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"Once upon a time there was a vampire prince who fell in love with a mortal woman. He loved this woman with all his heart and soul. So, he married her and they lived happily ever after."

That’s not the way it went at all.

In the first place, the vampire wasn’t a prince but the son of a mere baron, and he died before he could inherit the title so he couldn’t be called anything but sir, and not even that by his enemies who used much more colorful and earthy terms. Also, the mortal he loved wasn’t the first, but he’d decided she damn well was going to be the last because he refused to suffer that exquisite torture again.

Ever.

Make no mistake about it, he did love her, though it couldn’t said to be with his heart and soul because, technically, being a creature accursed, he didn’t have a soul.

I’m Vlad Chemare. I’m the vampire in question, and this is the story of what I did for love.

A SINGLE DROP OF RED, available in Kindle, Kindle Unlimited, and paperback.

THE VAMPIRE MEETS HIS MATCH...

I pressed my forefinger to a spot below her earlobe and trailed it down her neck to the curve of her collarbone. I inhaled slowly.

She shrugged off my touch. “Stop it.”

“Tell me you didn’t like that.” I whispered, mouth next to her ear. I blew gently. She rubbed her fingers against it as if to swat away a gnat.

“Okay, hold it right there, fang-boy.”

Fang-boy? Did I hear correctly? She called me fang-boy?

“Let’s get one thing straight here and now.” The sudden set of her mouth told me she was serious. “None of that.”

“By all means.” Hands held high, I stepped back, nodding, and went on before she could speak again, “I should’ve waited. You like a little romance before we jump into bed.”

She made a slight strangling sound and pointed the knife at me.

“We aren’t jumping anywhere.”

THE LAST VAMPIRE STANDING available in Kindle and paperback.

"Once upon a time there was a vampire prince who fell in love with a mortal woman. He loved this woman with all his heart and soul. So, he married her and they lived happily ever after. That’s not the way it went at all... There have been many among my readers who say he don’t love her, and to them I say, you don’t understand the meaning of love as vampires view it. They have to learn to love again and he was doing his damnedest, with gritted fangs and a struggle in his stone-cold heart."

I’m Vlad Chemare. I’m the vampire in question, and this is the story of what I did for love.

REVENGE IS A DISH BEST SERVED COLD, and 600 years makes for some mighty chilly morsels.

A GHOST HAUNTS HIS FAMILY. HER PRESENCE BRINGS IT BACK FOR A FINAL REVENGE.

“Pat?” She turned to look at him. “What is it?” Pale moonlight coming through the window highlighted his face. In the near-blackness, he looked darker, his face thinner, nose almost hawk-like. His eyes seem to glow, reflecting the silver light. She placed a hand on his sleeve. Her fingers brushed damp, thick-napped cloth. Fear knifed through her. Padraig had been wearing a cotton shirt. His arms had been bare. Desea. The word didn’t seem to be spoken. It was as if it simply wafted through her mind. His hand touched her throat, trailing gently down her shoulder. Tammy shivered as she caught the hand, pressing it against her cheek. She closed her eyes, the wave of longing settling around her so acute she nearly cried out with the pain of it. “Este?” she breathed into the darkness. “My darling, you’ve come back to me.” Sí, he vuelto. As he opened his arms, she went into them eagerly, was engulfed in his embrace. Tipping her head back gently, one hand under her chin, he kissed her as through the darkness came an animal’s terror-filled howl. Tammy sank against him, feeling his lips travel longingly across her cheek. Then he was kissing her frantically, mouth seeking and demanding, lips grazing down her throat. They stopped at the rapidly beating pulse. She felt their pressure, so gentle, so soft. His tongue flicked out, licking along the vein. There was a sudden sting. Fire ran down her throat. “Tammy!” The door flew open, rebounding against the wall. She jerked around to look at the man standing there. Padraig reached for the switch by the door and light flooded the room. Arms uplifted, she stood alone by the fireplace.

It is the year 3304, the place New York City. Damien LeCroix, vampire, is about to come face-to-face with someone he never expected to meet.

"You hid your tracks well, but I’ve a vast amount of money at my disposal, and my brother has enough influence to get me any information I wish.” She looked satisfied. “You didn’t stay hidden very long. Or your secret either.” “And what secret is that, chérie?” He felt cold slither down his spine. Knew what she was going to say even as those beautiful pink lips opened to speak the words. “That you’re a sans mort, of course. A vampire." At least she whispered them. No one around paid the least attention. “Other than I, only Alain knows, and I’m certain you don’t want anyone else to be aware.” “What do you want?” Coldness engulfed him. She wasn’t bluffing. “I—” “Alysse?” Her brother’s call interrupted. Damién realized he had no idea what he’d been about to say, only that her words made the oddest sick feeling in his stomach. Fear. “It looks like Alain’s ready to go. We’re renting a house while we’re here. Out on Long Island. Why don’t you stop by tomorrow evening? For drinks?” Her mouth quirked a little as she said that. She fumbled in her small evening purse, bringing out a tiny hand unit. “We can talk more. Do you have your Hand Computer Unit with you?’ He answered by retrieving his own from a breast pocket, holding it up. She tapped hers against it. There was a sharp little beep. “Our address and how to get there. See you around eight?” She raised one hand in a fluttery wave, then hurried toward her brother who was waiting impatiently. He was young also, only a few years older, Damién noted, and as blond as she. When she was a few feet away, she looked back as if remembering something. “To answer your question, Damién…I want you to help me die.”

THE NIGHTMAN'S ODYSSEY is available in Kindle and paperback. https://www.amazon.com/Nightmans-Odyssey-Tony-Paul-Vissage-ebook/dp/B0CPBDD5V3/ref

A description of the owner of the manor house in Balleywalegh...

"He was tall and slender and appeared to be of young middle-years, surely no more than thirty-five, in the peak of manhood. Handsome to a fault. One might compare him to a Greek statue in his comeliness, except for that foreign slant of high, broad cheekbones to his features betraying a Baltic origin. He was very pale with long black hair he wore tied back in an old-fashioned club, and eyes so dark they appeared almost black, brilliant and gleaming and full of intelligence. Indeed, those eyes seemed to entrance any who looked into them, even I, and after our introduction, later I could recall nothing of what he wore—other than it was of a more fashionable cut than my own sensible suit—or of what was said, except that there was an odd, sinister after-tone floating within my mind, like an echo of a warning."