Hey, look at that, a reveal a day early. Wonder who that handsome fellow could be? Give you a hint, you met him in Beautiful Death--somewhere in the middle. ^^

More goodies later in the week.

Here's another (super tiny) excerpt from Chapter 4: Hands Around my Throat from book two of the Uruwashi Series, Bete Noire. Another cover sneak peek on Monday!

***

“Everythin’ es ready fur yew an’ Asta,” Desmond said in his thick accent. He was so damn hard to comprehend sometimes. Did he think anyone could actually understand him? It was like he had goldfish in there, fighting each other to the death and his tongue was their arena. Thankfully, he was done and now he could leave.

“Yeah, it’s just me, mate,” Tristan said mocking the Scotsman’s accent terribly.

“Oh aye? A wee tiff wit our lass, then?”

Tristan only stared at the big guy. Desmond was tall, only an inch or two shorter than Tristan’s six-three, and big, at least twice as bulky as the American. He was the Hulk, less the green. But Tristan wasn’t afraid of the vampire. Stupid? Sure, but he couldn’t be afraid of someone who didn’t take anything seriously.

Desmond gave a little sneer around his smile, stepping into Tristan. Tristan refused to give ground. “Dinnae ken, mate… we’d be ‘specially ‘fraid of someone like that. Never ken when they micht go aff their heid.”

“Yeah, like what, make a piñata out of my bed she—”

Tristan couldn’t remember how it happened, but he was airborne, flying across the apartment. He didn’t have far to travel before slamming into the front door. His head smacked against the metal, sending spots across his vision. He slipped to the floor, disorientated and half blind.

His vision cleared enough that he got a glimpse of pale flesh and crystal green eyes. He had only a moment to try to stand before the vampire was on him again. Tristan was too slow as a laugh rank with blood, wafted across his face. Unbidden, Tristan’s stomach clenched at the scent, telling him he was hungry. A huge fist balled into the front of his shirt and he was yanked to his feet.

His head swam and he groaned, pushing at the immoveable force of Desmond’s tree trunk arms. The vampire grinned and pulled back his arm, hand balled up. Tristan gasped and jerked his head to the side only just missing taking a fist to his face that put a big dent in his metal apartment door. He swallowed hard, thankful that he avoided the blow. If that had hit him it’d have been lights out. Maybe for good.