Rosemary A Johns
Publisher: Fantasy Rebel Limited
Date of Publication: 1st November 2016
BUY LINK: http://viewbook.at/BloodShackles
ISBN-13: 978-0995557925 (Fantasy Rebel Limited)
Number of pages: 368
Word Count: 90,000
Cover Artist: JD Smith
It’s a dangerous game to love your slave. When your whole species is enslaved – and it’s the humans who are acting like the monsters – how far would you go to free your family?
5* “When Light is captured, he refuses to lose himself, despite how his captors try to break his spirit. Being sold to Grayse is the ticket he needs out of his cell, even though her father owns the company that enslaves him… Blood Shackles is brutally honest, tragic, triumphant, addictive, and somehow hopeful… Johns succeeded in creating a world, characters, and a story that pulled me in until I had to finish reading it… This is a novel everyone should read” – Readers’ Favorite
What happens when SPARTACUS meets VAMPIRES? In a divided paranormal London, Light is the rebel bad boy vampire of the Blood Lifer world. Since Victorian times he’s hidden in the shadows. But not now. When he’s bought by his alluring Mistress, Light fights to escape. Even if he can’t escape their love. But if he doesn’t, he’ll never solve the conspiracy behind the Blood Club…
WELCOME TO THE BLOOD CLUB
Who are these ruthless humans? Who’s their brutal leader? And who betrayed the secret of the Blood Lifer world?
WHERE THE PREDATORS
London, Primrose Hill. Grayse is the commanding slaver’s daughter. She buys Light, like he’s a pair of designer shoes. So why does Light feel so drawn to her? Especially when his family is still in chains. Will he risk everything – even his new love – to save them?
BECOME THE PREY
Does a chilling conspiracy lie behind it all? A stunning revelation leads Light to an inconceivable truth. To the dark heart of the Blood Club. If he can face his worst terrors, he can save his family and his whole species from slavery.
Maybe he can even save himself.
You grabbed my hand, dragging me after you down the warren of side streets behind the shops.
It was pelting down now. Even though I was soaked, I was still buzzing from the barney.
At last you stopped, shoving me up against a brick wall at the back entrance to a butcher’s.
‘Look,’ I said hurriedly, ‘I’m sorry about–’
Questioningly, I tilted my nut. Your lips were close to mine. All I’d need to do was…
You pulled back (of course you bloody did), even if you were still clutching onto me, as if my body was yours.
Because no matter what other nasties you might do with it, you’d never kiss your slave, would you?
Then you suddenly hauled me closer, and we were snogging.
At that moment, none of it meant anything.
Slave or Mistress. First Lifer or Blood.
It never does when skin meets skin. It was just Light and Grayse.
So it was a good kiss. To me, it changed everything. But to you..?
‘If you would be so kind, some of us are trying to feed in peace.’ A nasal but polite Turkish Blood Lifer popped his nut up from further down the alley.
He licked down the neck of a twitching First Lifer bird, who was propped up against a skip.
When you shrieked and tried to jerk away, I held you still by the wrist.
I shrugged. ‘Yeah, my mistake.’
Your peepers were now flint.
I started edging you backwards out of the shadows. Now wasn’t the time to give you a crash course on Blood Lifer dinner etiquette.
It seems, however, that our Turkish friend was determined to educate me. ‘You know, young one, it is most inconsiderate to interrupt a fellow’s kill. I had no intention to do so with yours.’
‘London’s not yours.’
I stiffened. ‘The Lost have walked these streets as long as you humans,’ I whispered, low and intense, ‘which makes them ours, as much as yours.’
I might as well have clouted you. You drew back, with a shiver. ‘You hunt here – parasitically. But England? The world? It belongs to us. You’re just…’
‘Parasites?’ I offered. You didn’t even have the decency to look away.
‘These are my streets,’ you tapped the sticky table for emphasis, in a boozer, street, postcode you’d never have ventured into, if it hadn’t been for me.
I took a drag of my e-cig. ‘Over hundred and fifty years says different, sweetheart.’
You wore that narked expression, which I’d hoped we’d left behind for the night. ‘My home. Not yours.’
‘Any reason it can’t be both?’
‘On account of you’re…’ You stopped yourself, pushing your Guinness away with a jerky shove. Your shoulders slumped. You finished softly, ‘…not human.’
‘Right. Because I’d missed that.’ I took a mouthful of nuts, munching thoughtfully. You’d withdrawn hermit-crab like, your hair falling in two curtains over your mug. ‘There were humans once, who thought like you, the last time a Blood Lifer had the courage to reveal himself to a First Lifer. It was one of my ancestors. A man of reason, in an age of superstition. He reckoned our two species could live out in the open – side by side – so I was told. These First Lifers? They thought he was the devil.’ You’d raised your nut. I could see your peepers – dark grey now – through the veil of your hair.
‘They burnt him.’
About the Author:
ROSEMARY A JOHNS is the author of the bestselling Blood Dragons and Blood Shackles – the compelling Rebel Vampires series.
ROSEMARY A JOHNS is a music fanatic and a lover of the anti-hero. She wrote her first fantasy novel at the age of ten, when she discovered the weird worlds inside her head were more exciting than double swimming. Since then she’s studied history at Oxford University, run a theatre company (her critically acclaimed plays have been described as “uncomfortable, unsettling and uneasily true to life”), and worked with disability charities.
When Rosemary’s not falling in love with the rebels fighting their way onto the page, she heads the Oxford writing group Dreaming Spires.
Rosemary is a Goodreads Author: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15571684.Rosemary_A_Johns
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