Genre: Adult, paranormal
Publisher: Rainstorm Press
Number of pages: 218
Word Count: 85,000 words
Formats available: Print. E-book
Cover Artist: John Cosentino
Her soft golden skin, her warm smile…these are the only images Veronica Austin has left of her mother who disappeared without a trace twenty years ago on the streets of Minneapolis while researching the Ramanga, the Lamia, the Metusba, and the Lugat. Known only as the Deamhan, they are a different breed from the modern bloodsucking vampire.
A stranger to this world, Veronica’s search for the truth about her mother’s unexplained disappearance takes her into their sinister and precarious world. She gains the trust of the only other human familiar with the Deamhan lifestyle. With his help she finds not only can the Deamhan not be trusted but it’s her own father, president of a ruthful organization of researchers, who has diabolically maintained that distrust.
Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/JvXvINwJpH0
Veronica stared into the twin’s dark, menacing eyes. Her vision twisted in and out. The bathroom floor rippled as if water suddenly covered the floor. Veronica’s head swooned and fear dissipated. The drink flowed through her veins, intoxicating her.
It was a high she hadn’t felt since she smoked weed for the first time in her teenage years. A sense of invincibility and relaxation overtook her. She tried envisioning a brick wall in preparation for the Deamhan twins to invade her thoughts, but the tingling sensation never came. Instead she drifted into the furthest part of her mind where she kept sacred memories of her mother carefully hidden from human and Deamhan alike.
“I told you, sister.” The tall twin licked her lips. “She’s ripe.” The Deamhan twins knowingly locked eyes and giggled.
With a handful of Veronica’s hair in her grasp, the taller twin pulled, yanking Veronica’s head violently to the side. She opened her mouth and her canines protruded from her pale gums. “Her scent is strong, Brandy. And her skin,” she said, sniffing Veronica’s neck, “is so soft.” She stuck out her tongue and licked Veronica’s neck from her ear to her collarbone.
Veronica shivered from the trail of wet spittle left on her skin.
“What to do with her.” The tall twin increased her grip around Veronica’s throat. “She doesn’t have the markings of a minion.”
Brandy stepped away from the door. “But, Branda, I heard she is protected.” Her mouth opened, exposing sharper and longer fangs than her sister’s.
“What Deamhan would be stupid enough to give a researcher protection?” Branda scoffed. “Especially one as stupid as her.”
Protected? Veronica struggled to keep her eyes opened. Darkness toyed at her periphery, and she thought she might faint from lack of oxygen.
“I want her first, sister.” Brandy’s eyes widened. “Oh, can I? Can I please have first bite?”
“Sure.” Branda slowly released her grip.
Veronica gasped, her lungs searing as they engulfed fresh air.
“But don’t get greedy.”
Brandy replaced her sister’s stance and shoved Veronica back against the wall. She sniffed the side of Veronica’s face and chortled as Veronica struggled against her. “I like it when they fight.” Brandy closed her eyes and swayed her head back and forth as she spoke in a singsong voice. “Like a fly, caught in a spider web, about to meet its maker.”
“Protected.” Branda huffed, her nostrils flaring. “What a crock of shit.”
A strong wind manifested, and Brandy instantly released her grip. Her head jerked to the bathroom door as it flew open on its own.
Veronica’s legs crumbled. She fell to the floor gasping for air. She looked up in time to see a fuzzy image of the Deamhan twins running out of the bathroom with Deamhan speed and the door slamming shut behind them.
Whatever scared them away had impeccable timing.
Veronica leaned against the wall, coughing up phlegm. She rubbed her tender neck and lifted herself to her feet. Veronica shuffled over to the sink and turned on the water. The euphoric feeling from the drink had subsided. Her hands now trembled. She splashed warm water on her face. Her breathing relaxed. She examined the red and purple bruises on her neck in the mirror.
“Shit,” she said, her voice hoarse. “But I’ll be damned if I’ll let these freaks run me out of Dark Sepulcher again.”
She touched the wall to steady herself. The Sensual Appetite ravaged her body. The drink’s stimulating affects returned with a punch. Veronica hurried out of the bathroom and to the main room.
The club walls swirled around her. White and gold streaks trailed behind the patrons dancing on the dance floor. Afraid to walk any farther, she rested against a pillar and dropped her head into her hands.
Who would protect me?
She knew what it meant. If a human or even a Deamhan was said to be protected it meant that someone claimed them as their own. They were off limits, untouchable. To achieve this status, the one being protected was usually a minion or claimed their loyalty to a very strong and old Deamhan. But she wasn’t anyone’s to claim and she wasn’t any Deamhan’s minion. Her curiosity grew. Who protected her and what was she being protected from?
Veronica lifted her head from her sweaty palms. Flashing strobe lights semi-blinded her; however, she found her vision acquired more depth. She could see into the darkness and make out shapes, people, Deamhan and vampires she hadn’t noticed before. Noise from the crowd grew quieter, more distant. The drink was altering her senses!
Just as the thought occurred, her vision became crystal clear. Immaculate. She now could signal the Deamhan out in the crowd. They looked taller, darker. Their fluid movements, their hardened skin. When provoked by one of their own or a vampire, the Ramanga threatened with their fangs. White light pulsated from the Lamia’s mouth and the Lugat’s hands, and there was a weird glow around the body of the Metusba. They fed indiscriminately in the crowds with Deamhan speed, only taking enough from their human victims to not notice. Blood dripped from Ramanga lips. Lamia embraced their victims in intimate kisses as they sucked the life from their mouths. Veronica watched in horror as a white streak of light flowed from the mouth of a pretty young blonde into the mouth of a muscled Lamia. Victims dropped to the floor, their energies weakened by the Metusba. Desperate Lugat on the dance floor swiped their hands on railings, disposed cups and napkins—anything to get a psychic taste of their victims.
And that was the Deamhan. Vampires were just as repulsing.
1st Place Prize Pack
$50 Amazon Gift Card
1 Large Deamhan Shirt
1 box vampire incense (100 grams)
1 copy of Deamhan (paperback or ebook, winner's choice)
2nd place Prize pack
$20 Amazon Gift Card
1 Large Deamhan Shirt
1 box vampire incense 40 grams
3rd Place Prize Pack
$10 Amazon Gift Card
An avid gamer, writer, and lover of history, Isaiyan Morrison was born and raised in Minnesota. She moved to San Diego, California while in the Navy. After serving four years of active duty, she moved to Los Angeles.
After a few years, she moved back to Minnesota where she started to pursue her dream to be an author.
Besides writing, she also likes to read, surf the internet, watch movies, and play video games. She likes warm drinks, pico de gallo, and her love for cilantro is legendary.
At one point she was sponsored to participate in video game tournaments. During that time she traveled to Canada, Nevada, New York, Pennsylvania, Florida, Iowa, Oklahoma, and Caribbean.
Her novel Deamhan, the first book in the Deamhan series, was accepted for publication by Rainstorm Press for release in mid 2013. She’s currently in talks to have the second book Sensual Appetite published by the same company.
Other novels the author has completed are The Carriers (Sphere Episode One,) The Bond (Sphere, Episode Two,) and Old Farmer’s Road to name a few.
She’s currently writing the third Deamhan book titled, Revelation, and Maris. The Brotherhood Files.
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/isaiyanmorrison