Excerpt of The Murder King’s Woman

As I near writing the end of The Murder King’s Valentine, I’m getting all excited. I love writing about Mary, so I figured now would be a great time to show you just how cool she is…

So here’s Mary, pretending to be Sasha, a lusty nurse on the prowl during her rescue of the Murder King.

 

“99 veins of blood to tap,

99 veins of bloood…

Pick the best flavor and drain it dry.

There’ll be 98 veins of blood to try.”

 

Sasha sashayed her curvy human body across the busy foyer of the San Francisco Vamp Palace, her booted steps in sync with the rousing chorus of vamps in the next room and her jaunty nurse’s cap bobbing with the tune. Grasping hold of the song, she continued the refrain silently as she pushed the empty black wheelchair through the crowd of costumed, but deadly, vampires.

Her nurse’s top was white and cut low to the thick, black belt on her waist. A bright red wonder bra pushed everything she had out and up in a bountiful display. The skirt stretched high on her thighs, leaving a few inches of skin bare to the tops of her thigh-high black boots.

She appeared the epitome of a nurse/whore, her make-up vivid and glossy as she pushed the wheelchair with latex-gloved hands to the elevator behind the grand staircase. A Bela Lugosi look-alike cast lascivious glances all down her body as a Queen Elizabeth smiled at her with condescending indulgence. Contrary to modern myth, vampires loved Halloween. It was the one night a year they could let their fangs hang out. Though, tonight their fangs were a bit sharper than usual.

Smiling vacuously, her mind only shielded with the most basic of barriers expected from an average mortal like her, Sasha continued to sing silently. 98 veins of blood to tap…

Sasha entered the elevator, pushed the button for the fourth floor, and gripped the wheelchair handles tight. She smiled, wide and excited for any who glanced her way. 95 veins of blood to tap…

The elevator doors slid open to a long, dark wood hallway with doors on either side. Some were open, some weren’t. At one, a beautiful ice blonde in a dress Cinderella would envy smiled teasingly at a dashing, kilted Scotsman. Her voice was a smooth purr. “You can look under mine if you let me look under yours.”

He chuckled, his voice low as he leaned forward and twisted the doorknob behind her. “Only look?”

Sasha’s smile came easier as she passed them, the chair rolling quietly along the deep red carpet. 89 veins of blood to tap, 89 veins of bloood…

Toward the end, between two closed doors where the wall should be a smooth mural, she deftly swiped a card through the nearly hidden slot. The hallway was silent for the moment, but the pounding of a human heart carried easily through the walls into the many bedrooms. She only had seconds before someone would come to see why hers pounded.

Adding more joy to the refrain in her head, she slipped into the secret hallway with its walls thick enough to hide almost anything thought or spoken and pushed the chair down the narrow tunnel. Halting outside the guard room, she parked the chair and stepped into the opening, leaning against the door frame in a seductive pose.

There was only one guard, sitting with his feet propped up and staring at the monitors morosely. He glanced back at her then did a swift double take, nearly falling from his chair. Sasha grinned wickedly. “I heard you were hungry.”

As he stood, the light hit his name tag. Stan. Stan took his time, gazing from the pulse in her neck, down her exposed cleavage and lower to the inches of thigh exposed between her skirt and boots. In less than a blink, he stood before her, taller, faster, stronger.

Sasha shivered.

Stan wrapped his large hands around her sides and grinned with anticipation.

Pick the best flavor and drain it dry.

Stan groaned, “Oh, yeah.”

There was a reason the little ditty was popular among vampires. Stan leaned forward and licked a trail from the curve of one breast to her neck, meaning to tease her.

Instead, Sasha held him as he slid silently to the floor. Any of her personal taste he’d managed to pick up would be disguised by the knock-out gel she’d smeared all over her skin. It left a brutal aftertaste.

From one of the large front pockets on her smock, Sasha pulled a flash drive and plugged it into the tower. Three key strokes and enter executed the desired file. The monitors and hard drive were recording an old episode of Buffy before she left the room.

85 veins of blood to tap…

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