Faizel 02
Faizel 02
Author: Harper Kingsley
Genre: mm. urban fantasy. vampires. realistic magic society.
Where to find it: Smashwords or Amazon at the moment. OverDrive, Scribd etc. in the future.
Faizel is settling into his new life with Charlemagne. They’re living in an out of the way apartment that only Charlemagne’s friend Ewing knows about and Faizel is keeping his head down as he learns about this similar-but-different Earth.
It contains some NSFW scenes because of vampires and sex and Faizel’s demonic heritage.
Excerpt of Chapter One:
Sometimes Ewing wondered if they had invited a devil into their midst. Because there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Charlemagne was possessed. And the devil’s name was Faizel. Charlemagne’s darling love. The mysterious vampire that had appeared from nowhere to steal Charlemagne’s heart and rearrange the natural order of the world.
Ewing thought of Faizel as a booty call gone wrong, though he would never say it aloud. He valued his life too much.
Charlemagne wanted to keep Faizel secret, and Ewing was willing to go along with it. Because honestly, how could he even explain someone like Faizel? The guy scared the ever living fuck out of him, and that was no lie.
“Are you certain this is how you want to do things?” Deacon asked in her “I’m a complete hard as nails Law Officer” voice.
Ewing fought to keep still where he knelt on the hardwood floor along with the other low level vampires. It was pretty boring, but he wasn’t one to battle the status quo. He didn’t want to be tortured and killed.
Prince Lucian had summoned Isadore, which had forced them to go with her. They were ornaments meant to display her level of awesome to the rest of the Lords and Ladies, who had brought their own Courts. They were each showing off how powerful and bad ass they were, which meant uncomfortable outfits and unnatural poses for their followers.
It was a revelation to look across the banquet hall and see the other retinues; some of those guys had it really rough. Ewing only had to wear old fashioned clothes and serve imaginary tea. It didn’t seem so bad in comparison to what those other schlubs had to put up with. He didn’t even know what was up with the guy with the weird metal clamps on his face or the chick with the fish hooks through her nipples.
Seeing that everyone was focused on the drama unfolding in the middle of the room, he risked stretching his back and cracking his neck. He even dared to lick his dry lips a minute later before getting back to his frozen position.
Back when he’d been human he’d fantasized about what it would be like when he was Turned. He’d imagined lounging around wearing cool clothes. He’d imagined driving fancy cars and owning the city and everyone in it. Instead, he dressed like a complete hose-bag and catered to a woman that made his testicles shrivel. She was hot, with long waves of inky black hair and eyes that seemed to be permanently rimmed with heavy black kohl. She was also hardcore pathetic, though she expected them to do whatever she wanted.
He’d thought being a vampire would mean freedom. Instead he’d been forced into the life of some old lady’s permanent bitch-boy. His place in the Hierarchy was so low he didn’t even get to sit in a chair–he spent his time kneeling with his palms to the floor.
He wasn’t jealous of Charlemagne’s higher rank though. That guy was in a much worse position: he had to sleep with the old broad whenever she wanted. Isadore was sexy, but Ewing had no desire for her. Which probably explained why he was kneeling on the floor rather than standing behind her throne-chair all mannequin-faced like Charlemagne.
Stuff was getting loud and there were angry words being said. Law Officer Jenny Deacon was looking for a missing girl. She had requested that Prince Lucian gather all the master vampires in the city for questioning. She seemed to think the girl was in an Enclave somewhere. And of course all the vampires knew which one because none of them could keep a secret.
Ewing had never realized Deacon was so arrogant. Storming the Prince’s Citadel and demanding answers as though Lucian were a peasant. She was lucky Prince Lucian had the hots for her, because Law Officer or not, he would have torn her apart if she were anyone else. Ewing had heard the stories. But she was so raw to the job that she thought she could take on a Prince.
Charlemagne thought she was an idiot, and Ewing couldn’t help agreeing.
Ewing risked a peek to his right, and there that expression was on Charlemagne’s face. He had to muffle a snort. Most people would have thought Charlemagne’s face was blank, but Ewing knew the guy better. There was an extra bit of arch to Charlemagne’s brows and a smoldering flame in the back of his eyes. He was holding back a sneer through sheer force of will.
Charlemagne played his role perfectly, but Ewing knew how much he hated to have his time wasted. He had to put up with it from Isadore, but Deacon was only human. Charlemagne would never be indecorous enough to step out of line in public, but Ewing could tell he wanted to.
From the minute he Woke for the first time as a lesser vampire, Ewing had known the best he could hope for was being a master’s lackey. His place in the Hierarchy had been set by his biology and there was nothing he could do to change it. Charlemagne though, he was one of the lucky ones. He was of the master class and Ewing had never seen him hit his limit. He was strong enough that Ewing wondered why he took orders from masters that were obviously inferior. Yet Charlemagne would just bow his head and do as he was told. It was weird.
There was a loud crash and a load of screeching and Ewing found himself caught up in the show. The boring posturing was over and it was time for some action. He was reluctantly entertained.
The nobles had broken up into various cliques encircling the room, leaving the main floor open. The first time Ewing had seen it happen, he’d felt like he was back in high school being herded into the gym.
Isadore was next to Felix, as he was her Patron. They sat atop large throne chairs with their personal entourages around them. The lower level vampires were arranged in neat rows bracing the thrones, Isadore’s followers to the left and Felix’ to the right.
Ewing was supposed to keep his head facing forward, but that didn’t keep his eyes from moving. Being near the end of his row gave him a clear field of view of most of the room. He just had to be careful not to catch the eye of any of his “betters.” He wasn’t fond of punishment.
Deacon was standing facing Prince Lucian with one gloved hand knotted in the hair of a vampire man, her gun pointed at the side of his head. “Are you gonna try anything stupid when I pop this guy?”
There was an amused lift to Prince Lucian’s lips. “You may do as you wish. You are the Law. It is your job to punish him, is it not?”
“Good. As long as you remember that, I won’t have to come for you next time.” There was a slight ripple of outrage through the room; she had dared threaten their Prince.
Lucian’s laughter was a rich, touchable thing. “You are bold,” he said, like it was a good thing and not something that regularly got people killed. Ewing wondered if Deacon knew how much the Prince indulged her and how rare that was. Probably not. People like Deacon usually took adoration as their due.
“You are bold, Jenny Deacon, like a well-honed blade.” Prince Lucian waved his hand. “Take him as you like, my gift to you.”
Her snort of derision wasn’t exactly subtle, but Ewing didn’t think she cared. She had been disrespectful before and the Prince had never said anything about it, so now she acted as though it were her due.
That was a stupid kind of ballsy right there, but from what little Ewing knew of Jenny Deacon, she wasn’t the kind of person to ever back down. She was the lunge-lunge-lunge forward kind of person that always thought she was going to come out safe on the other side. She didn’t realize she was jamming herself headfirst into a meat grinder, and Prince Lucian controlled the crank.
“Who’s that guy?” Ewing asked out of the corner of his mouth. He’d never seen that vampire before in his life, and he’d made it his business to know anyone even the least bit important.
Smashwords or Amazon.
