Imagine an earth just a bit different from ours. In this world normals unknowingly share the planet with all manner of beings, including vampyres, most of whom rely on bagged blood, which is supplemented by the blood of sabors, valued individuals whose blood contains an element necessary for the survival of the species. Tyrell Small has always felt different. He just never knew how different. On his sixteenth birthday, his father reveals Ty is one such sabor, with the birthmark to prove it. Upon learning he’ll be required to feed vampyres, Ty decides he’s not having any of that. He’ll run away and make his own destiny. Slipping out his second story bedroom window, he finds Adam Dasani, the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen, waiting for him on the roof. Adam is reluctant to distress the young sabor about to slide down the drainpipe, but he’s one of the vampyres Ty will one day feed. Equerry to the vampyre king, Adam had been given the task of guarding Ty on the day he was born. Because the blood of the two most powerful saborese families in the shared history of vampyres and sabors runs through Ty’s veins, some vampyres will do anything to obtain him for themselves. It will be up to Adam to keep Ty safe, not only from those rogue vampyres but from others who have plans of their own for him. Everyone keeps telling Ty he can’t escape his destiny, but he has no intention of sitting around twiddling his thumbs, waiting for life to catch up with him. However, will something Adam inadvertently said give Ty a way to live the life he wants and keep those he loves -- including Adam -- out of danger?

They Come by Night

“This ispart of the program. I thought you realized that at some point you’d be working on cadavers?”


“Ye-yes.” I swallowed again. “I did.”


“Are you sure you want to be a mortician?”


She tapped her lower lip with a manicured fingernail. “Well, you can take this course and see what happens.”


Class was going to start the next day. The messenger bag I’d gotten at the Target in Knox Mall sat by the front door. It held notebooks, pens and pencils, the English Composition and Grammar text, and a digital recorder. The textbooks for sociology and chemistry hadn’t been available, and I hoped to pick them up after class. As for Pre-Calculus, the helpful guy at the college bookstore had told me Professor Johnson preferred to hand out Xeroxed sheets of each lesson.


“He’s young enough to remember what it was like, being a struggling student. And by the way, I get off in a few minutes. Want to have a coffee with me?”


Chapter 55