The City Beneath
Night Blood
Book 1
Melody Johnson
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Kensington Publishing/ Lyrical Press
Date of Publication: April 28, 2015
ISBN: 1601834225
ASIN: B00OEW5T10
Number of pages: 256
Word Count: 91,999
Cover Artist: Kensington Publishing
Book Description:
As a journalist, Cassidy DiRocco thought she had seen every depraved thing New York Cityâs underbelly had to offer. But while covering what appears to be a vicious animal attack, she finds herself drawn into a world she never knew existed. Her exposé makes her the target of the handsome yet brutal Dominic Lysander, the Master Vampire of New York City, who has no problem silencing her to keep his coven's secrets safeâ¦
But Dominic offers Cassidy another option: ally. He reveals she is a night blood, a being with powers of her own, including the ability to become a vampire. As the body count escalates, Cassidy is caught in the middle of a vampire rebellion. Dominic insists she can help him stop the coming war, but wary of his intentions, Cassidy enlists the help of the charming Ian Walker, a fellow night blood. As the battle between vampires takes over the city, Cassidy will have to tap into her newfound powers and decide where to place her trust...
Excerpt Book 1:
Vampires Bite in the Big Apple- notes from draft 1
Cassidy DiRocco, Reporter
I didnât need to believe in the paranormal to believe in monsters. I reported murders, rapes, assaults, and robberies every day: men strangling wives, women stabbing lovers, children shooting children. If someone had interviewed me last weekâbefore I was attacked and bitten and manipulated in the pursuit of everyone elseâs personal and conflicting agendasâI would have said that the world darkened a little more with every sunset and turned a little more bloody and vengeful and uncaring with each passing day. But Iâd also have said that after almost ten years in the business, Iâm no longer surprised by anything I report.
If someone had interviewed me last week, it wouldnât have mattered how long Iâd been in the business; Iâd have been dead wrong.
Humans arenât the only murderers and rapists and thieves in this city; the real monstersâvampires and night bloods alikeâhave hopes and goals and desires just like the humans. But without the limitations of a fragile human body, the vampires achieve every goal and desire without consequence. Who can bring a murderer to justice if the murderer canât be arrested or detained? Who can testify against a rapist when the victim canât remember whether sheâd been raped or mugged? Who can stop a crime spree when no one realizes crimes are even being committed?
No one, of course, except for me.
Even after everything this insane week taught me about the world, this city, and myself, Iâm still breathtakingly shocked by everything I reportedâand, most especially, by the one story I couldnât.â¦
Chapter 1
Last Monday
I nearly limped right past him, clouded by my own physical pain and the churning unease in my gut, but the rattling hiss that growled from the alley tripped my interest. I stopped walking.
The night was cool and quiet in the aftermath of sirens and flashing lights. My scalp tingled in response to the noise emanating from the alley, and I thought of all the things I should do: I should return to the main crime scene, I should finish my interviews, I should write my story and submit it to print like a good, reliable, by-the-book reporter. The hiss rattled from the alley again, but as Iâd never been one to leave questions unanswered, I slipped a can of pepper spray from my brown leather, cross-body satchel and side-stepped into the alley to find the source of the noise.
What Iâd found was a man, and the rattling hiss was his struggling, gurgling, uneven breaths. His entire body was ravaged by third-degree burns. Tucked into a shadowed alley between two buildings on the corner of Farragut Road and East 40th, he was crouched down as if warding off an attackerâperhaps in his case a flamethrowerâand not moving. I cringed, thinking about the injury that was blocking his throat to produce such a horrible rattling. Maybe he was crying. Maybe he was just trying to breathe. I couldnât decipher his expression because his burns were so devastating. His face wasnât really a face anymore beyond the rough distinctions of a lump for a nose and a hole for a mouth. The unease churning in my gut all night bottomed out. I wouldnât have imagined that someone so injured could still breathe.
Trading the pepper spray for my cell phone, I dialed for Detective Greta Wahl.
âWahl here.â She answered on the fifth ring, just before I suspected my call would transfer to voicemail. âI already gave you a statement, DiRocco. Let the other sharks have a bite, will you?â
âI found another victim, G.â I said without preamble.
âAlive? Where?â Greta asked, snapping from friend to detective instantly.
âA block up Farragut. Heâs still breathing, but heâs different than the others. No bites.â I swallowed the bile that clogged my throat like hot ash. âHis entire body is burned to charcoal.â
âIs he wearing a necklace, like the ones from last week? They were gold with a wolf pendent.â
âI remember,â I said. âAnd no, heâs not wearing a necklace. And heâs not shot execution-style like those victims either. Heâs burned. This is probably a different case all together.â
Greta sighed. âStay with him. Iâll send a paramedic to you ASAP. It might be a few minutes, though. Weâve still got our seven victims being stabilized here.â
âGot it. Weâll be waiting.â I hesitated a fraction of a second before asking, âAny one of our victims talking yet?â
âThe few that still have throats havenât said a word. Theyâre all in shock. Itâs not pretty down here, DiRocco.â
âI know. Keep me posted, and send Nathan to me if you can.â
âWill do,â Greta said.
I ended the call and sat gingerly on the ground next to the man to offer what comfort I could and to give my arthritic hip the rest it needed. Injuries were supposed to heal with time, but the scar build-up on mine had only increased in the five years since Iâd taken a bullet. The first stakeout of my career had set a high standard for my field performance, but it had also left a permanent reminder to listen to my gut. My hip ached on a regular basis, and lately, it would click and grind when put to excess use. After an entire day on my feet, interviewing officers and tracking down witnesses, my activities had apparently escalated way past excess.
Once I settled on the pavement, I held the manâs left elbowâone of two visible patches of skin not blackened or blisteredâand felt an overwhelming, humbling gratitude, no matter my past injuries or current residual pain, that none of these victims had been me.
Sweet Last Drop
Night Blood
Book 2
Melody Johnson
Name of series and book number in series:
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Kensington Publishing/ Lyrical Press
Date of Publication: April 26, 2016
ISBN: 1601834241
ASIN: B00VEG4T0Q
Number of pages: 322
Word Count: 131,084
Cover Artist: Kensington Publishing
Book Description:
Cassidy DiRocco knows the dark side intimatelyâas a crime reporter in New York City, she sees it every day. But since she discovered that she's a night blood, her power and potential has led the dark right to her doorway. With her brother missing and no one remembering he exists, she makes a deal with Dominic Lysander, the fascinating master vampire of New York, to find him.
Dominic needs the help of Bex, another master vampire, to keep peace in the city, so he sends Cassidy to a remote, woodsy town upstate to convince herâassuming she survives long enough. A series of vicious "animal attacks" after dark tells Cassidy there's more to Bex and her coven than anyone's saying. That goes double for fellow night blood Ian Walker, the tall, blond animal tracker who's supposed to be her ally. Walker may be hot-blooded and hard-bodied, but he's hiding something too. If Cassidy wants the truth, she'll have to squeeze it out herself⦠every last drop.
Excerpt Book 2:
Vampires Bite in the Big Apple- notes from draft 4
Cassidy DiRocco, Reporter
Nightmares are supposed to stay in dreams, but for the past three weeks, absolutely nothing, not even my dreams, are as theyâre supposed to be. Reality is the nightmare. When murderers, rapists, thieves, and gangs were my choice topics to report, I was sickened and made unendurably angry by what people were capable of doing to other people. Now, Iâm just sickened by what Iâm capable of, and I canât sleep at all.
After sunset I see vampires lurking in every shadow, pressing against every doorway, committing every murder. Reality is further from anything I could have imagined, and I feel helpless against the enormity of Dominicâs reach. Whatâs the point of breaking my lease when Dominic will just demand entrance into my new apartment? Whom can I confide in about my life after dark without putting them at risk?
The one question that haunts me most is ironically one that I struggled to answer long before stumbling upon Dominicâs existence. It haunted me after my parents died and I struggled with Percocet addictionâhow long will I search for the answers before buckling under the unbearable truth that my efforts were futile from the start?
My brother disappeared three weeks ago. In another three months, will the agony of Nathanâs absence still drive my efforts or drive me insane? When do I draw the line between hope and insanityâin another three years? Unfortunately for me and everyoneâs peace of mind, I donât think there are lines for love. Love is already insane, so the only answer is to drive toward the truthâ¦.
Chapter 1
The bus ride from The Big Apple to Erin, New York gradually descended from the metropolitan area to suburbs, from suburbs to woodsy small towns, and then to nothing but fields and sheds and, of course, cows. Iâd never seen so many cows in my life. Considering Iâd never actually seen a cow in person, I suppose that wasnât much of a statement, but it certainly seemed like Erin had an over-abundance of them. Their mooing reminded me of Dominicâs night blood-and-hamburger metaphor when heâd described how my blood tasted. âYou are a rare dish,â heâd said, and Iâd been terrified by his attraction.
As a night blood, I was one of the rare humans who had the blood type necessary to complete the transformation into a vampire, but just because I had the potential to become a vampire didnât mean I wanted to become one. That was only one of many points of contention between Dominic and me, albeit one of our more vehement disagreements.
I was still terrified of Dominic, attraction or not, but terror could only hold so much immediacy for so long, especially when the object of my terror was being relatively civil. Dominic, Master Vampire of New York City, and swiftly becoming a master pain in my ass, had visited me on numerous occasions at the hospital while I recovered from my encounter with Jillian. He visited me at home once Iâd been released from the hospital. He visited me in the office when I returned to work and outside the office at every starlit opportunity.
I suppose guilt may have played a role in his consistent and regular visits, considering Jillian had been both his vampire and the second in command of his coven, and somehow, I had been the one to take the biggest hit when sheâd betrayed him. But I doubt that guilt was his only motivation; when he came calling, he was always fully fed, completely gorgeous, and the ultimate gentleman.
I knew better than to believe the illusion.
In his infinite patience, I think Dominic was biding his time, and I suspected it had everything to do with this very road trip to Erin, New York, Ian Walkerâs hometown, and the resting place of Walkerâs abundantly powerful coven Master, Bex.
Dominic, however, wasnât the only one biding his time, although Walker had been decidedly less patient.
âI canât wait to see you, darlinâ,â Walker had said at least once per conversation during the multiple phone calls weâd enjoyed daily for three weeks. I would have found his persistence coming from someone else nauseating, but between all the darlinâs and maâams, we shared an indelible bond that went beyond incorrigible flirtation.
Walker was the only other night blood I knew, the only other person who knew that vampires existed, and the only person who could relate to the danger and drama of my life. Meredith, photographer at The Sun Accord and my very best friend, didnât know anything about vampires or night bloods because telling her anything about my life these daysâor more pointedly, these nightsâwould only put her at risk. But she most certainly knew the look on my face when my phone rang, and Walker greeted me on the opposite end.
Meredith assured me that I owed it to myself to discover how deep my bond with Walker could grow, but I remained skeptical of both him and my feelings for him. Weâd only physically known each other for one week. How well could I legitimately come to know a person in one week? But when I looked back at the week weâd shared and survived, I swallowed my doubts.
âPu-lease, you say that to all the girls,â I said to him. My tone was deliberately sarcastic, but I was glad we were talking on the phone; heâd know by my ridiculous smile that I was just as excited to finally see him, too. âYou forget that Iâve seen you in action.â
âYou certainly have.â Walkerâs voice deepened salaciously and I was reminded of that one night in my office. Heâd lifted me onto my desk, and his strong hands had touched me in places Iâd never thought I could feel again.
I swallowed. âMy point is that this is a business trip. Carter finally approved my piece on city versus rural New York crime fluctuationsââ
âThat I encouraged you to write,â Walker interrupted.
I rolled my eyes. ââand as one of my primary sources, you and I willââ
âBe spending hours upon hours alone together.â
âFor interviews on your experiences and discussions on crime rates andââ
âI have an experience Iâd like to discuss: how delicious your body felt against mine.â
I sighed heavily. âYouâre killing me.â
Walker laughed. âGood.â
âI really am writing this story, Walker, despite your ulterior motives for inviting me to your home.â
âYou like my ulterior motives. The most grievous crime at the moment is how long it took for your boss to approve your damn story. I miss you, DiRocco.â
I swallowed again and forced myself to say the words because they were true. âI miss you, too.â
And now, after three weeks of pitching this story to Carter, avoiding Gretaâmy personal friend, and unfortunately, one of NYPDâs finestâand her stink-eyed interrogation, bracing against Dominicâs creeping advances, and swallowing my festering doubts about Nathan, I had finally arrived in Erin, New York earlier this afternoon for what should have been a vacation from all those demons back in the city. Less than twenty-four hours into our reunion, however, and Walker and I still werenât putting the moves on either my career or each other. Heâd barely had time to give me a proper tour of the town before we were once again staring at a body.
Her name was Lydia Bowser, and she was last seen by her grandmother, leaving the farm for a walk before dinner. According to her grandmother and Walkerâs detailed notes, she left for a walk before dinner every night. Sheâd loved the last moments of daylight, when the sun had already dipped below the horizon but its rays still lit the sky with a dim, burning glow. I raised my eyebrows at the description, both from its nostalgia and its telling timeframe. Foul play after dark meant only one thing.
Eternal Reign
Night Blood
Book 3
Melody Johnson
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Kensington Publishing/ Lyrical Press
Date of Publication: April 25, 2017
ISBN: 1601834268
ASIN: B01JEJDHGG
Number of pages: 330
Word Count: 110,974
Cover Artist: Kensington Publishing
Book Description:
Last week, Cassidy DiRocco had some influence over the vampires that stalk the streets of New York City. She was never completely safe, but with her newfound abilities as a night blood and her honed instincts as a crime reporter, at least she had the necessary skills to survive.â¨â¨
Now, thanks to the injuries she sustained while saving her brother from a fate worse than death, sheâs lost her night blood status just as another crime spree hits Brooklyn. Dozens of people are being slaughtered, and each victim bears the Damnedâs signature mark; a missing heart.â¨â¨
Cassidy will need the help of all her allies to survive the coming war, including the mysterious and charismatic Dominic Lysander, Master Vampire of New York City. But as his rivalâs army threatens his coven and his own powers weaken with the approaching Leveling, even Dominicâs defenses might not be enough protection.â¨â¨
With nothing left to lose, can Cassidy find the power inside herself to save Dominic, his coven, their city, and survive?
Excerpt Book 3:
Chapter 1
Dominic looked pretentious and posh, as usual, leaning against the wall in the hallway outside my apartment. Even gazing at him through the fish-eye lens of my doorâs peepholeâfrom the top of his immaculately cut and styled black hair to the bottom of his shiny Cole Haan wing-tipped dress shoesâhe was a hopeful-motherâs dream, a shrewd-womanâs nightmare, and the reason I no longer bothered trying to sleep at night. Knowing the truth beneath the pretty wrappingâthat he was the Master vampire of New York Cityâdidnât stop my heart from jumping and dropping in confused anticipation and adrenaline. After Iâd nearly lost him last week, Iâd come to the implausible, unwelcome conclusion that I actually preferred my life with him in it, but since Iâd completely lost the protection and mental strength of my night blood, his unexpected presence also twisted my gut with pure, unadulterated fear.
I hadnât seen Dominic in five nights, not since heâd entranced his name from my mind and confirmed our worst suspicion: I no longer had night blood.
Without night blood, I didnât have the potential to transform into a vampire, I couldnât reflect Dominicâs commands if he attempted to entrance me, and I no longer had any of the qualities that Dominic held in such high esteem, that heâd planned to leverage during the Leveling; the one night every seven years that he lost his strength and abilities as Master to his potential successor, allowing a new Master to rise in his stead. Without those qualities, I couldnât help him survive the coming battle to keep control of his coven. I was nothing but another human.
I was nothing but food.
Dominic knocked a second time, this series of staccato raps on the door more insistent than the first.
âWhoâs at the door?â Meredith asked. Her eyebrows rose and disappeared behind her bangs.
Of course, on the one night Dominic finally decided to confront me, I had company. I should be grateful; he was knocking on the door rather than inviting himself in through one of the third-story, living room windows. That would have been difficult to explain to Meredith. Longtime best friend and wing woman at the Sun Accord she was, but night blood she wasnât.
âIâm hoping if I wait long enough, heâll give up and go away.â
âHe?â Meredith asked. A mischievous smiled curved her lips.
âItâs probably best to answer the door of your own will,â Nathan murmured.
I stared at my brother, surprised that heâd uttered a full, intelligible sentence beyond âWeâre out of milkâ or something equally inane. Inane seemed all he was capable of lately.
âHeâll make it worse for you otherwise,â he added.
I ignored Meredith and narrowed my eyes on Nathan. âHow do you know whoâs at the door?â
Nathan dropped his gaze to the cereal bowl in front of him and continued spooning scraps of shredded wheat and milk into his mouth without further comment.
Maybe heâd actually keep the food down this time. Then we could work on gradually introducing warm meals and protein back into his diet.
I worried the doorknob with my thumb. Nathan might have been monosyllabic and near bulimic since returning to the city, but he was right. If I didnât open the door of my own will, Dominic would probably force me to grant him entrance into my new apartment. A tenuous spring of hope coiled in my gut. Maybe, just maybe, my efforts to create a fallout shelter here in the city had been a success; maybe I didnât need to worry about entry, forced or otherwise.
I might have put my newly fortified apartment to the test, but with Meredith sitting at my kitchen table, a slice of sushi roll halfway to her mouth, the risk of exposing her to the danger standing on my doorstep wasnât worth the pleasure of denying Dominic entrance.
I opened the door.
Dominic smiled, deliberately flashing his sharp, elongated fangs. âGood evening, Cassidy.â
His voice purred in a deep timbre that plucked at the taut cords in my stomach. I squelched the feelings, but after weeks of denial, I could finally admit that they existed.
âWhat are you doing here?â I whispered.
He raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. âNo âHello?â No âWhat a pleasant surprise?ââ Dominic tsked his tongue against the back of his teeth. âWhere are your manners?â
âWhat a surprise,â I muttered, deliberately omitting âpleasant.â âYou should have called before coming, Dominic.â
He inhaled sharply. The fragile hope that softened his expression shamed me.
âDonât,â I warned, keeping my voice low in an effort to prevent Meredith from overhearing. âI didnât remember your name on my own. Nathan reminded me. It still feels like a void, like Nathan telling me your name four days ago was the first Iâd learned it.â
His face fell. âThatâs unfortunate.â
I sighed. âAre you only here to antagonize me, or was there an actual purpose to this visit?â
âAntagonizing you would be purpose enough, but yes, I have a greater purpose than even that,â Dominic said, magnanimously. âMust we converse in the hallway? I donât believe Iâve had the pleasure of seeing your new apartment. Wonât you invite me in?â
About the Author:
Melody Johnson is the author of the gritty, paranormal romance Night Blood series set in New York City. The first installment, The City Beneath, was a finalist in several Romance Writers of America contests, including the âCleveland Rocksâ and âFool For Loveâ contests. Melody graduated magna cum laude from Lycoming College with her B.A. in creative writing and psychology, and after moving from her northeast Pennsylvania hometown for some much needed Southern sunshine, she now works as a digital media coordinator for Southeast Georgia Health System. When she isnât working or writing, Melody can be found swimming at the beach, honing her newfound volleyball skills, and exploring her new home in southeast Georgia.
Website: http://authormelodyjohnson.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MelodyMJohnson
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