Monsters Lurk in Every Dark Corner

I mentioned to John Patrick that I was writing blood and gore, killing people this morning and he gulped. I reminded him I have many sides – both as an author and as a woman. While I find writing about spanking, D/s and DD enthralling and in truth very cathartic for me, my joy of writing thrillers is very high. I have always written about creatures of the night and my vampires and were-tigers are vicious, hungry and must been on the blood and flesh of humans. They also tend to have a curse hovering over every aspect of their lives, forcing them into remaining the monsters they sometimes loathe.

For me, creating alternative worlds in both real life – i.e. a D/s lifestyle – or in a HuntersMoon_Medparanormal manner allows the complete freedom of my mind to soar. I am no longer confined by certain real life conventions. I’m allowed to explore my VERY dark side, one involving kink as well as the thrill of embracing death and the after life. Let’s face it – that’s why vampires continue to be so popular. When you mix kinky sex, blood, murder and the thought of immortality – when then, you have a recipe for a delicious treat. Yeah, I’m a bit sick, aren’t I?

I’m redoing what was a popular book – Crimson Tide. The story is powerful but I want to draw you deeper into their worlds. So this morning I was adding a tasty new beginning, a manner of beginning for a world that will terrify you as well as make you hunger just a little bit. See what you think…


Only the strong shall survive… 

The air was crisp, the cool breeze invigorating. He moved through the darkness with ease, his hunger under control – for now. With every step he studied his surroundings, his vision capturing every nuance of the creatures withering beneath his feet. The scents of the street were foreign but pleasing in a manner he hadn’t anticipated. Hearing a noise he stopped, cocking his head in an effort to detect the location. A smile crossed his face. “Yes,” he hissed under his breath as he slunk into the shadows.

bloody fangAs he stood, remaining silent and calculating the time for the prey to approach, he realized how odd the sensations were coursing through every cell in his body. Prey. The word was no longer foreign. Excitement surged through every pore, every cell. The smells around him seemed much more inviting, tastes so incredible he could hardly breathe, yet a horrific pain continued to force him to rest. What the fuck was happening to him? He tried to remember how the day started then closed his eyes as he stretched out his arms. Every muscle ached like a son of a bitch. The night before had been nothing special. Sure, he’d gone out with his buddies to the corner bar, guzzling a few beers and watching the game, but he’d been alone when he walked home. Right?

Scattered images rocketed through him, several so gruesome he figured he’d been drugged. But how? “Jesus Christ, get it together.” Everything seemed odd, foreign to him and for a few seconds he thought he’d simply lost his mind. Snarling, he wiped his mouth as flashes of the day filtered into the back of his mind.

“What’s wrong?”

Eyeing her face, her neck as if for the first time he shifted back and forth, the scent of her fragrance overwhelming. As the lights flashed he blinked, trying to focus, and could only concentrate on her pulse drumming in her neck. After a few seconds he realized he was parched. Reaching out his arm he smiled. “Absolutely nothing.” Fuck her. Taste her. Eat her.

“Mmm…” Pressing the back of his head against the cool brick he honestly couldn’t remember what had happened, but he did remember her scream, or were his memories kicking him in the ass? A laugh bubbled from his dry lips. Yes, he was damn parched, so thirsty he was dehydrated, weak from need. His body shaking, he snapped his head the second he heard noise, rustling metal, as if keys were being tugged from a pocket. The thought giving him more than a few seconds of longing he opened his eyes, his vision almost perfect.

The lilting sound of a whistle, the male husk permeating the night was enough to make his cock twitch. He stared down at his hands and cringed. Even in the dim moonlight he could tell his fingers were encrusted in some substance. A quick sniff of his right hand confirmed exactly what he’d anticipated – blood. The intense scent of copper was mixed deliciously well with the fragrance of… He clucked his jaw as the whistling continued, the echo bouncing off the steel doors in the alley. Yes, the stench was one of death – a delightful smell. A rush of adrenaline swept up from his legs as another vision dragged him into Hell.

Fuck her. Taste her. Eat her. The words reverberated in the back of his mind as he eased under the back window, crouching low to the ground. Sweat beaded across his forehead, a stream trickling down the back of his neck. He was having difficulty breathing, the short bursts of ragged coughs ravaging his system. His stomach lurched as another wave of nausea constricted in his stomach, the dull ache never abating.

A short grunt escaped his lips as he tried to control his shaking legs. Only the sound of her voice, the lovely woman he’d stalked from the market able to control the tremors. His desire growing he licked his lips, cognizant of another grip of raw anguish, the same one that had made him feel like shit all day. Blood. The scentred moon was all around him. Concentrating, from somewhere deep inside he knew she was talking on the phone as she tugged off her clothes. The view was perfect, allowing him to see every move, every sweet curve of her body.

Fuck her. Kill her. Eat her. Thoughts rushed into his mind, blood soaked visions of tearing her apart, ripping every shred of her beautiful skin. Shifting, he tried to make sense of what he was thinking, his needs grabbing at his very soul. As she tugged the thin dress from around her shoulders, tossing the unwanted material to the floor. He inched closer to the window, his nails digging into the sill. His eyes darting back and forth, he resisted stroking his aching cock. He was hard and desperately hungry.

“That’s it. I’m taking a shower. Let’s do dinner later. Good?” Her laugh floated toward the window. She smiled as she placed the phone on her dresser then moved into the bathroom.

He was conscious of the shower as he pushed open the window, crawling inside her room. The intensity of the scents surrounding him were a powerful draw, awakening the hunger once again. Very slowly he moved toward the bathroom, his mouth watering. For some reason he felt stronger, desire soaring. He could sense what she was feeling, could read her mind as she thought about what she was going to wear, how she was going to fix her lovely long hair. A smile crept across his face.

Passing by the mirror he stopped for a moment, catching his reflection. A shiver trickled down his back. This had to be a nightmare. The rustle of the shower curtain drew him back and he inched closer to the door, drinking in her sweet essence. The moment he entered the small space he lost all control.

Jumping, he could remember the next few seconds clearly and the visions were too loathsome to be true. There was no way he could have… His stomach rumbled, the visions drawing out his increasing hunger. A rustle just to the right captured his attention. He sucked in his breath and honed in on just how close the young man was. Yes, the smell of testosterone infused with alcohol was strong. The man swaggered down the deserted street, unaware of his surroundings. The whistle remaining, he passed by the darkened corner where evil had taken residence without any knowledge.

The single word slithered from his mind. Not usually a patient man, he fought what little was left of his humanity as the boy walked by. He was stoked with need and tonight he was going to feast. When the young man was a good twenty yards past his hiding spot he moved into the dim lighting, darting a single glance at the moon.

The boy walked briskly yet his body swayed back and forth, drunkenness overtaking his cognitive abilities. He continued to whistle, although laughter bubbled every few seconds. As he neared a bank of parked cars he stopped short, fumbling with the keys nestled in his hand. Grunting, the metal ring slipped from his fingers. He managed to catch them after swooping down but the move threw him off balance and he fell to his knees. “Fuck!” The cry floated toward the sky.

His eyes darted back and forth as he watched the young man, enjoying the show as he narrowed his eyes. He was able to hear the hard thumping of the boy’s heart, blood pumping. He licked his lips, dragging his tongue across his teeth, savoring the sharp points. Whatever he was becoming he was well aware he was stronger, every aspect of his skin and bone, muscle and sinew alive with energy. Now he needed to feed. Advancing, he wasn’t concerned about witnesses. He wasn’t worried about his skills or of the sounds that would erupt. He was only concerned about one thing – sating his powerful thirst.

The boy laughed, righted himself and slapped his hand on top of the closest car. Wiping his mouth he lunged. The second his hand wrapped around the young man’s throat, his claws digging into his skin, he tipped his head back and roared. The look of horror on the boy’s face as he was lifted off his feet was laced with terror. He twisted his hand, yanking the boy close to his face.


The single sound as the boy’s neck was snapped was delightful indeed. Opening his mouth wide, he hissed.

Aren’t vampires truly delicious? Mmm…

Kisses and spanks


About Cassandre Dayne

Cassandre Dayne is the pseudo for the best selling author of romantic suspense and thrillers
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