Nothing can endanger the vampires’ existence. Theron, known in the club as Tac, will destroy any who try. He is dominant and dangerous—in total control of his world. He lives only for sex and blood. He has never been emotionally involved with anyone. Now, a human has slipped into his life and under his skin, making him want more than meaningless sex with blood slaves. But Theron will never allow a mere mortal to bring him to his knees.

Note: This book contains scenes of smoking-hot men engaged in multiple-partner sex and bondage. This is a gay m/m/m+ high kink BDSM series. 

Excerpt:


Theron growled. He didn’t chase men. He took what he wanted from those willing to serve him. Vance held mystery, perhaps because he hadn’t plucked him out of the numerous blood slaves waiting to satisfy his thirst. Theron had brought him into the club, initiated him and soon he would bring him into his vampire world.
“Drop your pants, take out your dick. I’ll suck you off right now.” He gripped Vance’s erection through his pants. “Now.” He claimed his lips again and Vance once again pulled away. “A tease?”
Vance twined his arms around Theron’s neck and pressed closer. “No.” Heat from Vance seeped into Theron’s body. He burned, a fiery ache simmered in his balls. “I’m not withholding anything.” Vance’s fingers curled into Theron’s long hair. “But you are.” Vance slanted his mouth over Theron’s lips. He opened and allowed Vance to slither in for a taste. He rolled his tongue over Vance’s, opened wider and sank deeper. Blistering passion blazed through him. Vance’s fists tightened in his hair. Theron grasped his ass.
“I want you to fuck me,” Vance whispered against his lips.
“Good.” He slipped his hand between their bodies and tugged on the snap closure of Vance’s pants.
Vance covered his fingers. “But not here.”
Theron stilled. He didn’t like games. Theron glanced at their surroundings. “This is where I fuck.”
“And you do it well.” Vance smiled, taking some of the sting from his words. “But I’m over the anonymity, Tac. Don’t you get tired of the club scene?”
“Actually, I don’t. With so many men, how could I possibly get bored?”
Vance rolled his eyes. “That’s the problem. At what point are we done pretending that this is entertainment and confess to having feelings.” He took a step away. “I want more.”
An unfamiliar sensation prickled along Theron’s spine. Manipulation wouldn’t work. He had too much responsibility to his vampires to let ultimatums or emotional attachments influence his behavior. Yet, the thought of Vance walking away tightened his gut. “What is it you want from me?”
“Your name.”
Theron smiled. “Tac.”
Vance released an exasperated breath. “Whatever.” He turned and walked away.
Theron watched his retreating back until he disappeared into the crowd. If Vance expected him to give chase, he would be waiting a long fucking time. And unlike Vance, Theron had all the time in the world. Eternity.
Theron spun in a slow circle. When was the last time a man had left him? Hell, had a man ever left him? Rowan had but those circumstances were much different. In hindsight, he could see Rowan was never happy, merely content to serve him. The break hadn’t been as hard as Theron expected. What did that say about the relationship? Perhaps it had just been convenient for Theron too. He still had Rowan close. He was vampire now and would always be a part of Theron. Because he was able to hear the thoughts of every vampire he sired, with a bit of focus he could communicate with all vampires of his sect.
Any other night, hot male flesh, big cocks and anonymous sex would release the stress that weighted his shoulders. Right now, he could use a bit of relief. Several weeks ago, a member of his club had been found drained of blood and mutilated. Not beyond recognition—not to Theron. He’d known the man, known he was human and hadn’t been initiated into the vampire world. Nothing had grated as much as knowing a trusted vampire had been responsible. The vampire had risked Theron’s sect in order to quench his thirst. Blood slaves were the only safe means of survival. Blood slaves were owned, controlled and loyal to his sect of vampires. They had to be protected.
His thoughts returned to Vance. More than an ache, Theron’s need for the man’s blood bordered on pain. He stalked through the club. He didn’t beg or submit. He demanded and tonight Vance was going to discover he didn’t dictate the course of their relationship. Theron snorted. Exactly who was looking for whom in the club? He couldn’t help but smile. Anticipation tingled in his fingertips.
How long had it been since the vampire within had been let free to hunt, to pursue, overpower and feed? Too long. Only the surviving seven remembered how it felt to sink teeth into adrenaline-laced blood. Now disease didn’t threaten the vampires, but their survival depended on blood slaves and secrecy.
Vance was giving chase and Theron hungered for more than blood—he wanted the man. Dangerous. He didn’t know Vance well enough but he could during the Zenith, the time when a vampire shared his host’s thoughts. For all the vampires Theron sired, it was also the only time they could again feel human sensations such as warmth, a heartbeat, and the only time the vampires could reach orgasm.
Theron, as one of the original seven vampire survivors, had special abilities. After recovering from the disease that made him vampire, he had regained some of his human characteristics. Only The Seven had remained warm-blooded and still felt the beat of their human hearts. Though he couldn’t withstand the sun’s rays, he had other powers—mind control, telepathy, manipulation of kinetic energy, and he turned all vampires. His sect. His rules.
Obviously Vance had left. Theron scanned the crowd and headed to the bar. Falcon and Drake, both blood slaves, mixed drinks and laughed. Theron approached and Falcon handed him a bottle of water. Falcon was attractive, clean-cut, and Native American. Dark lashes fringed chocolate eyes and short dark hair was finger combed away from his face. Both he and Drake were trusted servants of the sect. Theron fed from them often and needed to again. Now. His gums burned and tension knotted his nerves. He was riding the edge and needed to sate his hunger before he acted on instinct, tearing through the city until he could devour the one he wanted—Vance.

Falcon, sensing his desperation, excused himself from behind the bar. Theron strode from the large room, down the hall leading to the catacombs—the tunnels and rooms beneath the club, from which it took its name. There he could feed and fuck in safety. That was his realm and one day soon, he’d have Vance in his private chamber.