UNOFFICIAL SIX

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"It didn't make any difference. Even when I was in his arms I couldn't forget. I wanted—"

Carter's eyes softened as he looked down into Max's. "You wanted?" he echoed.

Max closed his eyes against the spark of want, right, now that flashed through his body, setting his nerve endings alight. "I—I wanted it to be you."

IT'S TIME TO QUENCH YOUR.... THIRST

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Blurb:

Detective Max Bowman is hunting a serial killer terrorizing the city, who leaves victims drained of blood. No fingerprints, no clues, no ideas. Only a mysterious inscription carved into each body.

Frustrated with the lack of progress, Max takes a break in a local pub.  Attacked by the attractive man buying him drinks, he is left for dead in the alley behind the bar.

Waking up in Carter Gray's bed was the last thing he expected.  Who was this mysterious man?  What was his dark secret?  Why does he make Max tremble with anticipation every time their eyes meet?

It becomes apparent that Carter is the only one with the 'expertise' to help him find the killer.  But is his attraction to Carter clouding his judgment and is he refusing to acknowledge that the killer may well be Carter himself?

Excerpt:

Pain, lots of pain. Max tried to force his eyes open, but only one would comply; the other already swollen shut from the impact of a closed fist. He wasn't sure how long he'd been lying in the alley behind the bar. He dimly remembered a tall blond man with piercing blue eyes who introduced himself as Tony, or it might have been Tommy, buying him a beer, followed by way too many shots, he'd stopped counting after the fourth; remembered laughing and joking with him, flirting and being flirted with in return. Nothing seemed out of place. Nothing that was until the man suggested they go somewhere quieter.

Instead of heading out into the brightly lit street, Max had found himself being jostled from both sides into the alley behind the bar. The blond held onto him on his left and from nowhere a dark haired man grabbed his right arm. Too late Max realized that everything was out of place, just as the blond man's fist connected with his face and his knee with Max's groin.

The two of them punched and kicked him, and all he could do was curl in on himself on the ground and hope he could minimize the damage. He didn't want to think too much about the sharp snap he heard when a hard boot connected with his ribs, nor the meaty sounds of flesh upon flesh. Max was assaulted by a wave of dizziness and he felt darkness reach out to engulf him in its warm embrace, but he mentally shook his head and stubbornly refused to let it claim him. He felt hands grabbing at his keys and his wallet and then more pain as a boot connected with the muscle in the left cheek of his ass. His head was pulled back by a vicious hand twisting in his chestnut-colored hair, his glassy brown gaze locking onto piercing blue as the word "Fag" was spat at him and his head was slammed back down on the dirt.

Max heard their retreating footsteps and he tried to lift his head, the pain in his side causing a cry to fall from his lips at the movement. He coughed and cringed as he saw dark splatters of blood hit the ground. Wiping the back of a shaky hand across his lips, he stared at the stain of red on his skin. He stumbled to his knees, trying to use the wall beside him to pull himself up. His legs buckled, and he crashed back to the ground, a deep groan wrenched from him as he fell. Suddenly, he felt two strong arms, one around his shoulders and one under his knees, lifting him as if he weighed no more than a small child. His head lolled to the side, coming to rest on a firm shoulder and he had a glimpse of jade green eyes looking down into his as the dark claimed him once more.

* * * *

Carter pulled open the door of his black 1968 Ford Mustang and eased his ward carefully into shotgun, slowly reclining the seat to make the position more comfortable. Taking off his heavy woolen coat, he rolled it and slipped it behind the man's head to prop up the semi-conscious man. He gazed down at the battered face he had been watching all night from his dark corner of the bar, aware how beautiful it was underneath the swelling and bruising. The man's name was Max that much he knew, because he had heard him introduce himself to his assailant. He frowned, furious with himself that he had realized too late the blond twink and his accomplice's plans for the young man. If he hadn't been distracted, if he hadn't been so thirsty…

Carter slid behind the wheel, his green eyes glittering in the muted glow from the dome light as he closed the door behind him. A small smile lifted his lips as he headed his car toward home. The two men who had robbed and beaten Max and left him for dead had already paid for what they'd done. Glancing into his rear-view mirror, he parted his lips and ran his tongue down his elongated incisors.

They wouldn't be hurting anyone ever again, and he wasn't thirsty anymore.

IT'S NEARLY TIME... TO QUENCH YOUR THIRST - 21 JANUARY 2012

SATURDAY 21 JANUARY 2012 - QUENCH YOUR THIRST!

.

21 JANUARY 2012 - SILVER PUBLISHING

TWO WEEKS & COUNTING!!

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BLURB:
Detective Max Bowman is hunting a serial killer terrorizing the city.  A serial killer who leaves bodies drained of blood.

After taking a break in a local bar, he is attacked, robbed and left for dead; waking up in Carter Gray's bed was the last thing he expected.

Who is this man?  What is his dark secret?  Is he responsible for the trail of bodies across the city?

EXCERPT:

Pain, lots of pain. Max tried to force his eyes open, but only one would comply; the other already swollen shut from the impact of a closed fist. He wasn't sure how long he'd been lying in the alley behind the bar. He dimly remembered a tall blond man with piercing blue eyes who introduced himself as Tony, or it might have been Tommy, buying him a beer, followed by way too many shots, he'd stopped counting after the fourth; remembered laughing and joking with him, flirting and being flirted with in return. Nothing seemed out of place. Nothing that was until the man suggested they go somewhere quieter.
Instead of heading out into the brightly lit street, Max had found himself being jostled from both sides into the alley behind the bar. The blond held onto him on his left and from nowhere a dark haired man grabbed his right arm. Too late Max realized that everything was out of place, just as the blond man's fist connected with his face and his knee with Max's groin.
The two of them punched and kicked him, and all he could do was curl in on himself on the ground and hope he could minimize the damage. He didn't want to think too much about the sharp snap he heard when a hard boot connected with his ribs, nor the meaty sounds of flesh upon flesh. Max was assaulted by a wave of dizziness and he felt darkness reach out to engulf him in its warm embrace, but he mentally shook his head and stubbornly refused to let it claim him. He felt hands grabbing at his keys and his wallet and then more pain as a boot connected with the muscle in the left cheek of his ass. His head was pulled back by a vicious hand twisting in his chestnut-colored hair, his glassy brown gaze locking onto piercing blue as the word "Fag" was spat at him and his head was slammed back down on the dirt.
Max heard their retreating footsteps and he tried to lift his head, the pain in his side causing a cry to fall from his lips at the movement. He coughed and cringed as he saw dark splatters of blood hit the ground. Wiping the back of a shaky hand across his lips, he stared at the stain of red on his skin. He stumbled to his knees, trying to use the wall beside him to pull himself up. His legs buckled, and he crashed back to the ground, a deep groan wrenched from him as he fell. Suddenly, he felt two strong arms, one around his shoulders and one under his knees, lifting him as if he weighed no more than a small child. His head lolled to the side, coming to rest on a firm shoulder and he had a glimpse of jade green eyes looking down into his as the dark claimed him once more.

* * * *

Carter pulled open the door of his black 1968 Ford Mustang and eased his ward carefully into shotgun, slowly reclining the seat to make the position more comfortable. Taking off his heavy woolen coat, he rolled it and slipped it behind the man's head to prop up the semi-conscious man. He gazed down at the battered face he had been watching all night from his dark corner of the bar, aware how beautiful it was underneath the swelling and bruising. The man's name was Max that much he knew, because he had heard him introduce himself to his assailant. He frowned, furious with himself that he had realized too late the blond twink and his accomplice's plans for the young man. If he hadn't been distracted, if he hadn't been so thirsty…
Carter slid behind the wheel, his green eyes glittering in the muted glow from the dome light as he closed the door behind him. A small smile lifted his lips as he headed his car toward home. The two men who had robbed and beaten Max and left him for dead had already paid for what they'd done. Glancing into his rear-view mirror, he parted his lips and ran his tongue down his elongated incisors.
They wouldn't be hurting anyone ever again, and he wasn't thirsty anymore.

THIRST - 21 JANUARY 2012

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BLURB:

Max is hunting a killer who leaves bodies drained of blood. After being attacked, he never expected to wake up in Carter's bed. Who is this man? What is his dark secret?  Is he the one leaving a trail of bodies across the city?

NEW EXCERPT:

 Carter watched Max's eyes widen. The subtle reaction provided the only outward indication that he had even heard what Carter had said. Max couldn't know that the vampire was able to read his inward reaction just as clearly. Didn't realize that he could sense the change in the rhythm of the young man's blood as it pumped faster through veins and arteries. Didn't know that he was thirsty, and that he could smell the iron and coppery sweetness in every exhalation that fell from between Max's parted lips.

"You killed them?" Max repeated dully.

"Yes."

"And exactly how did you do that, Carter?"

Carter’s gaze tracked the bob of Max’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed hard. He had to give Max credit. The man was taking his nonchalant admission to killing two people better than he would have expected; but beneath the bravado, Carter could smell fear. The widening of Max’s pupils and the flaring of his nostrils told Carter that he was afraid, and that the man knew he wasn’t lying.

Full lips lifted in a cold smile. "Well now, that's a trade secret." Carter watched as Max's pupils dilated in fear. Taking a deep breath, he filled his nostrils with the fresh scent of adrenaline as it surged through the other man's veins, let it wash over him and spark his senses. The brief thought that he should have fed before he saw Max again skittered across the surface of his brain but he shook the thought away. What was he thinking? He was going to kill Max. Wasn't he? That's what he'd done a million times before. In the eighty-four years since his human death and his vampire birth, not once, not once had he ever questioned a kill. Never had he felt the desire to touch, hold, and caress war with the natural instinct to rip and tear, and feel the blood pump into his mouth and over his tongue. Of course, sex was a part of the hunt and he had always taken more than his fill without a backward glance. His sire had taught him well. Any emotion that may have remained deep inside him had been squashed long ago. Buried beneath a layer of ice where no one could reach it.

Until the eyes staring at him now had gazed blearily into his in that dark alley and that one word had echoed into the night air—Please. Carter frowned as a long forgotten plea skittered across the surface of his mind, so many memories, so many faces, so many voices begging for their lives. What was so different about Max Bowman?

Didn't it remind you of someone else? Doesn't he remind you of someone else? He ignored the nagging whine of his inner voice and swallowed down his retort.

Anger slowly unfurled in his belly and he ran his tongue over his fangs as they descended. Who was this human? What was this boy doing to him? How dare he make him feel? He didn't feel. He was a vampire, he took what he wanted, when he wanted it. The hunt was on his terms, no one else's. He chose his prey, be it based on a pretty smile, a pair of sparkling eyes, or the muscled curve of a firm ass; then he toyed with them, fucked them, and slaked his thirst without a second thought. That's how it had always been, and that's how it should always be.

Carter’s gaze flitted between Max’s eyes and the throbbing artery in his neck and felt a surge of satisfaction when Max gripped the silk sheet in his fist as the fool tried to hide his fear. "Carter?" Max said quietly. "How did you kill them?"

Carter stared at the fluttering pulse in Max's neck and, although his voice was soft, it was as cold as a blue steel blade. "I sucked them dry and threw them in a dumpster in the alley." His gaze moved to Max's lips and his tongue slipped out to moisten his own.

"Does knowing that make you feel better?" His hand lifted from where it was resting against his thigh and he felt rather than heard the intake of breath that Max took as his long fingers brushed slowly over the pulse beating wildly in the young man's throat.

"Does knowing that I can smell your blood on your breath, feel the heat of your fear, hear the pumping of your heart, does knowing any of that make you feel better?" His gaze shifted and locked with Max's. "How about knowing what I did to them, and then knowing that I was going to do the same to you?"