Showing posts with label werewolves. Show all posts
Showing posts with label werewolves. Show all posts

Saturday, September 25, 2010

The Vampire Coven Histories, By Kayden McLeod

The Blue Rose—Foxworth Coven


The Foxworth Coven have been in British Columbia for over four-hundred years—the very first vampires to stake claim to the western Canadian territory, before the density of human population flooded their wide birth of territory. Back then, the entire province was theirs—but now, since the arrival of new Covens, their lands have been reduced to the Fraser Valley, making their home in Surrey.

A hundred or so years ago, Henry and Anastasia Foxworth led a formidable group who followed them, complete with three sons to call their own. Two were born of their blood; Corbin and Gregory, and one rag-tag adopted son; Antonio.

They loved their sons as equals, but it wasn’t quite the same amongst them. Antonio was jealous, and caused a war that ended in the Leader’s deaths, forcing the Heir, Gregory to take the one job he never wanted; manning the Foxworth legacy; the Coven, along with the family endeavor, Foxworth Shipping; an import/export business.

Gregory had a vision for the balance of man and vampirekind. He wanted peace brought to his people, and he knew how to bring some semblance of it. For the first time in history, a vampire would prove to his government, the Council that by acting human—working with and not against them would bring on a new era. And he was right.

Gregory, along with his human-convert, Canya, led and lived by example. Not hiding in the wilds in solitary, but existing in the centre of society, with humanity. He showed his Coven members how to eat real food, work jobs and associate with humans, to make friends with them.

And by doing so, he created this North American country’s way of life—bringing with it, new conciliate laws into practice. With the help of a family friend and Head of Canada to the International Council, Manuel Martinez, these lands became different than anywhere else in the world, setting up practice for the future covens that migrated here.

Today, they sit as one of Canada’s most powerful and largest Covens, feared and respected in and out of North America. Their Hunters rival the best the Council can offer. They hold favor with many of the earth’s Deities—a feat very few can accomplish.

Gregory and Canya Foxworth have one daughter born of their blood, Josealynn, who is the current Heir. And four adopted children; Ceanna and Arcadia (twins), and Ambrosios and Doros (brothers).

The Red Rose—Cornwall Coven

The Cornwall Coven was the second group of vampire to inhabit British Columbia, subsequent to the Foxworths. They came to be in the late 1940’s, but the concept of this Coven didn’t begin in Canada, but in Europe.

Corrine Cornwall comes from a more traditional background, one that portrayed vampires like their namesake—the true monsters of myth and legend. She looked around her, feeling disgust—but she knew just as well as them, vampires were visitors in this world where man ran free. Their power and evolution on the food chain did not afford them the right to rule over anyone.

She left her Coven in the depths of Europe, to seek out a different kind of life. It didn’t take her long to stumble across two vampires; Ryder and Holly, both who were older than her and just as lost in their world as she was. As one, they traveled to Canada, hearing rumors of the Foxworth Coven, and their different ways of being—craving to have peace of mind that the typical wars of their kind would come to an end.

Despite their age, she adopted Holly and Ryder for the political reasons for obtaining her own Coven, and the territory to tend, knowing she would eventually need a mate to solidify her position.

Maximus Demarche, along with his only surviving blood-relative, Cassandra travelled the world, seeking to carve their niche out in the world. They had seen every land there was to see—and still didn’t find where they belonged. Until they found Corrine Cornwall and her two sons. On sight, Maximus staked his claim on Corrine; courted and mated with her, giving her what she wanted—a permanent and safe home.

Together, they looked at this new place, while Corrine tried out different business ventures over the years, quickly growing bored with them. And then the idea hit her late one night when one of her members was dragged in by the Council Hunters and declared Rogue for allowing his Curse to take too much control over him, killing a human by mistake too visually for the establishment to overlook. She’d known that young vampire honestly hadn’t meant to—not being in his right mind at the time. The fact that he had willingly gone into custody, head hung in shame had spurred her to make a life-changing business venture.

Corrine Cornwall conferred with the councilman, Manuel Martinez about her plans and ideas to create an environment for vampires that stuck closely to Canada’s strict codes of conduct. And the RedLine was born, a fetish club in downtown Vancouver, employed by vampires who watched over the humans and their kind alike.

In addition to the two adopted sons, Maximus and Corrine sired three sons; Kane, Samuel and Dante.

The Green Rose—Jericho Coven


Not long after the Cornwalls settled in Vancouver, a rush of smaller Covens came to Canada, specifically British Columbia to escape the horrors the world’s vampires had come to call life. This was spurred on by the Council and their greed that extended everywhere in some space or form; making them hope to find out more about this new way of life.

The Jerichos were one of them, the rest heading to the less populated areas of northern British Columbia. Darwyn and Ada Jericho took their roots in North Vancouver, where places like Grouse Mountain and other forest areas allowed them some privacy, while sticking close to the hustle and bustle of the two neighboring groupings of vampires.

But they didn’t have any interest in politics. Unless dragged into them, they preferred to only take care of their own. As the loners they are, no one really knows what to make of them—and the Jerichos prefer it that way.

Darwyn and Ada have three beloved sons of their blood; Ian, Cole and Adrian.


Sunday, September 19, 2010

SneakPeekWednesday; Masquerade, Excerpt One

Masquerade

Kayden McLeod


http://www.kaydenmcleod.com/


Publication Date: October 30th 2010

Genre: Erotic Paranormal Romance (Werewolves, Vampires and Zombies)


Publisher: Silver Publishing

Website: http://silverpublishing.info/


Heat-Rating: Three Flames, Boiling


Tagline:

What lies behind the façade isn’t always what it seems


Summary:


Abigail claimed the land of North Vancouver as her own, sharing it only with a clan of vampires, the Jericho Coven, who accepted the werewolf into their territory without qualm. Within their numbers is one, Cyrus Jericho; a suave, brooding vampire who isn’t quite as he appeared. He declares Abigail for his own the moment they meet, despite the fact that another werewolf pack is in British Columbia looking to claim Abigail into their midst, no matter what they must do to see that goal complete.


Excerpt One (Rating PG):


A figure stumbled from behind the nearest trunk, one so incredibly wide, it was no wonder how it hid this man—what she thought to be a man.

The silhouette froze in motion, foot not even touching the dead grass when he saw her standing there, displayed so vulnerably beside the broken angel.

He snarled, gaze moving to the space on the ground at his side, before cutting back to her. Hisquiescence seeped into Abigail, and she stood at his mercy. Not that there would be any; not from him.

When he moved into the light, she shook in foreign cowardice. Somewhere, deep inside, Abigail knew him. Impossible not to recognize him, even if her mind wouldn’t bring up the facts associated with the creature before her.

He rushed into motion, leaping into the air. Abigail didn’t so much as flinch when he landed in front of her, revealing a masquerade of “human” flesh. For whatever this thing was, it had never been as such. It certainly wasn’t like her.

His long, dull hair lay upon his shoulders saturated with filth and leaves, falling around him in a disarray of stringy, dirty white. His red-rimmed blue eyes focused on Abigail, and her alone; flickering with a predatory nature that grated against her own.

She felt like he’d made a silent declaration while they maintained eye contact, and somehow she knew, he had claimed her in some form. But in which context, she had no idea.

Something within her flared, sparked back into being and reminded her that Abigail would never be weak or compliant. This time wouldn’t be any different, dream or no.

“Abigail,” he called in a shallow voice that grated on her nerves. In the back of her mind, the possessiveness in which he said her name angered her.

Then her eyes strayed to the rounded object in his hand; a gore–stained, severely mangled skull. With little room to doubt that it could be an old bone dug from the ground, she cringed. The only reason she knew this; the chunks of flesh still attached were fresh, the bone beneath luminescent in the moonlight.

Then her gaze moved to the base of the tree, seeing the decapitated corpse there. This entity must have killed and eaten parts of it – stripping it nearly bare before her arrival.

A monster, no less.

The stained clothes were enough evidence of that fact. Its garb wasn’t of this time, but that of olden days long since been seen – parted shirt baring a blood-coated chest, broken up with ties of blue upon ashen flesh holding the material together, tight-fitted pants flaring over grimy, sodden boots.

This thing had made a real mess of its snack, something she would never do. Abigail had seen and done a great many things in her life, but this had never been among them.

Run, damn it, run! She screamed at herself. Make your feet work. Do you wish to end up like its past meal? Turn tail, and get the hell out of here!

The man began to speak in a language she ill understood—or perhaps it did, in fact, speak English, but its growls garbled it past recognition. But eventually the words became clearer to her.

“Abigail, so beautiful,” he said calmly, not looking in her direction, but at whatever lay behind her.

She backed up until she collided with the nearest tombstone, stupidly pleased about the fact that she could finally move of her own accord, thinking herself safe. Surely now she could escape.

Wrong.

“Mine.” He looked pointedly at her, and she sneered in response.

“I belong to no one,” Abigail snapped. As usual, her tongue got the better of her.

His eyes narrowed on her. “I beg to differ, moj ljub. I want you, and I always get what I want.”

His hypnotic eyes enraptured her, for a moment seeing past the gruesome image he represented, and seeing just the man.

Distraction could be a bitch. In this case, that was a definite.

The dirt burst underneath Abigail’s feet, spraying up to her knees. She looked to see a bare-bone hand escape the soil and grab her ankle in a painful grip, joints biting into her flesh as the second arm revealed itself from the swirl of dirt.

“Abby, you will never escape me.”

And she screamed.


Friday, August 20, 2010

Masquerade, Chapter One--Coming This Halloween, by Silver Publishing

Hey Readers,


As promised, I am posting my first excerpt of Masquerade, my newest release coming Halloween 2010, by Silver Publishing;


You may remember The Jericho Coven from Jezebel's Article, Erotic Paranormal. They appear again in the mixture of Halloween monsters in this novella. Within these pages will be my typical vampires, but as well expect to see the first appearance of werewolves and zombies...

The first picture is the one that inspired the bulk of this novella...



Masquerade

By, Kayden McLeod


Erotic Paranormal Romance

Publisher:

Silver Publishing


Website:

http://silverpublishing.info/


PUBLICATION DATE:

October 30th 2010


Heat Rating:

Three Flames—Boiling


Length:

Novella


Tagline:

What lies behind the façade isn’t always what it seems


Blurb:

Abigail claimed the land of North Vancouver as her own, sharing it only with a clan of vampires, the Jericho Coven, who accepted the werewolf into their territory without qualm. Within their numbers is one, Cyrus Jericho; a suave, brooding vampire who isn’t quite as he appeared. He declares Abigail for his own the moment they meet, despite the fact that another werewolf pack is in British Columbia looking to claim Abigail into their midst, no matter what they must do to see that goal complete.

Chapter One

Nightmares always had a way of instilling fear, even in the bravest of folk.

Abigail knew in theory dreams every now and then meant something, but she had no clue howthis scene pertained to her, short of giving her a healthy respect of her rambunctious subconscious.

It could have something to do with it being three days short of Halloween, a time when all sorts of monsters came out from under their imposed guises. Possibly to play under the light of the moon at midnight; the witching hour at its peak. And many of them did celebrate this time of year for good reason.

Possibilities of mischief and creating unimaginable havoc would be at its peak of power and potential, though she wouldn’t know much about that.

Abigail wandered a decrepit graveyard; the kind people of today never saw anymore. Complete with unevenly cut hills, gnarled live oaks and chipped gravestones of varying heights and intricacies that made this woman shiver in apprehension.

It seemed her dream-self wasn’t quite as courageous as her wakeful-self. Normally, she felt fear for nothing; not even death. Yet the undeniable urge to cower in terror hung over her head.

Abigail looked down to see she carried a single white rose tipped in fresh blood; a substance her subconscious mind told her Abigail craved. This fact made little sense to her. She wasn’t a vampire, but something else entirely. Though she knew they existed; she was even acquainted with a few of them. But even so, this fact didn’t faze her terribly much as she continued up the unseen path.

Shrouded in a simple, formless black nightgown and bare feet, the ground, littered with rocks, cut deeply into her soles. Her thigh brushed upon a roughly hacked-up tombstone, which sliced her clean open. This filled the heavy, humid air with the sickly sweet scent of her life-fluid. She swore her teeth and gums ached painfully, like her canines fought to extend. Why? What – or whom was she feeling?

It surely wasn’t her. It couldn’t be. While many of her traits were unusual, this was not one of them.

Her gaze darted warily about. Said live oaks were winter-bare, even though it was merely fall. The branches dipped and reached into the nothingness of the icy cold night, curling toward her in a menacing fashion.

A shuffling and then a moan sent her head up, but her body would not stop to properly assess the situation like she would at any other time. Soon following, the sound of something being ripped or torn gave her a foreboding she could not escape.

Just what lay out there in the darkness, waiting while she was powerless to stop herself from just meandering into its grasp?

A piercing howl, not so much different than a wolf’s, but just enough that Abigail knew it wasn’t an everyday animal, sent an excited thrill along her erect spine.

“Even in dreams, you are going crazy. You know that?” she spoke softly, unable to quite bring herself to speak at a normal volume for fear of disturbing the…dead? Why would she care about such things? But alas, her mind remained terrified of what resided below the ground.

The soil began to slope upward, toward an old granite angel with half-extended wings. Its face, stance, everything about it seemed more sinister than angelic in the shadowy light thrown from the partially cloud-covered stars that lent little comfort to her.

The left arm looked sawed off, but as she grew closer, Abigail realized someone or something had snapped it off; the edges not as clean as they’d appeared at first glance.

Abigail felt unstoppably drawn to the statue, like a magnet that pulled her bruised feet against her will. A trickle of wetness worked down her leg from the wound that throbbed with the rhythm of her heartbeat. Breath came in ragged, hard-won gasps of her terror when thinking about the unseen adversary.

And something did watch her, semi-aware of her presence, just as she was of it.

Stopping in front of the statue, she reached with her free hand to touch the face with the saintly features staring out at her in warning.

Abigail wanted to turn back, to go back to where she’d come, though the likelihood of that was too close to nil. The dream had begun after her entrance to this place. Therefore, she didn’t know how to get out, which way to turn and run if the need arose. And her instincts screamed that specific allotment of time fast approached an end.

The guttural howl sounded again, far too close. Near enough that every hair on her body rose to attention at the unnerving sound.

Panic froze Abigail’s breath right there in her lungs. Her blood pounded through her at an alarming pace, giving her a headache and lending a hazy quality to the scene around her.

And then a figure stumbled from behind the nearest trunk, one so incredibly wide, it was no wonder how it hid this man—what she thought to be a man.

The silhouette froze in motion, foot not even touching the dead grass when he saw her standing there, displayed so vulnerably beside the broken angel.

He snarled, gaze moving to the space on the ground at his side, before cutting back to her. Hisquiescence seeped into Abigail, and she stood at his mercy. Not that there would be any; not from him.

When he moved into the light, she shook in foreign cowardice. Somewhere, deep inside, Abigail knew him. Impossible not to recognize him, even if her mind wouldn’t bring up the facts associated with the creature before her.

He rushed into motion, leaping into the air. Abigail didn’t so much as flinch when he landed in front of her, revealing a masquerade of “human” flesh. For whatever this thing was, it had never been as such. It certainly wasn’t like her.

His long, dull hair lay upon his shoulders saturated with filth and leaves, falling around him in a disarray of stringy, dirty white. His red-rimmed blue eyes focused on Abigail, and her alone; flickering with a predatory nature that grated against her own.

She felt like he’d made a silent declaration while they maintained eye contact, and somehow she knew, he had claimed her in some form. But in which context, she had no idea.

Something within her flared, sparked back into being and reminded her that Abigail would never be weak or compliant. This time wouldn’t be any different, dream or no.

“Abigail,” he called in a shallow voice that grated on her nerves. In the back of her mind, the possessiveness in which he said her name angered her.

Then her eyes strayed to the rounded object in his hand; a gore–stained, severely mangled skull. With little room to doubt that it could be an old bone dug from the ground, she cringed. The only reason she knew this; the chunks of flesh still attached were fresh, the bone beneath luminescent in the moonlight.

Then her gaze moved to the base of the tree, seeing the decapitated corpse there. This entity must have killed and eaten parts of it – stripping it nearly bare before her arrival.

A monster, no less.

The stained clothes were enough evidence of that fact. Its garb wasn’t of this time, but that of olden days long since been seen – parted shirt baring a blood-coated chest, broken up with ties of blue upon ashen flesh holding the material together, tight-fitted pants flaring over grimy, sodden boots.

This thing had made a real mess of its snack, something she would never do. Abigail had seen and done a great many things in her life, but this had never been among them.

*Run, damn it, run!* She screamed at herself. *Make your feet work. Do you wish to end up like its past meal? Turn tail, and get the hell out of here!*

The man began to speak in a language she ill understood—or perhaps it did, in fact, speak English, but its growls garbled it past recognition. But eventually the words became clearer to her.

“Abigail, so beautiful,” he said calmly, not looking in her direction, but at whatever lay behind her.

She backed up until she collided with the nearest tombstone, stupidly pleased about the fact that she could finally move of her own accord, thinking herself safe. Surely now she could escape.

Wrong.

“Mine.” He looked pointedly at her, and she sneered in response.

“I belong to no one,” Abigail snapped. As usual, her tongue got the better of her.

His eyes narrowed on her. “I beg to differ, moj ljub. I want you, and I always get what I want.”

His hypnotic eyes enraptured her, for a moment seeing past the gruesome image he represented, and seeing just the man.

Distraction could be a bitch. In this case, that was a definite.

The dirt burst underneath Abigail’s feet, spraying up to her knees. She looked to see a bare-bone hand escape the soil and grab her ankle in a painful grip, joints biting into her flesh as the second arm revealed itself from the swirl of dirt.

“Abby, you will never escape me.”

And she screamed.

***


The First Book In the Jericho Coven Series

Jezebel's Article

http://kaydenmcleod.com/JezebelsArticle.php


Wednesday, August 11, 2010

What I've Been Up To Lately...

Dear Readers,

How is everyone?

I’ve been busy, quiet on the blogs, but busy.

What have I been up to?

First off, I completed a Christmas submission for Just Another Paranormal Monday, which will be an anthology with the proceeds going to The Armed Forces Children’s Education Fund Inc(AFCEF). Mojocastle Press will be hosting the book.

Title: A Cornwall Christmas

Genre: Paranormal Romance (Vampires)

Rated: PG-13

Summary:

Even vampires celebrate the holidays. Marcus and Kelly wake up Christmas morning with their own extraordinary presents for the other, one of them being blowing up of the kitchen. In an effort to appear more human, the Cornwalls plan an extravagant dinner, with all the trimmings and more. Differences are put aside; the Council and Covens come together to show that this time of year is only for good tidings.

Yahoo Group of Just Another Paranormal Monday:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ParanormalMonday/?yguid=431075999\

Mojocastle Press:

http://www.mojocastle.com/

Secondly…

XOXO Publishing accepted my second charity project for breast cancer, entitled The Pink Ribbon

Title: The Pink Ribbon

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Summary:

Katalina has watched her mother, Alice’s uphill battle against breast cancer with awe and compassion. She feels the need to show some small token of the fight that will last a lifetime. One of Katalina’s biggest fears is needles, but it is such a small thing in comparison to what Alice just went through. Braving her fears, she undergoes tattooing to show her mother just how much she means to her.

XOXO Publishing:

http://www.xoxopublishing.com/

And finally…

Just the other day I contracted my next Erotic Paranormal Romance with Silver Publishing. This particular book brings werewolves in the vampire world you are used to from me for the first time ever! And some of you will remember the Jericho Coven from Jezebel’s Article

I am so thrilled! It will be published October 30, 2010 in e-book format, and I will post some excerpts in the coming weeks!

Title: Masquerade

Genre: Erotic Paranormal Romance

Heat Rating: Three Flames—Boiling

Tagline:

What lies behind the façade isn’t always what it seems


Summary:


Abigail claimed the land of North Vancouver as her own, sharing it only with a clan of vampires, the Jericho Coven, who accepted the werewolf into their territory without qualm. Within their numbers is one, Cyrus Jericho; a suave, brooding vampire who isn’t quite as he appeared. He declares Abigail for his own the moment they meet, despite the fact that another werewolf pack is in British Columbia looking to claim Abigail into their midst, no matter what they must do to see that goal complete.


Silver Publishing:

http://silverpublishing.info/

I have some more projects in the works, and will keep you updated!

Until Then…Happy Reading…


Kayden McLeod