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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 · Kinh dị ma quái
Không đủ số lượng người đọc
186 Chs

Chapter 47: Kateesha Call of Blood, Part 3

For eight nights of the journey, Kateesha tried to tempt Jorick. On the ninth she succeeded. They clawed at one another, fangs snapping, bodies rolling in a barn full of hay. Though she wanted the physical act as well as the immortal blood connection, he pushed her hands away from his trousers, then pinned her to the ground and bit her neck. When the mental connection snapped into place, she no longer cared about their bodies, only the pleasure crashing over her; the red tinted world of screaming fire and burning ecstasy.

When they'd had their fill, she lay back in the hay, chest heaving, gluttonous eyes raking over his body. Though dressed from the waist down, his naked chest gleamed smooth and white, like finely carved marble. The bite in his shoulder still bled; her bite. She touched it, smearing crimson over his chiseled perfection, tracing a line down toward his belly button.