I know, I know – this was already released – and released – but this time, it’s coming out through my new publisher, Changeling Press, with a pretty new cover! The next book in the series, Dies Irae (Blood Sworn 2) will be releasing not long after, so make sure you read Salva Me first and get introduced to my vampires and their world.

To stop a monster, Jeremy needs Morgan to surrender not just his blood but his body and heart.

England, 1816. A nosferatu, a rogue vampire, hunts unchecked through Sussex. Jeremy Takeshi Colbourne is honor-bound by ancestral duty to find and destroy such madmen. Foremost among the vampires of England, he must find a way to ensure the safety of the English citizens and the vampires that live among them.

Then Jeremy and his blood-host Morgan Holland discover a brutally savaged girl. With this latest victim of the nosferatu, Jeremy realizes the time has come to make Morgan aware of the Colbourne responsibilities. But the situation could not have come at a worse time.

For years, Morgan has served as Jeremy’s blood-host. Though Morgan adheres faithfully to his Contracted terms, he refuses to surrender to the sexual seduction that completes each feeding. He yields neither his body nor his heart, though Jeremy yearns for both.

As the nosferatu’s atrocities grow, Jeremy must ask everything of Morgan to gain the strength needed to fight the ravening monster. Will Morgan relent and give up body and heart to help Jeremy defeat their enemy, or will the battle destroy them both?

EXCERPT:

Jeremy cursed at the knock on the oaken door of his study. Morgan had attempted to corner him several times today. Pure cowardice had driven Jeremy to take refuge here, a place his loyal Host rarely intruded on, since it held the Buddhist shrine housing his mother’s mortuary tablet. He glanced at the portrait standing behind the black stone, wishing for a bit of Keiko Yamakawa’s legendary strength.

Evading Morgan had taken a toll on Jeremy. The Contracted day for his feeding had come and gone. Today marked two full weeks since Morgan had wrenched himself from Jeremy’s grasp, nearly bleeding to death before Jeremy could administer the requisite clotting agent. The sight of Morgan’s injuries had seared itself into Jeremy’s mind, rendering him unwilling to risk another such incident.

It almost made him wish to return to Japan, despite the difficulties involved. Obtaining the necessary dispensation from the Tokugawa Shogunate had been hard enough when he left. Lord Matsumae had done what he could, but it had taken his mother’s personal attendance on Emperor Kōkaku and an appropriate gift to Tokugawa Ikeharu to get it done. Going back would be far worse, despite his home’s exemption from the Sakoku Edict. Even so, he was tempted. If only to avoid what he now faced.

The knock came again, harder than before, followed immediately by the entrance of Morgan Holland. “Excuse me, Lord Colbourne. While I am always loath to disturb you in your sanctum, you cannot avoid me forever.” Exasperation filled Morgan’s voice, underscored by heavy concern.

Jeremy risked a glance at his Host, unwilling to see but drawn nonetheless. The wounds on Morgan’s neck had healed; his skin flushed a healthy hue. Unlike usual feedings, the last one had left two ragged scars, visible reminders of Jeremy’s lack of control. Even now, the remnants of Morgan’s refusal echoed in his mind, invading his dreams.

“I am not convinced you are well enough to support a feeding, Holland,” he hedged, though his Host showed no lingering signs of ill effects. “Your wounds have barely healed.”

Morgan sighed. “I understand your reluctance after the debacle last time, but you cannot risk your health or your sanity by some idiotic attempt at endurance. I am prepared to meet my Contracted terms without qualms.”

“So you say. Nonetheless, your refusal made quite an impression. I’d prefer not to endure that again so soon.”

Morgan’s cheeks heated with angry embarrassment. “Then break Contract, my lord, and find someone more willing to accommodate all of your needs. Or go back to Japan.”

The slap of the words felt like a further refusal. Jeremy straightened in his chair, denying the spike of pain, determined to retain his rationality. Fear was anathema to the Barons of Colbourne and to the Yamakawa family. Being afraid to feed on his Contracted Host shamed both houses. He stood, feeling the weakness of flesh from self-deprivation.

“After twelve years? I’d rather not, thank you. You’re all I need. Or want.” Jeremy considered the irony of his irrational thoughts mere moments before. “It is far harder to return than to leave,” he added. “While my home in Matsumae is exempt from the Sakoku Edict, only my status as a noble Chi no Kami allowed me to leave in the first place. I have no wish to reverse the process any time soon.”

Morgan considered for a moment and then gave him the ghost of a smile. “Then please stop delaying the inevitable. Despite what happened before, I refuse to watch you kill yourself, however noble your ancestors may have found the practice. It would render all my efforts worthless.”

“Such things are not reserved for my ancestors,” Jeremy growled. “If I chose seppuku, who would be my second? You’d still have to watch me die.”

“At least it would not be this slow death you’re attempting now.”

Trust Morgan to know him well enough to hit so close to the truth of the matter. Jeremy allowed silence to reign for a moment and then gave a grudging chuckle. “No quarter, I see. You win, Holland. Give me two hours, and I’ll meet you in the sanguis cubiculum.”

Two hours would give Jeremy sufficient time to contact William Carter. After this long, the sexual urges would be difficult to suppress, but he could not afford another mistake like the last time.

Morgan nodded to him. “Two hours, then, Lord Colbourne. I will be ready.”

* * *

At the appointed time, Morgan waited as instructed, nervous despite his earlier words to Colbourne. He touched the scars on his neck gingerly, wondering. For all his bravado and calm facade, the thought of facing Colbourne’s fangs disturbed him. That last bite had driven into his neck without preparation, the savage sting a hint of what mankind had faced in the early days of the nosferii. Yet beyond the pain, another sensation had lurked, one he was reluctant to recall.

Perhaps it was only the remnants of the lust that rose in him every time Colbourne fed, but the agony of the unprepared bite had seemed to turn into a hazy pleasure at the end, before he’d passed out. Perhaps the recollection was only some perverse blending of his memories.

Colbourne entered the sanguis cubiculum through the far door. Morgan caught a brief glimpse of another person before the closing door blocked his view.

So he arranged for his companion to be available immediately after he is finished with me.

In spite of the obvious benefits to the situation, the idea irritated Morgan for some reason. Though he refused to offer up his body for postfeed sex, he’d always steadfastly ignored Colbourne’s subsequent retreat to his rooms for several hours. To have that person here, in the antechambers of the sanguis cubiculum, the mere thought left a burning ache in Morgan’s gut. This was his domain, his sacred trust, no one else’s.

“Are you ready, Holland?”

The deeply sensuous voice rippled over Morgan’s skin, bringing him to a half-aroused state before the feeding started. He did his utmost to quash the reaction, trying vainly to focus on something other than Colbourne’s mouth.

A hand reached for his chin, gently turning his face away to expose the length of his neck.

“I’m sorry, Morgan,” Colbourne whispered.

Morgan felt the faintest tremble in his master’s hand. He turned his head the opposite direction, offering the undamaged side. “Here, Master,” he urged, “feed from here.”

Colbourne’s tongue touched him gently, tracing a line across his skin before stopping. “No, I think not,” he said, trailing his fingers past Morgan’s throat. “I’d rather feed from a different source today. Your neck is still healing.”

Morgan shivered as his master’s hand roamed down his front, then stroked along the inside of his thigh.