A.K. Michaels's Blog, page 3

Branding… What is it?

AUTHOR BRANDING

By

Ava K Michaels

I’ll be heading off to an author conference soon, Chapter Con, which is being held at St Mary’s Campus down in London. I’m excited about attending, and a little scared… because I’m taking part in a couple of panels and that’s out of my comfort zone. However, I’m also excited about it, and looking forward to meeting many of my ‘peers’ and picking up tips to help me, as well as pass on some of my own. First up I’d like to thank the ladies behind the scenes who work so hard at putting these things together, they truly have a hard time, especially when dealing with people such as me… an OCD nutcase who, well, must be their worst nightmare, but Katie, who has been an absolute gem, has made this as painless as possible for me.

So, I’m doing a panel on branding, and I’m going to put it up here for a couple of reasons… one being that I hope it can help others, but also so the people attending can quickly come over here and grab it if they need to… voila! So, let’s get started.

Branding… what is it? Well, branding isn’t just your logo or banner etc, it’s a whole package affair and I hope to give you a wee insight. So, branding is something which is solid and consistent and not just visually but across the board.

Branding isn’t just your name…it’s so much bigger than that. It’s what people ‘expect’ when they think of you/your brand/your product and as authors that makes it even harder for us to get it right. Your brand is also to do with what readers expect from you and your books. So, if you write contemp romance, or pnr and suddenly put out a different genre series … that, in effect, dilutes your brand and it can, I’m not saying always, but it ‘can’ dilute it … in effect … it dilutes you.

For instance, we all know when we pick up a can of Coke what to expect, they have a brand and they stick to it. If one day you grabbed a can and took a drink and suddenly it tasted like orange juice … you’d be unhappy because that’s not their brand. They’d changed it, they’d diluted their brand and Coke would never do that. So, you shouldn’t do it either unless you want to dilute your brand.

You might be one of the lucky ones who can write very different genres and have a mix of readers who’ll pick up anything you write, but for the most part, if your reader base loves one genre they don’t generally expect you to pop out something drastically different and can be thrown if you do.

A lot of readers don’t genre hop, they read one and a lot stick to it so you don’t want to lose them, this can lead to losing your precious readers … just because you weren’t true to your brand.

 It’s why some authors use different pen names for different genres as in … different branding for different genres. Or they’ll have So and so writing as … so their readers know it’s them but also know they’re writing in another genre. They’re not springing it on them but they’re also tapping into their reader base too in case those readers might want to pick the story up.

Then there’s the Social Branding aspect … and please excuse my french, but it really does come down to never, ever, be an eejit, or to put it more bluntly, an ass. Not ever. Don’t be passive aggressive or out and out aggressive. Do not, repeat, do not engage in drama on FB. Ever. No matter what’s going on in the industry … and let’s be honest, there is always drama, every other day there’s something happening. Do not engage. No matter if you know the person, no matter if you have inside gossip … do not engage.

Readers see this. They see it as a reflection of you, your brand. It dilutes it, dilutes you … and it can take forever to rebuild. If at all.

Be ‘truthful’ to your brand … what I mean by that is … don’t have one face on your Author page a different one on your personal. Readers will see it and that will not go over well. So be true to who you are and be consistent. The fact is, your author business is just that … a business and a lot of people forget that. You should remember to conduct yourself just like you would as if you were working in any other job because this IS your job.

We’ve all seen authors who’ve acted badly on FB … and had their careers impacted by that. Don’t let that be you. It can impact not just on readers, but on your work too, other authors see it, they see how you are on FB, they see your brand, and it could influence a future decision on whether someone would work with you on a project, a shared world or a boxset, for instance.

Look at FB as your ‘office’, if you do that, and act as if it is, then you won’t go wrong, after all, you wouldn’t go into your office and start scrapping with another member of staff there… would you? Going online on FB and having a barney with say… another author, or a reader, or someone who you don’t agree with… it’s just the same. Except, it’s far worse because it’s online and everyone can see you doing it, and once it’s out there online it can never be undone … screenshots are forever, so even if you do something you regret and delete it, you can bet your backside that someone has taken screenshots and posted all over the place about it.

So, golden rule, don’t do it, FB is your office and you’re the Boss. Act in a manner that does your brand proud and you’ll be fine.

Then there’s the visual side, with logos and banners etc. Notice how I came to this last? It is important, of course it is, but in my opinion if you don’t get the above right, images don’t matter. You can have the best images in the world but if the rest isn’t done right this part is a total waste of time.

That being said, let’s get to it… now, you don’t have to spend tons on these. Yes, of course you can, I have in the past, I’ve had several different logos, and did a rebrand a few years ago but didn’t feel it suited me completely and I was lucky enough to mention it to a friend, another author who’s got a talent with working with images, and straight away she said to me, okay, let’s work on this and so we did. And voila, we ended up with something I was much happier with and when I asked about it in my reader group and in my newsletter… the feedback was wonderful.

So, for this part of it, I’d say to go with your gut and work with someone you feel comfortable with but not to tackle this yourself unless you have a first class knowledge in that department. And even if you do, it’s sometimes difficult to decide these things when you’re designing something for you and not a client.

So I’d say to ask for plenty of input before deciding on a final product and remember, always, your brand and what you’re trying to put over to reflect it. Sometimes simple is best.

You can, of course, look at other authors in your genre to get some inspiration if you have no clue what you want, but of course, don’t copy someone else’s design. You want something that’s unique to you so that when people see it they’ll automatically think of you and only you and not get confused and wonder, hmm, is that so and so… or? You want your own brand, not someone else’s.

That’s all I have, I hope I’ve helped you get some insight to branding as a whole and not just the logo side of things and I hope I’ve not bored you to death.

Ava x

You can download a doc of this for your own use HERE and I hope it’s of some use to you.

Beta Readers

BETA READERS

By

Ava K Michaels

My second panel at Chapter Con is about Beta Readers… those special people who authors need and I hope this post will help. Once again, there’ll be a link at the bottom for you to download this as a doc, if you want it.

First thing I’d say… authors need to check their ego at the front door. Sorry, but it’s true, if you can’t do that… stop reading now. If you’re brave enough, and can, carry on.

So? Who are they and why do you need them?

They’re not your best friend, family, or someone too close that they’re just going to tell you what they think you want to hear. Any author who thinks that family or friends won’t do this… hmm nope, they will, and you’re kidding yourself I you think otherwise.

They have to be able to tell you things that you might not want to hear, and might even have you in tears or want to throw a tantrum or eat a ton of chocolate huddled in the corner … for example, plot holes that means you’ll have rewrites to do, sometimes even major ones. Something we all hate to have to do but is necessary for a story.

They should also be from the demographic of your story, as in, readers of the same genre you’re writing. Readers who love pnr if that’s what you do, contemp romance if that’s your thing. Don’t have a group of betas that love horror reading a historical romance because they won’t give you the feedback that you need or want. It’s a waste of your time and theirs.

A team of Betas should be made up of people with different strengths too, some who’re great at spotting those pesky plot holes, some who are good at pointing out character flaws, some who can see where a book’s flow is slowing so much that it gets boring… yes it happens and if you have someone on your team who’ll actually tell you, then they’re gold and you need them to be able to tell you so you can fix it.

It means you’ll be putting out the best story you can, and you have to have a thick skin and have a relationship open enough with them to feel comfortable to give you this information. – Remember my first comment… leave your ego at the front door.

If you get all upset with them if they do give you this information … they’ll turn tail, run, and not only that, they can talk to other betas and you’ll soon find it impossible to find new members for your team. Oh, and don’t ever moan about a beta online, that’s a huge mistake. They are your team, you should cherish them, even if they give you feedback that you don’t particularly like. If something they say really isn’t something you agree with… you can discuss it, calmly of course, in your FB group… get other betas input on it… and this is an important part… if the other betas side with them… take heed. That’s something you should have, a closed separate group for your betas where you can chat if need be.

Where to find these elusive, magical creatures? You can look for betas in your reader group on FB, or if you have a newsletter, you can set up a googledoc and ask for applications that way. If you do it via your newsletter, make sure to ask pertinent questions and ask people who they’ve beta’d for before, and also ask if you can reach out to the authors they’ve beta’d for. THAT is a telling question, if they say no to that, that’s a red flag and I’d skip them. If they say yes, then you can either reach out to the author or not. The fact they’ve said yes says something in itself but a beta reader is a special relationship, you’re handing over your baby, and I’m very wary of who I give mine to, so if I were you and you don’t know the person, I’d be checking them out first.

Set up a bookfunnel account to send if you’re starting out, they log who gets what etc, and the files themselves are digitally marked and let people know this as a ‘disclaimer’ at the bottom of the email you send if you want, if you’re feeling wary of your files being pirated. You can also have page one with This is a Beta Copy of and your title on the file if you want to.

There’s the timing of when to give to betas too. I know some who give them after it’s been to editors… I don’t do that. I give them before it goes to my editor. Why? Because I want to fix anything that needs sorting before my editor gets hold of it. I’ve had my team in place for a while, and they tell me how it is. Straight! They know that’s what I want and don’t hold back.

Sue, my PA went to Chapter Con with me, and she’s on my team, and she caught a great big hole in my last book. One that readers would’ve seen and I’m certain would’ve been in the reviews they left, and not in a good way. As soon as she said the name of a character… I knew what I’d done, but it was Sue who caught it, before it went to editing. If I’d left this to after editing, it would’ve left chunks of text in several parts of the book… unedited, or I would’ve had to pay for those to be re-edited. So, for me it makes sense to send before. This is obviously a personal choice, but it works for me, and it’s how I’ve done it for a while now.

Of course, this is a personal choice, but it makes sense for ‘me’, it might not for others, but you make it work for you. It’s what life’s all about, isn’t it? Getting something in place and making it work for you. My team members have different strengths and I use them to the max and love them all for them… even when it means I have to do re-writes. It’s their job after all. So, there it is… Beta Readers and my take on them. I hope I’ve helped, even a wee bit.

Ava xx

If you want to download this as a doc… click HERE.

Read a Sneak Peak of Warrior of Darkness, Dark Hunter… HERE!

Warrior of Darkness

Dark Hunter

Chapter One

His fingers played with the steel of one of his favorite throwing knives in the pocket of his suit jacket… cold, silent, and deadly; just like him.

The action calmed him as he repeatedly ran the blade under and over his fingers and palm. It was small enough to carry anywhere on his body, and he had a couple more secreted away. One in his boot and another in a sheath at the base of his back… Hell, he rarely went anywhere without some kind of weapon, and blades were his favorite.

“Want another one, boss?” Joel, the barman, asked Lazarus as he sat in Fortune, one of the nightclubs he owned, pondering the file he’d received earlier. One that held a woman’s life in his hands. Literally.

The information contained within had already determined her fate; she’d die. And he’d take great pleasure taking her last breath. He’d watch closely as her eyes dimmed, growing glassy and grey as the life left them. They all did. Every last pair he’d gazed into as he’d taken their lives had followed the same route as their last breath left their body and their heart stopped beating… eyes glazing over and dimming until he was certain there was no longer anything left behind but a shell.

He’d put that on hold for the night, however, because if he dealt with the case now, his fury would take over and things would get ugly fast; a bloodbath would ensue, and that’s not how he carried out his assignments.

He was certain he wouldn’t be able to contain the darkness inside, absolutely positive it would break free and wreak bloody havoc. No doubt about it. It was hard enough keeping it harnessed on a good day. It had taken him a lifetime to learn how to do so. Fuck, it had taken many lifetimes to learn how to keep it in check. But on a day like today, after reading that shit? It would be impossible. So here he was, doing his damnedest to relax while trying to get the images out of his head from reading the file had brought.

He wasn’t sure that was achievable, not until he carried out his sentence anyway.

Even the loud music as it thudded around him while the club started to fill up didn’t help like it usually did, and he had yet to decide whether he’d stay and play. Or not.

He was riled up and maybe it was too dangerous for him to risk. He hadn’t made his mind up, but a few drinks would certainly help to relax him.

“Aye, sure.” He nodded over the bar and another whisky appeared, sliding across the sleek black bar top, his hand catching it before it dropped over the edge.

“You in for the night, boss?” Joel swiped a cloth over the already pristine bar, ensuring it was kept clean… as always. His dark brown hair combed to perfection to match his immaculate white shirt.

“I’ve not decided yet.” He raised his drink while Joel tipped his head and smiled; the guy always had a smile on his face. It earned him a ton of tips and he was a great worker, but sometimes his unending cheerfulness irritated the hell out of him.

Once, just once, Lazarus wanted him to moan about something… anything. Hell, there was enough in the damn world to gripe about, but no. Joel was always happy, no matter what was happening around him, or if the world was going to shit.

“I’ll keep ‘em coming then.” Joel gave him another of his damn smiles as he ran the cloth over the bar… again.

“Aye, you do that.” Lazarus’ fingers sped up, flicking his blade through them and attempting to calm the anger flaring to life inside him. “Looks like you’re going to be busy tonight, rushed off your feet, Joel.”

Joel set up a round of drinks for a lanky young man who looked like he needed a good dinner, or ten; he was so damn thin. But he certainly had money to burn as he ordered enough shots to sink the Titanic, which Joel poured out, two-handed and at breakneck speed, laughing and joking as he did.

“There you go, and remember to watch the clock; there’s two for one at midnight.” Joel pushed the tray over, grinning.

“Really? Thanks. Here.” The guy threw a bundle of cash over, a big bundle. “Keep the change and thanks for the tip. I’ll be back.”

He rang up the drinks and counted the money out, a large amount of cash going into his jar before answering, “Yeah, it’s going to be busy but that’s good. It means the time goes fast and usually ends up with a lot of extra in this jar, so I’m happy.”

“I bet,” Lazarus snarked back but he bet that Joel didn’t notice. He was right.

“Another?” He held up the bottle of his whisky, waggling it around, and that smile was still pasted onto his face.

“Aye, fill her up.” Lazarus pushed his glass over and Joel topped it up.

“So, have you decided?” Joel asked, at the same time putting together an order for one of the waitresses, his hands grabbing drinks and glasses while she read them off her pad and quickly placed them onto her tray before returning his attention to Lazarus, who knew he should be happy at having such a good worker under his employment instead of annoyed.

“I’m staying for now.”

“Okay, I’ll make sure to tend to you.” Joel gave him a nod before he sped off to deal with other customers, still fucking smiling.

 Lazarus watched as Joel and Alma, the other bartender on duty, took care of business. The two of them working quickly to get orders out, both for the customers standing at the bar and for the waitresses who were shouting orders at them. He couldn’t help but be impressed, they were good at their jobs, but that’s why they worked for him; he only employed the best. His bar manager, Matteo, was at the opposite end, helping out as they started to get busy. Lazarus checked his watch, noting the other bartenders would be arriving shortly.

After that, Matteo would disappear to his office to do his paperwork and whatever else he had to do to run the place, only coming back if he was needed. He liked that he could leave Matteo in charge; hell, he had so many businesses that he’d be run ragged if he had to deal with the day to day running of them all.

It didn’t stop him from dropping in without notice though. That always kept them on their toes, and if he found anything amiss, they soon saw a side of him that kept them on the straight and narrow from then on. In fact, he relished that part, especially when it was a new staff member and they were unaware of who, or more importantly, what he was.

That first time, that first look, when he unleashed his power, his darkness… that was glorious.

Lazarus couldn’t help but take pleasure from the fear that washed over them… No, not fear… downright terror as they saw the beast inside him. Saw what he was capable of.

Hell, he couldn’t help himself from relishing in the emotions that rolled off them; he lapped them up like a baby at its mother’s breast. He couldn’t help who he was, what he was, or what gave him pleasure.

Swirling the amber liquid around in his glass, he inhaled the tangy, almost citrus-fruit aromas wafting up together with a slight honeysuckle scent… nice. One of his favorite whisky blends he’d had shipped over from Scotland, but not one of the most expensive. Those he kept for special occasions, but, before he could take another drink, a disturbance at the entrance caught his attention. His sensitive ears picked up everything as his doormen yelled at someone who was obviously attempting to get past them.

“Good luck with that”, Lazarus thought briefly before a body rushed inside, quickly followed by the burly men who manned the door.

He didn’t think twice, slamming his glass down and hopping off his stool, Lazarus sped forward to intercede the body completely dressed in black. He took in the disheveled state of the person, dirt on their clothes and one important detail hit him as he closed in: a long dark braid swung down their back. All the way to curvy hips encased in denim and knee high black boots.

“What the fuck?” he cursed under his breath as he sped forward.

His feet moved with lightning speed as he covered the distance in a blur of movement, passing people whose heads spun around wondering what the rush of air was that had caused their clothes to flap around them, and seeing nothing because he was already gone. Their dazed and confused faces as they looked all around were comical but nothing new to him.

His eyes were glued to the intruder, that long braid swinging around, and Lazarus couldn’t believe a female had managed to get past his men and into his club. How the hell had that happened?

And what was going on with her? She was obviously hurt and running from someone. He could scent blood, the smell intoxicating and growing stronger the nearer he drew to her. She was looking back over her shoulder, keeping an eye on his men, who were pursuing her, and she didn’t see him until the last moment. Her eyes dark and cold as they locked with his blue ones. Lazarus was surprised to see not a hint of fear staring back at him. Not even when he tackled her; deftly stepping to the side, his arms grabbed her roughly around the waist, sweeping her off her feet and spinning her around with the speed she’d been careening toward him.

She’d tried to veer away, her eyes darting all around, but there was nowhere to go. Bodies were everywhere and her legs knocked a couple who shouted in annoyance before they saw his men and quickly moved away. A circle emptied around them, people worrying they’d get caught up in whatever was going down as his guys came stampeding toward them…nobody messed with them.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” He held her back to his front, his mouth at the shell of her ear as his keen sight took in the wounds on her face.

She’d been in a fight, that much was clear, and she’d taken quite a beating. The left side of her face was puffy and bruising already, a cut at the side of her eye was bleeding profusely, and she had a split lip to boot.

“Let me go,” she replied coldly, struggling in his arms violently and with a strength that defied her size.

 She continued to struggle until he tightened his hold. His steely grip a clear warning that she was going nowhere unless he allowed it, and that wasn’t happening anytime soon. Not until he found out what the hell was going on.

Raised voices behind him had him turning to look over his shoulder…two men had turned up and were now arguing with his staff. And they didn’t look happy. One had a bloody nose and the other appeared to have a knife wound to his upper arm.

“Did you do that?” he whispered, his lips so close to her that he felt her skin as he spoke, her body shuddering.  Then she kicked his shin and moved her head back fast to try and bash him right in the middle of his face.

Hell, if he hadn’t seen it coming and didn’t have reflexes as fast as he did, he’d be sporting a broken nose, and a lesser man would probably have loosened his grip and allowed her to escape. Then again, that was probably her plan.

Damn it, she was a firecracker, but he merely tightened his grip again. She inhaled sharply as he did; her body tight against him, her scent invading him, and he could feel her tensing her muscles as she readied to make another bid for freedom. Aye, as if that was going to happen. Was she deluded?

“I said: let me go,” she repeated, her voice just as cold, but Lazarus felt the change in her body. She wanted to run, that much was obvious, but it was more than that. She was desperate to escape. He could sense it in every cell of her being as she wriggled in his arms.

Why? What the fuck was going on?

He put her down onto her feet, holding onto her arm with a vice-like grip, and turned around, keeping her behind him as he faced the men.

“Who the fuck are you and why are you chasing this woman into my club?” he snarled, anger rising up. Why? He wasn’t sure. Yet.

The one with the wound on his arm pushed forward, trying to look around him to see the woman.

“Give her to me, now, and we’ll get out of your hair. We can forget all about this.”

Lazarus looked him up and down, his senses going into overdrive. Scum was the first word that sprang to mind. Lowlife was the second, and bully was the next. He knew this kind of man. Seen their type over and over again…and he loathed them.

Despised was more accurate, and he wasn’t about to hand this woman over to him. Not a fucking chance.

He was tall, almost as tall as Lazarus, and he was wide, but there was no muscle mass there; it was pure blubber. Lazarus would bet his last dollar that this thug would use his size to intimidate, especially women, and he wouldn’t put it past this ass to do more than that. He could scent it on him, see it in him, and he knew his kind.

“What’s your name? As I said, this is my club. I own this place, so give me the damn courtesy of answering my fucking question before I lose my patience. Trust me, you don’t want me to do that.”

Lazarus glared over at the man, allowing some of his supernatural powers free, including permitting his eyes to turn fiery red and his fangs to spring free. He never hid the fact of what he was, but he also didn’t advertise it either, unless it was to his advantage. And at this moment, he wanted this fucker to know exactly who and what he was dealing with; a powerful and deadly Vampire.

It worked, in spades. His face losing all color as he stumbled back. His blood dripping slowly down his arm, falling through the air with a soft whisper before landing on the floor… plop. A dull noise as the crimson globules made contact, his ears heard them loud and clear and his nostrils flared to take in the essence of the man before him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” His wheedling tone drew his attention back to his face. “My name’s Evan Smythson, and this bitch here broke into my loft where me and my buddy had just returned after a few drinks. She attacked me with a fucking knife and broke his nose before escaping out the damn window. We chased her and she came in here so we followed.”

He waved his arm back to his friend, as if attempting to get him to back him up, but he didn’t. The other man remained in place and silent. Interesting.

“And you’ve never seen her before?”

Lazarus kept his eyes pinned on Smythson as he shook his head before blustering out, his uninjured arm raising to stab a finger toward the woman behind Lazarus, “Never. I don’t know this crazy ass whore. Maybe she was gonna rob my place and didn’t expect us to come back. I’ve no fucking idea. All I know is she attacked us.”

Lazarus tipped his head, retracting his fangs and looking back at the female he still held. Her eyes were full of hatred as she glared over at Smythson. Pure, unadulterated hatred. Not the look of someone who had broken in with plans to rob a place, and certainly not a look of someone who didn’t know him. She did. You didn’t look at another person with such loathing for no reason.

“But you two managed to get the weapon from her, didn’t you?” Lazarus pressed, raising his eyebrow and spearing this piece of shit in place.

Smythson’s feet shuffled, looking back at his buddy who hadn’t said a word and who had moved away by several yards. In fact, if it weren’t for Lazarus’ men, he was certain the second man would’ve fled by now.

“Well, yeah, but it took both of us to do it. She fought like a madwoman.” He held his injured arm out, looking for sympathy. Yeah, that wasn’t working. “Like some kind of crazy ninja chick. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“So…” Lazarus inhaled slowly, looking Smythson up and down and leaning over to look at his friend and then back to him again. “…two big, strong men against one woman. You get roughed up and you manage to get her weapon away, and then you decide to get your own back. Right? You rough her up a bit, as I can see from her bruises, cut eye, burst lip, instead of just calling the police. And I can guess what happened next.”

Smythson’s face turned white, anger rising as he shook his head vehemently and took a step back. He looked like he wanted to turn tail and run, but he didn’t, or rather he couldn’t. Not with his men at his back and his cold dark eyes keeping him pinned in place.

 “No, no, that’s not what happened.” Sweat started to pour down his face, fear showing as he realized Lazarus knew what he’d had in mind for the woman Lazarus now held behind him.

“Yes, it is,” Lazarus spat out, pointing a finger straight at him. “I know your type. You’re a bully and you didn’t like a woman coming into your home, you liked it far less that she got some hits in on you. So you had to teach her a lesson. What was next? Were you going to really teach her a lesson? Huh?”

That’s when he felt it. The woman’s entire body stiffened behind him briefly before the scents assaulted his nostrils: anger, disgust, and topping it all was fear. Hell yeah, that’s what was going to happen in this fucker’s loft. Only, it didn’t because she fought back even more and somehow managed to get out.

How she did that was a mystery, one he’d like to figure out. One that was taking root inside him and slithering around like a snake seeking its prey; just like he normally did. This woman wasn’t all she appeared to be, and with every passing second, Lazarus wanted to know more.

“But she got away, didn’t she?” he pressed again, his voice low and filled with venom. “Did she hurt your ego, Smythson? Is that why you ran her down? Or is it because you wanted to continue the game?”

She began to wriggle, tugging her arm in a vain attempt to break free, but he held fast as he motioned to his men.

“Get them out of here, and if I ever see either of you again, then I promise you that you’ll regret it. And by that, I mean in any of my clubs, on the street outside, or…oh shit, I just mean in general. Stay away, got it? And another thing, if I hear that you’ve hurt a woman, any woman, in any way whatsoever, I promise I’ll come for you. Believe me, you don’t want that to happen.”

He waited as they were manhandled out, enjoying the way they were treated; especially when Smythson complained and he was rewarded with a swift punch to the kidneys. Yeah, that would hurt for a while and probably have him peeing blood for a week. His friend was wiser, keeping his mouth shut, as he had done the entire time he’d been there. Although, that had Lazarus’s spidey senses tingling. Sometimes the quiet ones were the worst. Maybe he’d check him out when he had the time. He had Smythson’s name now so it would be easy enough for him to track his friend down; he was good at that.

“You can let me go now.”

Her voice settled over him like a dark whisper, causing a reaction inside that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Without a doubt, this woman intrigued him. How she’d managed to get the better of those two men was something he’d like to know. Never mind the fact she’d broke past his men and inside the club. The phrase some kind of crazy ninja chick stuck in his head. What had Smythson meant by that?

But more importantly, what was she doing in his home in the first place? Lazarus didn’t get the feeling that she was there to rob the guy. So what? In fact, he was one hundred percent certain that wasn’t the case.

And why was he still holding onto her instead of releasing her and allowing her to disappear into the night?

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Read Sneaky Peak of Dark Hunter HERE!

 

Warrior of Darkness

Dark Hunter

Chapter One

 

 

His fingers played with the steel of one of his favorite throwing knives in the pocket of his suit jacket… cold, silent, and deadly; just like him.

The action calmed him as he repeatedly ran the blade under and over his fingers and palm. It was small enough to carry anywhere on his body, and he had a couple more secreted away. One in his boot and another in a sheath at the base of his back… Hell, he rarely went anywhere without some kind of weapon, and blades were his favorite.

“Want another one, boss?” Joel, the barman, asked Lazarus as he sat in Fortune, one of the nightclubs he owned, pondering the file he’d received earlier. One that held a woman’s life in his hands. Literally.

The information contained within had already determined her fate; she’d die. And he’d take great pleasure taking her last breath. He’d watch closely as her eyes dimmed, growing glassy and grey as the life left them. They all did. Every last pair he’d gazed into as he’d taken their lives had followed the same route as their last breath left their body and their heart stopped beating… eyes glazing over and dimming until he was certain there was no longer anything left behind but a shell.

He’d put that on hold for the night, however, because if he dealt with the case now, his fury would take over and things would get ugly fast; a bloodbath would ensue, and that’s not how he carried out his assignments.

He was certain he wouldn’t be able to contain the darkness inside, absolutely positive it would break free and wreak bloody havoc. No doubt about it. It was hard enough keeping it harnessed on a good day. It had taken him a lifetime to learn how to do so. Fuck, it had taken many lifetimes to learn how to keep it in check. But on a day like today, after reading that shit? It would be impossible. So here he was, doing his damnedest to relax while trying to get the images out of his head from reading the file had brought.

He wasn’t sure that was achievable, not until he carried out his sentence anyway.

Even the loud music as it thudded around him while the club started to fill up didn’t help like it usually did, and he had yet to decide whether he’d stay and play. Or not.

He was riled up and maybe it was too dangerous for him to risk. He hadn’t made his mind up, but a few drinks would certainly help to relax him.

“Aye, sure.” He nodded over the bar and another whisky appeared, sliding across the sleek black bar top, his hand catching it before it dropped over the edge.

“You in for the night, boss?” Joel swiped a cloth over the already pristine bar, ensuring it was kept clean… as always. His dark brown hair combed to perfection to match his immaculate white shirt.

“I’ve not decided yet.” He raised his drink while Joel tipped his head and smiled; the guy always had a smile on his face. It earned him a ton of tips and he was a great worker, but sometimes his unending cheerfulness irritated the hell out of him.

Once, just once, Lazarus wanted him to moan about something… anything. Hell, there was enough in the damn world to gripe about, but no. Joel was always happy, no matter what was happening around him, or if the world was going to shit.

“I’ll keep ‘em coming then.” Joel gave him another of his damn smiles as he ran the cloth over the bar… again.

“Aye, you do that.” Lazarus’ fingers sped up, flicking his blade through them and attempting to calm the anger flaring to life inside him. “Looks like you’re going to be busy tonight, rushed off your feet, Joel.”

Joel set up a round of drinks for a lanky young man who looked like he needed a good dinner, or ten; he was so damn thin. But he certainly had money to burn as he ordered enough shots to sink the Titanic, which Joel poured out, two-handed and at breakneck speed, laughing and joking as he did.

“There you go, and remember to watch the clock; there’s two for one at midnight.” Joel pushed the tray over, grinning.

“Really? Thanks. Here.” The guy threw a bundle of cash over, a big bundle. “Keep the change and thanks for the tip. I’ll be back.”

He rang up the drinks and counted the money out, a large amount of cash going into his jar before answering, “Yeah, it’s going to be busy but that’s good. It means the time goes fast and usually ends up with a lot of extra in this jar, so I’m happy.”

“I bet,” Lazarus snarked back but he bet that Joel didn’t notice. He was right.

“Another?” He held up the bottle of his whisky, waggling it around, and that smile was still pasted onto his face.

“Aye, fill her up.” Lazarus pushed his glass over and Joel topped it up.

“So, have you decided?” Joel asked, at the same time putting together an order for one of the waitresses, his hands grabbing drinks and glasses while she read them off her pad and quickly placed them onto her tray before returning his attention to Lazarus, who knew he should be happy at having such a good worker under his employment instead of annoyed.

“I’m staying for now.”

“Okay, I’ll make sure to tend to you.” Joel gave him a nod before he sped off to deal with other customers, still fucking smiling.

 Lazarus watched as Joel and Alma, the other bartender on duty, took care of business. The two of them working quickly to get orders out, both for the customers standing at the bar and for the waitresses who were shouting orders at them. He couldn’t help but be impressed, they were good at their jobs, but that’s why they worked for him; he only employed the best. His bar manager, Matteo, was at the opposite end, helping out as they started to get busy. Lazarus checked his watch, noting the other bartenders would be arriving shortly.

After that, Matteo would disappear to his office to do his paperwork and whatever else he had to do to run the place, only coming back if he was needed. He liked that he could leave Matteo in charge; hell, he had so many businesses that he’d be run ragged if he had to deal with the day to day running of them all.

It didn’t stop him from dropping in without notice though. That always kept them on their toes, and if he found anything amiss, they soon saw a side of him that kept them on the straight and narrow from then on. In fact, he relished that part, especially when it was a new staff member and they were unaware of who, or more importantly, what he was.

That first time, that first look, when he unleashed his power, his darkness… that was glorious.

Lazarus couldn’t help but take pleasure from the fear that washed over them… No, not fear… downright terror as they saw the beast inside him. Saw what he was capable of.

Hell, he couldn’t help himself from relishing in the emotions that rolled off them; he lapped them up like a baby at its mother’s breast. He couldn’t help who he was, what he was, or what gave him pleasure.

Swirling the amber liquid around in his glass, he inhaled the tangy, almost citrus-fruit aromas wafting up together with a slight honeysuckle scent… nice. One of his favorite whisky blends he’d had shipped over from Scotland, but not one of the most expensive. Those he kept for special occasions, but, before he could take another drink, a disturbance at the entrance caught his attention. His sensitive ears picked up everything as his doormen yelled at someone who was obviously attempting to get past them.

“Good luck with that”, Lazarus thought briefly before a body rushed inside, quickly followed by the burly men who manned the door.

He didn’t think twice, slamming his glass down and hopping off his stool, Lazarus sped forward to intercede the body completely dressed in black. He took in the disheveled state of the person, dirt on their clothes and one important detail hit him as he closed in: a long dark braid swung down their back. All the way to curvy hips encased in denim and knee high black boots.

“What the fuck?” he cursed under his breath as he sped forward.

His feet moved with lightning speed as he covered the distance in a blur of movement, passing people whose heads spun around wondering what the rush of air was that had caused their clothes to flap around them, and seeing nothing because he was already gone. Their dazed and confused faces as they looked all around were comical but nothing new to him.

His eyes were glued to the intruder, that long braid swinging around, and Lazarus couldn’t believe a female had managed to get past his men and into his club. How the hell had that happened?

And what was going on with her? She was obviously hurt and running from someone. He could scent blood, the smell intoxicating and growing stronger the nearer he drew to her. She was looking back over her shoulder, keeping an eye on his men, who were pursuing her, and she didn’t see him until the last moment. Her eyes dark and cold as they locked with his blue ones. Lazarus was surprised to see not a hint of fear staring back at him. Not even when he tackled her; deftly stepping to the side, his arms grabbed her roughly around the waist, sweeping her off her feet and spinning her around with the speed she’d been careening toward him.

She’d tried to veer away, her eyes darting all around, but there was nowhere to go. Bodies were everywhere and her legs knocked a couple who shouted in annoyance before they saw his men and quickly moved away. A circle emptied around them, people worrying they’d get caught up in whatever was going down as his guys came stampeding toward them…nobody messed with them.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” He held her back to his front, his mouth at the shell of her ear as his keen sight took in the wounds on her face.

She’d been in a fight, that much was clear, and she’d taken quite a beating. The left side of her face was puffy and bruising already, a cut at the side of her eye was bleeding profusely, and she had a split lip to boot.

“Let me go,” she replied coldly, struggling in his arms violently and with a strength that defied her size.

 She continued to struggle until he tightened his hold. His steely grip a clear warning that she was going nowhere unless he allowed it, and that wasn’t happening anytime soon. Not until he found out what the hell was going on.

Raised voices behind him had him turning to look over his shoulder…two men had turned up and were now arguing with his staff. And they didn’t look happy. One had a bloody nose and the other appeared to have a knife wound to his upper arm.

“Did you do that?” he whispered, his lips so close to her that he felt her skin as he spoke, her body shuddering.  Then she kicked his shin and moved her head back fast to try and bash him right in the middle of his face.

Hell, if he hadn’t seen it coming and didn’t have reflexes as fast as he did, he’d be sporting a broken nose, and a lesser man would probably have loosened his grip and allowed her to escape. Then again, that was probably her plan.

Damn it, she was a firecracker, but he merely tightened his grip again. She inhaled sharply as he did; her body tight against him, her scent invading him, and he could feel her tensing her muscles as she readied to make another bid for freedom. Aye, as if that was going to happen. Was she deluded?

“I said: let me go,” she repeated, her voice just as cold, but Lazarus felt the change in her body. She wanted to run, that much was obvious, but it was more than that. She was desperate to escape. He could sense it in every cell of her being as she wriggled in his arms.

Why? What the fuck was going on?

He put her down onto her feet, holding onto her arm with a vice-like grip, and turned around, keeping her behind him as he faced the men.

“Who the fuck are you and why are you chasing this woman into my club?” he snarled, anger rising up. Why? He wasn’t sure. Yet.

The one with the wound on his arm pushed forward, trying to look around him to see the woman.

“Give her to me, now, and we’ll get out of your hair. We can forget all about this.”

Lazarus looked him up and down, his senses going into overdrive. Scum was the first word that sprang to mind. Lowlife was the second, and bully was the next. He knew this kind of man. Seen their type over and over again…and he loathed them.

Despised was more accurate, and he wasn’t about to hand this woman over to him. Not a fucking chance.

He was tall, almost as tall as Lazarus, and he was wide, but there was no muscle mass there; it was pure blubber. Lazarus would bet his last dollar that this thug would use his size to intimidate, especially women, and he wouldn’t put it past this ass to do more than that. He could scent it on him, see it in him, and he knew his kind.

“What’s your name? As I said, this is my club. I own this place, so give me the damn courtesy of answering my fucking question before I lose my patience. Trust me, you don’t want me to do that.”

Lazarus glared over at the man, allowing some of his supernatural powers free, including permitting his eyes to turn fiery red and his fangs to spring free. He never hid the fact of what he was, but he also didn’t advertise it either, unless it was to his advantage. And at this moment, he wanted this fucker to know exactly who and what he was dealing with; a powerful and deadly Vampire.

It worked, in spades. His face losing all color as he stumbled back. His blood dripping slowly down his arm, falling through the air with a soft whisper before landing on the floor… plop. A dull noise as the crimson globules made contact, his ears heard them loud and clear and his nostrils flared to take in the essence of the man before him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” His wheedling tone drew his attention back to his face. “My name’s Evan Smythson, and this bitch here broke into my loft where me and my buddy had just returned after a few drinks. She attacked me with a fucking knife and broke his nose before escaping out the damn window. We chased her and she came in here so we followed.”

He waved his arm back to his friend, as if attempting to get him to back him up, but he didn’t. The other man remained in place and silent. Interesting.

“And you’ve never seen her before?”

Lazarus kept his eyes pinned on Smythson as he shook his head before blustering out, his uninjured arm raising to stab a finger toward the woman behind Lazarus, “Never. I don’t know this crazy ass whore. Maybe she was gonna rob my place and didn’t expect us to come back. I’ve no fucking idea. All I know is she attacked us.”

Lazarus tipped his head, retracting his fangs and looking back at the female he still held. Her eyes were full of hatred as she glared over at Smythson. Pure, unadulterated hatred. Not the look of someone who had broken in with plans to rob a place, and certainly not a look of someone who didn’t know him. She did. You didn’t look at another person with such loathing for no reason.

“But you two managed to get the weapon from her, didn’t you?” Lazarus pressed, raising his eyebrow and spearing this piece of shit in place.

Smythson’s feet shuffled, looking back at his buddy who hadn’t said a word and who had moved away by several yards. In fact, if it weren’t for Lazarus’ men, he was certain the second man would’ve fled by now.

“Well, yeah, but it took both of us to do it. She fought like a madwoman.” He held his injured arm out, looking for sympathy. Yeah, that wasn’t working. “Like some kind of crazy ninja chick. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“So…” Lazarus inhaled slowly, looking Smythson up and down and leaning over to look at his friend and then back to him again. “…two big, strong men against one woman. You get roughed up and you manage to get her weapon away, and then you decide to get your own back. Right? You rough her up a bit, as I can see from her bruises, cut eye, burst lip, instead of just calling the police. And I can guess what happened next.”

Smythson’s face turned white, anger rising as he shook his head vehemently and took a step back. He looked like he wanted to turn tail and run, but he didn’t, or rather he couldn’t. Not with his men at his back and his cold dark eyes keeping him pinned in place.

 “No, no, that’s not what happened.” Sweat started to pour down his face, fear showing as he realized Lazarus knew what he’d had in mind for the woman Lazarus now held behind him.

“Yes, it is,” Lazarus spat out, pointing a finger straight at him. “I know your type. You’re a bully and you didn’t like a woman coming into your home, you liked it far less that she got some hits in on you. So you had to teach her a lesson. What was next? Were you going to really teach her a lesson? Huh?”

That’s when he felt it. The woman’s entire body stiffened behind him briefly before the scents assaulted his nostrils: anger, disgust, and topping it all was fear. Hell yeah, that’s what was going to happen in this fucker’s loft. Only, it didn’t because she fought back even more and somehow managed to get out.

How she did that was a mystery, one he’d like to figure out. One that was taking root inside him and slithering around like a snake seeking its prey; just like he normally did. This woman wasn’t all she appeared to be, and with every passing second, Lazarus wanted to know more.

“But she got away, didn’t she?” he pressed again, his voice low and filled with venom. “Did she hurt your ego, Smythson? Is that why you ran her down? Or is it because you wanted to continue the game?”

She began to wriggle, tugging her arm in a vain attempt to break free, but he held fast as he motioned to his men.

“Get them out of here, and if I ever see either of you again, then I promise you that you’ll regret it. And by that, I mean in any of my clubs, on the street outside, or…oh shit, I just mean in general. Stay away, got it? And another thing, if I hear that you’ve hurt a woman, any woman, in any way whatsoever, I promise I’ll come for you. Believe me, you don’t want that to happen.”

He waited as they were manhandled out, enjoying the way they were treated; especially when Smythson complained and he was rewarded with a swift punch to the kidneys. Yeah, that would hurt for a while and probably have him peeing blood for a week. His friend was wiser, keeping his mouth shut, as he had done the entire time he’d been there. Although, that had Lazarus’s spidey senses tingling. Sometimes the quiet ones were the worst. Maybe he’d check him out when he had the time. He had Smythson’s name now so it would be easy enough for him to track his friend down; he was good at that.

“You can let me go now.”

Her voice settled over him like a dark whisper, causing a reaction inside that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Without a doubt, this woman intrigued him. How she’d managed to get the better of those two men was something he’d like to know. Never mind the fact she’d broke past his men and inside the club. The phrase some kind of crazy ninja chick stuck in his head. What had Smythson meant by that?

But more importantly, what was she doing in his home in the first place? Lazarus didn’t get the feeling that she was there to rob the guy. So what? In fact, he was one hundred percent certain that wasn’t the case.

And why was he still holding onto her instead of releasing her and allowing her to disappear into the night?

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Author Spotlight…McKayla Schutt!

 

I’m soooooooo excited to bring you this fabulous spotlight on McKayla Schutt…it’s jam-packed and exciting! It’s got an entire first chapter of a book that’s not even out yet! (psst the chapter hasn’t been proofed so forgive her if there’s any boo boos!) There’s even some character ‘interview’ thingies…which McKayla does fabulously….so, are you ready to dive in? I’ll give you the links and stalker links first then you can read until your heart’s content!


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Avery- *Eyes flash red.* Good evening. My name is Avery Branigan and I have secrets I must keep to protect myself and my people. I’ll give you one hint, I drink blood to survive and ask me if I sparkle might be your last words. *Straightens his shoulders and grins.* I bet most of you will get the hint. My world is filled with danger and not a good place for humans but my soul mate is just that…human. Her blood will call to every single vampire but I’d rather die than let another touch her. When I become King of LA things go from semi normal to all hell in a fang.


Now if you want to know what happens between me and my mate Malia check out Blood Games: Avery for the pre-order price of $2.99. It will go up soon after release so don’t miss us. *Winks.* I bet I’ll see you soon.


 


Malia- *Waves.* Hello everyone! I’m Malia Alonso and I’ve been craving one thing, excitement in my slightly dull life. But I never expected to find it at work in the feeding room at my father’s club. Yes, I know Vampires exist but it’s a secret so let’s keep it that way. Now when I met Avery he’d just finished in more ways than one with a blonde bimbo and he has the nerve to ask me on a date! Something about him calls to something deep in my soul and I can’t help but say yes. *Pushes back her black hair.* I know I’m losing my damn mind but I want him even after what I’ve seen. If you’re ready to find out more go grab Blood Games: Avery for the pre-order price of $2.99. The price will rise like the sun soon after release. *Smiles.* I’ll see you all later.


 


And now for the entire first Chapter…….


 


CHAPTER ONE


Avery


 


Damn fangs! Avery Branigan clamped his mouth shut to keep himself from draining the woman in front of him. The club bounced with females in skimpy clothing, all of them attracted to Avery’s power and beauty. Yet he wanted more than just a blood donor. He wanted a willing partner to fuck hard and stay after the first night. Someone to share his secrets with and someone who trusted him.


Sometimes the blood craze created from the vamp mark, almost out weighted the extra few hours of time before sunrise. Light bounced off the feminine V with swirls, a moon resting at the top and two more curves coming from the moon to represent some balance shit. At least that’s what the witch said when she marked him the first time. The mark had a shelf life close to a henna tattoo and when the top curves began to fade, he knew the mark wouldn’t last longer on his inner wrist. Most newbie vampires had no clue about the existence of the mark since the King had to give permission to gain the damn thing. All the witches in town were on the King’s payroll so no one else could have the specialty item.



Avery held back a growl at the memory of his King forcing the mark or he’d lose the trust of his ruler. The King had some things Avery had do to with humans during the day to draw away suspicion of the vampire existence. The meetings were with the Mayor and local chief of police. The need to drink twice as much blood coursed through his system due to the freaking tattoo. He itched the mark on his wrist before meeting the female’s gaze. Thankfully he didn’t have to deal with the blood craze for much longer since it only lasted a few short days like the mark itself.


“You’re a great dancer.” The blonde smiled back at him as she rubbed her ass against Avery’s cock. He lifted his lips into a smirk but made sure to keep his fangs hidden. He always kept up with the local lingo to continue to blend in and appear like another human. Most regions had this as a law to keep away suspicions even before werewolves came out of the magical closet. Now even more so the vampires had to be careful on who they let in and speaking like a normal twenty-something of even a thirty-something kept them undercover easily. Yet some days he missed the way humans spoke before the internet broke everyone.



“Want to join me in the hallway?” He leaned down next to her ear to talk around his fangs. Her face lit up. He’s hot enough to fuck! Her inner voice hit him without even needing to try and focus on her. Normally he kept his mind blocked form other’s thoughts and only opened up when in fights or when he needed the truth.



“Sure.” Her eyes sparkled with delight and her pulse picked up a bit. He’s so fucking hot. Her thoughts of him rolled into his head but he closed his mind to the other dancers. He grabbed her hand bringing her toward the hall to the back exit. He pushed the door open to the closet designated for the Vampires. When he closed the door, the female started crawling up his body with a hungry fever.


“Look at me.” Avery put a bit of his powers into his voice trying to make sure it sounded smooth over his fangs. She did as he asked but kept moving her hands up his arms. “Don’t scream. Do you understand?” She dropped her hands to her sides and nodded. Avery tipped her head and licked her neck and she shivered. After decades of learning control, he knew how much to take before he did irreparable damage. Only a handful of humans died by his fangs and each one deserved it in their own way. Plus drinking a human dry meant disposing of the body and he didn’t have time for that shit either. He sunk his teeth into her flesh and the coppery liquid covered his tongue. Warmth radiated through his body. More, oh I need way more. His normally slow heart picked up its pace and he dragged the blood into his throat.



She let loose a moan making his cock strain against his jeans. The more he pulled from her the harder it became to push down the urge to screw her.



“Oh fuck me, hard.” Her words rolled out breaking his concentration. Instead of pushing back his urges he lifted up her skirt and then pulled out his dick. This wouldn’t be the best fuck of his life, but it would ease the tension in his body.



He entered her, and she cried out giving him better access to her neck. Bounding hard and fast into her as he pulled more blood from her body. She climaxed, and he followed a few moments after her. He licked the wound making it heal and she had a hazy look to her eyes. She slipped away making him pop from her body. He pushed his cock into his pants and zipped it quickly.



“You will only remember getting fucked in the hall and nothing else.” Avery made sure she kept her gaze locked with him, so the power of compulsion worked correctly.



“I don’t even know your name.” She lifted one of her eyebrows as she shimmied her skirt back into place.



“Make one up, sweet cheeks.” Avery winked at her and she swooned a little.



“Well thanks for the good time.” She opened the door and a woman with black hair and brown eyes met Avery’s gaze. The blonde smiled at her. “He’s an awesome fuck.” The blonde giggled as she sauntered toward the dance floor. The brunet’s features contorted in disgust.



“Are your fangs connected to your cock?” She tipped her head then stormed off. He checked to make sure his fangs were back up before chasing after her.



“Wait a minute.” Avery called out and she stopped with her hands on the back door.



“I’m not like the other woman who just sleeps with men or a vampire for that matter.” Her head whipped around, and her brown gaze met his.



“How in the hell did you know?” Avery growled over his descending fangs. He knew how to keep his lips low enough to cover them when anger consumed his soul.



“I’m the owner’s daughter, Malia. I know why the room is there. It’s meant for feeding not fucking.” She snapped back. He glanced around making sure they were alone-ish. Most of the humans continued to bump and grind on the dance floor giving him semblance of privacy with Malia.



“Have you ever visited the room?” Avery stepped toward her, he liked the way her breath hitched at the close proximity. His cock hardened at the thought of drinking from her neck.



“I may have been a willing donor before, but I didn’t sleep with them.” She pushed back her black hair from her neck giving him a good view of her skin and pounding artery. He tried to push his fangs up into place but they wouldn’t listen to him, like they had a mind of their freaking own.



“Did you donate to a female then? Any male would need to open you up like a flower.” He leaned closer, his lips just above her ear. “And make you scream their name while they drank from you.”



Her breath caught for a second then she pushed him back. “Not all men are as perverted as you.” Malia spat back.



“It was a female then or a gay man.” Avery smiled showing off his fangs refusal to fucking go back into place. She stared at his lips before meeting his gaze.



“It was a friend, not that it’s your business. But I’m sure there are plenty of willing fuck buddies on the dance floor you can choose from.” Malia side stepped him toward the stairs to the offices but Avery stopped her with his arm in her path.



“It would be a greater pleasure to spend more time with you.” Avery smirked at her wide eyes.



“I’m not willing to donate right now.” She tilted her head up and glared at him. Images of pressing her against the wall and drawing her blood into his mouth rolled around. His cock would be deep inside her as he drank of course. Maybe she’s right, my cock is connected to my fangs.



“What about a willing sex partner?” Avery adjusted his own brown hair. Her little heart raced making it hard to focus on anything but the blood coursing through her sweet body.

“After I saw you with the bimbo, pass.” Malia grabbed his arm, heat raced under his skin and his body urged him to take her right there and mate with her. His cock strained again. He blinked quickly, trying to process what his body told him about the little human. Is she really my mate? The little heat surge and sudden urge to be with her told him yes but he needed to be sure.



“How about dinner then? I’d love to take you out.” He kept her in place as she pulled on his arm.



“Why? Is it the challenge I present or something else?” She gave up on trying to move him and eyed the other way where he didn’t hold up his arm.



“Something about you intrigues me. What it is, I’m not quite sure.” Avery shrugged playing it off. Deep down he knew in his soul, Malia belonged in his life as his mate. But he also needed to get to know her more and make sure she felt the connection before he said a word about it.



“Fine, you can take me to dinner tomorrow, if you let me go now.” Malia raised an eyebrow. Avery leaned in closer to her and took in her heady orange spice scent.



“Deal. I will pick you up here just after dusk.” Avery moved his arm and she walked out of the club leaving Avery with a raging hard on and a blood lust for her sweet little ass. Avery looked at his watch, he had one stop before sunrise and tomorrow he would convince Malia to be a willing donor and partner.



He glanced down at his mark, it wouldn’t last longer which worked in his favor since he wanted tomorrow to be free of the blood lust it created. For a second, he debated on re-creating the mark to gain a little with Malia. He strolled out of the club and weighed his options.



Either way he had to see the local vampire king, Roland and talk to him about it. A growl vibrated through his lungs at the thought of him forcing another one on him again. Part of him wanted it, yes but on the other hand not having the fear or draining Malia dry would help him. He liked having control of his own body even if getting it redone gave him more time with Malia. Roland liked to think the mark makes a vampire weak, but Avery knew better. Once he learned to control the blood lust or blood craze, the uncomfortable blinding sun didn’t faze him. It sucked but he knew how to deal with it. Either way, tomorrow night will be something I’ll remember forever.










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Cover Reveal! Dark Hunter!

 

 COVER REVEAL….

Man. Vampire. Dark Hunter.

 

When a monstrous tragedy in my past forged me into the Dark Hunter I am today, I mistakenly believed I’d become invincible.

 

But when she runs into one of my clubs, everything changes.

 

Ariana Harmon ignites something inside of me, driving my inner beast insane. Our paths crossed, and now our fates are sealed. Secrets are revealed and evil is coming.

 

I’ve no idea if either of us will survive—each other, or what’s headed our way.

 

Find out what lurks in the shadows of DARK HUNTER, the latest dark paranormal hit series by A K Michaels that readers are comparing to I T LUCAS and SHERRILYN KENYON.

 

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Sneak Peak of Double Desire!

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Always on the run…in case he tracks me down. He’s relentless. He’s evil. He’s the devil incarnate. He’s my father.

 

Peri’s eyes popped open, her skin tingling uncomfortably…then fear entered her sleepy consciousness. She shook her head, trying to clear it of the dream she’d been rudely awakened from. One that had been plaguing her more and more of late. The vision of a man with a large Wolf by his side still lingered, she couldn’t see the man’s face in her dream but she got the feeling he was handsome…every time. How she knew that was beyond her, it was more of the way she felt when she dreamt about them…again, strange, but it was a dream after all. She sighed thinking of them but when another shiver ran along her skin quickly followed by pain, she shot up and promptly fell to the side, tangled in her sleeping bag.

“Shit,” she couldn’t help the curse slipping free as she fought against the zipper, fear lapped at her belly and she hated that they could cause terror to invade her entire being and stop her resting. But she knew first-hand what they were capable of and she couldn’t waste any more time, she had to get away before they found her.

She’d thought she felt them the previous day, her magic ward sending tingles along her skin. When it stopped, she thought she’d been wrong and that she was safe. How stupid! She should’ve known better. Not taken any chances and moved on.

Now, while she struggled as dawn started to make an appearance, she hoped she hadn’t left it too late. Her only wish right now, was to let Daiki know she was leaving. Her one and only friend and the owner of the dojo whose backdoor she could see from the dank alley she was sleeping in. He worried about her, she knew that, so she didn’t want to simply disappear without speaking to him. A quick “Good-bye” would suffice even if she longed to stay and make a life here in San Francisco.

“Not happening,” she mumbled as her skin warmed up to alert her to the impending danger.

She finally managed to get out of her bag, rolling it up quickly and tying it to the top of her backpack. Her senses now on high alert as her eyes scanned the area around her. The alley was still dark, and it was filthy and smelled damn awful, but it had been safe for the past couple of weeks. Now, not so much, not if her instincts, and her magic was right.

Peri paused, uttering a quick spell of detection, and waited impatiently, tugging on her boots.

In less than a minute, she had her answer: they had found her and were close. Too damn near for comfort. She took one last, longing look toward the dojo before taking off as fast as her legs would carry her. She could feel their magic tendrils as they skimmed her back, searching, probing, in an attempt to halt her.

“Not a fucking chance,” she snarled, throwing a spell of her own over her shoulder. One she hoped would send them on a wild goose chase. One she prayed would give her just enough time to make her escape.

The alternative was not an option. She’d die before she’d allow them to get their filthy hands on her.

Her back stung for an altogether different reason as memories flooded her of her time at the hands of those that hunted her. Excruciating pain, both mental and physical were a daily occurrence for as long as she could remember. Her childhood nothing but a living hell. Torture, plain and simple, and she had the damn scars to prove it. No way was she going back there.

She picked up her pace, pushing herself to her limits. Her daily training regime came to her aid as she flew along alleyways like an Olympic athlete, although her terror always helped too. Adrenaline fueled her flight while her magic worked to conceal the noise she made as her feet crushed bottles and cans with haste. She ran full pelt around a corner, knowing the area well and heading towards the highway where she hoped to get a lift to anywhere that wasn’t here.

Careening in and out of alleys, she hurtled around yet another corner, checking behind her as she ran…and her body crashed into an immovable mass. Almost six foot of muscle barring her way.

“Hey there.” The large man grabbed her shoulders to steady her. “What’re you running from, little girl?”

She stared up into a face covered almost entirely by a bushy beard, friendly eyes staring down at her with concern. She gasped. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bump into you, but I gotta go.”

He looked around, scowling. “Is someone trying to hurt you? ‘Cause if they are I’ll whoop their asses good.”

Peri pushed herself away, she didn’t have time for this. She had to get away. “I’m all right, just got somewhere I need to be and I’m late.”

She lied easily, too easily. Peri didn’t want to be held up for more reasons than she could count but mainly she didn’t want to be caught by those hunting her. She also knew the man would be in great danger if he attempted to help her. That was something she couldn’t live with: an innocent’s death on her soul.

“Are you sure?” he answered as he scanned the area. “I can help you if you need it. Just say the word.”

“No, really.” Peri tried to step around the man and at that moment felt magic flying toward her. She knew it was futile now. It was going to hit and there was nowhere for him to go.

He frowned at her, obviously seeing her distress but he’d checked and saw nobody around so he couldn’t figure out who she was running from. If only he’d moved out of the way…but he hadn’t and now she felt something heading their way.

Energy sizzled around them, causing her skin to tingle and itch, but the Samaritan before her fared far worse. His eyes popped wide open as a strangled cry tore from his lips a moment before he collapsed to the ground.

Peri dropped to her knees, checking for a pulse and when her fingers felt the steady rhythm she exhaled loudly in relief before cursing. “Bastards!”

She heard running footsteps barreling toward her from the alley she’d vacated before the man on the ground stopped her. Her heart stuttered in her chest as fear and anger overcame her in equal measures. She wished she could stay to dole out some punishment to those who’d hurt her White Knight but knew that would be suicide so she glanced down at the man and did the only thing she could; a quick healing spell and a quick, “Sorry,” then she took off running as fast as possible.

Her feet slapped hard on the ground as she headed toward another alley on the other side of the road. She was familiar with the neighborhood so she hoped that would aid her escape as she darted into the mucky lane.

She could hear shouts behind her as her pursuers found the man they’d laid out, so she redoubled her efforts to get to the end of the lane. She also fought to voice a spell of her own, one to help hide her passage, gasping for breath as she did so.

The shouts grew fainter as she plunged headlong toward her escape, desperation helping her to speed up even more. She now ran like the Devil himself was after her, and truth be told, he was.

On and on she raced, not daring to stop for fear of being caught. Peri knew, without a doubt, she’d rather die than let them capture her. She refused to go back to that life that had her screaming awake from nightmares that reminded her of the horror of her life at their hands.

No. If push came to shove, this time she’d go down fighting.

When the truck stop came into view, she almost cried with relief, but she didn’t slow her frenzied pace until she slid along the side of a huge semi with its engine running. Peri took a deep breath, using her magic to influence the man in the cab before she stood on the side step and banged on the driver’s door. He shook his head as if to clear it before turning to stare at her.

“I need a lift.” She smiled, trying to hide her urgency and the fact she’d just run a damn marathon.

“Sure.” He nodded and she thanked the Goddess for her magic.

Peri jumped down, rushing around the front of the huge vehicle and got in as quickly as she could.

“Where you going?” the man asked with a look of confusion on his face.

“I’m not bothered, wherever you’re headed is good for me.”

“Weird,” he mumbled as he put the truck into gear and pulled away. “I never take hitchhikers.”

“Must be my lucky day.” Peri grinned as she settled down, her head resting on the glass.

She looked out sadly as she left behind the one person in the universe who’d looked out for her and prayed she’d be able to see him again. “Goodbye, Daiki,” she whispered as they joined the highway, on the road to goodness knew where.

Peri took a moment to gather her thoughts, and her magic, summoning a spell to hide her tracks. Once again, she’d evaded her hunters but she couldn’t help but wonder how long her luck would hold out. That had been a close call and an innocent had almost died because of her. She’d have to be more careful and ensure that never happened again. She knew she would drown in the guilt if anyone died because of her.

“Keep moving, stay safe, and don’t let anyone in,” she told herself aloud. Her mantra that kept her safe. Kept her alive. One that she had to live by because if she didn’t…the consequences would be fatal.

“What?” the driver asked, glancing over at her with a puzzled look. He was obviously still wondering how she’d ended up next to him.

“Oh, nothing, just thinking aloud.” Peri gave him a shrug before curling up against the window.

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