Hello Sunday Slackers! Or sleepers, or snoozers, or spankers? One can only hope, right? Today is… oh yeah, we’ve covered that, so we’ll get right on to vampire naughtiness!
Dancing With Death
Violetta is an executioner… of vampires. Famed for her fiery beauty and mesmerising personality, she has never failed an assignment.
Monsieur Martinet is no ordinary vampire, though. He is a master at his craft and can control humans with the merest flick of his eyelids. The vampire huntress with the porcelain skin and flaming red hair has killed all of his brethren, without exception. He now seeks the ultimate revenge: her submission in HIS bed.
Venice – Il Ballo in Maschera
She was the harbinger of death. If the rumours were to be believed, he did not have long left in this world. Infuriatingly, her scent teased him. Having become accustomed to the less than savoury smells of humans, such as blood, vomit, sweat, and terror, he found her unique essence fascinating. Was it jasmine or perhaps magnolia that assailed his nostrils with the fragrance of purity? Whatever it was, he found it intoxicating.
So, she had finally come for him. He could not wait to meet Violetta, the famed vampire huntress who had killed most of his coven in these ten years past. To say they had a score to settle was the understatement of at least the past five centuries. Although he’d been alive for several more, there were truly gruesome happenings before that. Take the plague for instance, the one hundred years war, witch hunts, or the crusades perhaps, which couldn’t really compare with the likes of her.
The partner he currently held in his arms was in a trance-like state of euphoria and awaiting his command. She was stunningly attractive, but then all his women were. Her long blond ringlets were arranged into a mass of curls on the top of her head, her pretty black lashes
fluttered from behind her feathered masque, and her lips were captivating in the brightest shade of carmine. He could lure his heart’s desire with a single glance, and he wasn’t ashamed to say that he used the fact to his advantage. Lady Harriet, unfortunately, had been far too easy to bring under his control. She and all her twittering friends had little more than fluff inside their heads, and he could keep them in check with both eyes closed. He required a challenge. An intelligent mind and a quick wit would be a delicious start. Then he would dish out his revenge which had been festering inside him like a malignant tumour, growing bigger with each new death she had casually doled out to his brethren.
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