Please welcome romance author Alex Sevein!
Hi! I'm Alex. I write about sparkly vampires. No, wait! That's somebody else. Sorry. I just wish I'd thought of that.
I'm a vampire fanatic. Always have been, ever since I was a little girl and discovered the velvet-voiced, debonair, exotic man that was Bela Lugosi, watching old black and white movies on TV late at night.
I wanted to introduce you all to my characters Vivant and Belladonna, so I wrote you an exclusive steamy little vignette.
These are the main characters from my novel series Vampire Vintage, the first installment of which is Belladonna in Hollywood.
Without further a do, I'm just going to let Viv and Bells entertain you.
VIVANT & BELLADONNA
A Vampire Vintage Series Vignette
From the very first love-at-first-sight encounter when he found her raging at the night as she marched angrily down the streets of Hollywood, Vivant knew she was special.
It was more than just her physical beauty, more than mere sexual allure. And it didn't matter how much time passed by, how many decades came and went, he still felt the same thrill inside each time he looked at her, each time she was near him.
The innocence in her blood, the effect its scent had on him aggravated him just as much as it impassioned him. And blood as potent as Belladonna's never lost that heady scent, even if she wasn't exactly innocent anymore. Her blood still inflamed him.
Vivant loved to be in control, liked being the one who was adored, and he resented Belladonna as much as he loved her for making him feel like falling at her feet in worship.
That had never happened to him before Belladonna.
She found him lying on their four poster bed, luxuriating on white silk, reading de Sade. It was his favorite book - Justine, or The Misfortune of Virtue. He loved the injustice that Justine endured for her unrelenting insistence of being virtuous and the constant trials and tribulations she endured. And he admired the ambitious, ruthless Libertine that was her sister, Juliette. She was a whore, multiple murderess, and was now a refined, wealthy, titled woman, accepted into high society. He adored the anti-moral of the story. And, of course, it brought back fond memories of his old friend, The Marquis.
He gestured for Belladonna to come to him and smiled as she crossed the room. She shed her clothes as she moved toward him. She had just fed; he could tell by the rosy blush on her cheeks and the satisfied smile on her lips. He could smell the scent of blood coming from her mouth.
A single drop stained the corner of her lips; Vivant took her hand and wiped it off with the tip of her finger, put it in his mouth and slowly licked the scarlet nectar from it.
He hadn't fed; he'd been waiting for her to come home so he could feast on her; her blood was like no other he had ever indulged in.
He liked to wait until he was starving. And it was better still if he fed while he was inside her, his cock surrounded by her warm juices as he drew her fragrant blood into his ravenous mouth, suckling the vein in time with the throb of her heart.
He could feel her pulse through her soft lips as he kissed her; her skin warm and begging for his touch. He ran his hands over the contours of her body, drinking in the sight of her, the slight swell of her belly, the sensuous curves of her hips and ass.
Belladonna's blood-fueled heat seeped into his lips as his kiss collided with her hot flesh. He moved his hand down her body, his fingers finding the groove of her sex and played there a while, making her juices flow freely as he stroked her clit.
Desire and hunger both feasted on him now as his desire for her and her blood became maddening. He eased his cock into her, sliding effortlessly into her slick heat. He loved to raise himself up on his hands and tower over her, watch the pleasure on her face, watch the flutter of her eyelids. He took the tight pink bud of her nipple into his mouth and circled it with his tongue, flicked it over the hardening peak.
But it wasn't long until he turned his attention to the throb at her throat. He licked her neck, slickening her hot skin as she moaned, waiting for his bite. She gasped as he sank his fangs into her flesh, the exquisite pain heightening every sensation in her body.
Vivant closed his eyes as he drank from her. Her blood was like a drug, his body filling with joy and ecstasy as it rushed into his mouth. Its flavor made emotions collide inside him, made him lucid and insane at the same time. It made him want to weep endlessly and declare that he would love her forever. It made him crave violence and want to kill her.
But Vivant couldn't kill her – she was an immortal, an immortal he made, knew he would make, the moment he laid eyes on her all those decades ago when he found her raging at the night on the streets of Hollywoodland.