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    Cesar's Revenge: The Demon Lover's Chronicles, #2
    Cesar's Revenge: The Demon Lover's Chronicles, #2
    Cesar's Revenge: The Demon Lover's Chronicles, #2
    Ebook135 pages1 hour

    Cesar's Revenge: The Demon Lover's Chronicles, #2

    By Julian M. Coleman

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    About this ebook

    A Dark Romance Fantasy. César won the 2016 IAN OUTSTANDING Paranormal/Supernatural Book of the Year. Continue the award-winning saga.

    "Anne Rice greatly inspired Coleman, but she also explores territory unique to the vampire genre and delves into the historical, albeit fictitious, paranormal world of African Americans in Louisiana." ~ Lee Gooden, Foreword Clarion Reviews

     

    Angelina is an immortal hybrid who desires a return to humanity. She escapes the demon's obsession by fleeing to Paris, where she and her new husband build a successful business. Although Angelina has difficulty suppressing her demonic tendencies, she becomes an entrepreneur and mother. Love keeps her from becoming a creature, but is love enough to protect her family from César's revenge?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJulian M. Coleman
    Release dateNov 6, 2016
    ISBN9781540130655
    Cesar's Revenge: The Demon Lover's Chronicles, #2
    Author

    Julian M. Coleman

    I'm a 2016 IAN Paranormal/Supernatural Award Winning author who grew up in Richmond, Virginia. My family was poor, but my imagination was rich. I suffered from bad dreams. I still dream about demons, but now those dreams provide the sauces to my stories.  By day I'm run-of-the-mill analyst grinding out data within a dark blue cubby, but by night I churn out horrific stories based on the demons that haunt me in nightmares. 

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      Book preview

      Cesar's Revenge - Julian M. Coleman

      César’s Revenge

      The Demon Lover’s Chronicles - Book 2

      By Julian M. Coleman

      SUPERNATURAL (1)

      AWARD WINNING

      PARANORMAL/SUPERNATURAL AUTHOR

      Julian Coleman, Copyright 2015

      ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

      ISBN: 9780990893912

      ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1QunBcuD3cg

      Dedication:

      to My beloved MINA

      Credits

      Editor: John Hudspith

      http://www.johnhudspith.co.uk/

      Cover Art: Fiona Jayde Media

      http://fionajaydemedia.com/

      TABLE OF CONTENTS

      Chapter 1: Onboard the Esmeralda

      Chapter 2:  Cabin 118

      Chapter 3:  An Immortal Love

      Chapter 4: The Impossible Predicament

      Chapter 5: The Family Silverstone

      Chapter 6: The Goddess-Savior

      Chapter 7: Separated Lives

      Chapter 8: Premonitions

      Chapter 9: The Demon at Home

      About the Author

      Chapter 1 – Onboard the Esmeralda

      The Victoria Dawn , a one-hundred-room passenger ship equipped with a brisk international crew was docked in Norfolk, Virginia. Allen knew they were fortunate to book last-minute passage aboard a ship that was bound directly for New York. From New York they would board another ship and sail for Europe. That was the plan. To float to a new life. Since Germany invaded France, the United States couldn’t guarantee safe passage in international waters so it was possible that, because of the war, Allen was able to obtain a suite on the ocean liner, the Esmeralda . Angelina had never seen anything as colossal as the gleaming white ship that shone brightly in the cold and murky night. Indeed she felt dwarfed, like an ant, next to a picnic basket. Compared to the Victoria Dawn , the Esmeralda hovered like a floating skyscraper.

      No matter the turmoil in Europe, Allen wondered if it was that unusual for colored people to escape the bigotry and oppression in the United States. In spite of his invisible class status in America, an acrid hint of despair languished on his taste buds as they waited to board the ship. He was leaving behind his brother, their farm, and his friends to start a new life as a poor-as-dirt immigrant in a country where he could hardly fathom the language. Perhaps escaping the United States was that unusual.

      Angelina lovingly studied his profile. She imagined his doubts while he gritted his teeth and knitted his thick brows. Not once, though, did she feel that he wanted to abandon their plans.

      I know there’s a war going on, but we’ll be just fine, she reassured. And while she said this quite easily, and sincerely, Angelina ached to be fed. Rachel had been wrong to force her to drink fresh blood so heartily. Now the pitiful food she consumed was barely enough to sustain her; she needed blood to help her concentrate.

      The eloping pair traveled under false names, had no passports, and very little money, but she sensed that once they boarded the ship everything would work out. How this would happen, she wasn’t exactly sure. Regardless, she needed blood to fuel her vampire so that she could convey passports where none actually existed.

      Are you sure about Paris? Allen asked.

      Yes, it will be safe for us. Actually, she wasn’t sure about anything except the gnawing black hole in the pit of her gut. From the bow of the Victoria Dawn, she gazed upon the immense ship with thick coal smoke belching from its four black and red funnels. Despite the darkness, she could see the word, Esmeralda, painted in enormous red lettering on its white hull.

      We really don’t speak the language, Allen continued, as he shivered in his threadbare coat. In Richmond they’d enjoyed an Indian summer, but in New York at night, the cold weather was brisk and brutal.

      The Victoria Dawn docked and the couple disembarked quickly to board the Esmeralda. As the white passengers boarded, she was able to spot them with her vampire eyes. A young couple with ghostly-pale skin climbed up the ramp linked arm in arm. They looked normal enough, European and wealthy. She sensed them as easily as she sensed the priestesses or César, but especially in the way she sensed César. The graceful way they moved gave them the appearance of floating. She was near enough to sniff a residual thread of sweet blood that bit Angelina like a divine memory. The young woman, attired in a fur coat and diamond earrings that sparkled like stars, seemed to sense her too as she sought and then found Angelina’s attentive eyes. She raised her fur muff, nodded slightly, and smiled before she returned her attention to the climb up the ramp.

      Oh God, Angelina gasped.

      What is it? Allen asked.

      Angelina contemplated telling him the truth, but he was jittery enough. They had been exiled from their simple lives. She was much less afraid of their future than Allen, who envisioned a world that was enormous and scary, much scarier than the monsters in the dark. She couldn’t confide in him, yet, she needed to get him on that ship. They had to lead César away from the clan and Rachel.

      It’s just that this ship is so enormous.

      Their stateroom was located in the bowel of the ship, on the same floor as the lodgings for the crew. Angelina loved the claustrophobic feel of the paneled walls. The confined space reminded her of traveling in the safety of a coffin, but Allen was miffed that their suite was nothing more than a closet with a bed and a simple chest of drawers. When he learned that their dinner would be served after the white people had eaten, he descended into a whirlwind of teen angst rubbed raw by racism.

      She dismissed his profanity-laced outbursts as she daintily unpacked their belongings before settling on a bed that was appreciatively soft and inviting. And she still needed to feed. Convincing the crew that passports existed when they actually didn’t had drained her further. A simple mental hypnotic suggestion of you-see-something-that-isn’t-real in her weakened state had nearly forced her to her knees.

      Alone in their stateroom, and stretched out on the soft bed by her side, Allen had to ask, How did you do that?

      Do what? But she already knew.

      The passports? I know we didn’t have time to get them, but how could you make them see what wasn’t there?

      She wanted to tell him that the old wives’ tales were true. People were never supposed to gaze into a vampire’s eyes or they would fall prey to hypnotism or seduction. Her use of these provocative gifts was natural. But this time, wisely, very wisely, she remained silent.

      Allen rolled onto his side, rose up on his elbow, and propped his head with his fist. He stared into her eyes without flinching almost as if the gesture was a dare. Then he stated softly, but in a tone full of menace, I love you, Angelina. God help me, I love you more than anything, but don’t you ever try any of your hocus pocus on me.

      Angelina gazed into his chocolate-brown eyes and drank in his nubile masculinity. She kissed his jutting jaw as she asked, What about my womanly wiles? And then she guided his head toward her cleavage.

      Chapter 2 – Cabin 118

      Blood.

      She tried to vanquish that hot memory, the vibrant taste of sweet blood on her tongue. She didn’t want to remember how the sweet blood gave her a near-orgasmic rush. But she knew that only fresh, warm blood could make her feel whole and real and human. Too quickly human food faded on her taste buds. Her recent meals had all the texture and flavor of dirt.

      They made love for hours, as softly and as gently as the sway of the Esmeralda on the Atlantic Ocean. Any caress less than gentle was apt to encourage her bloodlust and Angelina was afraid, deeply afraid, that if her hunger weren’t sated by blood—and soon—then she wouldn’t be able to control the urge.

      As Allen slept, she wept, listening to his rich blood running through his veins. He slept so soundly and so close, with his arm, strong and possessive, wrapped around her naked waist. His head was buried in her neck, and as he snored, he whistled gently through his nose. His body had grown warm and sweaty as he slept, and she couldn’t help but think of him as a pastry. She tried hard to stop the transformation, but her eyes had gone white and she could feel the pointed tips of her canines against her closed lips. With tentative fingers, she clutched the cross that hung around her neck, a prize she had stolen from Rachel’s jewelry box. With whispered words full of desperation, she called upon her priestess to leash her monster before it was too late.

      The following morning they met a lovely couple from Philadelphia and dined with them. Angelina found it somewhat easier to blend in with humans when they knew nothing of her curse. The woman, Betty, turned out to be a chatty Betty. She was an affable sort with a mousy appeal. Despite Angelina’s best attempts, she and Betty were essentially inseparable.

      During their afternoon tea with the couple, Betty commented, You have the most unusual eyes. Has anyone ever told you that? They remind me of a painting where the eyes follow you everywhere. And the light bounces back like cat’s eyes. It is quite unnerving. Then she quickly drained her tea to drown out her fear.

      Angelina easily smiled as she heard Betty’s rapid hummingbird heartbeats. Perhaps she wouldn’t be able to blend in as readily as she had hoped. She

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