger again, and this time I didn’t bother stopping the impulse. I let my sight grow sharper, embraced the slight pressure as my sharp canines lengthened into even sharper fangs, let my upper lip curl, and relished the unearthly growl that crawled out of my throat.
“Oh, shit!” the man cried. 
I knew what he saw. 
My eyes were shining in the dark; pupils vertical, and teal-silver irises enlarged.
He tried to bolt, but I wasn’t in the mood for playing cat and mouse. I held him by the neck, lifting him off the ground to my height.
“Not so brave now, are we?” I hissed, my voice reverberating in a chilly timbre. 
I stopped his weak attempt to stab me and tossed the knife away. 
“No, please!” he cried, the scent of his fear disgustingly tantalizing.
“How many women have begged you before?” I asked.
I didn’t wait for an answer. My fangs were deep in his carotid in less than a blink. The first gulp of blood was bittersweet, something I was fully expecting. The slightly salty, metallic taste was never particularly palatable, but it served its purpose. I let the anticoagulant my fangs injected flow free and took every last drop the pervert had to offer. 
Despite my attempts to block that wretched telepathy, the images reached my mind. His memories, the visions of all the women he’d terrified before, ever since he was strong enough to force a girl. His first victim had been a classmate. Female faces contorted in fear flashed in my mind’s eye on a dizzying display.
I growled, drinking faster, hating the repugnant images, relishing the replenishment of my full strength. 
Faster than I thought, he died. The images mercifully disappeared after that, but so did my hunger. I dropped his body to the ground, cleaning the corners of my mouth with the back of my hand. I closed my eyes, forcing the fangs up and waiting for a couple of minutes while my system assimilated the blood weighing in my stomach. 
I hated the fullness sensation; I hated the visions and the taste. But I couldn’t deny the baser, primal part of me that felt like roaring in satisfaction. Couldn’t deny the sharp relief of feeling at full strength and the disappearance of the discomfort that had plagued me for days.
I opened my eyes, looking down at the empty carcass of the predator-turned-prey. It was time for my less favorite part of feeding, getting rid of the evidence. 
I tossed the body over my shoulder and moved, entering deeper into the park. I would have taken a shovel with me, but I hadn’t planned to kill anyone. I rarely did anymore. Decades ago I had hunted down human predators on purpose, two a week sometimes. I’d stopped, noticing how with every premeditated kill I sank deeper into maudlin states. Now I killed the ones I ran into.
It took me nearly half an hour to find the rickety little shed I’d discover during previous walks.
And hunts.
Inside, there was a shovel and gasoline.
I chose a spot near a tree and began to dig.
I hated digging, but I had seen enough movies, read enough books, and dealt with plenty of humans to know leaving evidence was a bad idea. 
If someone found out about my true nature, I would be in danger. I knew that from experience. 
I could see myself tied to a metal table and cut open to see how I worked. Not that I didn’t often wonder that myself, but I preferred to find out that with less disturbing methods. 
I truly hated digging, however. 
The scent of damp earth, the roots, and rocks made the process harder, the claustrophobic sensation that came from being inside a hole in the ground.
That’s what you get for losing control and killing the fucker; I thought ruefully.
If I had controlled myself enough, I could have sealed the wound and commanded him to jump off a cliff or something, but too long had passed since a proper feed. Not to mention, sometimes the rage I felt when I saw such disgusting thoughts didn’t allow me to think clearly. Not even after almost three centuries. 
So I dug, being careful not to break the shovel with the renewed burst of strength running wild through my veins.
In a short time, I had a nine-foot deep, four feet wide hole.
It was harder to find a body if you buried it vertically, after all.
I jumped out of the hole and tossed the body inside.
It took a bit of pressure to get all the dirt back in place, but I managed it.
I stepped back, examining the ground, making sure there wasn’t an obvious disturbance.
It was unlikely someone actually bothered using a radar detector to find the bastard. People disappear all the time, and human law enforcement is too overwhelmed to look too hard. Still, if someone bothered using radar, it was unlikely they found the body.
I looked down at my muddy self, wrinkling my nose. I needed a long, long shower.
The sun rose, bathing the trees in creamy light and stirring memories. I didn’t turn into ashes under the sunlight, fortunately. It could burn if I wasn’t wearing sunscreen and was exposed for a long period, but first-degree burns at most. Nothing like the movies in which vampires turned into ash, not even bones remaining. 
Still, I wasn’t ready for the full force of the Northern California sun. Granted, it wasn’t quite as bad in early October, but I didn’t have my contacts, and my eyes were hypersensitive to light. It took me a matter of minutes to reach my apartment at full speed. Making sure no one was watching, I climbed my way up using window sills. I managed to crawl inside through my window just in time to avoid the worst of the sun. Freckles was waiting for me on the counter, bushy tail wrapped around his chubby body as he peered curiously at my no doubt messy hair.
“Yours is worse,” I argued.
“Meow,” he called back.
I shook my head and headed to the bathroom. Locking the door to keep the voyeur cat out. I wrinkled my nose as I looked at my reflection. My hair was actually worse than Freckles’, though thick and straight it had the habit of getting tangled. It was slightly shorter than usual, barely reaching past my shoulder blades. My eyes—pale blue with a thin teal ring on the outer edge of the irises when my savage side was under control—were surrounded by slightly dark circles that stood out against my pale skin. Too bad sleeping pills had little to no effect on me. 
There was a smudge of blood on my cheek. The sight paralyzed me as my mind’s eye supplied me with an image of how I looked centuries ago; of the round cheeks and the bright innocence in my eyes.
I swallowed hard and undressed quickly, throwing the clothes in the washing machine under the sink and jumping inside the shower, not caring the water was too hot. 
She was dead. 
The naΓ―ve daughter of the merchant had died long ago. 
I was all that remained. 
Monster and victim.
Predator and survivor. 
Huntress and prey.
Each day more numb than alive.
And to make matters worse, it was Tuesday, and I had to go to work.

©Selene Kallan, 2021. 
____________________
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HUNTRESS PREY by Selene Kallan

Cover and blurb reveal of HUNTRESS PREY: Bonded by Blood and Magic 1



Vampires have beating hearts.
Valentine wishes she could get rid of hers. It would make her lonely life bearable and stem her desire to connect with someone who knows who she truly is. Fate grants her wish by making her collide with Axel—a fae with burning power and hypnotic eyes who knows how to destroy her. Her first impulse is to bite him and learn all the secrets he hides in his sweet blood. But isn’t a little danger exactly what she was craving for?

Not all fae are easy prey.
Vampires are the greatest enemies of the fae. Axel's instincts demand him to slay Valentine before she sinks her fangs into his neck. However… She's the echo of the woman who saved his family centuries ago. Axel decides to discover if there's any empathy left in Valentine after becoming the ultimate predator. And soon, he becomes intrigued by the cat-loving, powerful vampiress.

Their worlds collide.
Enemies lurk in the shadows. Same old news for Axel, and precisely what Valentine has run from her entire life—her vicious brethren. Axel and Valentine’s tenuous alliance forges into friendship after a fateful night where they save each other’s lives. But will their blossoming forbidden attraction survive the battle against their foes and inner demons?

The first installment of the Bonded by Blood and Magic series.

★★★★★“A sexy fantasy thriller with a Fae-Vampire romance that will have readers swooning.”—Laurie Forest, Bestselling Author of The Black Witch Chronicles.

Fans of Underworld, Jeaniene Frost, and Annette Marie will love the mix of urban fantasy and paranormal romance in HUNTRESS PREY.




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