New Orleans Vampire Cafe Reviews Novels & Stories

My name is Arabella. I sold 20 years of my life to become a vampire’s attendant after my father’s death in order to help my family. I should have been scared of blood and fangs, but instead, I long for my master's touches. What I didn't know was that my desire for him would bring me nothing but destruction. ***“You taste delicious.” He licks his lips, pulling me closer to him.The warmth of his skin against mine, and the soothing rhythm of his beating heart calms me a bit. I relax my shoulders and lie there with my head on his chest.“Ara, I'm your master and it’s my responsibility to keep you safe, but I failed today.”His words sound sincere, and I really wish I could believe him. But all vampires are monsters.He just happens to be the monster I wish I could trust.My Vampire Master: A Contract of Blood and Lust is created by Angeline Hartwood, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

On the day of my wedding, I stood on the stage, while my fiance, Jake Stevens, passionately kissed his assistant, Chloe Xanders, in front of everyone. He held her in his arms and said earnestly, “Chloe, don’t worry. Even though you’re not my bride, you’ll always have a place in my heart.” Chloe, who was overwhelmed with emotion, threw herself into his arms and wept as she said to me, “Lily, Jake and I are deeply in love, but fate just didn’t work out for us in this life. Please take good care of him.” Gossip instantly spread around us. Just as I was feeling helpless, my fiance humiliated me further and called me nothing more than a doormat. Watching the two of them clinging to each other, I could not take it anymore. I canceled the wedding on the spot and left for abroad the same night to join my best friend. The next time I met Jack, I had already moved on with someone new. When he saw me interlocking my fingers with my new love and kissing him passionately, his eyes instantly filled with burning jealousy.

Wendy Lloyd's first love, Hudson Clark, treats me like a walking blood bank. Because of that, I end up dying in the rented apartment Wendy has given to me out of contemptuous pity. Today is the third day of my death. My six-year-old son, Terry Heath, finally realizes that something is wrong with me. When he accidentally cuts his finger from playing with his toys, I don't coax him at all. When he tears open a pack of cookies and feeds one to me, I don't stop him at all. When he lies in my arms and grips me by the hem of my shirt while calling out to me softly, I don't respond to him at all. Feeling rather uneasy, Terry finds my phone and calls Wendy. "Mommy, why is Daddy still asleep?" Wendy responds by sending a photo of her and Hudson enjoying a holiday feast together. She then says coldly, "He's just asleep, not dead. Today is Christmas Eve, so I'm very busy right now. "Tell that arrogant father of yours that he's only free to visit me whenever he's ready to acknowledge his mistakes." After that, the call ends. Terry is left feeling stunned for a long time. Finally, he digs out the last cookie from the trash can and snaps it in half. Then, he feeds it to me again. "Daddy, let's eat."

When we're playing cards during the holidays, my cousin, Owen Thompson, suddenly calls it boring and tells us that he wants to make a big gamble. Then, he tosses his BMW keys onto the table and asks if we're bold enough to follow up with our own bets. I know that Owen is just trying to flaunt the fact that he's bought himself a BMW. Everyone is stunned by his antics. They quickly say, "This is just a game. We're not going to bet anything else." After that, they start complimenting how amazing Owen is to be able to own a BMW at such a young age. I, on the other hand, hesitate to do so. After all, my trump cards are a set of Ks. Having gotten his ego boosted by the compliments, Owen is about to flush the deck when I put my car keys belonging to a cheaper, rundown car. Then, I mumble, "I'm going to follow up with a bet of my own." Everyone falls silent at my statement. They just stare at me in disbelief, whereas Owen widens his eyes out of shock. Almost immediately, things grow heated between us. The moment both of us place our car keys onto the betting table, our feeble relationship as cousins is quick to vanish. But I don't regret my decision. Owen is the one who has decided to bet his BMW, after all. Since he's capable of being this ruthless toward his own relatives, I might as well not give a damn about his feelings at all. Owen lets out a cold chuckle before saying, "How much do you have in that pocket of yours, huh? You really think you can scare me, chump? I have a BMW, for crying out loud! You should gather more money first before placing your bet! Don't go around scamming others with just a shitty car!"

Jeremy Watson is a normal 16 year old who's life suddenly takes a turn for the worse after a shady deal goes wrong. He becomes a mutant with aerokinesis and must join forces with new,upcoming heroes to stop Master Xersius, an alien who plans to be the most powerful being at any cost and conquer the human race. Can this goofy teenager who still ties his shoe laces wrong save the world? Is he up for what is ahead, or will it all overwhelm him to the extent he loses his own life? What doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger. Watches as his experiences help him grow into a better and stronger person

WARNING: **This story is about a love so forbidden and a passion so intense, it might just burn you. Consider yourself warned.** ____ "Lucian shouldn’t have been near you,” he growled, his voice rough velvet. “I told them you’re under my protection. Under me.” ___ He is Manhattan’s most ruthless CEO. Cold. Powerful. Untouchable. But behind the sharp suits and devilish smirk hides a secret darker than the night itself— Joachim Knight is a vampire. When Yvette, a scandal-chased celebrity agent, crashes into his world, she expects another arrogant billionaire with too much money and no soul. What she finds instead is danger wrapped in seduction, a man who makes the air crackle with heat every time he’s near. His kiss burns like fire. His touch feels like sin. And his possessive words leave her trembling: "You’re mine, Yvette. Under my protection. Under me." But the more she craves him, the more she discovers the monstrous truth he hides— and the blood-soaked secrets that could ruin them both. In a world of lies, power, and forbidden hunger, will she resist the Devil’s kiss… or surrender to the dark passion of a 570 year old vampire who would destroy anyone who dares to touch her?

The Clan Healer told me that without the vial of Progenitor's Blood, the Blood Blight afflicting me meant I had only seventy-two hours to live. But my husband, Miles, the new Duke of our world, gave the only vial of the precious cure to my adopted sister, Vivienne, the woman I had turned three years ago. "She's in agony from the rejection, Isolde. It's a pain you can't possibly understand." His tone was self-righteous, devoid of any concern for the patch of skin on my collarbone already turning to stone. I nodded, watching as the life-saving, dark red liquid slid down another woman's throat. I accomplished a great deal in the time I had left. As I signed the documents, the lawyer's hand trembled. "Are you certain you want to transfer everything, Your Grace? The territorial rights of a thousand-year-old clan..." I didn't hesitate. "Yes. To Vivienne." My adopted daughter, Lily, the girl I had risked everything to save, who was now forever frozen at the age of eight, cowered in Vivienne's arms, pointing at me and screaming, "Aunt Vivienne is my real mommy! You're the witch who turned us into monsters!" I offered no defense. "Yes, that's right. Be a good girl and listen to your new mother now." The Progenitor's Ring, the symbol of the clan's supreme authority, now rested on Vivienne's hand. "Oh, sister, you're too kind," she sobbed, her sobs a practiced performance. "I'll be sure to protect the family in your stead." I nodded. "You'll run things better than I ever did." I even signed away my control over the Elder Council, a council sustained by my own blood. For the first time in a century, a shadow of complex emotion crossed Miles's face. He stared at me,"Isolde, stop fighting. It's better this way. You need to rest." Yes. On my deathbed, I had finally become the perfect, submissive Isolde they always wanted. An Isolde who was about to turn to dust. The seventy-two-hour countdown had begun. I wondered, when I finally turned to ash,

"What's your name?" He asked, making the managers go shut at once. They followed his gaze and it landed on Mallory. Mallory felt her soul being pierced. Did he just ask for her name? Her Wilder didn't even know her name? "Uh... her name is..." "Let her speak for herself, Arlo" Wilder raised his hand at his cousin who zipped up at once. Then, reluctantly, Mallory muttered: "I'm Mallory Harrington." Wilder said nothing, his gaze on her unreadable. Then, she asked. "Don't you... remember me?" "Am I... supposed to know you?" Wilder asked with an unfeigned doubt. This broke Mallory even more. How can her Wilder not recognize her? Her next breath came raggedly, she had to drop her teary gaze to the floor. "How can you not remember me?" She winced. "We were..." ********** What happens when Mallory goes to work one morning and discovers the new CEO who was the soon-to-be heir to one of the richest companies in the world was her ex-husband who had been missing for seven years? How does she tell him she used to be married to him before he went missing? How does she tell him she was still very much in love with him and wanted him back in her life, even if there was someone else? How does she tell him she had twins at home that looked like him? How does she tell him any of these when he couldn't recognize her and acted very cold towards her? What happened to her Wilder?

Moments before my Mating Ceremony, the guards shoved me from the altar. I watched, paralyzed, as another she-wolf in a pristine white gown took my place. My mate, Beta Seth, didn't even flinch. He took her hand—the hand of his childhood sweetheart, Brielle. And in that silence, his voice echoed in my head through the mind link. "Brielle is pregnant with a rogue's pup. She's mateless. I have to claim her, give her a home in the pack. It's to protect the child. I won't actually mark her. When this is all over, you'll still be my only one." I almost believed his bullshit. Until I saw Seth's hand stroking Brielle's waist after the ceremony. And Brielle, pulling him in for a kiss. In that moment, my eyes burned, and I was rooted to the spot. Seth thought I'd wait. Everyone who watched me pine for him thought I'd come crawling back, begging him to complete our bond. After all, we were fated mates. I'd been waiting for this ceremony for five years. But they had no idea. I turned my back on the pack and left. The moment that failed ceremony ended, I bonded with Lucian. The most powerful Vampire Prince. Three years later, I came back. Lucian called for a truce with the werewolves—all for me. As his mate, I returned to my former pack lands to witness the treaty. But the first thing my arrogant ex-fated mate did was rip the huge moonstone pendant off my neck. "That's the Vampire Prince's moonstone. He bought it for his blood-bonded mate years ago. Where did you get that cheap knock-off? A street stall?" "Enough with the tantrum. Come back. Brielle's kid is three. You can have a cot in the utility closet and clean up after him. Now take that cheap thing off your neck. Don't screw up the peace treaty." I just stood there, rubbing the sore spot on my neck where the chain had scraped, and let out a quiet sigh. He didn’t know that the moment anyone tried to rip this pendant from my throat, Lucian would feel it. And the only thing that would greet them… was his world-ending fury.

I married my vampire husband ten years ago and gave him a half-blood heir, abandoning my career as a painter to become a full-time mother. Fortunately, my son inherited my talent. At just six years old, he held his first solo art exhibition, inspired by the theme "My Mother." But he never let me attend, and he never let me see his paintings. My husband said my presence would make Luke nervous---that I should stay home and do the housework as a good wife and mother, and wait for them to come back. I told myself he was just young and didn't know better, that he was only pushing back against my discipline, not truly rejecting me. Until the day I snuck into the gallery wearing a surgical mask pulled low. In the center of the crowd, my husband held our son's hand while tenderly pulling a woman in a red dress into his arms. He turned to the guests and announced: "This is Luke's mother---my wife." The three of them stood together, beaming with perfect happiness. And I---the one who'd stayed up all night setting up this exhibition---stood before the paintings while not a single person recognized me. That was when I finally understood. My seemingly gentle, caring vampire husband had long ago given our son a replacement mother. And I was nothing more than the human nanny who'd served her purpose by producing an heir.