Tuesday, October 25, 2016

Author Spotlight! Mason Sabre - Death Awakening

Death Awakening: A Society Novella

They call it Moon-Night.

The night when the moon rises high in the sky, fully visible for all to see, is the time Humans venture outside in hopes of catching a glimpse of Others for their personal entertainment—shifters transformed, strange dark creatures, all answering the call of the moon.

Yvette is a vampire who works in a bar owned by a panther shifter called Raven. It is one of the few bars in their community in which Others and Humans can mingle. Restless shifters, blood lusting vampires, supercilious Humans … the night is filled with them.

But what happens when the doors close tonight? What long-buried evil awaits Yvette? A dark force will awaken—one that will change her life, and those of the people around her.


Death Awakening
USA - http://amzn.to/2dWQUkr
UK - http://amzn.to/2dWRFu4

Snippets for Death Awakening
** Yvette gripped onto the edge of the rubbish cart, panting, calming herself, hungering for the delicious scent of fear-fuelled blood. It called to her, echoing through her veins. A fucking delicacy ready for her to take. Blood pumped in her temples, flushing her vision with crimson hunger, urging her forward to the frightened girl. Time slowed down. The edge of the cart twisted in Yvette’s grip—the only thing keeping the girl safe at that very moment. She bowed her head, resisting the desire to drop to her knees and sink her fangs into the girl’s delectably bleeding flesh. A guttural cry tore from her. To take this girl’s life. To relish in the taste of her sweet blood. To drink. To feel the life flowing into her.  One sip, that was all. One moment of sinking her teeth into that perfect fine flesh...
Stop it. Stop it.
This was a delicacy that she would not take. She wouldn’t.
She couldn’t….

** The creature licked along her skin with a dry, bristly tongue, like sandpaper across her skin. Yvette braced herself as she watched his lips curl back and his fangs extend. With a hiss, he gripped her arm tightly and pierced her flesh. Yvette gasped, the sharp pain from the bite quickly subsiding and turning into a feeling of such exquisite ecstasy that Yvette’s eyes rolled back in her head. Troy was the only vampire to have ever bitten Yvette after her maker. Only he had shared blood in moments of intimacy. The bite, the giving of life, it was something close to orgasmic between them. Yvette let her head fall back in pleasure. So much power flowed through her veins, stealing her words, her thoughts, and her entire sense of being from her. He could drain her right now, and she wouldn’t fight it. She would die in his arms happy and content. Maybe the Humans had, too, she thought vaguely through a hazy bliss.
He drank from her, long and deep, creating a wholeness inside her that she couldn’t understand. Unable to keep her eyes open, she gave herself over to the ecstasy that she had only ever experienced with her husband.
When he had finished, he licked across the two small wounds and sealed them. Then, placing a small kiss on her wrist, he let go of her arm. She tried to look at him, but her mind was delirious and drunk on whatever he had done, her body weak. He lowered her to the ground, leaning her against the cold stone that held his coffin. “Thank you,” he said. His voice was thicker now, deeper words that fitted a man much younger than the rotting corpse she had encountered. She blinked long and hard, trying to focus herself. “You will heal in a moment.”

** The moon was a damn flashlight in the sky, not only illuminating the way for forbidden travellers, who bravely trekked through the darkness, but it also brought out the crazy ones—the Humans, the wannabes. The place throbbed with them. Maggots oozing out of the woodwork and dropping their shit on the newly polished floor. Yvette’s glare landed on each of them in turn. Their pulses raced, pounding in time with the music, calling to Yvette—sirens in the sea of people. A dangerous temptation that was more trouble than it was worth. Her fangs pierced the inside of her bottom lip, as she inhaled a calming breath.
Mistake … big mistake.
The scents of cheap perfume, liquor, and the ever greedy Humans swirled in the air—a lusty aroma of femininity pervaded the room. Girls ready for boys, turned on by the fear of not just the darkness, but what the darkness held. Yvette pulled a tray filled with glasses from the washer under the counter and dumped it onto the bar, the glasses clanging against each other and steam rolling into the air, hiding the idiots from her sight for a moment. It was always this way when the moon was full. Humans thinking it great to head out to bars and mingle with the Otherkind.

** Yvette had heard the stories about him. But as she was learning, stories were not always true. The fact that he was meant to be dead, yet stood before her right now, was a sure sign of how shit got twisted. But still the tales of the man who had owned this house crept into her mind. Most tales and myths started at truth somewhere. It was just a case of understanding which parts of his story were real. It was said that years ago, the man living here had started out poor. He had worked on the farmland that connected to this house. One day, while Henry was out working in the fields and his wife was tending to their home, she had let in two weary travellers and fed them. They had paid her back by attacking and killing her. It was said that Henry had come home to find his wife barely alive, half eaten by shifters. She had died in his arms, his last promise to her being that he would make them pay for what they had done.

She watched him now and wondered if she could blame him. It was never so easy to judge what one would do in times of such pain. What would she have done if she had come home and found Troy dead? Would she have sought revenge? Everything inside her screamed yes. That was why he had turned vampire. He had needed to be strong so that he could hunt and kill the men who had murdered his wife. But the problem was, or so it was said, that he didn’t stop there. The man—Henry—had gone mad. He had waged war on all shifters, killing all he came across. Women, children, it didn’t matter.

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