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Tales of the Executioners

Joleene Naylor is the author of the glitter-less Amaranthine vampire universe, a world where vampires aren't for children. Comprised of a main series, a standalone prequel, and several short story collections, she has plans to continue expanding with a trilogy and standalone novels. In her spare time, Joleene is a freelance book cover designer and for-fun photographer. She maintains several blogs, full of odd ramblings, and occasionally updates her website at JoleeneNaylor.com. In what little time is left, she watches anime, plays PokemonGo, and works on her crooked Victorian house in Villisca, Iowa. Between her husband, family, and pets, she is never lonely, in fact, quite the opposite. Should she disappear, one might look for her on a beach in Tahiti, sipping a tropical drink and wearing a disguise. Twenty-nine short stories of love, death, heartbreak, and blood. Meet the Executioners, elite enforcers of the vampires’ laws. Walk with them through origin stories, follow them across the sea to the colonies, and run with them through the wilds, as they try to bring civilization to a land ruled by “day sleeper” clans. Fifteen interwoven stories tell the beginning of The Guild, set under the watchful - and sometimes malevolent - gaze of the ancient Malick, whose heavy shadow stretches even across the sea. Meet his favorite son, his willful daughter, his child-like pet, and many more whose jealousies, hatreds, and loves twist together to create consequences they can’t foresee.

Joleene Naylor · Horror
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186 Chs

Chapter 127: Cyprus - Future's Promise, Part 5

They stuffed the prisoner in the back, between Cyprus and Milkavich. Trina's trembling, distraught persona was gone, replaced by a cold, angry woman who stared straight ahead, her lips pressed together. When they arrived at the Stronghold, Milkavich led her inside, Jilsenna on his heels.

Sadihra swung out of the vehicle and glanced at Cyprus. "Meet me for a drink," she muttered, then marched away as if she'd never spoken.

Lance arched an eyebrow. "Did I hear what I think I heard?"

Cyprus closed the car up. "That depends what you thought you heard."

"I thought I heard her invite you for a drink?"

Cyprus shrugged and tried to hide his smile. Perhaps it was working. Perhaps tonight she'd finally give in.

Or she might tell you to go to hell.

Anything was possible.