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Cesar: The Demon Lover's Chronicles, #1
Cesar: The Demon Lover's Chronicles, #1
Cesar: The Demon Lover's Chronicles, #1
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Cesar: The Demon Lover's Chronicles, #1

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A Dark Paranormal Fantasy. César won the IAN 2016 OUTSTANDING Paranormal/Supernatural Book of the Year.

 

**This Book Contains Adult Content/Graphic Violence**

 

Enemies of the powerful priestess, Rachel Thrust, conjure up a handsome but evil entity to destroy her followers. César's unholy mission is to turn her into a vampire and destroy her sect from within. Instead, he becomes obsessed with her younger sister, Angelina. Eventually, his demonic love turns Rachel's sister into a monster. When the priestess tries to save her sister's soul, she changes Angelina into something other than human. She becomes a monstrous yet beautiful hybrid still in love with her childhood sweetheart, Allen, and the demon from Hell, César. 

LanguageEnglish
Release dateNov 6, 2016
ISBN9781540191335
Cesar: The Demon Lover's Chronicles, #1
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 - Julian M. Coleman

    The César Trilogy

    Demons Don’t Love. Or Do They?

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pY1Nkd-rk5U

    Table of Contents

    BOOK 1 OF 3

    Chapter 1: 1939

    Chapter 2: Dead Eyes

    Chapter 3: Escape

    Chapter 4: The Something Else

    Chapter 5: Auntie

    Chapter 6: César’s Turned

    Chapter 7: Rachel’s Loss

    About the Author

    Dedication:

    to My beloved Mina

    Chapter 1 – 1939

    RACHEL PUSHED AGAINST the drowsiness gluing her eyelids together. As her heart thumped fitfully against her ribcage she fisted her eyes to dissipate the foggy caress of sleep. She knew instinctively her sleep was too deeply imbedded to be normal. She remembered tidbits of her nightmare, and a fear she hadn’t tasted in eons rushed over her stupor. Immediately, she sat upright in bed.

    Rachel was shaking and sweaty as she tossed aside the covers. She tried to rise on boneless legs and fell back on the pillows, while the grogginess draped over her like a heavy coat. Again she fought the unnatural urge to sleep and this time she stood with more determination. She had to wake up. She needed to wake up, she told herself as her head pulsated angrily.

    New pieces of the nightmare slithered into her consciousness. Although the segments were vague and somewhat abstract, true terror seized her heart. She snatched her bathrobe from the bedpost and swept down the hall. Angelina’s bedroom door was closed. Rachel swallowed hard as despair stiffened her body. She silently prayed before clasping the cold doorknob. The touch of porcelain in her palm was real. She was awake and this assurance forced a moan from her lips. She knew even as she cracked open the door the bed would be empty. A wedge of light angled through the open window and shone on the lace covering. Earlier in the evening she had kissed her sister goodnight, but the bed appeared unruffled, pristine. Angelina’s head probably hadn’t graced the pillow.

    The windowpane was raised and a slight breeze fluttered the curtains. Rachel stumbled across the room and leaned out the window. Better to see Angelina sprawled out on the ground than with that demon, she thought. The full moon lit up the night like a lantern and washed the rolling lawn abutting a dirt road and acres of harvested cornstalks in a milky glow. Her heart threatened to tear free and crack bone. She clutched her chest and caught her breath.  She didn’t see Angelina.

    Their handyman, Old Moses, had nailed a trellis to the side of the farmhouse years ago. It was a crisscross contraption threaded with the stems of a robust rosebush. Rachel noticed a sliver of fabric clinging to the trellis.

    Angelina had always been a tomboy. There wasn’t a fence or a tree or apparently anything nailed to the house she couldn’t climb. How often, Rachel now wondered, had her sister slipped down surefooted just to meet up with him? Tears threatened to fall as she plucked the piece of cloth from the latticework. The world was quiet except for the weathervane, a sun-bleached rooster perched atop directional arrows creaking in the mild breeze and filling the house with ominous sounds.

    She started at her reflection in the mirror and saw the worry in her dark eyes. They were so different, she and Angelina. She was reserved and cautious and Angelina was...well, a carefree tomboy. They were physically different too. She had their father’s African features, ebony skin, deep-set eyes, flared nostrils and full lips. She was wiry and quick, just like their dad. And just as tall. Angelina resembled their mother: lots and lots of enviable hair, cinnamon complexion and a gentler countenance, which belied the trouble beneath a mischievous grin that only Rachel recognized as mischievous.

    Rachel placed a hand over her heart. Damn her. Leave it to Angelina to root out trouble and embrace it! Damn.

    Just as it had in her nightmare, her sister’s scream came out of nowhere and rose up from the pit of Rachel’s bowels, clawed along her spine and filled her brain with blasts of pain. She absorbed the intensity and the sensation behind her sister’s scream...betrayal.

    Rachel was startled into action. She ran out of the bedroom and called out to the men camped in the farmhouse. Rachel had met with her guests earlier in the evening, a dozen farmers who trusted her gifts.

    Now they grumbled and hobbled as they spilled out of the guestrooms.

    Wake up! We been tricked! Rachel clapped her hands in front of faces, and demanded, Ask yourself if this sleep feels different? Can you feel it? Ain’t natural. Shake it off. She’s with that demon and I gotta get her back. She don’t know what she up against, but we do!

    Allen Silverstone was the only one alert enough to run down the hall and look into Angelina’s bedroom. Rachel hurried after him. She grabbed his arm and spun him again. What? Do you think I would lie to you? Now you see she ain’t here!

    Allen jerked free, rage emblazoned on his face.

    Rachel wanted to accuse him. She knew that if Allen hadn’t dragged his feet and proposed to Angelina, then her sister would’ve been a dutiful wife despite the temptation.

    She chastened her thoughts. She was burdened with as much blame as Allen. She should’ve known something was wrong. Her intuition, her feeling, had been haunting her for weeks, told her she was being watched. But she had to get the crops to market and sometimes her feelings were wrong. No, now was not the time for blame when Angelina was screaming in her head.

    She hurried Allen down the stairs. The others followed and seemed to settle into an uneasy silence. Rachel regretted baiting Allen when she saw how he struggled with Angelina’s betrayal. 

    She said, C’mon! Ain’t got no time for pity! He’s got her, but I know where she is. Thank God she’s gifted. She hadn’t been able to save her parents, but she would save her Angel.

    Chapter 2 – Dead Eyes

    ANGELINA WAS HUNCHED in the darkness. She clapped both hands over her mouth to keep the scream from escaping, pressed her back against a tree and slid to the earth. At least she had some cover in the woods. Thorns from the rosebush had scraped her skin and drawn a few beads of blood. That had been enough to show Angelina the truth. But not at first. Tears leaked from her eyes and rolled over her fingers. She had been so foolish. César had never loved her. He had betrayed her; she was nothing more than food.

    Only a few hours ago the evening had seemed to hold a romantic promise like the soft petals of a delicate rose. She had snuck out of her bedroom and within minutes she was down the dirt road. He’d been waiting for her in his brand new Cadillac Coupe. Angelina had been meeting César in secret for weeks. She was still a virgin, but meeting an older man, a stranger to their clan, while unchaperoned had caused gossipy tongues to tell lies.  So they had to meet in secret.

    Angelina hugged herself under the tree. While the tree’s protection was false, she felt safe blending into the darkness. Dampness from the grass seeped into her panties and drilled into her bones. Her tears flowed even though she didn’t think she had any tears left. Despite everything, she still loved him.

    How could she love a monster? But she had fallen hard since the first moment they touched. She didn’t want to remember, but tried to recall any time spent with him that might have hinted he was a fiend. She rocked in the darkness as the chill left her bones and seeped into her soul. She did remember when...

    ...they had bumped shoulders at Wimbush Eats, a popular Second Street diner. Angelina had opened her mouth to apologize for her clumsiness when she was struck by the sight of him. She had thought how men weren’t supposed to be beautiful. He had the most incredible chocolate-colored eyes and they were fringed with long eyelashes. He had smiled as he brazenly stared back. Angelina was sure her tongue was hanging out like some kid waiting for a piece of candy to be placed there...yes, sweet candy. Oh my, she had thought.

    Had she salivated? She wouldn’t have been surprised. The caramel-hued stranger seemed to favor her in the same way, or had she just been hopeful? Strangely and without uttering a single word, he had seemed to ask her to follow him outside.  He held the door open and although she felt close to fainting – like a feeble-brained girl—she followed. His scent had been earthy with a hint of spice which had stoked her with an uncommon and uncomfortable longing. They seemed to move

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