The Blood Rose

  The Rose Vampire Coven

  B.A. Stretke

  Superiorland Publishing

  Copyright © 2024 B.A. Stretke

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN-13: 9781234567890

  ISBN-10: 1477123456

  Cover design by: Art Painter

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

  Printed in the United States of America

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  About The Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  Dean Simon hated his fucking life. At twenty-four with a master’s in finance, he found himself in the most hate-filled, stagnant, self-esteem-killing job in all of Chicago. He should have taken his grandfather's advice and become a plumber, but no, he wanted a job that would give him class and sophistication.

  In the end all he got was a low end job as a financial analyst with a struggling firm in Chicago. His manager, Ryan, worked long and hard to make Dean’s life a complete nightmare. It was the man’s only entertainment apparently.

  Dean was the fall guy for every misstep and mistake made by anyone at the firm, from projections to buyouts to when to purchase more toilet paper for the restroom. It was always Dean’s fault. He and his master’s degree were considered a dime a dozen and there was no way out from where he was looking. He should have become a plumber.

  “Dean! Get in here and bring your pad I want you to take notes.” Ryan shouted from the door of his office and Dean could hear the snickering from his coworkers in response to the blatant disrespect. Nobody liked Ryan but they would gladly play along with his attacks and insults rather than have the man turn on them.

  He got up and with pad in hand headed to Ryan’s office. When he arrived, there were two other managers there both good friends of Ryan's. Ryan slammed the door as soon as Dean walked inside and then grabbed him by the back of the neck and walked him over to a low stool by the window. “You’ll sit there.” He gave him a forced stare down and then laughed when Dean looked away. “As I thought.” He crowed.

  "We're going to dictate your confession, and you're going to take it down verbatim." He smiled, and Dean felt a chill run up his spine. "I moved some money around, a lot of money, and it's now gone, and you're going to take responsibility."

  “I will do no such thing. Your shit investments are your own problem." Dean stated, and attempted to stand, but Ryan pushed him back down onto the stool.

  “I didn’t tell you that you could move or speak.” He snarled.

  “I’m not confessing to anything.” He shot back and Ryan took a feigned affronted step back and placed his hand on his chest.

  "You don't have to. I just thought it would add a nice touch. You see, I've already set you up to take the heat on this. Monday morning, they'll come for you, and you’ll be taken into Mr. Channing’s office." He laughed and turned to his friends sitting there, who also joined in on the hilarity. "If you're lucky, you'll just lose your job. As a matter of fact, I think I'll just fire you now. That way, it will look like I was on top of things.”

  Dean jumped to his feet and started for the door, but Ryan intercepted him and landed a punch to the side of Dean's face, knocking him backward against the wall. Ryan wasn’t big or muscular, but he was bigger than Dean. At five foot five inches and one hundred twenty pounds, he wasn't much of a threat. Ryan grabbed Dean's hair, pulled him up, and punched him solidly in the midsection.

  It took his breath away, and Dean bent over, trying to breathe. "This is just a sample of the ass-kicking I'll give you if you dare to speak out against me. I will fucking kill you, and no one will care." Ryan went at him with both fists, whaling on him until Dean lay on the floor in a ball with his arms over his head and face.

  He wasn't badly hurt since Ryan couldn't land a decent punch if his life depended on it, but the humiliation was crimpling him. He liked to play the big man but lacked the strength and character to make it a reality. He was just a clown, but he was Dean's boss, which made him dangerous.

  Ryan finally quit when one of the others warned him that he might kill Dean and then they’d have no one to take the fall for them. Ryan laughed breathlessly and gave Dean one last kick to the stomach before they all left the room, leaving Dean there alone to gather himself and leave.

  He wasn’t sure what this all meant or what would happen to him on Monday. He should have quit this job months ago, but he didn't, and that was a mistake he was going to pay for. He managed to get to his feet and made himself look somewhat presentable. This was turning into a fucking nightmare. There was no one there who would stand up for him, not if it meant standing against Ryan.

  Dean left by the back door that led into the outer hall. He didn’t bother to clean up his desk or grab his jacket he couldn’t walk back into that room knowing that everyone there had heard what was happening and did nothing about it. He stopped at the bathroom on the first floor and washed up before leaving. Barry the guard at the main door looked at him with concern but did not ask any questions for which Dean was glad because he just wanted to get out of there.

  Once he was home, he took a couple painkillers and hoped for the best. He was fired for sure; that was a given. Ryan was in good with Mr. Channing, so he would believe anything Ryan presented, and he didn't know Dean at all. Mr. Channing only socialized with those who appeared to be goal-oriented go-getters. But most of the go-getters were riding on the backs of the quiet, hard workers, stealing their work and successes and presenting them as their own, like Ryan. It’s just the way the finance business operates according to the go-getters who had kill or be killed as their motto.

  “What are you doing?” His friend Ashley called to check up on him.

  “Sitting in my recliner trying to figure out where I went wrong in my life. I have no idea how I ended up where I am.” Dean began to pour out his heart.

  "Tell me what happened." She pressed, and Dean told her everything. She was his best and only friend in this town, and her support was always spot-on.

  “Can you report him and the others in that room?” She asked

  "It will be my word against theirs, and he said no one would believe me, which is probably true." Dean sat on his sofa, wringing his hands, feeling totally defeated. "I'm fired for something Ryan and his cohorts concocted."

  "Report them even if nothing comes of it with you; at least you left a paper trail for someone else." Ashley was like that, always thinking about the next person. But Dean wasn't in the mood to think about anyone but himself.

  "They're in their thirties, a lot older than me, and they've been doing shit like this their entire careers. No way would I be able to beat them if I tried anything; they would just make life harder for me. I think my best move is to disappear." He was becoming morose, and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself.

  “You need a night out to just forget the day and enjoy yourself and don’t you dare turn me down.” Ashley suggested quite forcefully.

  “No, I can’t get off the sofa. I’m going to sit here and wallow in my misery.” Dean responded.

  “No, you’re coming with me. Get your ass off that sofa and get ready for a night out.” She stated sharp and firm, and Dean knew he wasn't going to be able to say no. "There's this bar on the southside. It's dark, wild, and rough and just what you need. Come on, take a walk on the wild side with me. Who knows, you might get lucky. The guys at this bar are drop-dead gorgeous, every one of them.”

  His immediate reaction was to decline, but then the idea of stepping out of his comfort zone and maybe shaking up his life started to feel right. "What's the name of this place?"

  “The Blood Rose.” She drew out the name and made it sound particularly scary. “Are you scared?” She teased.

  "Not yet, but there is hope." Dean was starting to feel ready for a night out. "Let's do this."

  Dean and Ashley entered the Blood Rose just after nine, and the place was everything Dean had hoped it would be. It was dangerous, which was obvious by the tattooed, muscled, leather-clad doorman and the dark, smokey atmosphere. It was perfect and a bit scary.

  “The goal is we both find company for the night, and we call each other tomorrow. Deal?”

  "Deal," Dean responded hesitantly.

  "You're not second-guessing yourself, are you?" Ashley began to chastise. "I guarantee you that spending a night with a guy from this place will chase every other thought from your mind."

  “You’ve done this before?”

  “After Jake and I broke up, I was down here every Friday. It only took one night to completely forget that bastard and get hooked on the sex appeal of this place. A lot of the guys here are like Jake, so keep that in mind.” Ashley warned and walked up to the bar, and Dean followed.

  She ordered a whiskey and coke and moved aside when a tall man in dark jeans and studs came up beside her. She glanced over at Dean, letting him kn
ow she was heading off with this guy and that Dean was now on his own. He nodded back, wishing her well.

  A knot suddenly tied in his stomach, and he began to think perhaps he was in over his head. The place was dark and ominous and definitely threatening, and his heart was starting to pound. He should probably leave before he embarrassed himself.

  “What will you have, gorgeous?” The voice came at him from the dimly lit bar. He looked up and locked eyes with the bartender and Dean nearly gasped at the sheer handsomeness of the man.

  He was leather clad with plenty of tan, glistening skin showing. His muscles were covered in tattoos, such a smorgasbord of beauty. His hair black as the night hung down to his shoulders and everything about him was sensual and erotic. He probably saw a lot of action and most likely had the pick of the room.

  A small grin was forming as he continued to stare at the man, so he pulled himself out of the sexual stupor he was in and ordered a gin and tonic. Dean was feeling self-conscious and awkward and waited nervously for the bartender to hand him his drink.

  “There you go, babe.” He said and handed him the drink. Dean handed him a twenty and he waved him off. “On the house, beautiful.” He told him and then turned to serve another customer. Dean missed his undivided attention it was almost like a cold wind had blown in when he lost the heat from those lovely dark eyes. The endearments were appreciated but he most likely used them on everyone.

  He took his drink and turned toward the room, putting his back against the bar. There were a lot of people there, although the place was mostly plunged into darkness, with only a few faint lamps to light the way. It was different, and even though he was a little unnerved, he wasn't ready to leave . . . yet.

  A man came up to him and was about to speak but then suddenly looked beyond Dean to someone or something behind him and abruptly apologized and left. Dean looked back over his shoulder to see what the issue was, and the bartender was standing there staring at him with eyes that seemed to penetrate his very soul.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The man was an absolute vision of perfection. Drakon could not take his eyes off the delicate human with the gorgeous blonde hair and the sad, soulful eyes. The moment he spoke and the moment their hands touched, Drakon knew him completely. This was his beloved; he was so nervous and worried and feeling out of his depth but not ready to leave. This man knew that there was something here for him. He felt it, but he just didn't understand it yet.

  Spence came up to try his luck with the adorable little human but got the message to back off when he was met with Drakon’s deadly countenance. Spence was a clever soldier, but he wasn’t in the mood to take on Drakon in a crowded bar. Besides, there were plenty of other possibilities. The Blood Rose was full of lively men tonight.

  “Dean," Drakon said his name, and the beauty looked surprised.

  “How do you know my name?” His voice was sweet and hesitant and everything Drakon looked for in a lover. He was a gentle and pleasing young man and Drakon felt his body start to react to his presence.

  "I heard your friend use it," Drakon explained while training his gaze to capture those soft blue eyes. Once he held him, Dean would not escape, for a vampire's glamour was riveting and beguiling. He wasn’t being completely fair with his young one, but he could not risk having him disappear into the throngs of people or lose him in the darkness of the night.

  “Oh.” He answered timidly. His eyes were burning with a desire that mirrored Drakon's, even as his lips trembled with worry and uncertainty.

  “My name is Drakon O’Hare.” He told him and Dean nodded. Drakon held out his hand to him beckoning him closer and Dean did not hesitate this time. He moved in and took the offered hand. Drakon took control pulling him in and raising the hand so as to place a warm, moist kiss to the knuckles and then he flipped the hand to press his lips to the heated palm. Dean’s eyes blew wide, and a soft moan escaped his lips. The message was received.

  "Come with me," Drakon said as he leaped over the bar and took Dean into his arms. Dean’s mouth dropped open as if he were about to refuse, but he didn’t. He held fast to Dracon’s hand and eagerly followed into the back of the bar into the dark. Dracon stopped and pressed him against the wall, holding him there with the pressure of his own body.

  No words were spoken, but his eyes said everything Drakon needed to know. He was ready, and he was shaking, but it was with excitement. Drakon went in for the kiss, taking his lips and plundering their soft fullness. Dean’s body was reacting, and Drakon felt the growing thickness pressed to his thigh. He couldn't resist, so he slid his hand down and took him in hand.

  Dean's jeans were in the way, but still, the thrill was not lost, and Dean clearly enjoyed the caress. He caught his breath and then began to pant and reached for Drakon, gripping his waist and grinding his thickness into Drakon's palm. It was time to take this elsewhere. He stepped back to Dean's obvious dismay and took his hand. “My place.” He whispered and they headed out the back door.

  Dean was completely swept away by Drakon the handsome bartender. They shared but a handful of words and here he was heading out the door with him. He didn’t know where they were going or what would ultimately be expected of him, and he didn’t care. The minute that their eyes met and locked it was over for Dean. He would do anything necessary to stay close to this man.

  He kept his eye riveted on his hard body and that amazing-looking ass. The leather was impeccable and hugged and cradled in all the right places. Drakon was an absolute god. The leather pants were laced up on the sides, and some of Drakon's flesh was visible. All Dean wanted to do was reach out and touch to sample and explore that gorgeous body.

  They entered a large building that sat across the alleyway from the bar and looked like a warehouse from the outside but once through the doors it looked like an imposing, grand residence. It was spectacular and Dean wondered if he might be hallucinating. They went up the grand staircase to the second floor and Drakon rushed them down a hallway filled with lush velvets and rich wood to a set of large double doors.

  “Where are we?” Dean found that he was breathless with the pent up anticipation of what was to come.

  “My place.” He stopped and cupped the side of Dean’s face and kissed him full on the lips once again. He was forceful and dominating the way Dean preferred his lovers. Dean gripped his wrist and held on, sinking into the flood of sensations that were suddenly burning through him. They were titillating and erotic, stimulating him in ways that were intense and overwhelming, and he loved it.

  When the kiss ended, Dean tried to recapture those amazing lips, not wanting the feeling to end. He held tight to Drakon and tried to pull him back for more.

  "Easy, baby," Drakon whispered. “There will be more. I will take care of you and make your body sing.”

  Dean was becoming desperate, pulling at Drakon, wanting him aching for him. It was a feeling that was reckless and frantic, and instead of resisting, he leaned into it. All he could think about was experiencing Drakon’s hard, sexy body. The tan muscles, the intricate tattoos, and those firm, strong hands he wanted it all.

  He brought him to his bedroom, which was massive and had a solid carved wooden four-poster bed. The headboard was an intricately carved design of a medieval battle, and the comforter was lush red velvet. It suited him. Everything fit his look and aura. It was masculine but also beautiful. Dean scented his erotic lover when he entered the bedroom, and it was a scent that went right to his cock, and he was rock hard in seconds. How could an aroma have so much power?

  “Come my sweet come closer let me love you.” Drakon was saying things that were making Dean sweat and squirm and his body suddenly felt like it needed air, it needed to be set free. Dean could not get out of his clothing fast enough.

  “Let me help you, my love.” Drakon grabbed his shirt and ripped it open, sending buttons flying around the room. He then jerked it off him, tearing it apart as he did so, and Dean discovered that, like everything else this night, he did not care; all he was focused on was getting naked with this guy. Seeing Drakon’s body had become an irresistible obsession.