Sneak Peek of Cursed: Piper's Story from the Blood Courtesans Series

Cursed: Piper and Sebastian's love story from the Blood Courtesans Series is now available for pre-order at a discounted price. The price will go up after its release on 1/17/17, so grab a copy today on Amazon.

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Check out the first chapter of Cursed below and get to know Piper's character and her turmoil. See why she is backed into a corner and chooses to become a Blood Courtesan as she searches for protection from an ancient curse. 

I am lost, broken, desperate. I awakened a centuries-old curse and the hunter has now become the hunted. The monster has chased me across the globe, leaving bodies and devastation in its wake. My only refuge is to become a blood courtesan and seek sanctuary from the vampires, still the beast haunts me.

Sebastian becomes my beacon in the darkness. He is my protector and while he can keep me safe, I'll never be free so long as the monster lives. His plan to use me as bait is terrifying. Am I willing to trust him with my life - or should I let another stranger tame the beast that threatens to tear apart my soul?

Will the curse be lifted or am I doomed to remain in the darkness... alone with my demon?

***** This book contains adult content of sexual nature and violence and was written for audiences 18 and older.

Chapter One

Piper

“GREGORY JAMES MASTERS.”

The heavily tattooed and overly pierced, muscle man turned toward my voice when I called out his name. I swear there was an evil glint in those brown eyes before he bolted, knocking me down in the process.

Bastard! I hated it when deadbeat dads and cheaters ran. I jumped up, slapping away random hands from good Samaritans that offered help, and took off after him. It wasn’t like the man had many friends in Chinatown, the problem was the crowded streets gave him a sea of faces to hide in, and his maneuver of knocking me off balance, gave him a head start. Instinct told me to go left. I weaved in and out of the people as I made my way over the beat up concrete sidewalks. A good private investigator rarely wore heels. Tennis shoes, jeans, and a t-shirt were the only way to go when you were in pursuit of a criminal.

Instinct was right. I saw a blur of a red tank top and tattoo-sleeved arm turn down an alley only a few meters ahead of me. Picking up my pace, I found my stride and followed. The man knew I was coming. His soon to be ex-wife told me as much. So why was he running? This was supposed to be a simple job. Hand him the papers, take the picture, and turn in the paperwork for a nice little paycheck. Simple, my rear end!

He ducked into the back door of a building just as I turned the corner. I followed, and instantly regretted my decision the moment I walked into the moldy and booze-coated bar. The sickly-sweet scent of fermented alcohol assaulted my senses and made my stomach flip. The place looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in ages. I made a mental note to put a call into the health department. The dive was in dire need of an inspection.

I slowed my movements because I had no idea what I was getting myself into. The hair standing at attention on my arms and neck told me whatever it was couldn’t be good. This place reeked of cigarette smoke, lost souls, and bad juju. Resisting the urge to turn around and run out the door, I plowed forward. Ever since that night in Egypt, at the Tomb a couple of months ago, I had been making bad choices, and this one was another example of not listening to my gut. When would I learn, and why was I so hell-bent on hurting myself? These questions echoed through my mind as I walked into a trap set up by my target. The answer, obviously not anytime soon.

He was surrounded by five other guys, each one looked nastier than the next. They were holding weapons that could do some major damage to me, like pool sticks and baseball bats. One even held a butcher’s knife. The glint from the dangerous looking blade only urged on the need to protect and defeat. When this was over, I would need to get a shrink to find out why I was insistent on chasing death. Part of me yelled ‘Run’, but the two men that came up behind me from the bar made escape an impossible task. I was trapped. The only way out was to fight. My hand went to my side, expecting to feel the cool steel of the handgun. When I came up with empty air in the hip holster I knew what had happened before I even looked at Gregory James Masters. He held my gun in his hand, an evil grin spreading across his rugged face.

“Okay, Gregory James Masters, I am so going to serve up your papers on a platter when this is all over,” I told him as I readied for the attack. I planted my feet into the sticky red carpet and pulled out the dagger sheathed at my side. The handgun would bring about unnecessary blood and possible death anyway, which wasn’t on my agenda today. By the looks of the men in front of me, their sheer size told me the stun gun I wore on my other hip would do little to no damage, so I opted for the hand to hand combat weapon. A dagger would require closer proximity, and would leave behind some blood, but fatalities were unlikely. Thankfully, Gregory agreed with the logic behind no gun use because he dropped the weapon on the floor and kicked it out of the way.

The dark-skinned man to Gregory’s left came at me wielding a baseball bat. He swung and missed as I dodged, sinking down to the floor, and kicking his feet out from underneath him. On his way down, I sliced into one of his Achilles’ heels to make sure he stayed down. It would mean a miserable recovery time for the man, but his life would be spared. This was about delivering divorce papers, not taking on dangerous criminals in a death match.

Two men attacked simultaneously after watching me take down the first guy. I managed to dodge the butcher knife, but was hit in my mid-section by the pool stick. The impact knocked the air out of me and sent be flying backward. The man had strength, but I’d bested better. Being a female detective, I had to learn to fight harder than my male counterparts. I was taught to use their strength against them. The bigger they are, the harder they fall is a very true statement in most cases. I rebounded quickly and went on the defense as both men grinned in delight, thinking they had the upper hand. I almost felt sorry for them. I steadied myself, and readied for their attack. So focused on the two in front of me, I didn’t see the ones that circled behind me until it was too late. A weapon of some sort slammed into my back, rammed into my kidney, and knocked the air out of my lungs. As I crumpled to the ground in pain, I pulled out the stun gun holstered at my side, but was unable to defend myself as multiple men wailed on me. My vision blurred as more jabs, kicks, and punches hit the surface of my body on all sides. I don’t know if I took any of them out with the weapons in my hands because a familiar scream erupted from my lips, and I lost consciousness.

*****

A moan escaped my mouth as I opened my eyes. Every part of my body ached. The smell of copper and sulfur assaulted my senses first. It felt as though my eyes were glued shut. My first thought was I died, but death wouldn’t be so cruel as to leave me in excruciating pain, would it?

I slowly stood up, aches and pains screaming from every inch of my body. Echoes of violent waves of agony made the edges of my vision go dark. With each movement, I feared I’d pass out, but instinct warned me to get out. Caked in blood, bodies contorted in death surrounded me. What the hell happened? How the hell did I survive the attack?

My breathing was labored from pain and fear as I tried to focus on my surroundings. My body was covered in sweat and red, sticky liquid, some of which had hardened into a disgusting mask on the surface of my skin. I pushed my black hair back off my face and glanced up at the ceiling fan that offered a slight cooling breeze, which carried the scent of death along with it. You must leave, there is nothing you can do for these souls. The warning seized my heart like a vice grip. What if whatever did this returned to finish the job? It wasn’t the first time I’d been attacked and spared. Why me?

How was I the only one to survive an attack of eight men? I was trained in martial arts, but these bodies were far from bruised and beaten. They were dead. Ripped to shreds. The eyes of the men were frozen open in fear, staring at me. A shiver passed through me when I found Gregory’s body. His abdomen had been ripped open, entrails pulled out, his neck severed from his body, his head laid inches from his shoulders. It was worse than any scene I’d witnessed in a horror film, perhaps because I was a part of it, and I had no memory of what happened. Part of me felt like I should call the cops, the paramedics, but there was no saving these men. I limped my way out of the bar, taking solace in the darkness of night. When I got some distance between me and the nightmare I left behind, I would call the authorities.