Lori Devoti's Blog, page 13
January 1, 2012
30 Days of Vampires: Happy New Year & Last Chance to Win!
First….
Hope everyone had a safe and fabulous New Year's Eve and is now in their jammies eating black eyed peas or taking part in whatever tradition you have for New Year's Day.
Second, this is your last chance to get in all those comments for 30 Days of Vampires and try for the win of either one of the daily prizes or the $100 gift card grand prize.
So while you are sitting home eating those black eyed peas, visit the posts you missed and comment! All comments must be made by January 3rd to count.
December 31, 2011
30 Days of Vampires: Romantic Predator
Linda Robertson writes the Persephone Alcmedi series for Pocket/Juno books, the fifth book was released just a few days ago, Dec. 27. She hails from Mansfield, Ohio, is a mother of four boys and is currently a guitarist in the band Hagatha's Bluff. Her website is: authorlindarobertson.com
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Vampires. Mmmmmm.
These creatures of the night have seized their iconic status and are running like hell with it. Some folks love 'em when portrayed as romantic. Some folks want 'em to be written more like the classic predator from the old silent film Nosferatu.
Me, I like something a bit more in the middle. I mean yes, I like my vampires to be old but to look young. I like them to be powerful and intelligent and have a penchant for badness–y'know the Machiavellian vamp—but to show that he/she is not locked into that behavior.
When a character can surprise you without losing the character that is uniquely theirs, will keep you guessing, keep you interested, and keep you coming back for more.
So what is it that intrigues me about the agelessness of the vamp? The idea that they've existed long enough to have mastered all the cycles and patterns of life. I mean they are still human at their core, still subject to the memories and temperament of the person they were in life. I figure that in the same way that regular mortals study their heroes (such as an athlete to emulate) as they aspire to be more like them, vampires have had to study humans. Not only to hunt them better, but perhaps in an ironic "grass is greener over there" way…as in now that they are lifeless, the living are more exotic.
But I say that to say this: if you were undead and had power, intelligence, and wealth, wouldn't you mess with the mortal people around you? In the least, after centuries of existing, and with all those aforementioned abilities at your disposal, combating the boredom could take on some twisted notions.
Hence…Menessos. He's been around so long he's damn good at predicting the behavior of others and uses this to his advantage. He's usually a few steps ahead of those around him, and as this excerpt shows, how he speaks and what he doesn't say, can be as important as what he does say.
—–EXCERPT FROM WICKED CIRCLE:
The stage lighting lowered. A spotlight illuminated Seven where she stood just in front of them. "Meroveus Franciscus, Advisor to the Excelsior…and party," she announced. She stepped out of the light, allowing Mero and [his female guests] to replace her in the glow and on the viewscreens placed to either side of the stage.
He felt the scrutiny of the haven members from the darkness below them. Seven gestured for him to descend the steps. Mero preceded the women down into the midst of the haven members at their tables, crossing the floor and pausing before the stage. He admired the set up. Most havens he'd seen of late had the master on a dais of some kind, but this, this was tactically superior. One had to climb a ramp to get to the otherwise railed-off stage. Retreating would involve ascending the equivalent of three flights of stairs just to make the hallway.
And anything could be behind those stage curtains.
Knowing what he had been sent here to do, and how outnumbered he was, understanding the security and the location of exits was necessary. There weren't any good, immediate options…but Menessos was in attendance. He has to know why I'm here. Whether he fights this or not, he must know there is only one way for this to end.
Mero stopped a few yards away from the ramp that led to the stage. "Greetings, Quarterlord, and Hail to thee, Menessos, Magus Periti Nocte." Mero bowed low, as did those with him, as the formal greeting between wizards was spoken. The wizard greeting was not required, but it would force Menessos to greet him in kind and that would make everyone here knew that Mero was a magical force equal to their esteemed master.
"Hail to thee, Meroveus, Magus Periti Nocte. I extend the greetings of this court to you, Advisor to the Excelsior, and to your companions."
Mero tilted his head in acquiescence of the greeting.
"What brings you, Meroveus Franciscus and party?"
He noted that Menessos had also carefully avoided acknowledging him as a friend from centuries past. At least Mero had some time to play diplomat and consider what that meant. "The Excelsior has noticed that your behavior has had a rebellious flavor of late."
"Rebellious?" Menessos's mouth crooked up on one side. "Have I…provoked…our Excelsior with such actions?"
The emphasis gave Mero a clue. They used to play such games in the courts of deviant masters. One of them would infiltrate the haven, suffer the rise to some authority. When the other would appear, the first engaged him in a fiery debate in court. They emphasized certain words to signal each other on how to respond or to conduct an underlying conversation that others were oblivious to. Sometimes their purpose was best served if the newcomer lost his temper, and sometimes the newcomer had to incite the mole. It was a ruse that required deep trust between the two of them.
But this was Menessos's haven. The authority was his, so…Do I trust him that much still? Would he use our past to play me? Is he this far under the thumb of his witch? "You didn't seek the Excelsior's…consent…before relocating your haven." His timed glance toward the witch meant his single word was a question about her. He hoped Menessos understood it as, "Do you consent to her?"
"It is my haven. To do with as I see fit."
Mero understood that to mean that Menessos was still the master here, and that whatever show was to occur would be for the benefit of his haven. Or his witch.
Mero nodded once, shutting his eyes to indicate he understood the message.
In a monotone, Menessos added, "Chicago had become tedious."
Speaking without inflection and using a plain verb like "had become" instead of something more telling meant the message was complete. Mero continued, ready to provoke Menessos. "The Excelsior expects to be apprised when his Quarterlords make such changes."
Menessos waved dismissively. "I sent him a change of address card."
Quiet laughter swept through his court.
Mero waited until the crowd had quieted once more. "Indeed, but only after this property was purchased and renovations had begun."
"Ah…had I asked the Excelsior to bankroll the move, then I would have needed his permission. As I require no financial sponsor, I personally paid the expense of all aspects of the relocation. Therefore, I am at liberty to do as I please."
"To do as you please?" It was a striking statement; repeating it made the crowd stir uncomfortably. Mero knew when talking with Menessos it was he who did all the conversational navigation. Mero just had to keep up and do his part.
"Within my jurisdiction, of course. Cleveland is well within the borders of my quarter of the United States."
"That is true, but a decision such as this forces the Excelsior to ask what other broad decisions you might see fit to—"
"Do you mean to imply that a Quarterlord has not earned the right to make such broad decisions? Does the Excelsior plan to micromanage the Quarterlords now?"
"No, my lord. I mean to imply only that the Excelsior finds the relocation of a Quarterlord's entire haven to be noteworthy prior to the move."
Menessos was quiet for a heartbeat. "Have you come to censure me, Meroveus Franciscus?"
"I have."
*********
My sincerest thanks to Lori Devoti for having me on her blog!
—–Linda
Web Site: authorlindarobertson.com
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| Amazon
| Wicked Circle 
December 30, 2011
30 Days of Vampires: What You Crave Can Kill You. #Prize
Welcome to 30 Days of Vampires 2011. Stop by every day in December for a new post on vampires and a chance to win a $100 gift card from the bookstore of your choice. (gift card must be available for Lori to purchase/send with reasonable shipping) Also watch for numerous daily prizes offered by the individual authors. (some restrictions may apply) To enter just comment! One comment per post will be counted. So stop by every day! Comments must be posted by January 3, 2012
Michele Hauf has been writing romance, action-adventure and fantasy stories for over nineteen years. Her first published novel was DARK RAPTURE.
France, musketeers, vampires and faeries populate her stories. And if she followed the adage 'write what you know', all her stories would have snow in them. Fortunately, she steps beyond her comfort zone and writes about countries she has never visited and of creatures she has never seen.
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In my world of Beautiful Creatures the vampires have some of the standard vamp foibles. They need to drink blood to survive. A stake through the heart can kill them. They don't do sunlight (well, they can, but they get a nasty burn, and prolonged exposure to UV rays will fry them).
They have great strength. They are immortal.
But what are their weaknesses?
Well, I like the idea of something that is irresistible to the vampire to also be a deadly craving. Take faery dust, or faery ichor, which is what runs through their veins. A vampire can easily become addicted to faery dust. One bite is as addictive as meth is to humans. So most vampires avoid faeries like the proverbial plague. Except my hero. He wasn't looking to get high. He needed blood, ichor—anything—to regain his strength. And he got it, with the new addiction to dust. Now he craves it, and the heroine.
Good, bad, or very dangerous?
I don't know. You decide. My latest story matches Rev Parker, vampire, with Sabrina Kriss, a faery. If you've read HER VAMPIRE HUSBAND, they both appeared in that story. Their story, CRUEL ENCHANTMENT is part of the anthology, CRAVE THE NIGHT, which features three more compelling stories featuring paranormal love matches by authors, Lori Devoti, Patti O'Shea, and Sharon Ashwood. For blurbs, and to read the first chapter in each story, stop by swellcatpress.com. And for more information on all the characters in my world, stop by Club Scarlet. clubscarlet.michelehauf.com
One commenter will win a digital copy of CRAVE THE NIGHT!
Buy the Books!
Amazon | Barnes & Noble
Direct link to all the 30 Days of Vampires fun!
December 29, 2011
30 Days of Vampires: Versatile Vampires #Prize
Mercy Loomis grew up in a haunted house, and has had quite enough of ghosts for one lifetime, thank you. Though she now lives in a 150-year-old house, it is remarkably ghost-free. (That, or they're staying on the down-low. She doesn't care which.) She finished writing her first vampire novel when she was in middle school, and hasn't stopped writing about them since. She loves stories about the paranormal because monsters are scary, but less scary than real people. Or at least less depressing.
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"I would never have read a vampire book, but I really liked this one."
I heard this from many of my beta readers after they read my novel Scent and Shadow, and it left me with two impressions. One, I had apparently succeeded in my goal of writing a vampire book with broad appeal, and two, there are a lot of people out there who apparently think vampire books are all the same.
Vampires show up in all kinds of books, from the ruthless symbiotes of Brian Lumley to the Scribe-Virgin-blessed holy warriors of J. R. Ward. From horror
to science fiction
to fantasy
to romance to historical noir, vampires have been there, done that.
One of the things I love about vampires is that they are so very, very versatile.
Their versatility is two-fold: the legends themselves are very malleable and offer an author a huge range of abilities and restrictions to play with, and the theme of vampirism is equally broad.
Vampires of one type or another show up in countless legends in lots of different cultures, going back thousands of years. Some are probably a way to explain wasting diseases, or physiological changes in corpses, or even just certain types of personalities. Some are repelled or injured by sunlight, some by garlic or other special plants, some by silver, some just by making a lot of noise. Some don't have reflections, or can't cross running water, or they can't bleed or cry or cast a shadow. Some can be foiled by simply spilling sand or rice on your doorstep, because then the vampire has to stop and count all the grains and will probably still be there counting when the sun comes up.
And that's not even touching all the spiffy powers they're supposed to have. (Or psychic vampires!) How can an author resist such a customizable character?
But the thing I feel is really responsible for the vampire's longevity in story is their absolute adaptiveness in regard to theme.
Vampires are monsters, but they're monsters that look like us. Heck, most of the time, they were us. The Devil has a pleasing face, and it could happen to you! Perfect scary antagonist, especially because they aren't real, so it's a safe thrill. Then you have the whole intellect versus instinct thing, with the vampire maybe wanting to control his bloodlust, and the seductive, demanding bloodlust trying to turn him into a baser creature. (You get this with werewolves, too.) And the "love conquers all" theme, always popular and closely related to the "redemption of the bad boy", which is a trope hard-wired into most women's brains as far as I can tell. Plus there are all the metaphoric vampire themes: psychic vampirism, corporate vampirism, political vampirism. One source even credits the first use of the word vampire in English print as metaphorically referring to greedy merchants.
I could go on and on about this topic, because you can do that much with vampires. I don't think they'll ever stop being popular, because we are constantly reinventing them to serve our own purposes and portray the themes of the day.
What are your favorite attributes of vampires, and which are your favorite vampire story themes? Leave a comment below with your email address to win a free signed trade paperback of my novel Scent and Shadow 
. (Foreign entries are welcome, but you'll have to help me figure out how to ship it!) Winner will be chosen at random, but all comments with emails will receive the novel as an ebook!
Web Site: Mercy Loomis
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December 28, 2011
30 Days of Vampires: Vampires are HOT!
Award-winning
author Terry Spear is the author of urban fantasy romances and medieval Highland romances. She received Publishers Weekly's Best Book of the Year in 2008 for Heart of the Wolf. A retired officer of the U.S. Army Reserves, Terry is a librarian by day. She lives in Crawford, Texas.
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Vampires are HOT!
Not cold and dead in my world. But HOT!
That's the fun of creating a world of fantasy—making the world your own. My vampires were turned by the Black Death. Some who survived the plague became vampires, some hunters of the vampires. So they're very much hot blooded, with thumping hearts, pumped-up testosterone, primal desire, and all that makes them hungry for a woman's love.
When I saw Dracula at Brevard Community College, I fell in love with him. I hated that he had to die. I wanted him to bite my neck! Me! Me!
Later, I saw the Broadway play of Dracula in NYC. I felt the same for HIM. He wasn't a monster. He wasn't evil. He wanted to love like any of us do. He deserved to be loved and to love in return.
And so in my stories, the vampires aren't monsters. Or, at least many of them aren't. But hunters and humans alike can be more monstrous than any vampire. Although I have to admit some of the vampires are total blood suckers—and not in a good way.
Like werewolves, they've been maligned for centuries. It's time to see them as they really are. Lovers of the night, who indulge in a red glass of wine on occasion, vampire style, classy, possessive, loyal, have a sense of humor and are immortally sexy.
So what do you think? Could you find it in your heart to love the right vampire?
If so, I'
m offering a chance to win a copy of Deadly Liaisons, a vampire romantic suspense to die for.
Terry Spear
"Giving new meaning to the term alpha male where fantasy IS reality."
www.facebook.com/terry.spear
www.terryspear.com
www.myspace.com/terryspear
http://terry-spear.blogspot.com/
http://twitter.com/#!/TerrySpear
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Direct link to all the 30 Days of Vampires fun!
December 27, 2011
30 Days of Vampires: Vampires-The Ultimate Bad Boys #Prize
Welcome to 30 Days of Vampires 2011. Stop by every day in December for a new post on vampires and a chance to win a $100 gift card from the bookstore of your choice. (gift card must be available for Lori to purchase/send with reasonable shipping) Also watch for numerous daily prizes offered by the individual authors. (some restrictions may apply) To enter just comment! One comment per post will be counted. So stop by every day! Comments must be posted by January 3, 2012
Angelique Armae is a native New Yorker who's as zany as the city she grew up in. As a child her favorite toy was Emerald The Witch, a small doll with green eyes, green hair and purple skin.
Miss Armae's books and novellas have garnered numerous awards and nominations, including the Sapphire Award, P.E.A.R.L. Award and Word Weaving Award. Her books have also been featured on Midwest Book Review's Book Watch TV. Angelique's first novel, COME THE NIGHT, made Fictionwise's Best of the Best list, rounding out the top five best selling dark fantasy books of the year.
Aside from writing, Angelique also dabbles in digital art. She is the recipient and two time nominee of the Dream Realm Award for best cover art.
When not working, Ms. Armae enjoys traveling, learning about the ancient Celts, exploring history and learning new languages. Angelique studied history and French literature at Skidmore College.
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I love vampire heroes. They're dark, brooding characters and they make the ultimate bad boy lover. I think the allure of the vampire in romance fiction is due to the dark side of human nature. They're usually wounded heroes and need nurturing. Yet they never turn their back on a good friend, family or their heroine. Despite their flaws, they always come through for those who count.
When I wrote The Protectorate, I fell in love with my hero Donovan Bramwell. He has a very tormented past, yet rises up to face the challenges thrown his way. He's a loyal friend and is always willing to help those in need, even if at times he's torn between duty and his personal torment.
I'd love to know what attracts readers to vampires. Is it the dark side of the character? Their tormented past? Or is it the lure of a powerful creature who knows his limits and is always willing to sacrifice for those in need?
Book Blurb:
THE PROTECTORATE
(Book 1 of the DEAD WALKERS Vampire Series)
By Angelique Armae
ISBN 1-893896-36-6 (Paperback)
Publisher: ImaJinn Books
A Quasi Vampire…
A Celtic Princess…
An evil entity as old as time…
In Regency Ireland, a dark legacy re-emerges from the depths of the Vampire realm, leaving three souls trapped between two worlds…
Donovan Bramwell is a dead walker, a soul who walks on the dark side of life. He's also heir to an ancient Celtic vampire kingdom and its earthly branch known as the Protectorate, a secret society of vampires and humans protecting the mortal realm from evil dead walkers. But when the time comes for him to ascend to the throne, Donovan refuses. He's been harboring a deadly secret?he's the one soul capable of destroying the very world he was born to protect. Now his greatest enemy has returned and Donovan is determined to save the Protectorate, even if it mean's sacrificing his own soul. But as Donovan prepares to carry out his secret plot, a female quasi vampire thwarts his plans and forces him to relive a past he's spent centuries trying to forget…
Born a royal Celt with Vampyric blood, Iceni lost her family and her tribe to the Romans and the deadly vampires who befriended the Empire. After spending centuries trying to fight the dark souls who took away her world, Iceni now has the chance to finally avenge her parents' deaths and take back the sacred relic housing her father's ancient powers. But to do so, she needs Donovan Bramwell to join her cause. And considering she didn't exactly use conventional means to get the man's attention, she must first convince the Protectorate heir she's not the enemy…
Suffering from a bite gone wrong, Vastos–a Vampyric prince and dead walker as old as time–returns to man's world determined to cure the ailment afflicting his soul. But to do so, he must fight his greatest antagonist, Donovan Bramwell, the one soul keeping him alive and yet killing him at the same time. Vastos has two choices: Conquer the Protectorate and take the throne away from Donovan, or destroy Iceni and take full control of her father's powers. And to a dead walker vampire running out of time, choosing one option over the other really doesn't matter…
Giveaway: I'm offering one signed paperback copy of The Protectorate. Each blog comment who tells me why they love vampires will be entered into a random drawing. One winner will be picked. (US addresses only, please)
Website: http://www.angeliquearmae.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/AngeliqueArmaeFans
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December 26, 2011
30 Days of Vampires: My Fang Fetish
Laura Kaye is the author of the bestselling contemporary romance and award-nominated HEARTS IN DARKNESS and the bestselling and award-winning paranormal romance FOREVER FREED (NJRW Golden Leaf Award for Best Paranormal of 2011), as well as an erotic romance novella, JUST GOTTA SAY. Her fourth book, bestselling contemporary fantasy romance NORTH OF NEED, is the first in the 4-book Hearts of the Anemoi series, while her fifth, IN THE SERVICE OF THE KING, is a dark paranormal romance and the first in a novella mini-series with Harlequin. Laura lives in Maryland with her husband, two daughters, and cute-but-bad dog, and appreciates her view of the Chesapeake Bay every day.
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Before I dive in to my love for all things fangs, let me say thank you to Lori for hosting me here, Merry Christmas! to all who celebrate, and happy holidays to the rest! I'm very excited to be here today and to be a part of this event. Now, with that said…
Hello. My name is Laura Kaye. And I am addicted to fangs.
There. I said it!
Vampires are and always have been my favorite supernatural creature. There are many things I love about vampires: their dark natures, their inherent sensuality, their allure, the immortality. The loneliness of their existence just calls to me, just speaks to me on some primal level. As is true for so many of us, vampires have gotten under my skin and in my blood since my very first Anne Rice novel. I devoured every single one of them and read many multiple times. There aren't many vampire series I haven't tried, and I'm always looking for the next great one to whisk me away into my favorite fantasy…
One of the things I find most attractive about vampires is their fangs. Here are some reasons why I especially love this vampire trait:
Fangs are dangerous and animalistic. If their paranormal character is part of what draws me to vampires, nothing says "not human" like a pair of fangs.
Fangs are powerful. Fangs are just the most visible manifestation of the latent power and magic of the vampire.
Fangs penetrate. Do I really need to expound here? They. Penetrate.
Fangs bring a mix of pleasure and pain. Just imagining how that first searing bite would be followed by a pulling rush of pleasure you'd feel everywhere… Mmm.
Fangs bring a vampire sustenance. The idea that I, as a human, would have the power to keep such a preternatural creature alive, and that his fangs would make it possible…yeah, that's enough to make me love fangs right there.
So, in the spirit of my confession, I thought I'd share a fangtastic, erm, adult, excerpt from each of my vampire books:
From Forever Freed
– Now Available!
(Note: In this scene, the heroine has just learned the hero is a vampire…)
"What are you looking at?"
"Your…um"—a blush heated her face again—"mouth."
"Ah."
"So…how…"
"I just will it, and they change. Some situations cause it automatically."
She licked her lips and her eyes flitted between my eyes and my mouth. "Show me," she whispered.
"Sam—"
"Show me."
"Why?"
"Because I want to know you."
I glared at her and hated the idea she might define me by the vampiric nature I didn't choose or want. Her heart rate spiked. I cursed myself. I leaned my head into the cradle of my hands and tugged at my hair.
She stroked the back of my head. "Lucien, I didn't mean to—"
"I know what you meant—"
"No, obviously, you don't." Her tone surprised me. I dropped my hands and looked up. "I know…this isn't all you are. But it's part of you. I want to know it, too. Please show me," she said softly as she fingered the side of my foot. Her small gesture of outreach melted my resolve.
Resigned, I glanced down into my lap. And punched out my fangs. I flinched when Samantha lifted my chin, but I didn't resist. Instead, I closed my eyes, not wanting to also see the fear I was about to feel. As if on cue, she gasped. But the scent of her fear never came.
"Please look at me." Her expression was filled with wonder and curiosity. "Eyes too?"
I frowned. "You didn't close your eyes at all, did you?" She shook her head. I rolled my eyes, blinked them closed, and then trained my crimson orbs on Samantha. Her heart worked harder in her chest but still the fear didn't come.
"Does it affect your eyesight?"
"Improves it," I replied in a low voice.
Out of nowhere, she reached a hand forward. "Can I touch—"
I flinched away. "No!"
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she cried.
"You can't…I can't…"
"Okay. Okay. It's okay. That was stupid of me."
"Sam—"
"What situations?" she deflected.
"What?" I panted.
"You said some situations make it happen?"
I groaned. "When I'm feeding, threatened, or, um"—I sighed—"aroused."
From In The Service of the King
– Available for Pre-Order & Releases 2/1/12!
(Note: It was much harder to pick a PG excerpt for this title, so it's a bit shorter… *winks*)
A kiss from the heroine's point of view:
This time it was her mouth that claimed his. His fang pinched her lip and she moaned. Then she wrapped her tongue around the other fang and flicked it repeatedly. His mouth tasted like danger and ecstasy. Embracing his nonhuman side so wantonly felt decadent, but also like the most natural thing she'd ever done.
And from the vampire hero's:
Kael fisted his hands in her hair but couldn't decide whether to pull her away or hold her there forever. Definitely forever. Now that he'd accepted the magic weaving around them, he felt it down deep. Being with Shayla this way was as right as breathing, as drinking blood. Her tongue curled around his right canine and he sucked in a breath and growled. His fangs were so sensitive and her tongue was relentless.
Well, I told you I had a fang fetish! *winks* And there's much hotter fang play where these came from… jus' sayin'!
So, what's your favorite thing about vampires? Leave me a comment with your email address and you'll be entered to win a $10 amazon gift card! Open to international!
Thanks for reading!
Laura Kaye
Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Newsletter SignUp
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About Laura Kaye:
December 25, 2011
30 Days of Vampires: Vampires, the Perfect Christmas Hero #Prize
Lori Devoti is the author of paranormal and contemporary romance, urban fantasy, young adult and amateur sleuth mysteries. She is also the owner of this web site. Thanks for stopping by!
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On the surface, a vampire seems a very unlikely hero of any type, much less a Christmas story hero, but if you go just a tiny bit deeper, it is easy to see that not only is a vampire a great hero for any Christmas tale. He/she may just be the perfect one.
In the past vampires were seen as incapable of representing anything except pure evil. (Alex Bledsoe did a post here last week somewhat lamenting the loss of that depiction.) To me this relegated vampires to little more than a bogey man. A potential Old Testament punishment for the evils of mankind.
Today though, vampires are more complex than this. There are still unrepentant evil vampires, but there are also vampires driven to do what could be (and is) interpreted as evil because they have been shunned by society and rejected by everyone they thought had loved them. They are seen as evil and feared, but deep inside there is still a flicker of humanity, still that lost son or forgotten husband who is now so filled with self-loathing he can't bring himself to do anything besides be the monster others would cast him as.
Vampires are now much more than they were in the past. They are not just a cold force blowing against the real characters in the story, forcing those "real" characters to act and react. Now they are fully dimensional characters of their own—characters that love, feel pain and rejection, who make mistakes, have fears and who, if we (romance readers in particular) are lucky find redemption through love and self-acceptance.
In my newest release, Trust Me, first in my new Vampire Hearts series, I have both kinds of vampires. The main villain, Marie Jean, asked to be made into a vampire. She lived in a time when women had few rights and found herself married to a man who beat her. Not being a person who liked feeling powerless, she sought out what power she could in the form of a half-Osage half-French vampire by the name of Rodrigue. Marie Jean is focused on her goal (power) and relentlessly pursues that goal throughout the book.
Rodrigue, however, is a completely different type of vampire. He, misguided as he knows the emotion is, loves Marie Jean and longs for her to be what he knows she can never be.
Here is a snippet from a scene that I think shows Rodrigue and his pain well.
It is told from the point of view of the hero of Trust Me, Harry Bisson, a dhamphir whose own goal is to find and kill Marie Jean.
********
The half-Osage, half-French vampire looked every bit the bronzed savage today. He was naked from the waist up, and his long hair was unbound. The style wasn't traditional with the Osage, but as long as Harry had known of Rodrigue, the vampire had sported long hair. Perhaps, he guessed, in revolt against a people who had held his French half against him or deserted him once he was turned.
"What do you wait for, dhamphir? You need no invitation to enter here."
Raising a brow, Harry accepted both the statement and Rodrigue's obvious offer.
The vampire immediately turned, leaving Harry to shut the door or leave it open as he felt comfortable.
He pushed it closed. He had no need of an open door, no plans to race from this place. And he wanted Rodrigue to know it.
But if the vampire noticed, he gave no sign. He had already traveled across the marble floors of the entryway and made his way into a formal parlor which lay to Harry's right. He stood in front of the fireplace, a tall glass of amber liquid in his hand.
"Indians shouldn't drink. Did you know that, dhamphir?" Rodrigue downed the contents of the glass in one swallow and walked to a side table where a crystal decanter filled with more of the alcohol sat. He refilled his glass and walked back to the fireplace, this time choosing to stare out one of the windows which flanked it.
"Where did you find her?" he asked.
Harry didn't have to ask who the vampire meant. (note from Lori: they are referring to the heroine here, not Marie Jean)
"Louisiana."
"You should have left her there." Rodrigue took another drink, this one smaller, but tension showed in the muscles of his back.
"I couldn't."
"Nonsense." He spun, his arm rising as he did. The glass left his hand and crashed into the wall behind Harry.
Rodrigue's face was dark, and his features twisted with rage. His fangs hung low and fully visible in his mouth.
"You should not have brought her here."
Harry's own vampire half reacted. His muscles tightened, and a hiss left his lips. He clenched his fists, fighting for control.
He didn't come here to fight with Rodrigue. A war with the ancient vampire, even one Harry won, would only get in the way of his goal.
"You know why I had to," he replied, his body stiff and the words stilted.
"Why?" The vampire flew forward, moving so quickly a human wouldn't have even noticed the shift in his position before the vampire was on him, would have lacked the time to register that death was coming.
Harry, however, wasn't human, not fully.
He stepped to the side, and Rodrigue flew past, knocking into the same wall his drink had splattered seconds earlier.
He spun again. "If I kill you, she (Marie Jean) will be safe."
"And is that what you want?" Harry had wondered about the answer to this question for decades, since Rodrigue had started making the occasional visit to his bar.
Rodrigue froze, and his face paled. The rage left him as quickly as air from a punctured balloon. He walked past Harry, looking defeated and lost.
"Do not ask me that." He ran his fingers through his hair.
"She isn't whatever memory you have in your mind," Harry murmured, afraid to push the vampire too hard, too quickly. "I've heard rumors. I'm sure you have too. She is building a following. She will challenge you."
His eyes sad, Rodrigue shook his head. "She hasn't the strength."
"But she will."
"Only if you give her this gift." Anger flashed in Rodrigue's blue gaze once again.
"Lindsey is not a gift." She was a trap, one Marie Jean, Rodrigue's lover turned enemy and Harry's reason to exist, would not be able to resist.
"And if you fail? If mon oiseau is stronger than you? If she takes this gift? Then what, dhamphir?"
"She won't."
Rodrigue laughed, then murmured words that were neither French nor English. Were instead, Harry guessed, his mother's tongue, Osage.
"I don't ask that you help me. I never have." It was true; Harry had never approached the vampire like this before. "I only ask that you don't work against me."
"And how would I do that?" The vampire raised one brow, looking, despite his bare chest, 100 percent the French gentleman again.
There were many ways Rodrigue could try to stop Harry. He could order Harry's death or try to kill him himself. But he could have done either of those a century before—Harry had been hunting Marie Jean that long—and the prince hadn't.
Which made Harry guess Rodrigue wouldn't try to kill him now either. But he also guessed that Marie Jean had escaped him in the past because Rodrigue was in some way helping her, warning her. That, despite whatever she had done to the prince before and threatened to do to him now, he still protected her.
So his request was simple. "Don't help her. Don't send your lieutenants to watch over her. Don't hide that I've found what she wants most; don't keep her from coming to get that thing."
"And the lamb? The one you would sacrifice on the altar of your revenge? How does she feel about this?" The vampire's voice was regal and judging.
Harry's jaw tightened. He wasn't here to be judged by a vampire, and he didn't want to talk about Lindsey, not with Rodrigue, not with anyone. "She will be fine."
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Perhaps she will die. And then, dhamphir, who will you blame? Who will you hunt to avenge that death? There will be only one place to look…the reflecting glass." He motioned to a huge gold-framed mirror that hung over the couch.
Harry felt his own anger flare, knew the emotion showed on his face. "That will be my worry, won't it?"
Rodrigue smiled. "Yes, dhamphir, it will—yours and the lamb's."
"Do you agree?" Harry asked. The words came out hard, harsh. The vampire had no right to question Harry's choices. No right at all.
Rodrigue moved back to the table and picked up a fresh glass. After filling it, he took a sip. The muscles of his neck moved as he swallowed; his Adam's apple bobbed, reminding Harry what else he drank. Making Harry question the unspoken treaty which had lain between them for so many years.
"I will not help her. I will not send my lieutenants to her side. I will not warn her of your plan. I will do nothing to stop her from coming to wherever you leave your little lamb—tied up ready for slaughter. I will let mon oiseau do as she will; let her kill this final relative too. Let her gain the power that would make her strong—stronger than me." He turned, the glass still in his hand. "Is that what you want, dhamphir? Will that get you to leave my home—happy?"
Happy. It was a ridiculous word. Harry could never be happy, but he could be revenged. He lifted his gaze and met the vampire's. "Yes, Rodrigue. That it will."
With a sniff fitting of Rodrigue's vampire title—prince—Rodrigue lifted his glass and took another drink.
Harry could feel his dismissal, but if the change in energy wasn't enough, the appearance of two vampires dressed head to toe in black was. He walked toward the door.
Two steps past the parlor's entrance, Rodrigue's voice stopped him.
"You were wrong, dhamphir. It is not my mind that holds my memories. It is my heart. When this is over, if you succeed, you will have taken that too."
The vampires beside Harry motioned ahead to the now wide-open door. As his foot cleared the entry, the door closed quietly but distinctly behind him.
He stood on the front porch, hands fisted, heart pounding, the vampire's final words ringing in his ears.
***********
So, there you have it, one vampire who isn't pure evil and still, I think, takes his role and decisions in life pretty seriously. I don't know about you, but I find him a lot more intriguing than something that just goes bump in the night…well, depending on your definition of bump.
And in honor of Christmas, today we are giving away TWO prizes, one from me and one from fellow Nocturne author, Cynthia Cooke. Leave a comment, telling me the name of the vampire in Cynthia's upcoming book, Playing With Vampires, and you'll be entered to win not just the grand prize, but also either a copy of my Nocturne anthology, Holiday with a Vampire II with stories by Merline Lovelace and me, or The Vampire's Seduction by Cynthia.
(U.S. mailing addresses only.)
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December 24, 2011
30 Days of Vampires: Scare me… please? #Prize
India Drummond knew from age nine that writing would be her passion. Since then she's discovered many more, but none quite so fulfilling as creating a world, a character, or a moment and watching them evolve into something complex and compelling. She has lived in three countries and four American states, is a dual British and American citizen, and currently lives at the base of the Scottish Highlands in a village so small its main attraction is a red phone box. In other words: paradise.
The supernatural and paranormal have always fascinated India. In addition to being an avid sci-fi and fantasy reader, she also enjoys mysteries, thrillers, and romance. This probably explains why her novels have elements of adventure, ghosts (or elves, fairies, angels, aliens, and whatever else she can dream up), and love stories.
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Some people find vampires oh-so-yummy, while others insist the idea of an 
amorous encounter with a dead man just leaves them cold (so to speak). I would have placed myself in the latter category, but then I remembered how much I loved the vampire Lestat, the jumpy chills I got watching Lost Boys, the slightly less scary but no less compelling vampires of Charlaine Harris' Southern Vampire series (True Blood), the fast-paced thrills of Blade, and any of a half-dozen other vampire series I've read over the past couple of years.
Time for a reality check. How could I say I didn't find vampires appealing, when that obviously wasn't the case? Then I realised my conscious mind was getting hung up on the dead aspect of the undead, while my subconscious mind was responding to the thrill and danger. The thrill came from the scare. This is why the Twilight vampires didn't do much for me, why of the True Blood vampires, Bill makes me say, "meh", but I find Eric delicious.
Vampires should scare us. That's the reason we read books about them, rather than books about accountants. Sure, we might prefer to have lunch with an accountant; we might marry one. After all, having a real life relationship with someone with a dubious moral compass and a taste for blood would be exhausting. But when it comes to an hour-long television show or a four-hour read, we want to do the mental equivalent of sky diving or a roller-coaster ride: to have our hearts pound, to scream all the way down, then to land safely at the end, perhaps a bit flushed and flustered, but in one piece.
My own books aren't about vampires. I am not sure I could come up with something new to say about them that hadn't already been done, and I try to create unusual worlds. My Caledonia Fae series starts with Blood Faerie, an urban fantasy about a serial-killing outcast faerie. A bit of danger and (I hope) a fresh concept. But when it comes to my reading, on the other hand, I will doubtlessly continue to dip my toe in the bloody pool of vampire fiction, looking for books that give me that rush that comes with reading about dangerous men who know what they want…and take it.
Today I'll be giving away a digital copy of Blood Faerie to one commenter. Tell me… why do you like vampires? Do you like ones that sparkle or the more ruthless variety?
Author website and blog: http://www.indiadrummond.com/
Facebook Fan Page: http://www.facebook.com/india.drummond.author
Twitter: http://twitter.com/IndiaDrummond
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December 23, 2011
30 Days of Vampires: A Taste of You
Welcome to 30 Days of Vampires 2011. Stop by every day in December for a new post on vampires and a chance to win a $100 gift card from the bookstore of your choice. (gift card must be available for Lori to purchase/send with reasonable shipping) Also watch for numerous daily prizes offered by the individual authors. (some restrictions may apply) To enter just comment! One comment per post will be counted. So stop by every day! Comments must be posted by January 3, 2012
Jennifer Stevenson is better known for sexy books than for life-sucking dealers of death. Trash Sex Magic was twice nominated for the Nebula Award and was short-listed for the LOCUS Award for First Fantasy Novel. Her series set in Hinky Chicago begins with The Brass Bed, The Velvet Chair, and The Bearskin Rug, featuring a curvacious fraud cop and her hot, messy relationships with her ex-fraudster partner and her sex demon/roommate. This week she released Ear Candy, a collection of three sexy, all-dialogue short stories.
Today she talks about her November vampire romance, A Taste Of You
, which falls in between The Bearskin Rug and forthcoming Hinky Chicago novel The Genie Lamp. Here she talks about turning her first vampire novel into being all about sex, instead of all about the suck.
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As soon as I started work on A Taste Of You, Helen Nagazy, vegan derby girl vampire, took over the book, without me doing any of those writerly things with the Legos and collages and the Big Book O'Personality Types.
At first I didn't know much about Hel. I had a vague idea that her life stunk. So I got her drunk and had her write a series of letters to her mom, since it's impossible to talk to her mom in a normal way, and all this stuff started pouring out. From that moment, Hel took control. I just ran after her, taking notes.
The more I worked with Hel, the more I realized that her problem is about power. She becomes a vampire so that she can be powerful. When the magic wish coin comes along, Hel has just spent thirty-six hours watching Svengooli's "Fangs for the Memories" vampire film festival. Now those are powerful women!
At seventeen, Hel's idea of a vampire is eccentric. She's not having any of that no-sunlight, no-religious-symbols, coffin-napping stuff. And because she's vegan, she refuses to do the blood thing, but she can suck chi–prana–life force–i.e., energy. Yeah. And she can fly, and turn into an invisible mist, yeah, yeah, and she's superstrong, and she has super hearing and sight and smell and stuff! Cool!
What she doesn't plan out is what else being a vampire will do to her.
In the first week, she says Yes to her boyfriend on his couch while his folks are out of town…and she sucks him dry. In a bad way. Poof, he's a pile of gray dust.
Then there are other issues. She can live on other people's energy, but that means tasting the mood they're in–and it's not easy finding people in a good mood. She doesn't age, which is fun when you're twenty, but when you're fifty and you need a raise because your flaky mom's in the hospital, not so much. The geeky, lonely teenager becomes a reclusive, truly bizarre adult.
Secret federal anti-magic Agent Nick Jones has serious hots for Hel. Is it because of her beautiful soul? Or because Nick has his own secret–magic turns him on, and she's a powerhouse of magic.
Much as he lusts for her, Nick won't make a move, because Hel looks like jail bait, and he's not that kind of guy. But oh, she wishes he was. Nick is the only person she's ever met who seems immune to her power.
I suppose every vampire romance is about turning blood-lust into a healthier kind of lust. I don't know if Hel's version is as satisfying to women who love a more conventional vampire love story. You'll have to let me know.
Oh, and two more things before I forget: One, A Taste of You is a book in the Hinky Chicago universe that began with The Brass Bed. If you've read those, you'll recognize some old friends. Two, Hel has learned that roller derby generates extra chi-energy, so she joins the local team. Below, you can read a drinkin'-with-the-derby-girls scene…and then Nick shows up.
Excerpt from A Taste Of You
I find a message on my cell after the derby bout. Agent Nick. "Call me." I ignore it. For the first time since I-don't-know-when, I go to the after-party with the girls.
Tenneby's has been a bar for almost a hundred years: fancy pressed-tin walls, a suspended milk-glass ceiling, oak bar three inches thick, Tiffany lamps. We sit around the tall tables on the tall stools, laughing and throwing back car bombs, and I feel good. I'm not paranoid or angry or depressed.
I'm out with the girls, a little dizzy with the enormity of it. I've wanted this for so long.
Golden Triangle is full of the most amazing stories. She has a hot English boyfriend who shows up to derby bouts. She tells extravagant lies about what they do in bed. Everyone laughs incredulously except Sacker Tart, who looks thoughtful and a little wistful. Sacker Tart is a porn star in her day job. She's by far the most glamorous of us all. Like me, many derby girls are schoolteachers.
Except for Tri, the big blonde anti-magic cop. I stay aware of her without seeming to watch. Her boyfriend shows up and murmurs into her ear. Paranoid, I stretch my super-hearing to pick up what he's saying.
"I sensed magic on the track tonight. Something powerful," he warns her.
Tri frowns. My blood runs cold. "Well, keep your eyes and ears open, partner," she whispers back.
Holy crap, he's her partner, and another anti-magic cop. And he's a hinky detector!
I'm sunk. I order another drink.
So of course we end up sharing a pizza in the bar. That is, Golden Triangle is eating pizza and I'm nibbling the olives off the top. They don't make me sick or anything. It's just not…the food I need.
"Don't you eat?" she says to me, raising her eyebrows. I can smell suspicion coming off her, in her energy.
"Sometimes," I say, trying not to look scared. "Mostly I drink." This gets me another look.
If she has the smallest clue what I am, I'm screwed for real.
She doesn't respond.
After two more car bombs, I relax.
Tri warms up, too. She crows to everybody about my speed. "You rock," she says, thumping my shoulder with a fist. "We're gonna kill those bitches from Milwaukee next month."
I lift my car bomb. "Here's to killing Milwaukee." We all drink to that.
The energy in this bar right now is so sweet, so good. I wonder, in some rebel corner of my mind, if I've been wrong all these years. If I should have just relaxed and had some fun.
The girls all look at me as if in answer to this thought. I feel a sudden surge of good energy, with a little extra tingle in it.
They're looking behind me.
There's warmth on my back. I feel my face change before I can control it, and I turn around, and yes, it's Agent Nick, touching me, smirking at all the female good humor staring at him.
"You didn't call back," he says. "I worried."
"I was busy," I say. There goes my mood. He just stands there, radiating self-satisfaction and delicious, delicious energy. I take a tiny hit off him before I can control myself. Oh, God. So good. I only meant to bring him down a little, keep his dick from leading him into saying something that will lead me into saying something that will get me in even worse trouble.
He doesn't seem to mind. He doesn't even droop. He flushes, looking at me, and his energy output surges. I smell the wood on him as if he is the only warm body in the room.
"Introduce us, Air Handler," says Sacker Tart, and baby-faced Fist Kist says, "Yeah."
I raise my eyebrows at Agent Nick.
He obliges, calling himself Nick Jones without the agent in front of it. "That was very impressive, ladies. Your bout."
"Are you a derby virgin?" Sacker asks innocently. Sacker looks sleek and beautiful even with helmet hair and mouth-guard slobber on her cheek.
"I was," Nick says in a heartfelt voice, "But I'm not anymore." He's smiling as if he doesn't know how to stop. The horndog.
I'd be jealous, only I know that the wood is for me.
I'm such an idiot. This situation is hugely dangerous. For two cents I could beat myself over the head with my mug. Instead I order another. Agent Nick takes advantage to draw up a stool and join us, ordering beer. The girls scoot over so he can sit next to me.
I feel like the candy store has parked itself in my pocket. Oh-God good. Bad. I don't know.
Agent Nick drapes his arm across the back of my barstool and murmurs in my ear, under cover of the chatter and the sidelong looks, "How'd it go at the doctor?"
At least one girl nearby sends us a look that says, Doctor?
I roll my eyes at the ceiling. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Your thumb drive isn't answering," he added.
So it was a bug, or a tracer or something. "I threw it away," I say.
He looks shocked. "It was very expensive."
I shrug and smile, feeling drunk and loving it for the first time in years. "I should have told you. I lose things."
He leans very close to my ear and murmurs, "It could be a tracer anklet."
He draws back to see the effect of this.
"No," I say, looking him in the eye with my Vampire Look, "It couldn't." This should reduce him to something I can swat down, but he actually seems to expand a little. Does this guy not understand rejection? I've met his type, but most of them are, well, drunker or meaner, or both. Everything I do to him seems to make him hornier.
Now that's interesting, says a completely ungovernable corner of my brain.
"Later," I say firmly. "Drink your beer. It's getting cold."
And for a miracle he seems to accept this. He takes his arm off the back of my stool where it has been lying so temptingly, and picks up his beer and drinks, looking demurely around at the girls who are talking about everything except what they're all thinking, which is undoubtedly, Air Handler has a boyfriend?! Sacker Tart in particular is getting runny over him, and I'm not being metaphorical here. I can smell it. Golden Triangle has a semiprofessional cop eye on him that makes me wonder if she has sussed him.
The waitress comes. I drain my car bomb and order another.
But they finally relax, and I relax…a little more…and Nick talks like a normal person to Fist Kist and I tease the bench coach about her new tattoo and it's fun again. I absolutely refuse to think about what a terrible, terrible idea it is for me to be drunk in public with friends. God, did I just call them friends? They must be friends, or I wouldn't feel this good. Wake up, Hel, there's a federal agent at your elbow. Who has the drop on you.
Yeah, and I want the drop on him.
My mug slips out of my fingers at this thought and he catches it before it can hit the table.
"Girl, you can't hold your likker," says the bench coach in amusement, and I think, How wrong you are.
"Good thing I can hold her likker," Nick says, and I turn to him to tell him to give me back my drink and he leans in and kisses me.
It's like having a train come straight at me and touch me warm and soft on the lips. His energy is bigger than the sun. He's hot and pink in the face. He smells like man. I do not even think of taking a hit off him.
He pulls away, looking surprised, and then kisses me again, harder, and I grab the back of his head and open my mouth to him.
I'm falling into his warm human flesh, the sweet strong pulse in his chest, in his throat. I smell oil from his car keys on his fingers where they touch my cheek. I want to crawl down his shirt-front and sleep on his chest. I want to purr.
I come down to clapping, hoots, and cries of, "Get a room!"
"Busted," he says breathlessly when our mouths part.
I look straight into his eyes. He's glazed over with lust. "Yes. You are."
I'd like to say that I have a hazy idea of getting the drop on him somehow if I can just get him into bed, but honestly all I want is to get him into bed. Now. Soon. Before I sober up and panic, or God forbid start to cry, because there are tears in my future now, for sure. Let me have one quickie with the federal hottie before that happens. Before my life is officially over.
I could stop now, I suppose, but of course that won't happen.
I look at the table and calculate hazily what my bar bill must be. "I make it about fifty bucks."
Nick pulls out a roll and tosses a fifty on the table. "C'mon," he says "let's get you home."
More hooting.
I throw a ribald glance around the table, rolling my eyes and smiling foolishly.
They're all looking at me with something I can't figure out. The bench coach seems concerned, and Tri passes me a special wink as if from one ridiculously oversexed slut to another, and Sacker just looks envious.
I can't bear it, I duck my head down and blush and let Nick lead me out of there.
My legs aren't working as well as they did two hours ago. As I lean on him, I say, "How does a nice guy like you get in with a bunch of jerks at a secret federal agency?" My words are slurring.
He doesn't answer. He tucks me into his battered Cherokee, then gets in on the driver's side. I wonder why the whole car doesn't go up in a cloud of orange and black smoke, because he is hotter in here than he was in the bar. His skin has swollen until he looks tight and red in the face. I can tell from here that if he gets any harder, he'll mess his pants.
"My place or yours?" I say, trying to seem nondrunk.
He looks at me. I feel his glance spear me clear through. It feels good.
I say, "Mine." Because I may not ever sleep in that bed again, and it would be nice to spend this last night there.
A shadow passes over his face. What have I said? But he puts the car in gear and we go. I feel the tightness in my body now, too, so that every bump in the road is like a fingernail-flick on a harp string. Nick drives straight to my apartment, as I knew he would, because of course he knows where I live. I feel fate rushing at me like a wall.
He takes the key out of my hand and opens the door, and then I see that the shadow has taken him over. He looks down into my face. I see pure human concern there. Not a speck of cop.
"What?" I say, panicking. You can't stop now. It's taken me forty years to get here.
He says, "You're drunk. I can't."
I say, "You can. I've been drunk before. And I've never done this." Taken a man to my apartment. My lair. Did I say any of that?
"You've never done what?" Oh no, he's getting a conscience. How can a man do that? I thought they were all ruled by their dicks!
"No. Please," I say, now desperate.
I think I see myself the way he sees me. Seventeen, drunk, begging for it, practically jail bait. And apparently I've just convinced him I'm a virgin, too. No wonder he's having an attack of conscience. He'd be screwing a virgin teenager when he is already coercing her into working on an undercover op.
I try to summon up my Vampire Look, the one Bela Lugosi uses when he tells Van Helsing, Come…here. But I feel my throat tighten. It's not going to work.
"Please," I say. "If you won't–would you just come in? Keep me company? Hold me?" I shut my eyes. It's all falling apart. I can't even self-destruct satisfactorily. "I'm really stressed, I could use some human contact."
Oh God, that came out wrong. I don't want to use him. Well, I do. But I'm not even asking him for the last drop of his life force. I just want to touch someone. I want to be warm, skin to skin, for a while.
"No sex if you don't want," I add, putting myself out there in a way that scares the frink out of me.
He pulls me into his arms and holds me.
And that's the end of my resistance. He's huge and warm and gentle. We stumble into my apartment. He shuts the door and we move to the couch and sit there, side by side, until somehow I am curled up in his lap with my face in the crook of his neck, weeping uncontrollably, and he is petting my head and pouring his warmth into me.
Web Site: Jennifer Stevenson
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