Hometown Hero

By Gale Frost and Dana Lyons

To escape the fate of being turned against her will by her vampire boyfriend, Marcy runs as fast and far as she can, ending up in a small town in the middle of nowhere.

The town itself is welcoming, but in a town where everybody knows everybody, there's bound to be gossip and rumors.

This time, the rumors are about Marcy, and boy are they crazy.

With all the small town talk, it's really no surprise that she would catch the attention of the local sheriff.

Sparks may be flying between Marcy and Aiden, but that doesn't mean Marcy has forgotten about her nightmarish ex or that he has forgotten about her.

If what she wants is peace and happiness, then it's up to her to end Starker's reign of terror and secure her place in Hometown - and the sheriff's heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Turbo Kitten Industries
• Release date: Apr 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223783145

Book preview

Chapter One

TWO YEARS AGO

Marcy Antoine flashed her ID and held the back of her hand out to receive the blood red ‘V’ stamp. A shiver of fear shot across her shoulders, but she ignored it and stepped into the exotic world of vampires for the first time.

Her friend, Elise, followed, clutching Marcy’s arm. I can’t believe we’re here! she squealed. Oh, look.

I see, Marcy replied.

And what she saw sent a thrill of the forbidden down her spine. The room vibrated with a beat meant to mimic a live pounding heart; each throbbing pulse came with seductive allure.

Girls, barely clothed in leather bondage outfits, danced on raised tables. Spotlights above highlighted their gyrating hips, bare breasts, and moves suggesting sex and climax.

Oh my, Marcy thought. Decadent, inviting … and damning.

As she moved through the crowd of dancers on the floor, she spotted tables set up for the ‘phlebs’. Phlebs was the nickname given the humans who had IV bags feeding blood into one arm while a vampire fed from their other arm.

A ripple of disgust battled with a surge of erotic desire.

I’d never do that.

Yet she kept on walking, sliding through the crowd like a lover in an orgy.

In one corner, a sex slave performed fellatio on a vampire with an impossibly large erection. In another, a woman on her hands and knees moaned with a rictus of ecstasy on her face as a vampire impaled her from behind. He grabbed her hips and thrust rapid-fire until she screamed her completion and collapsed.

A twitch of awareness awoke in Marcy’s core, a faint hum of desire she never knew before. She kept walking.

She and Elise claimed a table off to the side. A server approached, wearing a leather studded collar and a black leather speedo-type brief. Hard to miss, his junk bulged in the leather gear. He caught her inspecting him and winked. Honey, you can beat me any time.

A blush filled her face, burning, but she couldn’t turn away. Antics in every direction begged for her attention. On a low couch, a female phleb held her IV blood bag over her head with shaking arms while a vamp stuck his face in her crotch. She moaned with ecstasy as he alternately sucked from her thigh, then her crotch.

Elise pointed. Look, that’s him.

Oh, oh my, Marcy replied. The infamous Starker Delacroix lounged on a couch while a woman worked on his erection with her mouth. She took his large organ deep in her throat while he massaged her breasts. Marcy turned away, not used to watching sex acts in public. But she couldn’t stop herself from glancing back repeatedly.

Starker came with a loud cry, an eerie wail that reminded her of an animal being slaughtered. She looked away again, yet her core stirred with interest.

What does it take to make a vamp cry out like that?

She tucked her hair behind her ear and shot a side glance at them, embarrassed, yet titillated. At that moment, his eyes opened, golden orbs that sent a shock of passion through her.

Oh my God, he’s beautiful.

While she pretended to hide behind sipping her drink, she watched. He tucked his spent flesh in his pants and slapped the girl on her bare bottom before he whispered in her ear. She nodded and gulped, swallowing his load.

He snapped his fingers and a slave rushed forward with a tray of jewelry. Starker plucked an emerald bracelet from the glittering pile and tossed it to the girl. She caught the jeweled piece with a fierce grin of success.

Marcy looked down, her face burning. In spite of her revulsion to public sex, her nipples hardened and the rising desire in her core deepened to a pulse that matched the throbbing beat in her ears.

She glanced again at Delacroix. He watched her with his piercing gaze and arched an eyebrow in invitation. His voice whispered in her ear as though he stood next to her, yet he remained ten feet away.

Come. Join me, the sibilant whisper beckoned.

When she dared to look at him, he rubbed his crotch and his flesh swelled, producing an enormous bulge and declaring him ready to ride again.

She gulped with excitement battling her fear. Vamps were known for their insatiable desire for sex and blood in no particular order. Often when they came, their blood desire overwhelmed them and they would then feed on their partner.

How could any woman cross the line of sanity to ride the edge of death with every orgasm?

In answer to her thoughts, he rose and sauntered over, rubbing his bulge and licking his lips. She shivered, wanting to run, yet her legs wouldn’t move. Her core pulsed, hypnotized. Her head throbbed with the incessant beat. Her heart secretly yearned for the thrill of the forbidden.

I am Starker Delacroix. He extended his hand toward her.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Elise’s mouth drop open. Marcy should have done the same, but the allure, the pervasive beat, the sexualized atmosphere, the battle of flight over insanity lured her in. She raised her hand to his.

The cold of his touch shocked. The hot response from her body produced an even greater shock. She squelched a rippling shiver down her back and responded. Marcy Antoine.

Marcy. He purred as her name crossed his lips. Holding her entrapped in his piercing gaze, he snapped his fingers. Instantly a slave appeared with a tray of jewels. Without breaking his riveting hold on her, he selected a long strand of pink pearls. He placed them over her head with his free hand and looped them a second time until the cold strand wrapped around her throat and puddled over her breasts.

Her brain screamed, ‘Run!’ even as she edged toward him on her seat. He responded, moving in until his face closed on hers. Their lips met.

Odd, she thought, he has no breath.

He kissed her as though she were a delicate flower, slowly, softly, hesitant, as if he were the one who should run from her. His lips coaxed, teased, tempted, but never consumed. And yet he left his mark on her.

Kissed by Starker Delacroix, never to be the same.

And so it began for Marcy.

HOMETOWN, TWO YEARS AGO

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Sheriff Aiden Larsen raced, heart pounding with fear—fear he was too late. He burst through the door of a house on Kamary Lane and stopped, gagging on the stench of death and decay. The young Deputy behind him backed up and puked in the bushes outside.

Blood decorated the walls in hideous spatter, as though a mad painter had flung his bright red paint helter-skelter with incomparable rage instead of creative vision.

Flies had gained entrance and buzzed over the corpses. He stepped over body parts, trying to keep from tracking the pooled blood, but the carpet was soaked and turning black. Such spillage and waste of blood was foolish, indicating the vamp’s horrific rage. Blood sated, yet the vamps continued to kill, hopped up on Adderall.

Anyone alive? he called out.

His heart beat with shame over not stopping the vamps before this level of atrocity erupted. You can’t blame yourself, he thought. And yet he did.

As Sheriff, this slaughter occurred on his watch. He cocked his head, desperately hoping for a response to his call, a live voice, a child whimpering in a closet … something. But nothing disturbed the eerie silence except the retching sounds of the young Deputy outside. Larsen spray painted a red V on the front door, closed it and walked to the next house.

All day long, they found the scene repeated in home after home. One entire housing subdivision after another, all filled with decaying corpses. Casualties numbered in the hundreds.

His radio crackled. Sheriff, we found the Prescotts, all four, I think.

Thank God.

Where are they?

They came back home. They’re out in the barn.

Larsen glanced at the sky. Sunset’s coming. Don't do anything until I get there.

When he arrived, it looked like every vehicle in Hometown beat him to it. His Deputies circled the barn, while every able-bodied man and woman stood ready with a machete, pitchfork, sledgehammer, even a slingshot and a bag of marbles.

He worked his way through the crowd, past the blood-stained inhabitants of Hometown who had either lost or found a loved one in this vampire killing spree.

Dorothy, he said, noting Mrs. Hanson with a pitchfork. Her husband Tommy had died a few years back in a head-on collision with vamps. There was no love lost between her and vamps.

Jackson, his oldest deputy, guarded the barn’s double doors. No one made a sound, for vamps on Adderall were known to attack even in the daytime. He joined Jackson and held the other door. As he counted one-two-three with his fingers, the barn doors burst open.

All four Prescotts launched themselves on the crowd, raising a racket of screeches, howls, and cries.

The Prescotts didn’t get far.

One by one they became overwhelmed by sheer numbers and went down shrieking like slaughtered beef. Jamie Johnson cleaved Mr. Prescott’s head in two then across the neck, loping the two half pieces to the ground.

The two boys went down under a load of kicking and screaming humans. Mrs. Prescott launched herself at Dorothy, who threw up her pitchfork and caught the vamp through the throat and out the back of the neck. Dorothy twisted and wrenched the pitchfork, snapping Mrs. Prescott’s head off with a pop.

Bag the heads, Larsen cried out. Burn the bodies.

They lit the bodies, sending a blaze of sparks into the cool air of dusk. Miss Paulette, the high school science teacher, arrived with four large specimen jars filled with formaldehyde.

Larsen stared at the four heads, well, three and two halves. He dialed the Governor. "Larsen here. Yes, sir,