Shadow of Dark Desire: A Paranormal Vampire Romance Novel (Shadows Eternal - Book 1): 1, #1

By Ashley Lockwood

~ INTERNATIONAL BEST SELLER ~

Sometimes the dark creature lurking in the shadows is exactly who you've always been waiting for.

Gwendolyn Moore's simple, predictable life shatters the night her feverish dreams manifest a devilishly handsome reality - the mysterious, cold-as-ice vampire Sirus. With one intense encounter, Gwen is thrust into an uncharted world of magick, hunted by dark forces coveting the immense power unknowingly simmering within her.

For decades, Sirus has existed in tranquil solitude—until an ancient enemy emerges, demanding he pay a blood debt. Forced from his self-imposed solitude the brooding immortal is begrudgingly tasked as protector. His target? A seemingly average woman - naive to the magickal world, yet frustratingly alluring. In other words; entirely off limits to an ancient vampire like him, or so he has to keep reminding himself.

Gwen discovers a world of mages, dragons, witches, and other creatures known as the Folk. As a power-hungry priestess closes in, she is forced to navigate this new world and the truths of her past, the last thing she needs is a crush on her vampire protector. Despite his deadly vampire persona, Gwen can't help but trust Sirus, and soon her wild curiosity about him threatens to ignite an uncontrollable fire she isn't sure she wants unleashed.

Quote:
She blinked, her wide eyes lingering on the span of shadow, trying to adjust to the darkness. It seemed empty. Then she saw it. A shift. So slight she thought it might be her eyes playing tricks on her. But the shift twisted into an outline. An outline of a person. Her breath hitched.

"Hello, Gwendolyn."

All the blood rushed to her toes. The words were carried by the rich, graveled voice of a man. A voice she now knew.

The second he stepped out of the shadows and into the dim light she was sure her heart had stopped. His eyes were locked on hers. Eyes Gwen hadn't been able to see in her dream. Eyes that seemed to gaze right through her. Eyes the color of frost.


What readers are saying about Shadow of Dark Desire:

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "Shadow of Dark Desire is sexy and captivating, what a stellar debut novel. Sirus? WHEW HUNNY." - Amazon Review

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "Shadow of Dark Desire is a must-read for fans of romance and fantasy alike..." - Amazon Review

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "...spellbinding fantasy complete with outrageous and hot hot hot characters!" - Amazon Review

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "I need more and went to the 2nd book immediately. I hope the whole series is this good." - Amazon Review

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "This is just fantastic and I just could not put it down!" - Amazon Review

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "Each twist and turn kept me on the edge of my seat..." - Amazon Review

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "...the world building was fantastical and creative!" - Amazon Review

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "Yes!! This is the vampire book I have been looking for! I'm obsessed! I can't wait for the next one!!' - ARC Review

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "Amazing! I couldn't even begin to put it down. I was completely hooked, captivated from beginning to end! I loved the characters and the sexual tension is *che's kiss*. Brilliant!" - ARC Review

 

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Ashley Lockwood
• Release date: Apr 11, 2024
• ISBN: 9798990064607

Book preview

Chapter One

Somewhere in the Austrian wilderness

Frost hung in the air and bit at the small patches of Marcus’s exposed skin. He pulled the collar of his coat further up to brace against the unnatural chill—a futile gesture—and pressed onward.

Marcus hated the cold. He cursed the bone-shivering chill that seeped deeper into his core with each trudging step. This cold was no normal frost—it also held a silent warning. A warning he ignored.

Dusk loomed above the heavy thicket of birch trees, now barely visible through the dense blanket of mist he’d long wandered. Not a single bird chirped. No animal stirred. Only the crunch beneath his boots and the slight rustle of branches in the wind broke the oppressive silence of the bewitched forest.

He’d walked for hours already, though he could not be sure. It could have been hours, mere minutes, or days in the enchanted forest. Marcus steeled his rattled nerves, shoving his freezing hands further into his coat pockets. He would go a little further, wait a little longer.

Ancient magicks hid the infamous castle he sought. Volkov. The Castle of Wolves. Impossible to find—unless one had a death wish. Marcus had no such wish, yet here he was, walking the shadowed path of all the other poor, desperate souls who’d come before him.

The faint sound of water is what finally broke the seemingly never-ending silence. He followed it. A small stream, no more than a foot wide, lay beyond a cluster of evergreens. It trailed along a sloping hill coated in jagged, moss-covered rock and withered tangles of nettles until it, too, disappeared within the oppressive fog. Marcus came to the water’s edge and stopped. He ran his hand through his cropped, pale-blond hair, and then down over his chiseled, sun-kissed face, stopping to scratch at the thick stubble that had settled over his jaw.

It was senseless to keep going. It had been senseless to come here at all.

He glanced up at the mist and let out a heavy breath of frustration. It was no use. He’d known better than to come to this place. Marcus closed his eyes and prayed silently to the Goddess of Light for guidance. It was at the end of that unspoken prayer that the prickle he’d felt since he entered the mist condensed into a shiver that slithered up his spine like the ghostly touch of an ice-cold finger.

Marcus stiffened. His eyes shot open, then narrowed. Tired of following me? he asked into the silent void, hoping there would be an answer. Hoping there wouldn’t.

For several long seconds, only his thrumming heart and the trickle of water answered him.

Why have you come? a chilly voice eventually replied.

He’d thought himself frozen to the bone before, but those few words proved otherwise. It was not relief but pure ice that rippled through his blood upon hearing that voice again.

Marcus swallowed, tamping down the creeping instincts of the warrior he was, and forced his tone steady. Hello, Sirus, he said, slowly turning to face the mist behind him. From the haze of shadows emerged the creature Marcus had sought. His insides twisted and tightened the moment their eyes met. Those eyes were burned into his memory. The piercing, vacant silver eyes of the reaper of souls made flesh.

Marcus had hoped to never see those eyes or hear that voice again, yet here he was. I’ve come to collect on my blood debt, he declared. He did not wish to belabor his purpose.

Sirus gave no hint that he’d heard him at all, but Marcus knew well that the vampire had. He knew Sirus wouldn’t have forgotten the blood debt. The silence that settled between them made his pulse quicken. It’d been a risk to come here. To expose himself in this way. Now he would find out if the risk would bear foul fruit.

The vampire looked very much the way Marcus remembered him. His black hair was not as long as before, but trimmed near his ears and curled at the edges. He was of average height. Slender compared to Marcus, with stark features and the deep olive skin of his human forebears. His dark beard was short and flecked with silver. It was strange to see him wearing clothes of the modern day: dark pants, a blue sweater, and a long black wool coat. He looked as if he might simply blend in with a crowd, but there was no mistaking the aura of the creature staring back at Marcus. A minion of death such as this had no place in the world, not even amongst the Folk.

Most believed vampires to be abominations, and Marcus was no different. They were creatures reborn of vile, necrotic fae magicks to serve no other purpose than to spill blood. Creatures forged from the darkness itself. He’d witnessed their bloodlust, and he knew firsthand how soulless they could be.

They’d been young that day long ago on the battlefield. Both of them barely a century old. Yet Marcus had seen countless lifetimes of war and bloodshed in the young vampire’s cold eyes as their swords met. It was only luck that had given him the upper hand on his opponent. He might have just as easily found himself drawing his last breath instead.

Luck or not, a debt was a debt. Marcus could have ended him. He hadn’t. Now he would collect on his show of mercy.

I will honor the debt, Sirus finally said, his voice as vacant and cold as his stare, by letting you leave alive.

Marcus’s stomach wrenched. To the unknowing eye, he would appear superior in size and strength. A zephyr born to sun and skies, Marcus was broad and muscled, yet agile like a crisp wind. He was an accomplished soldier and a skilled fighter. Few would raise a sword against him without thinking twice beforehand.

Sirus was an opponent of deceptive appearances. An opponent Marcus knew better than to underestimate. He felt the totality of his vulnerability as he kept his hands to his sides, a show of peace. It both disgusted and humbled him to do so. He knew he didn’t have his sword at his hip, the way he usually would when facing such a creature. There was no sign of the two curved, short swords he knew Sirus to wield either, but that didn’t mean he was unarmed. Marcus had not come fully unarmed either. He’d taken a risk, but he was no fool.

I’ve come to strike a contract, he pressed. He’d known this wouldn’t be easy. "You owe me no thanks, Sirus. You do owe me your life."

The vampire turned back toward the shadows of the forest. Leave, Marcus. Do not return.

The dismissal was stark. So stark, Marcus’s frustration overcame him. You think I would have come if I had any other choice? he bit out. As if any creature who wasn’t desperate would venture into the accursed forest. Marcus was desperate.

Nestra’s minions were searching even now. If they were to succeed in subverting her plans, time was of the essence. He could not risk being away from Court for long. Neither could he spare any of his men.

The true reason Marcus needed the damned vampire was even more grating. He was infamous. A hunter unlike any other, even amongst his own kind. Given how quickly they had to act, Marcus knew neither he nor any of his men could achieve what the vampire could.

Sirus continued on toward the forest, not bothering to reply. Frustration shifted to anger as Marcus watched the vampire slip into the darkness. Our High Priestess, he declared, not sure if it would do him any good, she plays at dark magicks.

The vampire stopped but didn’t turn. Marcus was reluctant to divulge more than necessary to an outsider of the zephyr Court, but he had little choice. He’d come this far. And he was desperate.

The balance of power within our Court falters, and I will do whatever I must to protect my king. There is no one I can trust. It was the truth, but it stung to admit it. To reveal it to a creature such as the one standing before him made bile burn his throat. The Goddess of Light humbled him once more. You are a hunter. You are discreet. You owe fealty to none but your own. I’ve come because I have no other choice.

Sirus kept his back to him. Your king and your high priestess are not my concern.

Marcus’s teeth grated. It’d been foolish to expect any semblance of honor from a creature like Sirus. There was no honor amongst monsters—especially not those for hire. Marcus was angry but not surprised. How much? he snapped with thinly veiled disgust. He would bargain. He’d come this far. What must be done must be done.

The vampire did turn then. Slowly. Until his cool, devoid gaze landed squarely on Marcus. Sirus stood in expectant silence. As if he’d been in this very position countless times before.

Marcus glowered, heat rising in his blood and shifting against the chill that threatened to consume him. If you will not honor a debt of blood, how much will it take? he repeated through gritted teeth.

Sirus merely watched him, saying nothing. It filled Marcus with bitter loathing. The vampire probably took dark pleasure in making him squirm. He’d probably played out this same routine with every other poor soul who had been desperate enough to venture to this forsaken place. Those desperate enough to strike a bargain with death. Marcus conceded his position, but it did not mean he had to play the part. He would not be forced to beg or fill the silence.

For what felt like several agonizing minutes, nothing but the soft babble of the stream and the swaying branches stretched between them. "What, exactly, is the contract?" the vampire asked coolly.

Marcus let out a deep, stuttering breath, trying to squelch his rioting nerves. The vampire might have been toying with him, but he had to continue. If a bargain could be struck, it was his duty to see it done. For his king. Our High Priestess plots against the crown. The words could not be unsaid now. But she lacks the power to sway the full weight of Court in her favor. She is hunting something. An object of power she hopes will tip the scales. I need you to find it before she does and keep it hidden.

The vampire cocked his head ever so slightly. You didn’t come to ask me to kill her?

Marcus scowled. Nestra was the High Priestess of the Temple of Light and a powerful entity amongst his people. She was nearly as beloved as the king himself. Marcus, like all zephyrs, had grown up following her guidance because he believed her to be blessed by the Goddess of Light. It was her rituals that drew magick to the Temple and their home, Strye. It was that power that protected them and kept their island hidden from the rest of the world.

In all his long years of life, Marcus’s faith in the Light had never wavered. His faith in their high priestess had. He’d witnessed the darkness grow within her. Nestra’s thirst for power had overcome her devotion to the Light long ago. If killing her would have brought an easy end to their dilemma, Marcus would have already done it himself.

But he needed time to unearth the full reach of her corruption amongst the ranks of Court, for her plot to overthrow the king to be made known. Her reputation ruined. Her power stripped away so that those loyal to her in Court would turn their backs on her pleas.

She is still a beacon to my people, Marcus explained with bitterness. She will face whatever punishment King Thurin deems necessary when the time comes. I only need you to find what she is after and make sure it remains out of her reach. To give him time.

The vampire didn’t argue his reasoning. What does she hunt? he asked, getting to the point.

Marcus swallowed the lump in his throat. In truth, he knew very little about what, precisely, Nestra was plotting or exactly what she was after. And that’s what gave him the most unease. Marcus was a skilled spymaster. He prided himself on seeing all the angles, being steps ahead, and knowing things no one could know. All he knew about the object of power Nestra hunted was that she had diverted many resources to its discovery. In all the years he’d spied on her for his king, she’d never shown her hand. Until now. Her overeagerness caused him that much more alarm. She was close to achieving her ends, and Marcus needed to move swiftly to see that she did not succeed.

You will take the contract? Marcus asked before he told Sirus more.

The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity. I will, Sirus replied. To satisfy my debt.

Marcus’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. You will honor your blood debt? he clarified to be sure.

Yes, Sirus declared. The word was pure ice.

Relief would have been welcome, but instead Marcus was struck by an overwhelming sense of dread. He had no doubt that if anyone could find the object Nestra was after before her paladins, it was Sirus, but trusting him was hard nonetheless. He was a vampire. A dark abomination. A killer.

All Marcus needed was time, he reminded himself. Time to root out Nestra’s spies and expose her corruption to the Court, so that the king may remove her once and for all. Until then, he would have to trust the vampire. He would have to trust that he would keep his word. That he would keep whatever Nestra was after hidden.

Nestra hunts an object of great magick, Marcus went on, an object she has been after for some time. I know little except that she’s very close to finding it. She sent a dozen of the Temple’s paladins to New York City yesterday. They’re searching as we speak. You must find it first. Keep it safe. Hidden. Until I send word.

I will do as you ask, the vampire replied, with no semblance of emotion.

Marcus rallied himself. The contract was struck. Sirus had pledged himself. The vampire would not back out now. Not until the contract was satisfied. At least, he hoped.

I believe it’s currently in the possession of a woman, Marcus added. It was one of the few details he’d been able to glean through his spies. He knew nothing of her. No other specifics. Not even what kind of Folk she was.

He met the vampire’s cold, vacant eyes. Guilt flared. This woman, whoever she was, doubtfully deserved the terror he was unleashing upon her. No one deserved to open their door and find the Hound of Hell awaiting them.

What must be done must be done. To protect his king. His people.

May the Goddess and the Light protect her.

May She protect and guide them all.

Chapter Two

Astoria, Queens, New York

Gwen swore viciously as she stomped out of the subway station, earning a stern look from an older woman passing by on the sidewalk. She wasn’t usually prone to outbursts of profanities. At least, no more than the average resident of New York, but this day—this whole damned month !—was testing the limits of her sanity.

With another grumbled curse, Gwen shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and stalked down the street. For weeks she’d been plagued with the same vivid dream, again and again. Over-the-counter sleeping pills had done nothing, and she’d gone so long without a whole night’s sleep she was starting to feel loopy.

Gwen couldn’t take any time off work, not with her project due at the end of the month, so for the last two weeks she’d dragged her half-comatose body into the office, hoping autopilot would be enough to get her through. She’d been so out of it this morning that when she was called into her boss’s office, she’d actually been delusional enough to think she was finally getting promoted.

As if she could be so lucky.

They were terminating her employment contract due to company-wide downsizing. Effective immediately. What a load of crap.

Gwen let out a heavy, overwhelmed sigh. What was she going to do? Hunt for another job, she guessed. The very thought made her insides warp with anxiety. There was a reason she’d stayed at the same boring, terrible job for all these years. It was predictable. Reliable. Or at least it had been up until today.

What made it worse was that she was still thinking about that stupid project on her computer. Her work computer, which was now probably sitting on some IT guy’s desk, waiting to get wiped.

All those weeks of work for nothing. All those stupid mornings she’d dragged her sleepless, zombified body to the office, worried about finishing her project when she could have been at home, sleeping like the dead.

Sleep. Gwen took in a deep breath and looked up at the sky. Gray clouds swirled overhead as a crisp fall breeze swept down the street. She loved the cold. Even during the worst winter blizzards, she savored the bite of the air and the freshly fallen snow. But she struggled to enjoy it at the moment.

Anxiety had settled firmly in the pit of her stomach like a giant rock, and it wasn’t budging. So she dipped into her bodega and headed straight for the one thing that always seemed to make her feel better when things got this hellish. Chocolate.

Gwen snatched up three bars of premium, gold-foiled goodness, and already she felt her stress start to melt away. As a semiresponsible, pushing-thirty adult, she typically tried to ration her chocolate consumption. But in the last several hours, her self-control had entirely evaporated. She’d decided that she would eat one bar on the walk home and the other two probably before she even bothered to take off her shoes.

Gwen got in line, eagerly waiting to sink her teeth into one of the bars, when her ears perked up at the sound of a familiar voice. She immediately tensed.

I know! I couldn’t believe it either! Vivian chimed into her phone.

Damn. Gwen tried to bury herself deeper into her jacket as she stepped up to the counter. If she was lucky, she might be able to escape unnoticed. It wasn’t that she dreaded seeing Vivian, per se, she just wasn’t in the mood to catch up and make small talk. Not that she was ever in the mood to catch up and make small talk.

Gwen paid quickly and tried her best to slip out as a few other people came in. She would have succeeded, too, if not for the acrobatic maneuver she had to do to avoid the toddler who nearly face-planted right into her knees.

"Gwen?" She cringed. So much for luck.

Oh, hey, Vivian, Gwen chirped, trying her best to look pleasantly surprised and not totally annoyed. She thanked the invisible powers of the universe that at least she wasn’t carrying a cardboard box full of belongings from her cleared-out cubicle. The pathetic remnants of her desk were all securely floating in her purse.

"I can’t believe it. I haven’t seen you in—forever, Vivian remarked, her eyes wide with genuine surprise. It had been six months, to be exact. At Gwen’s ex-boyfriend Nathan’s birthday party. You look—great," Vivian added awkwardly, looking her up and down. It was clear she’d been looking for something specific to compliment and had come up short.

Gwen’s clothes were wrinkled and dirty, her dark brown hair a frizzled mess. She couldn’t even remember if she’d showered this morning, let alone bothered to put on mascara. On the other hand, Vivian looked perfectly manicured, with her blown-out platinum-blonde hair and bright crystal-blue eyes. Even dressed for a run, she was annoyingly glamorous and beautiful.

Even on her best days, Gwen never looked a fraction as good as Vivian. How they’d become friendly at work all those years ago, she had no idea. Though it was hard not to like Vivian, Gwen had to admit. She was just one of those bubbly people everyone liked. Full of seemingly effortless social grace that had always baffled the hell out of Gwen. She couldn’t get people to like her when she tried, let alone when she didn’t.

A little self-conscious, Gwen pulled her faded jacket tighter around her to hide the crappy black t-shirt she was sporting underneath. There was no hiding the dark raccoon circles under her eyes. Thanks. How are things with you? You look super tan, Gwen replied with the best fake smile she could muster.

Oh, yeah, Vivian said, looking over her sun-kissed arms. I just got back from Fiji. I basically lived in the water. It was so beautiful. Have you ever been?

Gwen almost snorted but managed to stifle the urge. She’d never been outside the northeastern United States. She’d never even been to Canada. Clearly, Vivian had forgotten she didn’t travel. And that she was chronically broke. No—but it looks amazing.

When Vivian shifted to talk about work, Gwen started to feel a weight of guilt. She didn’t mind the occasional white lie, but bald-faced lying made her uncomfortable. Thankfully, Vivian liked to talk about herself, so it was easy to pivot. Work is interesting. How are things with your new job? You’re still at that start-up, right?

Apparently, the start-up wasn’t much of a start-up anymore, and Vivian was already a VP of marketing at the ripe old age of twenty-nine. The company had gone public last fall, and the stock was soaring—hence her lavish trip to Fiji. Meanwhile, Gwen had been working the same dead-end analyst job at the same crappy agency for almost six years. Until today, that was. Her stomach turned, and she prepared her excuse to slink away so that she could begin licking her wounds in the comfort of her quiet, tiny apartment.

Hey, look, I’m really sorry about that whole thing with Nathan, Vivian said with a look of disgust. I meant to text you, but things just got so crazy at work. I just want you to know I’ve totally boycotted all of his parties since I found out about him and Lauren. I still can’t believe it.

Gwen’s stomach twisted into a knot of dread. Lauren and Nathan?

Vivian scoffed with exaggerated anger. I always knew he was a piece of work, she bit out. But I can’t believe he cheated on you like that. I’ve already told everyone I’m not going to the wedding.

If there’d been anything in her stomach, Gwen might have retched it up all over Vivian’s perfectly spotless white Nikes. Nathan and Lauren were getting married? And he’d cheated on her?

Nathan and Vivian, as small worlds would have it, had grown up near each other in Connecticut. Their parents had been friends, or part of the same club or something. Gwen and Nathan would often run into Vivian at parties and around town when they were dating. Gwen hated parties, and socializing, so if she