QSFer Roan Rosser has a new MM dark urban fantasy out, Changing Bodies book 3: Goddess of the Ancients.
The neon lights of Las Vegas mask the horrors hiding in the shadows. Horrors like my ancient vampiric maker, the Goddess Tawaret.
Tawaret promises me power in exchange for helping her. She wants to be worshiped again, and has me gathering vampire followers. My boyfriend, Jack, tries to warn me about her, but I don’t listen. Too late, I realize my mistake in accepting.
Now there is no escape. After the slaughter she left behind in Portland, no one wants to risk her wrath. With Jack suddenly abandoning me, no one will come to my rescue.
I’d rather die than be bound to her for eternity. It just might come to that.
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Excerpt
I could feel the bass rattling my teeth before we even got to the club. Kurt, walking next to me, had been quiet during the trip to the clothing store. He’d gotten an outfit as well, stylish gray slacks and a royal blue button down that complimented his dark skin and eyes. The clothing Kurt had picked out for me was a bit more… outrageous. I currently had my arms clasped across my chest, trying, and failing, to cover my bare abs and pecs with the open-style jacket.
Kurt saw and stopped us both, putting a hand on my shoulder. “The style works better if you keep your hands at your sides or in your pockets.”
Blushing furiously, I stuffed my hands in the pockets of the black silk pants and scuffed the bottom of my new black boots on the sidewalk. The pink shimmery jacket hung open without my hands holding it in place and the mesh tank underneath did little to cover my chest. Sure, I’d had top surgery now, but I still wasn’t used to the sensation of other people’s eyes on me. Having my nipples hang out was an unfamiliar experience.
“I feel ridiculous,” I told him.
“Nonsense, you look great. Any vampire in the club will be drawn to you in this.” He gently pushed on my back to get me going again towards the club’s entrance.
I didn’t resist, and let him guide me to the door. With all the excitement, I wasn’t sure what day of the week it was, but from the crowd of people around the doorway, I guessed it must be a weekend night. Or maybe not. Vegas was weird.
I had a brief flash of panic as I saw the bouncer check the ID of the straight couple ahead of us in line. The bored-looking bouncer waved the couple in. Kurt wrapped his arm around my shoulder and surged forward.
“ID?” The bouncer held out his hand, barely glancing at us.
Kurt leaned towards the man and caught his eyes. “Here’s our ID’s. We are good to go in,” he said in his London drawl. The girls in the club were going to be swooning over him. He held up a palm like he was showing the man something, but his hands were empty.
“Of course, thanks.” The bouncer got a glazed look in his eyes and waved us inside.
Music and a wall of heat blasted us when Kurt opened the door. My fangs ached with thirst at all the warm, nearly naked bodies writhing on the dance floor. In my mesh shirt and open jacket, I was practically overdressed compared to this crowd, and Kurt even more so. Clenching my jaw against the urge to lower my fangs, I pressed on inside with Kurt on my heels.
“I’m so thirsty,” I yelled up to him over the music as I took an empty spot overlooking the dance floor to scope out the room for any vampires.
He crossed his arms and shrugged. “Best hurry then.” I could barely hear his low rumble over the pulsing bass of the music.
“What if there aren’t any here?” I yelled back.
Another shrug of his wide shoulders. “Then we go to the next club.”
Author Bio
I escaped from the bowels of Utah (namely Provo) and now live in the sunny Pacific Northwest United States.
My urban fantasy novels mainly feature the trans and queer protagonists grappling with things like identity and found families that I wished I could have read about growing up.
When not writing, you can probably find me beating up pixel baddies or in front of one of my sewing machines adding to my overstuffed closet or my army of homemade plush dolls.
If you find yourself blinded by the vivid colors and loud patterns of my homemade shirts, know that I’m only trying to warn you that I may be poisonous. Or venomous? Or both? Probably both.
| Author Website | http://roanrosser.com |
| Author Facebook | https://www.facebook.com/roanrosser |
| Author Twitter | https://www.twitter.com/roanrosser |