Vampires and Witches: are they mythical creatures or something that walks amongst us every day without our knowledge?
To Raven, a twenty-five year-old, extremely sheltered woman, they are nothing more than something to be read about in a book. To Dragon, an eight hundred-year-old vampire, they are a way of life.
Raven truly believes she is going mad. Erotic dreams fill her nights, causing her to question her sanity by the light of day. They lead her into a world she never knew existed and a heritage that can only be found in nightmares.
Dragon wants nothing more than to own the mortal soul of the beautiful Raven, a woman who can make his ancient scars disappear, proof that she is far from mortal.
Together they seek out the dark heritage of her past. What they find is much more than either of them bargained for. A destiny lies at her doorstep, one that could bring her salvation and an eternity at his side. Or, it could seal her fate and rip her from his world forever.
Raven awoke with a start. A single candle penetrated the darkness engulfing her. Her body began to tremble as she assessed her strange surroundings. She smelled Dragon; he was close. Her body hummed its need for him. What happened tonight? Where am I?
Tremors overtook her, remembering the events of the night. What had she become involved with? Vampires? Witches? And who were they trying to fool? Moreover, for what purpose?
Dragon’s heady scent filled her senses, drawing again her craving for blood. If she was the daughter of a vampire, as Tristan would have her believe, then why did she not have fangs?
The urgency of her desires, more apparent as the wetness between her legs dampened her skin, became an irritant. Damn him, even now she craved the pleasures Dragon stirred in her.
She tried to move from the bed, but Dragon’s strong arm wrapped about her waist, holding her in place. Well, that explains why I can smell him so strongly.
“You told me you wanted to spend the morning with me,” he grunted in her ear.
“That was before I knew you were a vampire.” Her angry words caused him to release her.
Rolling to his back, he slid an arm under his head. “I’m sorry, Raven. I should have told you.”
“There is a great deal you should have told me. Do you think for one moment I believe you or Tristan are these . . . these fictional creatures? Do you suppose for one moment I believe I am the daughter of not just one of these imaginary characters, but two as well?”
Dragon remained relaxed, his breathing even, his demeanor calm. His relaxed posture in her bed, as if her words held no more import than a vague breeze, infuriated her.
“Are you listening to me?” The demand in her tone was harsher than she had ever used.
He lit a lamp on the table beside him, illuminating his face. “Are you done ranting?”
“Ranting! You make fun of something that frightened me so gravely and you have the audacity to say I am ranting.”
Dragon’s hand came to her cheek. Instantly, need replaced anger. She wriggled to ease the yearning between her thighs. Her breasts felt swollen, aching for his touch.
Yet she resisted. “Stop it, Dragon. You know what affect you have on me.”
Dragon withdrew his hand, rising so the sheet fell, exposing his bare chest. Shifting away to fight off the tremendous urge to ravish him, she choked out, “I want answers. Now.”
“Raven, I have never lied to you, nor have I ever made sport of you. And I meant it when I told you I love you.”
“You’re saying that you and Tristan are vampires. And I thought I was the crazy one.” She turned away in disgust, even as she sensed the pain her words had caused him. She pressed a hand to her chest to ease the pressure she felt there.
When her eyes flickered back to him, a shocked gasp escaped at the sight awaiting her.
His mouth was open. And he had fangs. In his mouth.
“Touch them!” he demanded.
“I said, touch them!” He grabbed her hand, forcing it to his open mouth. The sharp points of his fangs pricked her finger.
Raven ripped her hand from his grasp. “Stop, Dragon! You’re frightening me.”
“I smell your fear. Look deep inside yourself. Fear is not the only emotion that drives this craving for the taste of blood. Your lust for me is stronger.”
Shock overwhelmed her anew as she studied his eyes. She could read the stream of mixed emotion pooling in their deep, darkened depths. His voice sounded in her ears, yet his lips never moved.
“See, you do hear me. Can a mortal woman hear what a man says within his head?”
Dragon rose, naked, from the bed. Raven gritted her teeth against the glorious sight of him. Every muscle, chiseled to flawless perfection. The heat between her legs grew uncomfortable. Damn you for making me want you, even now.
Crossing the room to a small wooden table, he poured a drink into two glasses. It looked dark and smelled rich, inviting. Her mouth watered, a consuming sensation. He came back to stand beside the bed, shoving a glass at her.
She eyed it suspiciously. “What is it?”
The scent of the liquid aroused her, but she held her ground. “What is it?”
“Drink it!” Dragon’s tone was dark and furious, his eyes glaring at her.
“And if I don’t?” She ripped the glass from his grasp and slammed it on the bedside table in a show of defiance.
Dragon gulped the contents of the glass in his hand, then yanked her from the bed. His mouth crashed down on hers, the drink still rich on his lips and tongue. Unable to control herself, she clung to him in desperation, devouring his mouth. The sweet taste of the liquid fueled a sudden fire within.
Dragon pushed her away. Her hands reached for the glass he had brought her and she drank down the warm, soothing liquid in one large draught. She didn’t care if he watched her, as her tongue licked at the remnants clinging to the corners of her mouth.
His anger seemed to rise with each drop she took in. Now he taunted, “I believe it is you who needs to answer my questions. Mortal women do not crave blood, my dark angel.”
Raven’s hand went to her mouth as her stomach lurched. Dragon grabbed the chamber pot as the contents of her stomach resurfaced.
“You bastard!” She cursed him, even as her taste for the liquid returned in much greater force than before.
“How much more proof do you need, Raven? Your hunger for blood is as deep as any vampire I know.”
Reading and writing have been J.J.'s passion her whole life. Starting out with being the poet, everyone came to in high school to get that "perfect" poem for his or her boyfriend/girlfriend. She spent her weekends locked away in her room, curled up on her bed, writing short stories for only a selected few readers.
She has been happily married for 28 years to her trucker husband. She is a mother of three, grandmother of three; a lover of dogs, cats, and fish.
J.J. started to pen historical romance as a hobby when her youngest child was a year old, creating the Acceptance Series. She got serious about her writing career joining Romance Writers of America and Indiana Romance Writers of America moving on to help start Crossroads Romance Writers in 2014. She penned her first paranormal romance, Into the Darkness, in 25 days, taking herself beyond her comfort zone and just giving the characters free reign of their story.
Since taking herself out of the outside working world, she has dedicated her life to her writing and her writing world and raising consciousness for Domestic Violence Awareness.