It's my pleasure to welcome another SHU WPF alumni, Anna Zabo, to Friskbiskit today. Anna's first published book, Close Quarter, just came out from Loose Id on Tuesday. I had the privelige of being a beta reader for the book and I can tell you, it's action packed, hot, and heartfelt. But you'll find that out for yourself because Anna's going to share an excerpt with us. She's also giving away a copy -- read on for more details.
But first Anna has a thing or two to say about vampires. Take it away, Anna!
I love vampires. Not the sexy, sexy, tormented kind who feel awful for having to be beautiful, sexy, and live forever while drinking blood. I don’t mind those vampires, but what I really love are monstrous vampires who are compelling and terrifying. The ones who see humanity as an endless snack bar.
The villain of my debut novel, Close Quarter, is an Ancient vampire named Anaxandros. He has no soul—literally. Vampires, in this mythos, give up their soul’s immortality in exchange for bodily immortality. But they are dead, since to not have a soul is to not be living. These vampires are extremely compelling—those that meet them can’t help but find them bewitching and intoxicating. That’s the lure to the victim, the beauty, the sensuality, but beneath that lies the terror of the prey, the fear the rabbit feels when cornered and the hound is closing in.
The vampires in Close Quarter don’t want sex—they’re incapable of it—they want control and fear and to consume life. In particular, Anaxandros wants the life of the forest fae Silas Quint and his new-found lover, Rhys Matherton.
Anaxandros has had Silas before, trapped and fed from him for more than one hundred years—that torment is what propelled Silas, once he escaped, to hunt vampires and why he finds himself on a trans-Atlantic cruise, in the middle of the ocean, cut off from his element.
On the cruise, he finds Rhys, and in Rhys Silas finds what he most needs—the energy of the forest and the field, all wrapped up in one very sexy, irresistible, smart-mouthed brash human. Silas can’t get enough of Rhys and the energy inside Rhys—and neither can the vampires. It’s an issue. How can Silas defeat Anaxandros and protect Silas without stealing energy from the human and becoming the same kind of monster he’s been hunting?
Rhys? He doesn’t want to become a vampire’s snack and he’s damn well going to make sure Silas doesn’t end up back in Anaxandros’s hands, either.
I’m giving away one copy of Close Quarter to a commenter. Let me know your favorite type of villain!
For this excerpt, we have Rhys’s first run-in with vampires. Silas has gone hunting. Unfortunately, so have members of Anaxandros’s pack...
Close Quarter Buy Link: http://loose-id.com/authors/a-f/anna-zabo/close-quarter.html
Excerpt:
Rhys flipped though a coffee-table book on New York City that contained beautiful photographs of places that looked more real on glossy paper than they did in life. Battery Park, with pristine blue water in the background. The Brooklyn Bridge in golden light, with no cars. Times Square, with not a drop of trash in sight. He’d been to most of them, knew their true colors, the bits the photographers had cleverly edited out.
Had Silas been to New York before? Probably, if he was as old as Rhys suspected. Hell, he might have been there back before they built the skyscrapers. The thought of Silas dressed as a colonial in tight breaches and a long coat coiled heat in Rhys’s belly.
He reached for his drink, his third this evening, thanks to Vasil. He’d been here two hours and had been through nearly every book in the scrawny bookcase. Most were like the book on New York, large and full of color photography. A few were dog-eared paperbacks, probably leftovers from past travelers—King, Patterson, Roberts.
Every single one he’d flipped through so far made him think of Silas in various costumes or in various states of undress.
He needed something to take his mind off the fae.
Fae.
The longer he sat, the more of an idiot he felt. Would Silas even come back? He rubbed his forehead. Was any of this real? Was there truly danger, or had that been a convenient way to dump him? He could have gone to a movie. Or learned ballroom dance. Or smoked cigars and drunk brandy—whatever it was they did on cruises like this. Something more interesting than paging through picture books.
The memory of Silas’s kiss intruded on his growing frustration, the pull of Silas’s hands tangled in his hair, the taste of his cum. His cry of abandonment and pleasure.
Rhys sighed and pushed those thoughts from his mind. Flipped a page. Central Park. All that greenery. What would it be like to fuck there? Or in real woods? Naked, his back pressed into the dark earth, Silas holding Rhys’s legs apart as he entered him.
The tightness in his belly spread down to his cock. Silas better return soon. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could put his fantasies on hold. It was getting more difficult to hide his huge erection, even under the large book in his lap.
“Are these seats taken?”
Rhys nearly jumped out of his skin when the woman spoke. He hadn’t noticed her approach. For a moment, all he could do was stare up at her.
“N-no.”
Her laugh was bell-like. “Oh, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. All the other tables are occupied. You seem like you might enjoy some company.” She smiled, baring a flash of white between her immaculate ruby lips.
Rhys exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “You’re welcome to them.” He gestured at the other two chairs and attempted a smile of his own.
“That’s very sweet of you.” She offered her hand, palm down. “Radmila.” Her voice held a trace of an accent, different from Silas’s. Closer to Vasil’s.
He took her hand, gave it a gentle squeeze before letting go. “Rhys.” Though her skin was soft, her hand felt like ice. Cold. Hard underneath. His heart rate kicked up. People shouldn’t feel like sculpture.
“Charmed.” Same smile. She settled into the closest chair.
Rarely did he pay that much attention to the physical attractiveness of women, but this one—she was different. Chocolate-colored hair that moved like water fell to her shoulders. Rich brown eyes set into a round face. Her skin was almost luminescent, like mother-of-pearl. If she had been a man, he would have had a very hard time saying no to anything she asked.
Radmila frowned ever so slightly before her features smoothed over. “Are you alone, Rhys?” Soft words.
He shivered. Something about that question made his hair stand on end. He shouldn’t answer, but the response tumbled out of his mouth anyway. “I’m waiting for a friend.”
“We’re waiting for someone too.” She glanced back at the bar. “Perhaps we can idle the time together.”
We. Rhys followed the path her gaze had taken. A blond man walked toward them, right hand in his pocket. His blue eyes took Rhys’s breath away, even from halfway across the room—pale as a summer’s morning. He was thin—thinner than Silas—and he had the same marble-like skin as Radmila.
She took the man’s left hand as he joined her. “Has the waiter seen our friend?”
“Earlier, but not recently.”
God, the man’s voice. It dipped and rolled like the sound of an oboe. Rhys curled his hands about the book in his lap. Instinct told him to flee these two, but when the man’s gaze shifted and lingered on him, he couldn’t look away.
“I see you’ve found a new friend.”
More so than Radmila’s, this man’s smile froze Rhys’s blood. He would do anything to touch the man, to be touched by him. The thought repulsed Rhys, even as it made him hard.
“Rhys, this is Jarek.”
Jarek took a step forward and offered his right hand.
He tried not to take it. Failed. Cold skin, iron grip. Rhys couldn’t let go.
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Rhys.”
The way Jarek said his name, the desire that lingered in the blond man’s eyes, set Rhys’s bones on fire.
“He’s waiting for a friend too,” Radmila said. She released her partner’s hand.
“So I see.”
Those words and the sudden chill of his own skin made Rhys pull away. Or at least think about it. His hand stayed in Jarek’s grip.
“No, Rhys. That won’t do at all.” Jarek lifted the book from Rhys’s lap and placed it on the table. “Why don’t you sit between Radmila and me? Let us have a little chat?”
Rhys stood, though his mind shouted not to. Oh, God. Where the hell was Silas? He had to get away from these—people?
All he could do was what Jarek instructed. They rearranged the chairs so they sat close together. Rhys sat between the two.
“Now.” Jarek’s thumb stroked the top of Rhys’s hand. “Who are you waiting for?”
Sharp spikes rattled against Rhys’s lungs when he tried not to inhale, struggled not to speak. Still, it came out. “Silas.”
“Silas?”
“Quint.” Speaking the word felt as though he’d been crushed into and then dragged over broken glass.
Radmila’s laugh rang out. “He’s rearranged his name.”
Jarek smiled, displaying a mouth full of teeth that were wrong. Every last one was pointed, like a saw blade. “And do you know where Silas is?”
That question, at least, Rhys was willing to answer. “No.”
“When will he return?”
“By first light.” Because vampires—and that must be what these two were—couldn’t stand sunlight. But it was dark now, and Silas was not here.
Why wasn’t Silas here?
“Of course,” Jarek murmured. He brought Rhys’s hand to his mouth and licked it. “You’re absolutely delightful. So full of fear.” He turned Rhys’s hand over, scraped those razor teeth over his wrist, and then bit.
Jarek’s mouth felt like acid burning through his flesh. Rhys couldn’t even scream. An instant later, the pain diminished. Jarek pulled away.
Bite marks and blood, but a wound so small it looked like a kitten’s nip. If that was what a small bite felt like, Rhys would never survive a real one.
“Now,” Jarek said. “Give your other hand to Radmila.”
God no. But he did as he was told.
Radmila bit him as Jarek had, to the same effect. By the end, he took air in short gasps. When she released his hand, she said something to Jarek in a language Rhys didn’t understand. He laughed in response.
Jarek ran a finger down Rhys’s neck. “Do you know what your friend Silas Quint is?”
The answer tore its way out of Rhys’s throat even as Rhys tried to pull away from Jarek’s touch. “Fae.”
“And did the fae tell you what you are?”
“I don’t—” What he was? Dredges of dinner conversation surfaced. “He said I was fairly unique in the world.”
Radmila snorted.
Jarek clicked his tongue. “Now, now. The pixie told him the truth.”
“As far as that goes.” Her hand encircled his wrist. “I want more of him.”
“Yes,” Jarek said. “But not here.” He rose and pulled Rhys up as well. “Don’t worry. Your fae will join you soon enough.”
Radmila stood and snaked her arm around Rhys’s. “It’s a lovely night for a stroll on the deck.”
They walked him toward the dark glass of the outer door, which slid open as they approached. The night air was breezy and cool, heavy with the smell of the ocean. A sliver of moon hung over the water, casting white onto the inky black of the water. It would have been beautiful had he not been strung between two vampires. Where was Silas? He was supposed to be hunting these things!
“I almost want to let you run,” Jarek whispered into his ear. “Just to taste your hope die.”
Sound escaped his throat then, but it was only a whimper.
Radmila licked Rhys’s neck. “Oh, but it just did, didn’t it?”
They walked him down to a table nestled close to the bulkhead and draped in shadow. Jarek pushed him hard against the metal wall. Cloth ripped, and his tie was stripped from his neck. His shirt followed, buttons clacking to the wooden deck. Cold lips skimmed his shoulder blade. Jarek’s teeth ripped into Rhys’s skin and muscle.
Flaming spikes pierced his flesh. Rhys’s throat ached as though he screamed, but only whimpers came out. Those small sounds seemed to drive Jarek on. Fingers dug into his other shoulder and tore into that flesh as well.
Rhys was going to die. God, he wanted to die. Then the torment, the burning fire in his blood would stop.
It didn’t. When Radmila yanked Jarek away, it lessened for a moment. She spoke, but the words made no sense. Again Jarek laughed and backed away. Radmila closed in.
Rhys burned as if someone had set fire to the marrow in his bones. When she pulled back, he would have cried out in relief had he been able to make any sound at all. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.
They ripped off the rest of his clothes, the fabric screeching as it tore. The only other sound in the night was the hum of the ship and the slap of the water against the hull. No footsteps. No one to save him.
Jarek lifted Rhys and laid him out on the table, the cold open-weave metal scraped against Rhys’s bare back, an almost pleasant touch compared to what had come before.
The respite didn’t last. Radmila hovered in his vision, teeth fully bared. She drew a claw down his cheek, a parody of a lover’s caress. The wound stung as if sand had been rubbed into it. The sharp metallic smell of blood filled his nose. He tasted the tang in his mouth.
Then the vampires tore into his body. Ice sliced through his legs. Fire pulsed up in waves. He felt the tug and rip of his flesh and the acid burn after, when sea spray covered them. Teeth pierced Rhys’s chest like glass daggers. Radmila’s hair fell against the ruin of his face and shoulder. The fine strands slithered like maggots, then buried into his flesh. Rhys’s nerves screamed and seemed to rip out of his body. A buzzing filled his ears, and lightning flashed over his vision. But he didn’t—couldn’t—pass out. Something close to a wail finally escaped his lips.
Rhys shouted a single name over and over in his head.
Silas!
Find Anna on the web:
Website: http://www.annazabo.com
Twitter: @amergina
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/AnnaZabo
Loose Id Link: http://www.loose-id.com/authors/a-f/anna-zabo/close-quarter.html
Thanks for having me over, Jessica!
Posted by: Anna Zabo | November 15, 2012 at 08:39 AM
Paranormal romance is one of my favorites, and I love a new twist on vampires, fae, or any of the other supernaturals. Sounds like a hot read.
Posted by: Allie Ritch | November 15, 2012 at 08:51 AM
You are so welcome, Anna!
Posted by: Jessica Freely | November 15, 2012 at 10:51 AM
My favorite villian is the one that thinks and is just so barely sympathetic - if they just had made one choice differently they wouldn't be bad - but they are, and they aren't changing, but you can see WHY they're bad. Why yes, I like complex characters :)
Also, hi again!
Posted by: marybeth | November 15, 2012 at 11:23 AM
Great excerpt. My favorite type of villain is the ruthless, Machiavellian type who tries to eliminate anything is his path towards a single-minded, nefarious goal. Love to hate them!
[email protected]
Posted by: Urbanista | November 15, 2012 at 02:26 PM
I guess my favorite villains are the super brainy ones who are clever and imaginative. Example would be Professor Moriarty in the Sherlock Holmes stories.
What an exciting and scary excerpt where Rhys is being attacked by vampires.
Posted by: Jbst | November 15, 2012 at 04:08 PM
PLease count me in. Thanks!
Posted by: gigi | November 15, 2012 at 04:16 PM
Thank you so much for the contest!! I hope I'm on time... as for what type of villain I lost most? hmm... I like a villain that though they do so much damage and evil, deep down you can actually see that he wants to be better. he WANTS to do good, but there is no one to anchor him and so, he does those deeds of "bad/evil". heh... so... I liked the torn villain. Torn between WANTING to be good but ends up doing nothing but bad. ;)
LOVE the sound of your story! Please count me in :D
Judi
arella3173_loveless@yahoo(dot)com
Posted by: Judi P | November 15, 2012 at 07:37 PM
I love a paramormal slant...My favorite villian though is the flat evil 'we don't mind killing him' type :) Sounds awesome! Thank you, chellebee66(at)gmail(dot)com
Posted by: Michelle (MiMi) | November 15, 2012 at 09:43 PM
Oooh. Nifty. As far as villains...I like the tortured type. Or the torture-ing type. :>p
Posted by: Evey Brett | November 17, 2012 at 07:27 AM
Oooh, I likey!
My favorite villains... I like the twisted souls, the ones that make you think "if only they were the good guys instead". I confess to a particularly soft spot for Cruella de Vil.
djazebel(at)yahoo(dot)com
Posted by: Sara P | November 17, 2012 at 10:01 PM
Hi, Thank you for running this contest. And definitely congratulations to Anna on her hard work paying off. YEA!
I'm such a weany, so I always wish that somehow the villains would be redeemed in the end. I know they can't get back in total good graces--because of justice and all--but I always want them to have seen the error of their ways and make good in the world.
Posted by: Danielle M. | November 18, 2012 at 09:44 PM
I went over to random.org, stuck 1-10 in their Random Number Service, and it gave me the number: 1
Allie Ritch, you were the first commenter (who wasn't me or Jessica) so you're the winner!
Congrats!
And thank you all for stopping by. :) If you pop on over to my blog, there will be a few more chances to win a copy of the novel on this blog tour.
Posted by: Anna Zabo | November 19, 2012 at 08:24 AM