The Vampire’s Favorite

Jason Bellmont used to be a typical athlete. Tall, strong, and disciplined, he was the epitome of a college basketball star, and had the sexual appetite to match.

Until he met Eric Logan. Overnight, Jason found himself immersed in a dark, dangerous world, a world where he found the kind of love he never dreamed of having, and the worst heartache he would ever live through.

Months later, Jason returns to his family's home in Crookston, Minnesota, to heal after a crippling blow bound him to a wheelchair. There, he and Eric are captured by the vicious vampire Oriana, whose plans for reuniting her former mistress' territory have more of an impact on Jason's life than even he knows, plans that could destroy his family if Jason can't find a way to regain his strength and crush Oriana once and for all.

Copyright 2016. All rights reserved by the author.

Excerpt from The Vampire's Favorite

Our plane landed at the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport on the last day of May, just weeks after Gianna fell under the clawed hand of an insane vampire and not quite four months after she married Eric and the three of us became one.

Eric maneuvered me off the plane, clearing the way for my wheelchair, and rested his hand on my shoulder as we debarked.

I’d left Minnesota a brash teenager, arrogant and full of myself, dead certain I knew exactly where my future was taking me. I was out of my teenage years by less than two weeks and already regretted leaving that certainty behind. If I’d had any idea when I’d left home what I’d find in Georgia, maybe I never would’ve gone. Maybe if I’d stayed in Minnesota, I wouldn’t have ended up a cripple with no future to speak of outside the man walking quietly by my side.

Eric’s hand tightened on my shoulder. “Marco says Gianna’s fine. Still out, thank God.”

I grunted. “Thought you hated talking to him mind to mind.”

“Yeah, try telling him that,” he muttered.

I twisted my mouth, hiding a grin. It wasn’t that Elizabet’s favorite and Eric had a love-hate relationship, exactly. More like an I want to fuck you and your favorite attitude on Marco’s part countered by a stay away from my ass and my fuck buddy on Eric’s. He nearly always gave in whether he was in the mood or not. Marco had things we needed, a memory filled with a lifetime of service to Elizabet and the Vampyr, and blood so rich, a single sip strengthened the taker. He refused to share either with Eric except through sex.

I figured Marco insisted on sex because that was the only way he could get a piece of Eric. True enough. Eric resented having to take male lovers, for the most part. He did his best to hide it from me, a fucking useless gesture since I could see right through his mind any time I wanted to.

I didn’t count, though. He considered me a part of his family, and as his favorite, the pet who’d help him control his burgeoning vampire nature, maybe I was. We were friends, at least, and bound together by our mutual love of Gianna. Anybody looking at our relationship from the outside would think we were up to our balls in some kind of crazy love triangle. It wasn’t like that, though. I loved Eric and had felt his love often enough to know it was real. We were lucky it had worked out that way, lucky because he’d needed my strength, the same way I’d needed his.

And now, his strength was all we had between us.

I grimaced and rolled the wheelchair forward. Useless fucking legs. They hadn’t worked right since Gianna broke one the night of Selena’s attack, and nobody could figure out why. God knows, Elizabet had sent me to enough specialists. Every single goddamn one of them had prodded and poked and run enough tests for a hundred men, then sent me on my way with a baffled shake of his head. I’d finally called it quits. There was only so much of that shit a body could take. I’d hit my limit around the time I turned twenty.

 We picked up our luggage and headed outside where darkness reigned in a moonless sky. Eric flagged down a taxi, and soon, we were on our way to the hotel. He rested a hand over mine and rubbed his fingers over my rings, the gold one Gianna had given me circling my left ring finger and the platinum one he’d given me, worn on my left thumb.

“If you had it to do over again, would you still be mine and Gigi’s?” he asked.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the window, blocking out the street lights flashing by outside the taxi and the sorrow underlying Eric’s slow Georgia drawl. “Have you been peeking into my head again?”

“I caught a hint of regret earlier, some nostalgia.” He slid his hand into mine and squeezed. “We’ll figure out how to fix you, Jase, I swear.”

“I know you’ll try.”

“Do you?”

I opened my eyes and glanced at him. He was looking at me, his expression as closed as his mind. “Yeah, I do.”

“Keep that in mind the next time you get depressed over your situation.”

Remember what you mean to me.

No sweat there. I flipped my hand over, meeting his palm to palm. A surge of something good flowed through the connection, something right. “Tonight.”

“What’s happening tonight?”

I slid a coy glance at him out of the corners of my eyes. “What do you think?”

“No, absolutely not. Doc said no sex until you can feel again on your own.”

“I feel when you touch me,” I murmured. God, I loved that, loved when he put his mouth on me, his hands, his skin. It didn’t matter where he was, I still felt him, every glorious inch. “Wasn’t talking about that anyway. I want you in my mouth, all of you.”

A sigh shuddered out of him. “I’ll think about it.”

“Think hard, baby. Think about how good I’m gonna make you feel.”

Jesus, Jase. You’re giving me a hard on. How the hell am I supposed to walk into the hotel like this?

I grinned. Do you here if I could.

He groaned and thumped his head against the back of the seat. You promised me you’d be good this trip, promised me you’d keep a low profile around your family. You swore it on your grandmother’s grave.

We’re not there yet, won’t be for another week unless you wanna skip the sightseeing. Besides, both of my grandmothers are still alive and kicking. I glanced out the window and frowned. I wasn’t that familiar with St. Paul, but I was pretty sure we were going in the wrong direction. I leaned forward and rapped a knuckle on the plexiglass window dividing us from the driver. “Hey, mister. This isn’t the way to the hotel.”

The driver’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. His held a slight glow that hadn’t been there when Eric had flagged him down, and he sure as hell hadn’t had the aura of a beacon then, either, though it flared bright enough now.

Uneasiness slid down my spine, and with it the cold hand of dread. Shit. How had we missed that?

“The Mistress wants to meet you,” the driver said in a flat, Midwestern twang. “Says I’m to bring you straight there.”

Eric leaned forward and met the driver’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “I realize you’re under strict orders from your mistress, but this isn’t protocol.”

One of the driver’s beefy shoulders shrugged toward his ear, then fell. “You ain’t met the mistress if you think she gives a fuck about protocol. She said to pick you up. I picked you up. Got it?”

Eric slid back in the seat. “The queen guaranteed us safe passage through your mistress’ territory.”

“Long way from here to New York.”

The indifference lacing the man’s voice raised my hackles. Eric rubbed his thumbs over my knuckles. The skin there tingled and hummed like he’d kissed me, and I relaxed a little.

“If the queen’s orders are violated, she won’t be happy,” he said.

“Whatever, man.” The driver lifted the bill of his worn Minnesota Twins baseball cap and resettled it over a buzz cut. “Mistress ain’t near as nice as the queen when it comes to being obeyed, know what I mean?”

I didn’t, but I had a sneaky suspicion we were about to find out.

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