"He dropped pretenses like fake smiles and bared his fangs."
The scent of fresh death fills LAâs streets as celebrity bloodsuckers Raiden and Gabriel begin production on Luna Sunset, Gabrielâs cinematic labor of love (and lust).
At the same time, Raidenâs estranged maker Justus and his wife/prisoner Naomi covertly track the costarsâ location.
Unaware of their imperiled state, Raiden and Gabriel explore their altered alliance against the backdrop of palm trees and plentiful prey. A shocking discovery deepens the duoâs blood bond, their resistance crumbling as their desire crystallizes: Raiden and Gabriel abandon their defensesâand tragedy strikes.
Genres: LGBTQ/Horror/Dark Fantasy/Urban Fantasy/Paranormal/Undead
Warning: this book series is intended for adults only. It contains graphic violence and gore, explicit sexual situations, including rape and sexual assault, strong language, and other material readers may find objectionable. Reader discretion is advised.
"He dropped pretenses like fake smiles and bared his fangs."
The scent of fresh death fills LAâs streets as celebrity bloodsuckers Raiden and Gabriel begin production on Luna Sunset, Gabrielâs cinematic labor of love (and lust).
At the same time, Raidenâs estranged maker Justus and his wife/prisoner Naomi covertly track the costarsâ location.
Unaware of their imperiled state, Raiden and Gabriel explore their altered alliance against the backdrop of palm trees and plentiful prey. A shocking discovery deepens the duoâs blood bond, their resistance crumbling as their desire crystallizes: Raiden and Gabriel abandon their defensesâand tragedy strikes.
Genres: LGBTQ/Horror/Dark Fantasy/Urban Fantasy/Paranormal/Undead
Warning: this book series is intended for adults only. It contains graphic violence and gore, explicit sexual situations, including rape and sexual assault, strong language, and other material readers may find objectionable. Reader discretion is advised.
West Bloomfield, Michigan
August 2009
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Raiden did not resist as Gabriel pinned him to the wall. Extra heartbeats pummeled their rib cages in sync. Respiration was audible. Standing still, Gabriel scanned Raidenâs features, lingering on the long feminine lashes hiding the singerâs downcast eyes. He squeezed Raidenâs shoulders and insinuated a knee between his thighs.
âDid you think I wouldnât come for you?â
Raiden shifted his weight. âLet me go.â
Gabriel released a frustrated sigh. âI need toââ
âDonât,â the older vampire warned. âDonât tell me.â
âBut Iââ
âWhatever you have to say, I donât want to hear it. Now let me go.â
Gabriel removed his hands and shoved them into his pockets. âI just want to have you once. Let me taste you.â
Raiden looked up. âYouâve tasted my blood before.â
âThat was different. The first time you forced it on me. And the last time Iââ
âLook, my blood isnât available to the public.â Raiden pivoted away from him. âConsider it part of my private collection.â
Gabriel pouted. âI take offense to your suggestion that Iâm part of âthe public.â Surely I merit special privileges, given my status: Iâm your baby.â
âHa!â Raiden snorted. âThatâs twisted, Gil.â
âYou made me. Therefore âŚâ Gabriel stepped in front of him. âYouâre like a sperm donor.â He snickered. âIn this case the frisson between us is very taboo, Father.â
Raiden balked. âIâd never call myself your father, and I wonât give you any more of my blood.â
Gabriel wet his lips. âWhat if I take it anyway?â
Raidenâs eyes darted to Gabrielâs mouth. âDonât risk it.â
âWhy not?â Gabriel bent down to Raidenâs height. âWhat would I stand to lose?â
âOh, man! That was an awesome kiss!â Kenâs speakerphoned tenor chirped.
Gabriel shook himself out of the erotic daydream he had repeatedly (and falsely) promised himself he would not repeat. Best laid plans. âSorry. What was that?â he asked Ken.
âI was talking to the TV,â his friend replied. âArenât you watching the show? Mike and Luce just swapped spit.â
âItâs rather difficult to keep track of the plot and remember whoâs into who. Most of these white men look alike.â
Ken guffawed. âSays the whitest man I know.â
âYou arenât entirely incorrect. Still, I do possess a tinge of swarthiness.â Gabriel slipped into his lowest vocal register. âA certain mystique.â
Ken blew a raspberry into the receiver. âIf you werenât a tall, handsome francophone, youâd lose your edge.â
âFair enough.â Gabriel rubbed his temples. âI apologize for my wandering attention.â
âLong-distance binge-watching isnât the same as binge-watching in person.â Ken sounded disappointed. âYouâre usually so into Gay for Pay.â
âMaybe we should put a pause on binge-watching until I return.â
âWhich will be when? This place is too quiet without you,â Ken complained. âI know weâre megastars and can afford our own houses, but I like living together. Itâs cozy.â
âIâll return in a couple of weeks.â
âThank God. I was so shocked when you decided to stay in Detroit for the summer! Two whole months down the drain. God only knows what you see in that sweaty jockstrap of a city.â
âWest Bloomfield isnât Detroitâitâs the suburbs. White picket fences. Faux fine dining. Immaculate gardens. You know all this, Ken: you were momentarily a denizen of Metro Detroit as well. This rental propertyâthe one you temporarily shared with meâis without reproach. You remarked upon its worthiness yourself.â
âI was a visitor, not a denizen, and I was bored out of my fucking gourd.â
Gabriel examined his nails. âItâs been pleasant catching a break from the spotlight. People do recognize me here, but I can travel much more freely without fear of harassment. I donât miss the paparazzi.â
âYeah, yeah. I hear that. Anyway, Tinseltownâs interminably dull without you. Though not as dull as that Midwestern hellhole. Youâre not mad at me for leaving, right?â
âWhich time?â
âThe final one. I just couldnât take it. When the apocalypse hits earth, or the aliens take over, Iâll vote for Michigan as the first state to go.â
âIndubitably.â
Ken crunched popcorn loud enough to convince Gabriel to lower the speakerphoneâs volume.
âIs he gone yet?â His Mesmerized costarâs voice reverberated off the tile floor.
âWho?â Gabriel asked.
âYour crush. That hot lil half-Japanese blond youâre so smitten with. The ruler of your wet dreams.â
âRaidenâs not my crush.â Gabrielâs voice rose in pitch. âHeâs a colleague.â
âGabe! I literally walked in on you jerking off to his picture,â Ken reminded him.
He was glad Ken could not see him blush. âCanât you stop talking about that?â
âOnly if you can stop thinking about it.â Ken chuckled. âSo are you gonna check out one of his lives? Heâs supposed to play in LA, right?â
Gabriel side-stepped his question. âThe tourâs almost over.â
âAlready? That was quick.â
âWas it?â
âHm, do I detect seismic waves in homoerotic paradise?â
âYou mean homoerotic hell.â
âAre you still in touch?â
âNot anymore.â
âWhat happened?â
Gabriel stared at his lap. âWe grew weary of each other.â
âYou sure youâre still gonna work with him on the movie? You know how long and drawn-out shoots can get.â
âIâm sure.â He closed his eyes, willing himself not to conjure images of his quasi hookup with Raiden. Though he was desperate for Kenâs take on the event, he could not bring himself to confess to the permitted hand job. If I start talking about that, I might not be able to stop. Before I know it, Iâll have told him Iâm a vampire. No!
âAre you getting feels?â
Gabriel was puzzled. âFeels?â
âLike, feelings. Emotions. Heart eyes and birds singing ballads through the open window and all that shit.â
âI take offense at your implication.â
âYou would.â
âReally, the teasingâs gone too far. Weâre missing the TV show.â With his pinky, he crushed a fly idling on the table.
âGabe!â Ken sucked his teeth. âYou werenât paying attention in the first place.â
âLetâs just talk about something else, dâaccord?â Gabriel swept what was left of the fly into the wastebasket. âFor instance: who had work done while I was away? The other evening, when I was watching Reach for the Stars, I noticed Jeremy Bakerâs nose seemed much straighter than when he was on the cover of Populous.â
âPfft, thatâs old news.â Kenâs volume dropped. âCan I tell you a gory detail in confidence, though?â
âYou can.â
âJeremy Bakerâs nose may be straight, but heâs as gay as a fucking rainbow singing Lady Gaga songs.â
Gabriel cracked up. âI donât believe you! I thought he was hooking up with Shelby Cole. They made quite the stir, carousing about town.â
âGabe, you know their PDA is bullshit. How can you still be this naive after your Hollywood initiation?â
âItâs part of my whimsical charm.â
âTrue.â
They stayed on the phone gossiping for another twenty minutes before Gabriel ended the call with the excuse that he needed to take a powder. In reality he needed a hit of blood. Grimacing, he slit the throat of the hours-old possum he had caught rifling through the garbage bin. He heated the animalâs blood in a nonstick pot and cursed when he burned his tongue during a taste test. The excruciating wave of cramps with which he had become familiar began ten minutes after he had consumed the entirety of the potâs contents and lasted until all hours of the night, when he finally surrendered to his bodyâs rebellion and upchucked every last dropâas he had done most nights since he had left Raidenâs dubious care.
Suffering violent convulsions, he bit down on the fleshy pad of his palm and self-soothed.
At least Iâm not murdering people to appease my cravings ⌠yet.
 ***
Las Vegas, Nevada
Summer had slipped from Raidenâs grasp like a sweaty hand. The tour prep had not mattered: Raiden was as much a fish out of water on the road as he had been since the LA concert catastrophe five years prior. Despite his track record of youthful summers spent at his fatherâs home in North Carolina, his comfort level with American culture had since taken a nosedive. The tour was a montage of forgettable moments from the first night in Detroit to the third-to-last predicted snooze fest in Vegas. He was willing to bet a weekâs supply of blood that tonightâs experience would not elevate Scentâs Feeling the Way Tour.
Fumbling to Second Base When Youâre Wasted and Having Trouble Getting Hard would have made a more accurate title, he thought.
He struck a match against the gate that led to The Railheadâs backstage entrance and lit one of Kaiâs leftover Marlboro Reds. Coughing, he held the glowing cancer stick away from his face and tried to catch his breath.
The tour mostly sucks because of me.
Nine times out of ten, Raiden had phoned in his performances. Kai grumbled about his sloppy timing in half sentences that usually ended with ellipses. Yoshi did not explicitly express concern; instead he made small talk about how he neither understood nor appreciated certain elements of American road trip cultureâsuch as powdered eggs, a staple of the free continental breakfasts hotels offered. Taro conveyed his extreme disapproval of Raidenâs listless lyrical delivery in daily texts while they prepped in the dressing rooms of their venues du jour.
Taroâs current text was the most venomous yet:
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Your onstage demeanor is appalling. As long as weâve been friends, youâve never been this uncommitted to the band. We have money riding on these shows and are risking losing American fans. Our label will ream us a new one if word gets back youâve turned into a busking zombie. They might even drop you as Scentâs lead singer. There are plenty of other talented front men out there whoâd kill to be in your shoes.
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Raiden jammed a thumb at himself. âTalk to my face, Taro-kun. Iâm literally two feet away from you.â
Taro white knuckled the sides of his chair. âWe have a show to do.â
âBakayarou,â Raiden cursed under his breath. Asshole. In a louder voice: âThen stop blowing up my phone and let me get in the zone.â
âYou havenât been âin the zoneâ since we came to the US,â Taro sniped.
âRaiden-san! You may be tired, but your fans still love you!â his manager piped up from the couch. Matsuda continued chattering to bolster him with motivational platitudes and verbal cheer-a-thons, but Raiden was having none of it.
His BO smells like day-old McDonaldâs fries.
âFuck this country!â Yoshi exclaimed in an uncharacteristic outburst. âWe shouldâve done an Asian tour instead.â The drummer tossed his hair into a man bun as he rattled off his pet peeves about the US. âUgly language. Shitty food. Drinks too strong. Hugging as a greeting. People too fat.
âYo-chan!â Taro scolded. âDonât be unkind. Weâre lucky to have this opportunity.â He examined the neck of his bass and flicked off a piece of fluff. âWe love our fans, remember? Doesnât matter what they look like.â
âI like fat people,â Matsuda added. âTheyâre jolly.â He pantomimed patting a round belly. âLike Santa Claus!â
âItâs not jolly when theyâre crushing you with their back rolls,â Yoshi complained. âThe other day I was behind a man in line at the convenience store. He stepped backward, and I got stuck in his body. I couldnât breathe!â
âThat does sound unpleasant,â Kai agreed.
âEverythingâs just too ⌠big.â Yoshi tapped his drumsticks together. âPeople, space, buildings, food. Itâs a greedy place.â
âIâve never seen this side of you, Yo-chan,â Taro marveled. âYouâve got a mean streak.â
âStress,â Kai proclaimed. âHeâs reaching his limit. And you arenât helping.â He jabbed his guitar at Taro and Raiden. âYou argue every day.â
Raiden ignored Kaiâs criticism. âIn Japan weâre always looking for somewhere to hide. In America our fans are the only ones who recognize us. The members of Prodigal Son canât even remember our names, and weâve been opening the tour for them since June.â
âTake your pride down a peg,â Taro suggested. âIt isnât easy going from having your asshole licked to groveling at your fansâ feet, but thatâs the reception you should expect in a foreign country.â
âEspecially in a country where the natives think a burger meets all the food-group requirements,â Yoshi added.
âIt kind of does,â Kai pointed out.
âWhatâs moreââTaro swiveled in Raidenâs directionââthe second weâre done, this oneâs running back to Detroit to join his new buddy for preproduction meetings.â
âWhy are you going back there? Why not straight to LA?â Kai lit a cigarette then stubbed it out when Yoshi pointed to the No Smoking sign.
Raiden fine-tuned his eyeliner. âIâve already explained this: the shootâs mostly in San Francisco, but weâre getting some of the preliminary stuff out of the way in Detroit because of the film industry tax incentive. A bunch of other movie teams are going the same route: getting done what they can in Michigan and filming their major scenes elsewhere. Iâll be in Detroit for about two weeks before relocating to San Francisco.â
âExciting!â Matsuda rubbed his hands together. âIâm happy to join you in the Motor City for the movieâs beginning.â He air wrote the letters of the filmâs title: âL-U-N-A S-U-N-S-E-T. Sounds like a masterpiece.â
Taro pooh-poohed the praise. âWhatever. Raidenâs lucky weâll be on a break once we go back to Japan, or we couldnât spare you, Matsuda. I hope you donât expect to take our staff members too.â
âI have my own staff for my personal needs. I donât need to use Scentâs staff.â Raiden applied a barely there coating of bronze eyeshadow. âAnyway, I wonât need my usual crew. Colin will make sure Iâm taken care of.â
Taro rolled his eyes. âIâm sure he will.â
Raidenâs thoughts briefly touched upon the elephant in the room: Gabriel Colin had not spoken directly to him in nearly two months. Nowâs not the time for an anxiety attack. Save it, he sternly told himself. You have a show to do.
âTaro-kun, Iâll do better tonight. I promise.â Raiden stood up. âNow get off my back.â
The bassist gave him a skeptical look. âYou seem bothered by me, but thereâs something else eating you.â
Itâs what Iâm not eating, Raiden did not say aloud. Since the tour started, he had averaged two feeds per week, mostly vagrants, tourists, and the occasional groupie; his energy level was dangerously low. Only three more nights. Then I get to see Gil. Weâll figure out our meals as we go. Improvisation.
âLetâs give âem hell, guys.â Raiden cracked his knuckles and grinned. âHow do I look?â
âLike you just rose from the dead,â Taro declared. âAs beautiful as ever, you lucky fuck.â
Raiden blotted his nude lipstick. âPerfect.â
***
He sang better than he had in months.
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Every time you touched me,
every time we reached the brink,
you still concealed the truth.
Half blue âŚ
Iâm not over you.
Â
Raiden analyzed the audience. Is Justus here? Impossible. Nonsense. Heâs gone. Better yet, dead. But there are no guarantees. His maker could be concealed in the crowd, waiting for the opportunity to take his revenge. Wouldnât he have already done it by now? He let his voice slide into the broken wail he knew his fans expected to hear.
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Half blue âŚ
Whatâs the point in waiting?
Come get me, baby.
You can have the worst me youâre wanting.
Letâs leave in style, single-file pyre,
ignite the stage with our rage and ire.
Violet-red, gray, and sad âŚ
Half blue âŚ
Itâs certain death to love you.
Â
As he bowed his head, the audience roared, a myriad-eyed, multi-limbed tiger. Theyâd probably tear me apart if they knew what I am. Or worse, theyâd want to be like me. Theyâd beg me to turn them. In the midst of their ravenous delight, he heard the voice he abhorred whisper his name: Raiden, Iâm coming for you, love.
***
âDid you enjoy the concert?â Justus pecked Naomiâs cheek. âHow was it seeing your ex again? Itâs been a few ticks since you last beheld him in his element. Still a damn fine singer. Angel face, demon deeds.â He checked his reflection in the oval-shaped mirror on the wall of their casino suite. âThe type you fancy.â
Naomiâs jaw twitched as she balled her hands into fists. âI remembered.â
Paternally, he patted her back. âWhat a beautiful brute he is?â
âWhat you did to us.â She double punched him in the throat. âLiar!â
With a strangled cough that ended in a staccato laugh, Justus manifested next to the bureau, out of her reach.
âYour indignance is endlessly entertaining,â he choked out. âEvery time you remember, I get chuffed to bits.â His mirth vanished. âItâs also bloody irritating.â
âWondering why the memory loss doesnât stick?â She snapped the bedpost off and broke it over her knee. âIâm not as weak as you think.â
âYou will be.â Justus pinched two knobs off the bureau. âThese would make a lovely pair of pasties. Try them on.â
âOver my dead body.â Naomi resisted his mental pull by visualizing a tsunami subsuming his influence.
Justus gasped for breath. âThe only body ⌠you have ⌠is a living corpse. And it belongs to me, dear wife.â
When he came at her, she feinted to the left then jammed the makeshift stake into his upper back. Yelping, he pulled it out and chucked it back at her; it embedded into her left quad. Scrabbling against the wall, she knocked the dresser on top of him. He heaved it aside, dragged her to the bed, and tossed her onto the mattress. With an inhuman howl, he mounted her. Naomi wound herself around him like a python and clamped her fangs onto his ankle. She tore out his Achilles tendon and spat it onto the floor.
Bellowing, Justus seized the back of Naomiâs head and repeatedly slammed it into the bedframe. âThe payment for bodily and property damages is coming out of your pocket, love. Iâll make you trick for it. How does standing on the Sunset Strip with your tits hanging out sound? Iâm sure youâd bring in a premium even with half your brain leaking out your ears.â He slammed her head into the frame one last time. âBitch.â
Resist. Naomi went under the waves of unconsciousness with the word ringing in her ears.
Â
There are authors who make an effort to let their serial works stand alone. They write with the mentality that Yes, this novel is number three of ten, but it is still a complete story in itself and here is the context that would allow a new reader to enter the series if for some silly reason they decided to start here instead of book one.
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Then there are authors who just seem to say Screw it, weâre on part four of a many-part epic, vampiric drama, get on board or get out of the way.
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R.N. Jayneâs Deux (MASTER Book 4) is of the latter persuasion, and I have to admire the nerve of it.
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Raiden and Gabriel are a pair of vampire frenemies, verging on lovers, who havenât seen each other in a couple of months and now must work together on a movie set. While working closely, they must keep their vampirism, their attraction to each other, and Gabrielâs growing thirst all firmly in the closet and away from their costars and crewmates. Attraction crackles between the Raiden and Gil as they brush past each other, come together, and finally explode over the course of their couple of weeks together on set.
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Along for the ride are a merry train of assistants, bodyguards, and the usual retinue you would expect to follow a pair of celebrity vamps, while mysterious enemies with longstanding grudges against both our leading gentlemen watch from the wings.
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True to the form laid out a few paragraphs ago, Deux is very obviously just one part of many, and that includes the ending. Strap in for a cliffhanger of fairly cataclysmic proportions rather than a neat bow on the end of this story.
A couple of words of warning for the kinds of readers who like those things: Jayne does not shy away from the predatory nature of her vampires. They eat people to survive, and that means the body count is significant. There's also explicit sex, both consensual and not, depicted on the page. Readers, you have been forewarned.
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Good for fans of manga and webtoons with teeth (think Wolf in the House and Midnight Secretary), or readers looking for a poppy descendant of Anne Rice's original queer vampire Louis and Lestat.