TITLE: The Acrobat
AUTHOR: Agnes Moon
PUBLISHER: Self publisher
SERIES: Blood Ties # 1
TRANSLATOR: Kevan Houser
PRICE: $ 3,49
LENGTH: 190 pages
RELEASE DATE: February 21st
BLURB: The Acrobat is a professional thief with dozens of burglaries to his credit, but when he finds himself trapped in the enormous abode of a mysterious man, as seductive as he is lethal, he realizes that the police might not be the worst of evils.Vincent de Saint-Bonnet is incredibly rich, with many hidden secrets, and little will to live. A foul-mouthed little thief with magnificent blue eyes is just what he needs to bring some light back to his gray, long-drawn-out existence.
A thief looking for a valuable dagger, an antique dealer with hundreds of years under his belt, for whom the weapon represents an object of . . . inestimable value. Each man has a precise goal and nothing will stop him from reaching it. Not even the incredible attraction that grips them, pulling them into a duel, one fought with lies and seduction.
“So you’re a. . .” Damn, the word just wouldn’t come out. I was a very open-minded sort of guy, and easily adapted to new situations. . . but, fuck! It’s not every day you run into a. . .
“A vampire. . .” he finished the sentence for me.
“Yeah. . .” I sighed. “And you drink. . .”
He helped me out again: “Blood.”
“Exactly,” I confirmed, playing along with our surreal horror quiz show. “My blood, just for the record,” I felt the need to point out.
“Truly delicious. . .” That bloodsucking bastard was sneering. Then, apparently curious, he added: “I have to say you’re taking it quite well. I would’ve expected, at the very least, a bit of surprise, or, I don’t know. . . a healthy dose of understandable terror.”
He wasn’t totally wrong, but in my defense, I could state that I felt he posed absolutely no danger. Maybe I was way off base and I’d end up as the main course at a nice little banquet for Vince and his stooges. Speaking of stooges. . . “So, Bastien and that other guy, the one who’s like: “I’ve got a stick up my ass and I’m always nervous” are also vampires like you?”
“Yes, kitten. We’re all vampires, and as you might’ve deduced by now, you really picked the wrong house to rob,” he answered, amused.
Well, I was getting up to speed pretty quickly. Who knows if that asshole Curt was aware of this tiny, but rather important, detail.
“Are you planning on killing me?” I asked, nervously biting my lower lip. It’s true I didn’t feel like I was in danger, but that little boy in It wasn’t afraid of clowns, either. . . until he was eaten by one!
Hearing my question, Vincent’s eyes opened wide, and he seemed offended. “I’d never hurt you, mon coeur! Let me explain. . .”
Keep in mind we were having this nice little chat about fangs and blood sucking sitting right next to each other, naked, caked in the vestiges of our passion. I couldn’t have been an easier target! Then I remembered the moments of sublime passion we’d just enjoyed. The perfect union of our bodies, and his tender eyes watching me, captivated. That wasn’t the look of someone planning to kill me. So what, then? What exactly did he want from me, apart from the obvious?
He moved toward me, hugging me, and I found myself resting my head on his chest. I knew full well I should’ve run away. And yet, tight in the cocoon of those strong arms, I felt strangely safe and. . . Shit! I know it’ll sound absurd to you, but an incredible feeling of peace, joy, and justice came over me. It felt like those arms were created just to hold me tight.
Shit! I really was a hot mess. I felt like a cheap knockoff of that annoying Bella Swan. Vincent probably didn’t even sparkle. Or did he? “Do you sparkle?” I asked, curious.
“Excuse-moi?” His gorgeous face took on an astonished expression.
“In the sun. Do you sparkle or catch on fire?”
He snorted, amused. “Mon Dieu, that irritating film about vegetarian vampires again!”
“Tell me!” I insisted. “What happens if you’re exposed to the sun? And if you eat garlic? Can you enter a church? Do you only drink human blood? Do you sleep in a coffin? Do you. . .”
“Stop, stop. . .” he interrupted me, amused. “I swear I’ll tell you everything, or at least. . . as much as I can. But we had an agreement, remember? You have to tell me why you’re wanted by the police, and I’ll let you make that call you’re so eager for. Then we’ll get cleaned up, you can have a bite to eat, and if there’s time, I’ll tell you about me. And if not, we still have tomorrow. . . and the day after tomorrow. . .”
I grumbled, exasperated. That was his way of saying that letting me go was totally out of the question!