BLOOD PROPHECY by Marie Treanor

BLOOD PROPHECY by Marie Treanor

Blood Hunters Series Book Four

From a shameful past, rises a vital destiny...

"The junkie whore shall save the trinity in the first hour." So spoke the insane Luk, last of the Ancient undead prophets. The enigmatic vampire Dmitriu believes he knows the junkie whore in question, destined to save the daughter of his creator Saloman.

But the Edinburgh prostitute Janine, who once showed Dmitriu kindness, has not only got clean; she's become a vampire hunter, determined never to be helpless in anyone’s power again; and Dmitriu's pretty high on her kill list. Instead of renewing his beguiling sexual relationship with her, he has to kidnap her to force her cooperation. Bombarded with sensual memory and the lust Dmitriu still inspires in her, Janine also has to fight her way through renegade hunters, Dmitriu's rebellious creation, Antonia, the bizarre Militant Church for the Defence of the Holy Trinity and the first anti-vampire protests. It’s too much; the prophecy could be broken.

 Unless Janine's destiny is Dmitriu.

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Excerpt

“How monstrous, exactly, do you think I am?”

“As monstrous as you want to be?” she guessed.

“Good answer,” he approved. “And about right too. I will do my utmost to save this baby. And I think you’ll want to as well. You smell good.”

She blinked at the sudden change of subject. He didn’t appear to be inhaling her, but his eyes had darkened, and a faint smile played around his lips. He looked—predatory.

Her breath caught. “Like good, fresh meat?” she retorted.

“Like a summer day in the hills,” he said unexpectedly. “It’s an old memory. Can I have the stake now?”

“Fuck off.”

He considered her, his head leaning slightly to one side. “You do know I’m humoring you?”

Her heart thudded once, but she refused to be cowed. “You do know I’m grateful?”

“You should be. Why do you think I killed your other visitors? Just to clear the competition?”

“It crossed my mind,” she said evenly.

His gaze dropped again, this time to her lips, but his next words, although softly spoken, were hardly romantic. “I could have killed you here two years ago. I was tempted, but I didn’t do it. I could have killed you in London, in Essex, or on the train. I could have killed you tonight and still taken out my enemies with my free hand.”

She forbore to mention the vampire she’d killed. And the one who’d run away. She had the lowering feeling that it had made no real difference to the inevitable outcome of the fight.

“I know who you are,” she said coldly.

His lips curved. His head bent closer. “Then say hello as if you remember.”

There was nothing she could do. A quick, instinctive jerk only confirmed his immovable strength. Desperately, she tried to glare at him, but she was concentrating so hard on keeping the fear at bay that God knew what he read in her face as he slowly, inexorably, lowered his mouth onto hers, and fastened.

Jesus, she remembered the soft, tender surface of those lips, a tempting, seductive disguise for the controlling hardness that lurked beneath. Memory, emotion battered at her as he took his kiss and coaxed, gentled, persuaded her mouth to give up its response.

She couldn’t remember much of what had really happened two years ago. She had a vague idea she’d never kissed her ‘clients.’ But she knew she’d kissed Dmitriu, and he’d kissed her like this before. Before he’d taken her to bed. After he’d drunk from her, like a thank-you, as if the orgasm hadn’t been enough.

Shame tangled with past and present pleasure. His tongue dipped between her lips, over her teeth, and inside her mouth, caressing, exploring, inviting. Kiss me. Give me your blood, your body.
She shuddered beneath his mouth, against his hard, lean frame. She couldn’t escape him; she could only deny him her response, and so she hung in his powerful arms and let him deepen the kiss, devouring her mouth without violence, using only the devastating sensuality of his cruel, tender lips.

She could force herself not to kiss him back, but she couldn’t prevent her body’s arousal. Hot dampness had gathered between her thighs, flooding her with new weakness. She shook with the effort of resisting, of not lifting her free arm to his neck. But she’d never be that willing victim again. Never.

And yet his mouth was so sweet; his body felt so good crushing hers. One of his hands slid down her arm to her naked wrist, feeling her pulse, the bastard… His thumb moved to her fingers, her palm…

And she realized he’d taken her stake.

She gasped into his mouth, jerking against him once more, but he didn’t release her, just took advantage of her further opened mouth to deepen his kiss even more, drawing her tongue into his mouth, stroking, caressing, kissing.

“Bastard,” she whispered against his lips, and they smiled against hers and kissed some more before finally he raised his head. His eyes were impenetrable black, and yet somehow they glittered with naked lust.

His long, cool fingers touched her cheek, the corner of her mouth. “Now you remember me.”

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BLOOD DESCENT by Marie Treanor

BLOOD DESCENT by Marie Treanor

Blood Hunters Book Three

A child is born...into the final showdown of Vampire and Hunter

The face of a killer, the heart of a lost child… Konrad once led the legendary first team of Hungarian vampire hunters. Now, refusing to ally with the undead, he goes his own way, slaughtering vampires across the length and breadth of Europe.

The dying thoughts of one such vampire send Konrad to Britain in search of a dangerous instrument that might be just what he needs in his obsessive war with undead overlord Saloman – a war he’s determined to win at any cost. The only being who can lead him to the instrument and its current, evil possessor, is sexy, mysterious, young Glaswegian vampire Maggie, who holds herself aloof from her own kind.

Maggie sees much more than Konrad’s anger and cruelty. She makes it her mission to reach beyond the horrors of his past and find the man he should have been. Difficult, when he threatens her heart as well as everything she believes in; and when her whole being clamors for his body and his blood.

While journalists circle, about to break the news of vampire existence on mainstream television, Elizabeth Silk labors to give birth to Saloman’s daughter, and Maggie plays a dangerous game that risks everyone for her belief in one troubled man.

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Excerpts:

“Torture?” Maggie stared at him. “Why do you imagine Dmitriu would torture her? It’s hardly his style.”

“He’s a vampire,” Konrad retorted, glaring at her with something very like defiance. “However civilized the veneer, brutality’s never far from the surface. Now stay out of my fucking mind.”

He turned away from her, and she gazed at his rigid back. None of the vampires in his vision resembled Dmitriu. In fact, the victim wasn’t even Janine.

“Oh, Konrad,” she whispered. “That’s what happened to you…”

“Crap,” he said shortly, throwing himself onto the bed. “And if it was, I bloody wouldn’t want another vampire’s pity!”

But she wouldn’t have that. She flew at him before he was prepared, and managed to hold him only because he’d grown too used to her and too dismissive. She knocked him backward, straddling him, holding his straining wrists on either side of his head.

“No vampire’s pity,” she agreed. “And no human’s either. You can’t go on like that.”

Pure hatred, fury, spat from his eyes. It wasn’t really for her. He wasn’t even seeing her, not as she was.

“Konrad. There’s nothing wrong with pity. Here’s mine.”

He was strong. She couldn’t hold him for long. So she leaned down to him, put her lips to his forehead, and kissed him. Warm, male human skin. With delicious hunter blood flowing beneath. He stared up at her as she raised her head.

“Just that?” he said and lunged upward, crashing his mouth into hers, seizing her lips.

Surprise loosened her fingers on his wrists, and abruptly he pushed her off him, flipping so that he now lay over her. His mouth bore down harder, opening hers for the invasion of his tongue, devouring her.

And, God, it felt good. Pity and compassion drowned in need of his hard, muscular body, in wanting the rich, powerful blood now rushing through his veins. She met his tongue with hers, caressed it, moved her lips with his, struggling for a dominance she didn’t really want. She was enjoying the fight too much. And it did feel like a fight, a hot, sexy battle. She undulated beneath him, loving the feel of his warm, strong body pressing her down into the bed. Between her legs, lust raged as she rubbed her tenderness against his erection.

This was what she’d wanted in London, when they’d fallen together over the wall above the canal—this wild, rising passion, his erection grinding into her, reaching between her thighs, his mouth hot, commanding, his hands all over her body like this, one closing on her breast, his thumb grazing over her aching nipple again and again.

But he hadn’t done it earlier, because he’d almost liked her then. He hadn’t wanted to punish her.

God help him, he imagined this was punishment.

She tore her mouth free, glaring at him. “Why are you such an arse?” she raged.

Just for a moment, he looked blank. His blue eyes, no longer hard or icy, were clouded with lust, his lips softened from kissing her. Slowly, the mists cleared, and yet something fierce remained, overlaid with the faintest hint of humor, which was, surely, his saving grace.

“Well, at least we know where we stand,” he observed. “I want to fuck you. You want me to fuck you. But we’ll never do it, because you’re a vampire and I’m an arse.”

Hurt and fury melted under the hunter’s mouth. She’d never imagined he could or would kiss like that, tenderness mixed with the ferocity sizzling just below the surface. Need blazed under the weight of his hard body, weakening and arousing. When she heard the soft thud of the stake hitting the floor, she let out a sound like a sob, muffled by his mouth, and her fist tightened in his soft hair.

His tongue found her fangs, and he growled, licking them and sucking them, and triumph soared because he wanted all of her. Releasing his hair, she swept her hand down his back to the hem of his T-shirt and plucked.

He released her mouth, sat up, and tore the T-shirt off. His chest was beautiful, smooth under her caressing hand except for the ridge of old scars and the scattering of fine hair at the center. Deliberately, he tugged at her already rucked-up dress. With both hands, he pushed the fabric up over her waist and breasts, where he lingered. His breath caught, perhaps because she was naked beneath.

A smile played around his lips. She’d never seen them so softened by sensuality. He pushed the dress up over her head and her free arm, and threw it to one side over the cuffed arm.

“Fuck,” he whispered, staring at her, devouring her with his eyes. “Just fuck.”

“That,” she said unsteadily, “would be acceptable.”

He cupped one breast in his palm, moving his palm across the nipple, then slowly lowered his head and kissed the other. His lips, his tongue caressed, and she closed her eyes in bliss, arching up into him. With her free hand, she held his head to her breast, then slid it down over his naked back in a sweeping caress that ended at his jeans. She pushed inside the waistband, feeling the hot curve of his buttock, and pulled him closer.

His lower body shifted, as he shoved his hand between them to unfasten his jeans, which he all but kicked off in his urgency. Then, at last, he was naked between her legs, kissing her breast once more while his hand caressed the length of her leg and swept inward, bathing in the wetness of her need. He muttered something under his breath, adjusted himself, and pushed inside her with a groan.

“Oh yes,” Maggie whispered as anticipation drowned in excitement and intense, rising pleasure. She pushed up onto him and twisted her hips, moaning as the hot thickness slid farther inside her.

He began to move with a fierce urgency that delighted her. She squeezed him, writhed and pushed under him, egging him on until he slammed into her over and over. Excruciating bliss built and soared. When his mouth crushed hers, she nibbled his lips, tasted the tiniest droplet of his gorgeous blood and bucked as she scrabbled against his undulating back. He arched once more to reach her breast with his mouth, sucked strongly on her nipple, and orgasm exploded...

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BLOOD ETERNAL by Marie Treanor

BLOOD ETERNAL: an Awakened by Blood novel by Marie Treanor

Secrets don't disappear after seduction...

Elizabeth Silk is struggling to reconcile her passion for the vampire overlord Saloman and her allegiance to the vampire hunters. When a shocking vampire revolt calls Saloman away from her, she refuses to follow him.

To make matters worse, Saloman's beloved cousin Luk has been
found and awakened by one of his greatest enemies. Frenzied
with bloodlust, Luk embarks on a killing spree and prepares to
expose Saloman's biggest vulnerability: Elizabeth.

But under Saloman's regime, vampires have become less concerned with secrecy, no longer willing to hide their power. Rumors are swirling about attacks on humans. After Saloman joins forces with the vampire hunters to consolidate his power, Elizabeth begins to understand her role in the inevitable collision of the two worlds. She could bring resolution between vampires and humans - if she can manage to stay alive long enough to play both sides.

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Excerpts:

When the earth moved, the vampire Saloman felt a surge of exquisite pleasure almost akin to sexual release. The tension in him snapped, broken by the rush of rare, intoxicating fear.

Dawn approached, and he was too close to the earth¬quake’s center for safety, too isolated in these Peruvian mountains to be discovered should he become buried under an immovable fall of rock. Already he could hear the thunder of incipient avalanches and landslides drowning out the lesser destruction of man-made edifices, but if he honed his supernatural hearing, he could just about make out the distinctive thuds of collapsing wood and masonry in the distant villages. The sounds of wreckage brought him a certain amount of satisfaction. The villages were already empty of life—he’d seen to that over the last couple of weeks.

He, Saloman, was one of the very few able-bodied beings left on this mountain. Even the animals had fled, their instincts warning them that the earth was angry. Unlike them, Saloman savored that anger, that knowledge of a unique power far superior to his own, a power before which even his strength could do nothing. And so he lay on his hard mountain ledge in the dark, reveling in his rare moment of helplessness, smiling up at the black, wavering sky while the earth under him heaved and cracked, splitting rocks and trees, hurling down the flimsy village buildings.

He knew the risk; he didn’t want to end his existence or to return to the tortured sleep of death. He didn’t want to leave this world. He didn’t want to leave Elizabeth. And yet still he had come closer than he should to wait for the earth to shake—partly because he wanted to feel the massive power of it, partly because, like the rebellious boy he’d once been, he wanted to dare the danger.

It was an indulgence he shouldn’t have allowed himself. He acknowledged that as the ledge of rock split under his back, hurling him off the edge. At the last moment, he grasped onto the one stable corner, giving himself a modicum of control as he jumped the fifty feet or so onto the hard, jagged ground below—more from memory than sight, since the tumbling boulders and dust impaired his night vision.

By the time he’d found a flatter foothold sheltered enough to prevent any more stones from landing on his head and shoulders, the quake had stopped. The mountain, however, hadn’t. It continued to spit rocks down toward him, and below he could hear them gathering pace and volume. By morning, the mountain would have changed its shape.

Fear was good. He was glad he’d come up here to remember what it was like to be afraid. Confront your fears, his cousin Luk had told him, even before Saloman had died and been reborn a vampire. Luk had turned him, and had taught him well, just as if he’d known that Saloman would be the last of their Ancient race. Saloman had learned to face soul-destroying loneliness; he’d fought and defeated everyone who threatened him. There was no one left who could invade his mind and find him wanting—which had been his first and most intense fear, the one that had formed his boyhood and never quite left him. And yet he could think of his father now without pain or hurt or terror, and he knew that if it had been possible for them to meet again, he would not be afraid. He had no reason to be.
Saloman lay down once more, gazing up at the steady sky while the mountain rearranged itself with noisy, dust-filled aggression. He smiled, because no one else could possibly have done what he just had. No one had ever done what he was doing now.

Watch me, Elizabeth. I will prevail. The world will do my bidding. You can’t doubt it.

It was his own thought. He didn’t send it to her. He wouldn’t even tell her about this; he would let her find out for herself. Perhaps he’d even go to her, so he was with her when she made the discovery. Hunger tore through him. Blood and sex and Elizabeth. A reward before the next stage began.

He sat up, unable to be still any longer. His lesson in humility had, in the end, fed his self-belief. Only he could have survived the earthquake from here; he alone could unite and direct the world. No one could stop him. And as the world learned his power, who would want to? He’d find his way down the mountain and drink some human blood before he began his journey across the world to Scotland.

But as he rose, a scream of rage and terror slammed into his mind. Saloman let out an involuntary cry, grasping his head in both hands to prevent the pain, the anguish, instinctively trying to squeeze out the howling voice that should have been mere memory and yet felt as real as the rocks sliding and crashing their way down the mountainside. The flash of impossible presence surged and then vanished as swiftly as it had come, leaving Saloman to drop his hands slowly from his face.

Which was when he realized he had no time to analyze himself for sanity or injury. In a moment, he was going to be buried deep under an avalanche. Saloman hurled himself forward and leapt into darkness.


*


She gripped the stake, bracing her free hand against the rock. She didn’t need the detector anymore. She could sense Ancient.

He moved differently, like a shadow around the curve of the hill, gliding over the boulder a yard away from her feet. And instead of attacking, he stood still on top of the boulder and regarded her in silence. Only his long hair stirred in the breeze.

Slowly, Elizabeth lowered her stake. “Saloman.”

Saloman stepped down from the boulder and walked the distance between them. She tried to speak, questions and information tangling in her head and on her lips. In the end, she never made more than an inarticulate gurgle, because the words vanished as his sheer presence overwhelmed her. There was only his name in her head, his profound black eyes to drown in, his body pressing her flat into the rock. The hilt of his sword, a turning gift from Luk, brushed against her hip.

Wordlessly, she lifted her face to his. But he didn’t kiss her mouth. His silken lips took her neck in a strong, urgent pull. The hard shaft of his erection pressed between her thighs, and inappropriate lust galloped through her. Well, it had been a long time, several weeks. . . .

It seemed he felt the same. His tongue lapped at her vein and without warning his teeth pierced her skin. Her mouth opened in a silent cry of pain that vanished into the surge of fierce, familiar pleasure. She gripped his arms hard, letting herself glory just for a moment in the blissful weakness of her blood rushing into his mouth in answer to the tug of his lips.

So lost was she in the blood kiss that it was a moment before she realized he’d unzipped her jeans and pushed them and her panties down over her hips.

“Saloman, the hunters are here,” she managed. “They’re coming now.”

His cool, stroking hands left her hips, perversely disappointing her, until he seized the Ancient detector from her frozen hand and hurled it into the night. Before she could object to this vandalism, he lifted her and entered her body in one swift, gliding movement that shattered the remnants of her resistance.

Blood and sex and Elizabeth, he said inside her head.

Bastard. Can’t you even say hello?

He detached his teeth from her neck and flicked his tongue over the wound to heal it. His burning gaze lifted to hers.

“Hello,” he said huskily, and took her mouth.

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BLOOD SIN by Marie Treanor

BLOOD SIN: an Awakened by Blood novel by Marie Treanor

Even if you stand in the light, you can dwell in the dark.

Months after her dangerous encounter with vampire overlord Saloman, Scottish academic Elizabeth Silk is still trying to cope with both the demands of her ancestral bloodline - which marks her as a vampire hunter - and the overpowering desire she feels for the immortal she brought back from the grave. But she is not alone in her fascination with Saloman.

When Elizabeth tracks down a distant cousin from America, she learns he possesses an antique sword that has caught the interest of the Grand Master of the American hunters. It is the ancient and mystical sword of Saloman - a treasure of vast occult powers and a prize beyond measure to both vampires and humans. Now the race is on for possession of the sword.

Even as her enemies and allies shift their allegiances and battle for supremacy, Elizabeth must decide which will rule her own perilous fate: unwanted loyalty or unholy love.

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Excerpt:

“My,” Travis said, moving around the table toward them. “My, oh, my. What do we have here?” He sniffed the air around them, and Elizabeth was suddenly reminded of her first encounter with the Hungarian vampire Zoltán, who had behaved in much the same manner and then laughed, as if he’d recognized her by the very smell of her blood. Although Travis didn’t laugh, there was no doubt of his recognition.

“Powerful human blood,” he observed, his mouth so close to Elizabeth’s ear that she wanted to scream. She held herself rigid, unmoving. “Elizabeth Silk, the Awakener . . .”

Josh yanked her away from him, staring down his nose at the vampire, who paid him no attention whatsoever.

“Okay, boys,” Travis said. “Two descendants to play with, and the victim was Saloman, so no gulping. Share the boy and hold the Awakener for me.”

Josh, who seemed to have finally picked up that the “men” surrounding them were dangerous, took a step backward. Before he could draw too much attention, Elizabeth glared at the vampire who grasped her arm.

“Gulping?” she said. “Without an introduction, I don’t even allow biting.” And she whipped out the stake, plunging it into his heart. At the same time, she spun in the cloud of his dust and kicked the vampire nearest Josh hard enough to knock him into the table. “Josh, run!” she yelled, and lunged at Dante, grabbing his wrist and yanking him after her. “Go!”

It was desperate; it probably required a miracle to make it work; but at least its suddenness gave them a chance. Unfortunately, Elizabeth had reckoned without Josh’s recent skepticism, which she’d just blown sky-high with the vampire. He stood rooted to the spot, blinking at where the creature had last stood. His lips moved, making no sound.

“Get them,” Travis snarled. Elizabeth gave Dante one last tug after her to make her point and grabbed Josh’s arm instead. She couldn’t drag both of them and fight at the same time.

“Josh!” she cried. “Move!”

He stumbled in her wake, but she had to punch the vampire who had hold of him and dragged him to the ground. As Elizabeth leapt and staked the fallen vampire, she could see that their moment had passed. The vampires were closing in on all sides. More were emerging from the office beyond, from the doorway to the car park. Wildly, she scanned the room for an escape route, holding fast to Josh’s arm. He was breathing like a steam engine. Dante backed away toward Travis, who, however, ignored him. The vampire leader’s attention was all on Elizabeth.

“Sir, do we have an agreement?” Dante shouted.

“Not now, Senator.” Travis smiled and walked forward into the circle. “It’s feeding time.”

Dante strode the length of the room toward the exit, and began to run, shoving past the vampires who were not remotely interested in him when the blood of two descendants, one of whom was also the Awakener, was up for grabs.

“I’ll fight, Josh,” Elizabeth said shakily. “But I can’t win. If you can manage it, get out—they want me more. Find Adam Simon and tell him what happened here. Do you understand?”

There was no time for any reply. The vampires approached, beginning at a walk and advancing quickly to a run. Elizabeth raised her stake and released Josh in order to have both arms free.

“Straight ahead,” she breathed, and launched herself at the first vampire with a scream of pure rage.

But something was louder than her cry—the crashing of falling masonry as the ceiling began to cave in. Her chosen victim’s distraction gave her an easy kill. Whirling, she spun to face the vampires closing behind her, and found their backs to her. They were watching in stunned amazement as someone fell—no, stepped—through the hole in the ceiling as if descending a staircase.

He still wore the business suit, minus the constricting jacket. From his long, loose black hair to his shining shoes, he was dazzling. He advanced on those who stood between him and Elizabeth and Josh. “I’m Saloman.”

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