Showing results by author "Anne Malcom" in All Categories

My life was never black and white. Heck, it wasn't even black, white and gray. Lines were not drawn between good and evil, and if they were, I would have jumped those suckers for fun. But now it was simpler. It wasn't black and white. Or gray. It was only one thing. Blood. A crimson-tinted world. That was all I needed. All I wanted. Him.

Evil doesn't exist. Neither does "good". Vampires do, though. I just happen to be one. I've cruised through the centuries managing to avoid all the wars, supernatural and human, but still going to all the best parties. I would say I avoided bloodshed, but it's kind of part of the whole "vampire" thing. I've lived on the fringes of a society that considered cruelty and sadism favorable character traits for almost 500 years. Now, I'm in the middle of a war that might just put my non-beating heart in a lot of danger.

Calliope Derrick is in trouble. Not that she'll admit it. She'd sooner go to her grave than ask for help—especially from a man. Wall Street's wolf in heels, Calliope built an empire, shattered egos, and earned a reputation as the woman who made grown men cry in their private jets. But after a betrayal that threatens everything she's worked for, she trades skyscrapers for lighthouses and flees to Jupiter, Maine. She tells her family it's just a break. A vacation. A reset. She's lying. She's here to plot revenge. Not to fall in love.

I don't know what it's like to feel. To hurt. The ability was stolen from me in my youth. I consider that theft a gift. Feelings got in the way when you were building an empire. Amassing power. I had the empire. I had the power. One moment in an alley changed everything. What took more than a decade to amass was snatched away in a second. He killed for me. But he didn't save me.

Wren Whitney lives a remarkable life. She is a child of Beverly Hills, growing up in boarding schools, on private jets, a life of extreme wealth and privilege. Wren lives for adventure. She is afraid of nothing. She says no to nothing. Her existence is a blur of escapades, outrageous stories, and the many men who love her. Wren has never been in love. She has said the words many times, but she has never meant them. I love you is the only lie she's ever told.

He collected beautiful things. Rare things. Ripped them out of their natural environment and preserved them in all of their dead splendor. The problem was I wasn't beautiful. I was all of the hideous and ugly realities of the world packaged into one broken human being. He came to kill me. That was his business. Death. He ripped me out of my natural environment, the prison I'd created, and locked me away with all of his beautiful dead things.

Should I tell you a story? Not a fairytale, mind you. There's not a princess to be seen. Nor a prince. Not even a hero. This is about the stripper and the outlaw. Our story begins with the Sons of Templar MC, with a man even the outlaws fear. He was trouble. More than trouble. A scoundrel. A sinner. A villain. To everyone but me. Our story begins with blood, violence, and pain. I have a feeling it will end that way too. But it's too late for escape. I've fallen for the scoundrel. The sinner. The outlaw.