Blood Lust

Blood Lust: Gun vs Fangs Prequel Copyright © 2023 AJ Wolf & Salem Sinclair Cover Design: TRC Designs Formatting: AJ Wolf Graphics Editing: Rumi Khan All Rights Reserved. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in a book review. This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, plots, and incidents are a product of the author's imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental. The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of all word marks, products, music/lyrics and brands mentioned in this work of fiction. For more information: [email protected] table of contents Copyright Author Note Content Warning Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Blood Feud More From Salem More From AJ About The Authors author note Please note that some of the characters in this series speak in a thick Irish accent and so, misspellings or abbreviations of words throughout are intentional to help reflect that. cONTENT wARNING Non-con due to vampire pheromones blood loss resulting in death kidnapping sexism violence sexual intercourse between main character and outside character prior to relationship fighting scenes graphic blood lust. Please read at your own discretion Ottavia chapter one In New York City, night always began with a scream. A siren wailed in the distance, a sad and mournful sound that signaled the end of the day. Humans, if they were smart, were locking themselves indoors as the sun slid behind the glittering skyscrapers of the city skyline. After sundown, the Abhartach reigned supreme. The Abhartach were blood-sucking monsters. Vampiric beasts that were equally hated and adored by humans. According to the news, there was a tentative peace between mortals and vampires. But in the streets, peace didn’t exist. It was kill or be killed; eat, or be eaten. Out there, I knew there were whole groups of people that worshiped the Abhartach like gods. I knew that they willingly gave themselves over to the bloodsuckers as blood bags, and part of me was grateful for them, even if the thought turned my stomach. Because the more willing donors there were meant less vampires prowling the streets in my father’s territory. I paused in getting dressed in my workout gear and walked to my balcony doors, placing a hand against the chilly glass as I peered outside. I wanted to watch the day fade into night, but that was a luxury no longer afforded to me. Rain sluiced down the panes in gray sheets, further obscuring my view more than the iron bars across the doors already did. Ottavia chapter Two Left jab. Right jab. Left jab Sweat dripped down my temples, trailing over my face and falling from my chin as my right fist arced through the air and connected with the heavy weight of the punching bag before me. My shoulder blades burned from overuse as I shook my arms out, curling and uncurling my fingers to mitigate the pain. Blood stained the leather of the bag, and I knew that when I took the wraps off my hands tonight, I’d see fresh cracks in the scars and scabs scattered across the pale skin of my knuckles. I licked my lips, tasing the salt of my sweat. I grasped the swinging bag, halting its movements, and leaned my sticky forehead against it, panting. Inhaling deeply, I held my breath until the count of three before releasing it slowly, willing my galloping heart to slow to a moderate pace. My biceps were trembling as I hugged the sand-filled bag and I relished the ache. There was something deeply satisfying about pushing your body to and beyond its limits. Persevering through the physical limits of my body was something I did on a regular basis—I didn’t have a choice; I lived in a man’s world. If I wanted to succeed in my dream of someday becoming the Don of the La Rosa Mafia, I needed to be the best; needed