Blurb:
A vampire with a raging thirst for human blood and erotic pleasure; a man with a secret mission to find and destroy the undead. But lusty midnight passions defy logic, while boundaries and duty hold no sway on the decks of the Night Stalker. Captain Dont Lucienne is the vampire captain of the Night Stalker. His crew is human, men who serve the vampires of Noctra, providing sustenance, as well as loyalty. They are fighters as well as lovers, and devoted to their vampire masters. They would destroy any who tried to kill their captain. Skye Templeton is a man on a dangerous mission. Plucked from the swelling seas by the crew of the Night Stalker, he's exactly where he needs to be. Will he come out alive, or end up as fodder to the lust of the vampirate captain? His duty is clear, at least until he comes to know this licentious crew and their magnetic leader...until he comes under the supernatural, relentless spell of the Night Stalker.
EXCERPT:
Donté felt the tight heat of Vasily's passage wrapped around his prick, sucking him deep inside. The infusion of Vasily's blood thrummed through Donté's body, rejuvenating him, engorging hard dick and hungry veins with new passion. And then Donté shifted his lean hips. He began to rock, his cock frictioning in and out of the slick, hot channel. Donté saw the shadow of Vasily's eyes roll, head dropped back, jaw slack, and his lusty moans drenched the atmosphere of the cabin.
"Open your eyes, Vasily," Donté commanded.
As though weighted by hidden forces, Vasily's eyelids slowly lifted. Donté studied the unfocused, dilated pupils that almost completely obliterated stark white, as the vampire thrust his hips. Droplets of salty sweat decorated the golden, naked body. Donté leaned forward to trace a moist path over the sailor's chest, circling each erect nipple, razing sharp teeth across resilient human flesh.
The vampire slowed his rhythm and circled his hips. Vasily cried out. Donté lifted up, reaching between their hard bodies to grasp the stone-hard prick of the young sailor. Human, hot and needy.
As the ship rocked and swayed, Donté synchronized his rhythm with that of the ship as he thrust into and undulated against Vasily's delectable body. He reached up to where Vasily's arms were shackled about his head and stroked a finger along the warm, supple flesh of the sailor's rigid, ropy forearm, tracing the path of a particularly fat, purple vein. Vasily shuddered beneath Donté.
"Please, Captain."
Donté stroked a tongue over Vasily's bulging pecs, tugged on a nipple, chewing at it lightly. Vasily's cries crescendoed and dropped, rose again and again, like surging waves lapping at the hull of the Night Stalker. Needy, in delirium, far removed from reality.
Donté's fangs sank into the supple muscle of Vasily's chest and the young man cried out, spurting his seed into Donté's hand. The vampire supped on his youthful, vibrant lifeblood, his cock buried in Vasily's ass.
Donté slowly extracted his fangs and swirled his tongue over the puncture marks, leaving faint red indentations in his wake. He studied Vasily's chest, admiring the tracks decorated across his warm flesh. Every sailor in his crew sported the vampire piercings upon their skin, each crewmember having been personally handpicked by either Donté or Donté's vampire sire, Captain Sterling Savoir, to serve as members of their respective crews.
Human, well-mannered, beautiful young men, all committed to serving the vampire masters of Noctra Island.
Donté smoothed a hand over the piercings, listened to the thundering heartbeat, the shallow breaths of his lover for the night. This was the second time he'd fed from Vasily in less than a fortnight and he would savor tonight. His blood was too rich, too addictive. If he fed from him once more before the next full moon, he was likely to draw the young man too close to the crossover. He dared not take the chance.
Pulling his still hard cock from inside Vasily, he lifted from the bed and walked over to the table. It was early yet, hardly a stroke after midnight, and he planned to savor his young sailor until the first misty fingers of dawn cut through the night. At the rate Donté was going he might not last if he didn't slow down. Sips only, no more than a pint of Vasily's blood or he'd push him too close to the edge. Donté poured some of the finely aged French burgundy into a goblet.
He took a moment to glance up, pinning the other bound man on the opposite side of the room beneath a hard stare.
"Do you see what you're missing?" Not quite all of his crew were as well mannered as he liked. "You could have been where he is, Velvet, if you hadn't disobeyed my command."
Velvet, a gunner's mate of unique precision and fortitude, was stretched out, hands manacled high above his head, his hard cock and heavy balls harnessed, a lead weight swinging with each surge of the ship, two more weights tugged at his distended tits.
Velvet was as beautiful as any of the men on the ship, and most of the time he listened to orders. Tonight called for discipline in Velvet's case. A hair trigger temper requiring a strong hand, he'd been less than humble, so certain he'd be the one to entertain the captain tonight. Well, Velvet was entertaining the master all right, but not in the way the rebellious young sailor expected.
Donté would not tolerate jealousy, or assumption, among his crew. The captain treated all of his mates equally and he would not have any of them attempting to usurp his authority and causing dissension on the ship. One day, Velvet would learn his place. Or else spend more time on the wall than in the captain's bed.
Donté walked over to Velvet and trailed his cool fingertips over the man's sweat-soaked chest. He hefted one of the weights in the palm of his hand and then allowed it to drop away. He heard Velvet's long drawn out hiss as it dragged against a tit.
Dropping his head, he razed his sharp teeth over Velvet's flesh. Lines of red tracked his path. But he didn't sink them into his flesh. He didn't feed.
"Please, Master, I'm sorry for what I did. I'll never do it again."
"I wish I believed you, Velvet. But this isn't the first time, is it? Not even the second. You're smart enough to make first gunner, but your temper and lack of self-control are your downfall. Be thankful I didn't turn you over to Margan and have him assign you to the bilge pump tonight--wallowing in stinking water for a night might teach you a lesson. That might have been a more fitting punishment. We'll see what a night of discipline on my wall will do for your manners."
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