Long Black Cadillac
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by B. A. Tortuga
Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica/Romance
Description: Vance is a vampire hunter on a mission. When the Colonel sends him to clear out a bloodsucker living in the Louisiana swamps, Vance figures it's all in a day's work. The problem is that Clay is no ordinary vampire. Clay and Vance have a connection that Vance has never felt before. He knows he should be fighting Clay off, but all he wants to do is give in to the feelings Clay inspires. How is he supposed to fight something that feels so good? Clay might just be the undead man to convince Vance that not all vampires are bad, and that donating a little blood can be sexy as Hell. When things with Vance's boss go horribly wrong, Clay has to ride to the rescue, refusing to let his new love disappear. With his human familiar, the crazy little Cajun named Remy, and the enigmatic older vampire Gryphon along for the ride, Clay tries to find Vance before it's too late. Vance is a survivor, and with Clay at his side, he plots his revenge against his former employer, a man who had much darker motives than just sending vampires to their final reward. Can Vance and Clay keep moving, stay alive, and blow the Colonel's plan out of the water?
eBook Publisher: Torquere Press/Top Shelf, 2007 http://www.torquerepress.com
eBookwise Release Date: July 2007
96 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [229 KB]
Reading time: 149-209 min.
God, he hated these hillbilly dives. You always had to worry about pet gators in the sink when you went to piss.
"Yeah, yeah." He got a beer and a shot of Jack, though, and the glasses were clean enough. He shot the Jack before he left the bar, the burn easing him off enough to let him wander back into the shadows with his beer. Hunting.
Here, kitty, kitty.
The place was ripe for it. Girls with cotton candy lipstick and boys that smelled like weed were fucking everywhere. All that fodder. He glared at a couple of little rednecks, staring without a word until they gave up their table.
He didn't have to stay long enough to make friends.
He'd been sucking on that damned piss of a beer maybe twenty minutes when the door opened, a good looking guy in his late twenties staggering in, almost looking drunk already, but ... not. No, this guy was pale, shaky and hollow eyed, but not drunk. Score.
Ah, that must be an appetizer. Sorta like chips and salsa, but less spicy. Bloodsucker had decent taste, though. Vance sighed and watched the guy, the door.
The walking hors d'oeuvre went to the bar, leaned across to talk to the bartender, and passed over a fifty. He got a bottle in a bag in return and headed back out the door.