Dirty Rotten Vampires 1
Hurt Me Good
A cold heart plus hot blood sweetens the
pain.
Barringer Ganteau has hunted enough demon-mixed
vampires to last a million lifetimes. His wish is to see all demi-vamps maimed,
preferably dead. Single-handedly, he attempts to vanquish the scourge of mixed
breeds from the face of the earth. Then Ringer meets Armada, a demi-vamp with
the power to deliver the kind of pain he desires and melt his frozen heart.
Armada comes from Haiti, carrying the exotic heat of
the islands and her kind with her. When she faces a cold-hearted vampire, a
being superior to her mixed heritage, she vows to hate him as much as he hates
her. Armada hadn’t reckoned with the vamp’s ability to use pain to bring out a
side of her she had not known existed.
Excerpt:
She’d only
learned about the demon blood a few months ago. Hell, she didn’t want to sprout
horns or grow a tail. She had witnessed firsthand what a diseased demi-vamp
looked like when she hunted with Split. The ragged teeth and yellow skin made
her sick.
“Guess I’m
not the only one in the room who kills demi-vamps.”
She spun to
catch him watching her from the doorway. “Fuck you.”
“Please.”
“Oooh! Go to
hell.”
“A place more
suitable to your kind.” Armada didn’t grasp the meaning of his glare. Ringer’s
voice grew softer. “Come eat, I cooked.”
“Why when you
could fabricate it.”
“Because I
like to cook and fabricated doesn’t taste as good.”
“Probably
tastes like shit.”
Red circled
his violet eyes. She understood that look having seen it often when Split
became irritated. “You can let me know; I’ve never tasted shit.” She reached
for a vase on the table and lifted it to hurl at his head. “Can you afford to
replace that? I will take it out in trade.”
“God, I hate
you.”
“Living with
me is easier once you understand my rules.”
“I’m not
living with you.”
“Yeah, you
are.” He strode to stand beside her seat. “One, don’t throw my shit around;
two, eat what I cook or fabricate your own shit.” He wrapped a curl of
her hair around his finger. “Three, when we fuck, we do it my way or not at
all.”
Standing, she
walked past him and turned. “I like not at all.”
“Honey,
you’ll be in my bed by nightfall.”
“Doubtful.”
He walked to
where she stood. “Linen closet is at the top of the stairs. You’ll need
bedclothes for the sofa.”
“You only
have one bedroom?” She glanced around the space for the first time. Expensive
antiques dotted shiny plank wood floors. The furniture was masculine and in a
mix of dark chocolate and red hues. Large windows remained bare of curtains. Probably
a voyeuristic jackass. The living room was large and bright. Good thing
there was no truth to the fact vampires could only move around at night.
Sunlight streamed in the window. “One bedroom?” From the floor plan, she knew
upstairs held more than a single room, unless, of course, it was a damn large
room.
He laughed
and looked over his shoulder. “Only one you can enter.”
“Bastard.”
“Hope you
like baked chicken.” He grinned. “With lots of garlic.”
“I’ll fix a
salad.”
She reached
the kitchen in time to see him fork a breast and a thigh onto a plate. He
followed the chicken with a large dollop of mashed potatoes. “Do I look like a
salad fixings kind of guy to you?”
“Jesus.” She
yanked open the refrigerator door and peered inside. Closing her eyes, she
attempted to bring salad greens to Barringer’s house. Nothing. She could
transport, but that was with Split’s help, and right now, he seemed absent from
her head. One day she’d get the hang of vampire tricks and be able to use them
by herself. Spying an old, spotted apple, she grabbed it. “This will do.”
“Whatever.”
He bit into the meat and chewed for a minute. That was followed by a big
helping of potatoes. After he’d swallowed the food, he took a sip of white
wine. He gazed at her with his head tilted. “You’re thick enough to miss one
meal.”
The apple
slammed dead in the center of his plate sending the chicken flying into his lap
and mashed potatoes covering the front of his shirt.
AVAILABLE HERE:
No comments:
Post a Comment