Queer Vampire Romance Series Book One
First Karla Nikole Publishing Edition, October 2022
Copyright © 2020 by Karla Nikole Publishing
All rights reserved. This book, its characters or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or for personal, unpaid recreation (i.e., fan art and cosplay). For more information, address Karla Nikole Publishing, 11010 S. 51st St, P.O. Box 51392, Phoenix, AZ 85044.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is entirely coincidental.
Cover illustration by Thander Lin
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Printed in the United States of America
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For all of my beautiful, clever and hilarious friends who encouraged me along the way.
Early November
One
England in winter—darkness, bitter cold and rain. Haruka shivers from the frigid damp. Everything about this situation is miserable.
Tiny droplets and long streams of water speckle the glass of the car window. Sitting in the back seat of the parked vehicle, the dark vampire shrugs deeper into his long wool trench coat. He closes his eyes. Stay calm, he thinks. Haruka hasn’t been outside his home to engage the vampire aristocracy in ten years. Put simply, he is a little stressed.
His manservant’s voice cuts through the silence from the driver’s seat. “Just so we’re clear, I don’t like this.”
Haruka doesn’t like it either, but what are his options? Ignore the formal request being made of him? Lose his feeding source and become an object of derision within the British vampire community? Or…
Haruka peeks one eye open. “We could go home… pack up the house—”
“No. We’re not running away again.”
“Then what would you have me do, Asao?”
“I would have you find a new purebred source.” Asao turns to watch him from the driver’s seat, his salt-and-pepper hair briefly illuminated by the glow of headlights from a passing car. “You’ve been drinking first-gen blood and it doesn’t give you optimum nourishment. You’re not strong enough for this—to be exposed this way in a house full of vamps we’ve never met. I’m dreading this damn bonding ceremony next month for the same reason.”
Haruka sighs, closing his eyes again. “As long as no one challenges me, I should be fine.” Finding a purebred source isn’t easy. It isn’t like quickly finding a pencil when you need to write something down. It’s more like searching for a rare gemstone across a vast cavern. Tanzanite or black opal.
Haruka has tried to secure a new purebred source in the past, but it’s never worked out. Too many demands, too much required in exchange. This is his life now. His manservant needs to accept it.
“If someone challenges you tonight, then what?” Asao asks. “You can’t keep the lure of your aura enclosed like this and fight someone off. Once your aura is exposed, every vampire in the house will be drawn to you… like a bunch of stupid frat boys to a keg. You need both defenses and offenses, Haruka, and feeding from a purebred will give you the strength—”
“I know this, but what will the purebred require of me in return?” Haruka scowls, his voice louder. “I have tried before—the price has always been too high. I will not form another bond. This discussion is pointless… What the hell is a ‘frat boy’?”
Asao turns forward in the silence, shaking his head. Raindrops tap loudly against the vehicle. “This other purebred that we’ll meet in London tomorrow… Just let me ask if he’d be willing to send you bags of his blood—”
“No,” Haruka breathes. It is undignified to make such blatant requests, and it would only expose him in his vulnerable state—making him an easy target. “You are concerned for me. But I will manage. I’ve been fine for more than ten years now. Shall we go inside and get this over with?”
Asao is still for a long moment, then hesitates at the door handle. “You are living a life significantly beneath your capabilities.” He steps outside. Shuts the door.
Haruka rolls his eyes. How is this statement helpful right now? Besides—his life, his choices. Somewhat… when he isn’t being forced to do something because of his bloodline and ranking.
The back door opens. A rush of damp, wintery air caresses Haruka’s face. Asao is holding a large black umbrella overhead as Haruka takes in the elegant brick structures surrounding them. The streetlights cast silver rays down the length of the road like spotlights on a dramatic stage. It’s quiet—only the peppery sound of rain on pavement.
They ascend the steps to the Duke of Oxford’s residence. Traveling the long distance from their home in Devonshire, they’ll be spending the night here. Tomorrow, they’ll travel to London to confront the purebred. The only other pureblooded vampire living in England aside from Haruka.
Civil wars and the Great Vanishing have wiped out every last purebred of British descent.
The tall blue door to the apartment swings open. Yellow light pours over them, making Haruka wince at the sudden contrast of bright illumination against darkness.
One manservant rushes out to relieve Asao of the large umbrella while a second stands at the door. He lifts his arm in a sweeping gesture. “Gracious master to the House of Hirano, welcome to Oxford. The duke and his family are in the banquet hall. Everyone is anxiously awaiting your arrival. This way, please, my lord.”
Haruka discreetly sniffs the air as he walks past the formally dressed servants. Their scents are unembellished—the smell of dried earth. They’re vampiric in nature but very low level. The human blood within their ancestry supersedes the vampiric.
The hallway is cool as he steps inside the residence and onto the polished marble floor. The walls are patterned with green Victorian-style wallpaper and the large chandelier above casts sparkling flecks of white light against every surface. The air is still. A smattering of voices echoes down the long hallway as Haruka breathes in the faint scent of salty meats and baked bread.
One manservant glides behind him to take his coat. Haruka obediently shrugs out of the long garment. The second manservant is standing in a daze and staring at Haruka with blue irises the color of summer skies. Haruka furrows his brow—he knows this particular look very well. It’s the look of someone hungry for something that registers as primal… not in the stomach. Below the waist.
The manservant holding Haruka’s coat walks around and discreetly smacks his colleague in the arm. The blue-eyed vampire blinks and smiles weakly, the trance broken. “My apologies, your grace, please follow me.” The manservant turns, hastily moving down the hallway as if trying to outrun his embarrassment.
Well, we’re off to an inauspicious start. He hasn’t been in this house five minutes and already a manservant is stupefied by his stifled aura.
Haruka exhales a breath, massaging the back of his neck with his palm as they walk down the narrow hallway. It’s going to be a long night.
Secretly, Haruka had hoped for a quiet evening between himself and the Duke of Oxford. What he receives is an extravagant feast with fifteen other dukes and duchesses seated within an elaborate ballroom.
When he enters, everyone stands at attention—perfectly still. Their vivid eyes are watching him. They remind Haruka of statues as he walks toward the empty seat at the head of the table just beside the Duke of Oxford. Each vampire tilts their head down in reverence as he passes, like dominoes. Even from a vampire’s perspective, the scene is eerie. The blood-red, dramatic baroque décor of the room certainly doesn’t help. Interesting, he observes. They enjoyed the eighteenth century to the extent that they refuse to leave…
After receiving a humble bow from the duke, Haruka nods politely and sits down. Everyone follows his lead and the duke proceeds with long-winded introductions for each of his guests. When a glass of red wine is placed in front of him, Haruka breathes a sigh of relief. Thank God. Merciful provision to aid him through the long evening ahead. He curls his fingers around the glass and brings it to his lips.
