Age: 36
Species: Werewolf
Book Hero: Cranberry Blood (Book 1 in The Blood Series)
Brendan walks a very fine line between being a beta male and an alpha. He is fourth in charge of the Pack, which means he is one of the more stronger Werewolves and can step in to that dominant possession, but he is completely happy following orders, and basically doing anything that needs to be done.
He sees women as equals, and unless he comes across a female who genuinely needs help, he has no problem with letting them fight their own battles. Unlike Owen, and many other alpha males, who would basically step in.
Brendan is a good friend, and he is very good a listening. He is confident but not to the point where it radiates from him. He can be cheeky and a little cocky if the occasion calls for it, but he is comfortable with himself.
He is moody at times, and he has scars and past issues that he hasn't been able to fully let go of yet; for a number of reason.
When I first sat down to write Brendan he was completely different. Cranberry Blood, which is the book that he is the leading character in was the first novel that I actually wrote - although the version published is not the first version I did write - and both he, Heather and a number of the characters went through a lot of alterations. But like Owen, once I sat down and heard his past and got to know what made him the way he was, I grew very fond of him very quickly. And I have to say the first time you meet him, you aren't entirely sure of him straight away, but he has layers; he has his reasons for being the way he is, and he really is rather delicious once you get to the heart of him.
I honestly prefer men who you can have a laugh with. Be friends; lovers, partner. A man who isn't going to basically put you do; who respects you, and supports you, and is fine with you being the same with him. And yet there is still good chemistry in both the physical and mental sense.
Where oh where can I find such a man? ;-p
~ * ~
(A dark sensual paranormal romance)
Book: One
BLURB:
Killing Vampires? Easy. Tracking someone? Simple. Helping, and protecting a Vampire slayer... Bloody hard work!
Thirteen years ago, Brendan Daniels made a deal with a psychic. In exchange for information on the whereabouts of a Rogue Werewolf, he promised to help and protect Sofia's granddaughter. Unfortunately, he had no idea what he was getting himself, or his Pack, into.
Nothing about Heather is simple, from her weird dietary needs to her life’s mission. The girl can handle herself, but the promise to protect her soon becomes a need, and one that he can't fully understand.
Vampire Slayer. Born Infected. Blood addict... but not by choice.
Heather Ryan is the most recent slayer in a long family line. Like all before her, she has spent her life searching for her ancestor, Marko Pavel, the Vampire her family has sworn to kill. If that isn't complicated enough, Heather is also a born "Infected", and to keep her from becoming insane or giving in to her darker side, she is on a very strict diet.
Grandmother Sofia has passed, so now it is up to Heather to take the family legacy into her own hands, all alone: or at least, it would have been, if her Grandmother hadn't sent a Werewolf to help her.
What is the irritating Brendan supposed to help Heather with? Sofia never told either one of them. But it doesn't take long for Heather and Brendan to find out that the Vampires have big plans, and that the fiends have waited a long time for them both.
This title contains explicit language and some scenes of a sexual nature.
Length: Novel| Content: Sensual Romance| Publisher: Noble Romance Publishing
Purchase: Noble Romance Publishing| Amazon.com| Amazon.co.uk| Amazon.fr| Amazon.it| Bookstrand.com| AllRomanceEbooks|Barnes&Noble
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Excerpt:
Brendan pulled back the covers. Cool air beat against my sensitive, bare legs. He offered me his hand. After I stared at it for a moment, he laughed.
"Just take my hand, Heather."
I pulled myself gently out of the bed, then placed my hand in his.
"You have been off your feet for a while, so I don't know how steady you'll be."
I nodded and pushed myself off the bed; slight licks of pain travelled up my calves and thighs, irritating the bruised muscles as I stood. At my whimper, Brendan's right arm wound around my waist.
"Are you okay?"
I hissed as a duller pain throbbed up my right side.
"Shit. Sorry." He loosened his grip.
"It's okay. I just—" I took a deep breath, then exhaled. "I'm a little sore, that's all."
"Do you want me to carry you?"
"No. No, thank you."
"Well, the bathroom is just through the door behind the dressing screen."
We slowly walked across the room.
Pins and needles shot through my legs with every step. Surprisingly, my teeth hadn't cracked from the pressure of them grinding, since I’d clamped my mouth tighter than a lid on a jar.
Brendan pushed open the mahogany door, then switched on the light. The whitewashed bathroom felt as impersonal as the bedroom. Fresh white towels hung neatly from a silver heating rack; a full bottle of lavender hand soap sat on the counter. My focus settled on the giant tub and the assorted soaps neatly arranged on a small shelf beside it. I walked to the white ceramic sink and placed my hands on the bowl while Brendan stood awkwardly beside me.
"Would it be okay if I used the bath?" I asked, gulping through the fading licks of pain.
"Sure." He plugged the drain, then turned on the taps.
I watched as he picked up a pink bottle and popped the cap. He tipped the liquid under the hot, running water. I smiled as the scent of strawberries floated up with the tendrils of steam and filled the dry, scentless air.
"I don't need you to help me with anything else." I laughed lightly as he eyed my clothes. I still wore the male's shirt from the night at the blood house, and underpants; my jeans and boots had vanished, but thankfully, the dark, filthy shirt stopped mid-thigh. I smelled the stink of dry Vampire blood, dirt, chemicals, and sweat. I felt so dirty and sore.
"I didn't fully undress you this time," he said with a smile.
"How sad you must have been."
"I'm sure there will be plenty of other opportunities."
"I wouldn't count on it, wolf man."
"Will you at least let me help you take your bandages off?"
I stood straight and pulled up the shirt. Tightly-wrapped bandages covered my entire midsection. A lick of heat surfaced in my cheeks as I realized I had just flashed my panties at the man. Not that it really mattered, since he had apparently seen my personal items one too many times before.
I nodded hesitantly, and he walked over to me.
"Another souvenir." I tried to joke as he stood close to me. His hands gently slid around my back as he unclipped the bandage and began to unravel the cloth. "Do I want to be reminded of why I hurt in this general area?"
He looked down at me through golden eyes. "You . . . you had two of your ribs cracked."
"Ah." I shivered slightly as the steamy air touched my sensitive flesh.
"Graham, the Pack doctor, sorted you out."
"Please don't tell me you all spat on me?"
The smallest of smiles tugged at the corner of his lips. "No, we didn't spit. Cracked ribs on an average human take a week's rest for the pain to settle and seven weeks to heal. You heal quicker than that, especially when you have your mix."
He's been paying attention, at least.
"I'm no mathematician, but since you drank your mix for six days straight, I would say you will be as good as new in just over a week."
I took a quick breath as his hot fingertips brushed over my abdomen. His scent mixed with the smell of strawberries and the sound of his breathing echoed in my ears. The sheer awareness of him made goose bumps rise on my arms and back.
"But, that is, if you don't over- exert yourself, which, knowing you, you probably will."
The bandage tickled as he pulled it away and threw it in the waste-bin.
"There we go." His voice seemed deeper as his gaze wandered down my body. "Your bruising has gone down."
"That's good," I said idiotically.
He nodded and took hold of my hands. His gaze locked with mine.
"There are clean clothes in the wardrobe," he said, pulling my hands away from the shirt. "You can help yourself to any of them."
The material of the shirt brushed the tops of my thighs, covering me once more.
"Brendan?"
His focus dropped to my lips. "Hmm?"
"Thank you for getting me out."
"No problem." He turned abruptly, then walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
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