Liquid Silver Books, $4.99, ISBN 978-1-62210-251-8
Historical Fantasy Romance, 2015
Sarah Carlton, about to make her debut in 19th century London, has a secret: she is a Slayer, the one who kills vampires under the tutelage of her Guardian Ruper… er, Lydia. The Guardian Guild has determined that there is a Master Vampire in London, and Sarah’s mission is to… not kill, but to capture him. Mind you, there is a prophecy in the old books which states that this Master, ‘the Dark One’, would ‘hunt’ the Slayer, so I’d think it makes more sense to just kill that thing with extreme prejudice, but hey, don’t look at me, I’m only a reader and not a Guardian supposedly steeped in wisdom.
The Dark One is Dominic, the Marquess of Sanford, who is prone to saying melodramatic nonsense out loud to himself.
“What will your blood taste like, Slayer?” He wondered out loud, flicking a bit of lint off his jacket, as he prepared for the ball. “Will I be able to taste your Slayer power in it?”
Since he’s hot, I suppose his looks and flat abs make up for his… eloquence in dramatic monologues, to put it nicely.
Of course, he knows who she is while she’s still scrambling around in the ballroom wondering whom the Dark One is. He also knows when she is lying, and that she is helpless to resist his undead pee-pee powers. It’s always more romantic when the heroine acts like a confused goldfish.
A restless night thinking about the handsome lord and Master Vampire’s sinful kiss had taken its toll on Sarah and she was desperate to talk to her friend about him – only she wouldn’t mention the kiss at the pool. Never that. For the first time ever, she was unsure about how to handle one of the undead, especially being flirted with, and she needed Lydia’s advice.
Dominic has no problems getting her to let him play with her breasts in… what? One day, after they first meet?
“Oh… you!” she muttered in mortification as she came out of the blissful state she was in. She placed her hands over her breasts in a vain attempt to hide them from his hot gaze and blushed. “I can’t go back to Lydia and Lady Turner looking… looking so ravished.” Dominic hushed her. “Shh. I’ll help you back into your gown.” He pulled her chemise and gown back up.
I’m sorry, but why isn’t she dead yet? A real vampire would have ripped off her head and drunk from the stump before doing a happy dance just like Robyn in the music video of Call Your Girlfriend.
Sarah knew the Marquis was doing it on purpose. He had kissed her passionately and touched her intimately and now he was leaving her alone to dwell on it. And think it about it she did. She recalled it all only too vividly and she kept looking for him everywhere – damn him. She kept expecting him to jump out on her while she was patrolling the cemeteries in the early hours, but he didn’t. The awful thing was, she was disappointed. She wanted to see him – she liked their sparring.
What sparring? All he has to do is to beckon and she immediately can’t wait to bare her kittens and bend over like a plastic Gumby doll. Seriously, why isn’t she dead yet?
Not that I am on Team Dark One, mind you. That guy talks out loud to himself every time he is alone, making him seem like one of the hokey vampire characters played by the late Christopher Lee back in those days, and I never find those characters sexy.
Lydia took a sip from her glass of Ratafia. “And he hasn’t shown up on patrol again?”
“No.” Sarah hadn’t seen him anywhere. “I think he’s playing cat and mouse with me, Lydia.”
“Hmm,” was all her friend responded with. And then she looked up. “Oh, here he is, Sarah. Can you sense him at all?”
Gulping and more than a little tempted to fake a swoon at the mention of him, Sarah looked over to the entrance of the ballroom. Sure enough, the Marquis was making an appearance. “No, I can’t sense him.” She shouldn’t really be surprised that he was cloaking his handsome self as usual.
“My goodness, he is handsome, isn’t he?” Lydia stated beside her and Sarah glowered as she took in the fine figure of the Marquis.
“Do you think so?” She tried to sound unaffected by his looks.
“Yes. What a shame he’s a vampire.”
The Guardian can die, too.
Can this story be any more ridiculous? Oh wait, here comes the jealous psychotic evil blonde out to get the Slayer for daring to be a Vampire Layer!
Lethal Union is a hilarious comedy of incompetent nincompoops trying to ‘slay’ a hammy fellow who thinks he’s auditioning to replace Christopher Lee in a horror movie during the 1960’s. The tragic thing is, I believe this is meant to be a romantic urban fantasy-like historical romp. Oh well, at least I’ve had a good laugh out of the whole thing so… mission accomplished?
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