by Ilia Bera
“Ready?” Connor asked.
Hanna, keeping her blood-thirsty red eyes closed, smiled. “Yeah,” she said.
This was it—The moment that she lost her virginity—The first time she ever made love.
Suddenly, she let out a sharp gasp and her body tensed up. Connor moved gently and slowly, making sure Hanna was comfortable. After a moment, she started to release her tension. Connor pushed in deeper and deeper.
Hanna’s body was quick to surrender to the well-endowed Connor. She reached up and placed her hands on his muscular sides, feeling the ridges of his sharp defined lateral muscles with her
fingertips.
Connor was the perfect lover. He started out gently, easing his inexperienced partner into the act. As her body became more and more relaxed, he increased his speed and intensity. As Hanna became more and more comfortable, she started to push herself up,enjoying and intensifying every swift thrust.
Along with her sexual passion, her thirst was growing stronger. She kept her eyes closed tightly, but nothing she could do could block out the delicious smell of Connor’s blood. She could even hear the sound of his blood flowing through his thick veins, like a flowing waterfall. Still, she resisted the urge to feed.
Connor readjusted his body, and he pinned down Hanna’s arms over her head. Hanna’s head jolted back farther and her mouth opened wide. The perfect angle, the increase of speed and Connor’s insatiable intensity rendered her body limp. She screamed out loud as the elation through her body and in her spine began to centralize. Never in her life had she felt anything like it. Never had she felt anything so incredible.
Her nails dug into Connor’s hands as Connor made his final push. Connor’s grasp tightened around Hanna’s wrists, and he let out a powerful battle cry.
After a perfect moment, Connor’s body collapsed on top of Hanna’s. He nestled his face into the pillow next to Hanna’s face as he caught his breath.
As Hanna opened her eyes wide, the world appeared different—elegant, vibrant and beautiful. The walls glowed with a strange supernatural energy. The room was filled with a magical warming moonlight.
Hanna could feel her fangs retracting as her bloodlust returned to its dormant state. Strangely, her thirst was temporarily nonexistent.
Connor rolled over, next to the beautiful pale-skinned beauty. He smiled as he looked over into Hanna’s dark brown eyes.
“That was amazing,” Hanna said with a smile. Her eyes were still wide, shocked by the strange lack of thirst.
“It was incredible,” Connor agreed. He reached his arm over and wrapped it around Hanna. Hanna moved her body closer to Connor, snuggling up against his manly warmth.
The two continued to lie together—the happiest they’d ever been in their complicated young lives.
FORTY-SIX
AN ULTIMATUM
Brittany was frantically trying to hide all of the evidence in her house. She’d used all of the blankets in the house to cover up the markings on her floors. With pins, she hung sheets over the marked walls—but it was still bluntly obvious that she was hiding something, especially to someone who had spent years tracking and hunting vampires.
She had managed to hide her jars of rat blood, but she wasn’t able to scrub out the bloodstains on the edges of the doors and counters. Not to mention, the garbage bags covering the windows were an obvious giveaway.
She wiped the tears off of her cheeks, along with her dark mascara and eye shadow. She needed another plan...
Knock! Knock! Knock!
She was too late. Kane was already at the door. She couldn’t possibly let him in—but she had to answer, otherwise the determined hunter would let himself in.
Life was quickly crashing down around her, and she was completely out of options. She thought about running, and not looking back—but she knew that the experienced vampire hunter would find her. She thought about admitting her secret to Kane, hoping that he would look the other way—but that was a serious gamble.
Then, she had another idea…
The man at her door may have been a vampire hunter, but he wasn’t there to hunt—he was there as a confused lover. He wasn’t armed, or prepared to kill. Brittany, on the other hand, had everything she needed—her vampiric strength and her razor sharp fangs—she had the leg up.
She took a deep breath, trying desperately to organize her thoughts in her head.
She’d fallen hard for Kane, but that was nothing new. She’d always moved on in the past—what was one more failed love? What was one more victim? Kane was, after all, just a drifter, moving from town to town, robbing ATM machines. His family didn’t care about him, and he didn’t have any friends. Kane Patrick probably wasn’t even his real name. No one would notice him gone.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
“Brittany! Open up! I need to talk to you!” Kane yelled.
Brittany was out of time. She had to make a decision.
“Open up, or I’m coming in!”
Brittany quietly moved across her living room to a window. She carefully peered out, to make sure Kane wasn’t armed.
Kane looked around the quiet Snowbrooke street to make sure no one was watching him while he pounded on Brittany’s door.
He calmed himself down suddenly when he noticed he wasn’t alone. There was a pretty young woman, wearing a patterned shawl over her blonde hair walking by the house—presumably headed towards her morning shift at work. As the aggressive Kane looked at the stranger, she turned her head quickly—afraid to make eye contact with the possibly deranged lunatic.
Kane pulled his pea coat tight to his body as the winter air bit into his skin. “Brittany, are you in there?” he called out in a much more gentle, controlled tone. “I’d like to talk to you,” he called out. “Please?”
Brittany took a deep breath and looked down at the door handle.
It’s easy to forget that every red blur from a passing taillight, every orange glow from an apartment window, and every indifferent face on a busy city street is a complex life—a person with their own complicated problems, relationships and secrets.
Indeed, that girl sipping coffee in the library window may be a stranger, and you may never see her again after that quick glance —but that’s not to say that her actions and decisions can’t completely change the course of your life.
That sullen short man wandering the streets with his hands stuffed in his pockets?
That young woman sitting in that upstairs window?
What about the man sleeping on a chair in the hospital hallway?
Or the long-haired man standing at the bank machine?
What about that beautiful young woman, seemingly walking to work?
All are characters on life’s stage. All of their collective lives come together to form the most complex narrative—not any one person’s individual life.
And believe me—When the moment hits and you finally open your eyes to it, everything will change. No matter how unambitious or uninteresting you think you may be, your actions and choices are contributing to the most amazing tale, yet to be told.
TO BE CONTINUED
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Some words from Ilia
What a beautiful time to be a writer! Just ten years ago, you needed to jump through a lot of hoops to get a book in the hands of a reader—and not to mention, a lot of luck. These days, you don’t even have to leave your house. You might be thinking, “That’s a bad thing!” In a way, it’s true—Over the past decade, the market has been flooded with books that have been quickly slapped together, poorly formatted and filled with atrocious spelling mistakes.
On the other hand, authors no longer need to bend over to publisher demands. We don’t have someone standing over our shoulders saying, “More explosions! Fewer explosions! More sex! Less sex! That ending won’t sell! Make that character more like Harry Potter!” Before, only the well-established writers got to write exactly what they wanted—and even they suffered from publisher pressure.
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What we have now are products that are less commercial.
These “self-published” books may be less appealing to the broader market, but they are genuine, and genuine is the most beautiful thing I have ever known. When a book is genuine, the story moves to the beat of the writer’s heart, and not to the rhythm of some publisher’s bank account. It’s easy to forget that literature is an art form, and art by definition is expression—and not market campaign.
So next time you are looking for that new book to read, don’t pick the flashiest book by the most popular writer—choose the book that feels genuine. The book that speaks in its own voice—not the voice of anyone else.
I am proud to say that I made this book by myself. I wrote it in Microsoft Word, I edited it in Adobe inDesign, I made the cover in Adobe Photoshop and I even directed the photoshoot with the cover model. I put a lot of work into this book, and I couldn’t be happier with it.
But please, keep in mind that I did make this book on my own. I didn’t hire a copywriter, or a professional editor—so if you come across an error, please let me know so that I can fix it. In a sea of 65,000 words, my eyes are destined to miss a few!
I hope you continue to read my series, and I hope that you continue to invest in independent publishing!
Sincerely,
Ilia Bera
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ilia Bera
Ilia Bera is a young writer from the golden prairies of Alberta, Canada. Ilia’s schooling years were spent absorbed in a fantastic imagination land, writing everything from screenplays and comic books to short stories and novels.
Ilia spent years working in the film and television industry as a screenwriter, as well as on the set of big budget films across various departments. When not writing, Ilia likes to relax with the better-half in their little house on the beach, with their adorable Ridgeback.
Want to get in contact with Ilia? It’s easy! Just email:
[email protected]
Thank you kindly for reading. Don’t forget to leave a review!
OTHER BOOKS
And where to find them
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COPYRIGHT
Copyright © Ilia Bera 2015
Copyright Cover images are as follows:
Model and photographer have asked for information to be kept private. Please contact Ilia Bera for any/all disputes.
Cover design by Ilia Bera
This book is a work of fiction. All the characters in this book are fictitious and any similarity to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidence.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other
non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
ISBN-13: 978-1507627389
ISBN-10: 1507627386
THANKS
Thank you so much for reading!