Joleene Naylor is the author of the glitter-less Amaranthine vampire universe, a world where vampires aren't for children. Comprised of a main series, a standalone prequel, and several short story collections, she has plans to continue expanding with a trilogy and standalone novels. 
In her spare time, Joleene is a freelance book cover designer and for-fun photographer. She maintains several blogs, full of odd ramblings, and occasionally updates her website at JoleeneNaylor.com. In what little time is left, she watches anime, plays PokemonGo, and works on her crooked Victorian house in Villisca, Iowa. Between her husband, family, and pets, she is never lonely, in fact, quite the opposite. Should she disappear, one might look for her on a beach in Tahiti, sipping a tropical drink and wearing a disguise. 

The prequel to the Amaranthine series tells the story of Patrick and Michael, how they got tangled into Claudius' web, and their valiant fight to escape.

When Patrick's missing brother returns, he brings a world of darkness. Turned into a vampire against his will, Michael is the coven's whipping boy. When Patrick tries to help, he's claimed as a slave who spends his weekends preparing victims, scooping ashes, and falling prey to the vampires' twisted desires.

There's only so much hell he can take. When vampires from a warring coven offer sanctuary in exchange for cooperation, Patrick agrees. What he thought would be a few months drags into a long smear of nightmares and, though he fights for hope and freedom, the cost of victory may be more than he bargained for.


Brothers of Darkness

Patrick lost himself in a smear of alcohol. On Sunday, he sobered up enough to get dressed and walk to the park. The jungle gym threw long fingered shadows that he kicked at. He hated the park. He hated the vampires. Most of all he hated himself.


Jorick appeared from the darkness, like a phantom or a hero, and Oren followed. The vampires stopped close enough that Patrick could see their faces, but not close enough to reach. Like always, they stood just beyond the edge of his world; a promise of safety that was never delivered. 


His words were slurred, so he added volume, "When the fuck is this going to be over?" 


Oren cleared his throat and wrinkled his nose. Of course he'd be too good to answer; too good to get his hands dirty. Patrick imagined what it would be like to punch him and tightened his fist. Would the vampire's nose break, or would it be like slamming into stone?


Chapter 70