My name is Sora. I was born into this world to a highly respected Mage family. All was well as a child; most children receive their magic at puberty… I was not that fortunate. Shunned by my family, I was cast out on my twenty-first birthday—a failure and disappointment to those who were supposed to love me.
Left on my own in Seattle with no friends or money, I made my way through low-paying jobs down the coast to Southern California. Fate finally smiled upon me in San Diego, where I scored a serving position at a diner. One night after my shift, I decided to walk to a dive bar near my home to drown my sorrows. That was where I met him: the Master Vampire of the SoCal Clutch.
It was either the biggest mistake of my life… or the best decision in the world.
This series changes POV’s.
Targeted Age Group:: Mature Adult
Heat/Violence Level: Heat Level 4 – R Rated
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
Nothing compares to the power of words. Whether inspiring love and desire, or inciting the end of the world, there's a simplistic beauty inside each keystroke. Besides, we all deserve a little fantasy…
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
My characters reflect the personalities of those I grew up with. I write the women's POV in the first person, but the men's are always in the second. There's just something about writing from a man's perspective I can't fully wrap my mind around.
Someone was in my house.
Panicked, I jerked the door open but no one was there. Flipping the deadbolt, I quickly checked the bathroom and tiny shower.
Heart rate calming, I walked back to the kitchen. A draft blew against the nape of my neck. Slowly, I turned.
A brick of a man stood in my open entryway.
I gasped. Lowering my gaze, I eyed my bat near the door.
His lips tilted into a smirk as if daring me to go for it. He had a strong jawline and high cheekbones. Not pretty, but handsome in a bad-boy kind of way. The jacket he wore was open to a dark blue T-shirt. Faded jeans finished the look paired with black combat boots.
I stared. It was like a Wild West standoff.
After a moment, I injected feigned confidence into my voice. “Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my house?”
His lips curled into a full devilish smile that dimpled his cheeks. Deep, rich laughter rolled out, immediately pissing me off.
Squaring my shoulders, I stalked toward him with a glare. His teeth snapped closed when I was a foot from him… and my weapon.
Catching the movement of my eyes, he growled, “I wouldn’t.”
Crossing my arms as a barrier, I tried to ignore the fluttering of my stomach. “Answer me!”
Inside, a silent demand screamed, Let go.
So, I did. Brilliant blue light lit my hands, dancing across my knuckles as I spread each finger. The glow played across the stranger’s face as he stared, completely transfixed by whatever the hell I was doing.
This close, I could smell him. Clean and crisp like the ocean, and very similar to my home back in Seattle. Inhaling again, I licked my lips and relaxed into the memory.
He flared his nostrils as his gaze tracked the motion. Shock and recognition flashed across his face. “You.”
Confusion coursed through me. I didn’t know this mountain of a man that smelled like home. Returning his assessment, I noted how his leather jacket clung to him like a second skin. Focus!
Tossing my hair over one shoulder, I asked, “Do I know you?”
Stepping back, he overcame his previous emotional slip with the movement. “I’m Blaze, Master of the SoCal Clutch.” One perfect brow rose. “And you are?”
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