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A pick 'n' mix genre author. "I'm not greedy. I just like variety."

Tuesday, 31 October 2017

Tuesday Teaser: Cross My Heart

Every Tuesday I will share a teaser from Work in Progress' only.
So it will be teasers from all unpublished manuscripts. Nothing from already published books.

This weeks teaser is taken from the next book in my Blood Series, Cross My Heart, Book 1.5

It continues from the first Tuesday Teaser I posted 7 weeks ago, which you can read here.

Please remember it is still a rough draft so there will be mistakes and details are subject to change.

~ * ~

Then again my captors had drilled this life changing fact into me repeatedly since the moment I had first woke up and had refused to believe; refused to drink, which they had loved. Tormenting was apparently no fun if your victim was accepting of their situation. It had been somewhat hard, not to mention physically painful, to digest, especially since I couldn’t recall a flash of fangs or being filled with terror as one of the undead pounced on and fed from me; nor could I remember being fed blood or the agony of death or waking up reborn; all of which was suppose to take place according to Elle.
“So maybe I lied. Maybe I was wrong.”
My focus stayed fixed on that corner of the room; to her form which became more solid with each second. You would never admit you were wrong.
“Maybe not when we were kids, but maybe now I would admit such a thing; especially since a Vampire didn’t feed off you and baptize you with its blood. That certainly didn’t happen to you, did it?”
No, all I could remember was rain.... a dark street; Freddie singing the Spice Girls, ‘If you wanna be my lover’ severely off key beside me as we stumbled back to the hostel in London. Being knocked to the ground; blood trickling into my eyes... Freddie on the floor next to me, someone in black pining him down. Darkness, followed by flashes of light and faces; being naked and so freaking cold. The glint of needle tips and ... fuck... the pain; slices into my ball sack, and then my heart; hammering so quickly and so damn hard, as if it were about to explode out of my chest or just give up on me all together... and then a whole lot of nothing before I woke up in this dark, dank room.
The Hollywood take on being turned into a creature of the night hadn’t happened, and sure, I had always though Elle had been crazy, obsessed with Vampires, but in a cute, supernatural fanatic, kind of way since she went into fascinating details which were so elaborate it was always like being told a scary story. I had always believed her overactive imagination to be just that; while we played in the fields and forests near our hometown she wished we were roaming through a more dangerous and thrilling world. A world she had been invested in since we were eight; a world I humoured her with because she was my best friend and had enough crazy stuff going on at home but....
 “Vampires exist, Than. It doesn’t matter if you don’t believe in them. Lack of belief doesn’t make them any less real.” She snorted. “I’ve told you this a million times.”
Vampires existed. I had seen far too many fangs, too much blood, and a bunch of other freaky shite over my stay to not believe that this particular brand of fiction was actually cold, hard, un-bleedin’-believable fact, but I was one. Evident by the pinch in my gums or the stab of my canines against my tongue every time I smelled blood; evident by the fact that I no longer had a beating heart; no urge to breathe or eat, or even to go to the toilet. And as sexy as Hollywood made Vampires out to be.... the reality was a total turn-off.
The click clacking of heels echoed in the corridor announcing that the red-headed she-devil was about to pay me another visit. Her last visit with a spiked blood cocktail had almost killed me, but sadly, fate decided to spare me and just gift me with the mother of all hangovers. A vampire with a hangover, who’d have thought such a thing would be possible, but Christ almighty, it was nasty blood; well, not nasty, different, energetic, intoxicating, and freaking painful. It sure as hell burnt my insides. It was like being on fire and yet having a sledge hammer hitting your head at the same time. The messed up part was that I liked it, because it was the closest I had felt to being human in weeks.
My focus shifted to the open doorway as the click, clacking ceased. Instead of the redhead an entirely different demon stood in the doorway.
“Smells like trouble.”
“So this is what the alternative solution to our evolution looks like.” She wandered into the room with a predatory grace; circling me and my new nurse-maid. “I must admit I expected... well, something a little more impressive.”
I cocked my eyebrow at the Spanish? She-Devil as she came back into my line of view. “Sorry to disappoint you. If I’d have known I was having visitors, I’d have cleaned up a little.” I gurgled through the still flowing course of blood and as best as I could through the death grip of my nurse maid who didn’t look like he was going to release my cheeks until I had finished the drink he had brought me.
 “You are Irish.” Her laughter was throaty with a delightful edge that I was sure would break out into a cackle at any moment as she pulled a hat and a broom out from behind her back. She gave off an air of carnal delight, and the way the light curved around her shape as she paused by my right... curves in all the right places. The longer I stared at her the sharper my sight became; adjusting to the light and shadows surrounding me. This vampire was beautiful; every bit the image of the temptress from the Christopher Lee versions of Dracula. She had a fantastic rack; dark, long hair, big, almond shaped eyes, and full lips... my dick twitched.
Just the blood, Nathan. Just side effects of this stupid blood.
Elle had never mentioned that drinking blood could make you as horny as a bloody school boy, but then again, maybe she didn’t know everything.
Or maybe the sickos lace the stuff with Viagra for cheap thrills? Either way it might be an idea to stop devouring her with your eyes before your jeans become a tent and you start drooling.”
My gaze shot to the corner; to the petite, slender, auburn haired, thirteen year old leant against the metal wall. One strap of her denim dungarees hung loose, a, three-quarter length top beneath; moss green to match the converse she was sporting. She was too vibrant and solid, like a sticker stuck to a black sheet of paper; she was too obvious, too out of place to be real. You’re too young to know what Viagra is.
“How many times do we have to go through this? I’m not actually this age any more. I’m just a figment of your sad, little imagination; you nut job.”
She-the real Elle, had once told me that victims could go a little crazy after being turned; become recluses, or blood thirsty murderers. I just hadn’t realized imaginary friends were one of the benefits of being fucked up in the head.
“Oh, they’re not; you’re just special, Than.”

Copyright © 2017, Cross My Heart, Blood Book: 1.5,  Elizabeth Morgan

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