What is your name? Do you have a nickname?
I’m Blaxton de Ferrers, medieval knight, vampire, twenty-first century property developer, and philanthropist. Back when I strutted around in armor, the ladies called me Blaxton the Bold. I fought for things I believed in, like justice and honor. I don’t believe in much anymore. It’s not that I’m jaded, more that I’m empty inside.
What is your character’s hair color? Eye color?
Once, my eyes were clear blue. That’s different now I’m undead. My eyes have a ring of golden flame around the pupil. People think I’m a poser when I wear dark glasses to hide them. Mostly I just ignore people’s comments when they see them. My hair’s a sort of dirty blonde with permanent sun streaks from when I fought in the Holy Land before I died. My Cousin Rolfe stuck a knife in my back when the Saracens attacked. Only, since I don’t have a soul, I didn’t stay dead.
Where were you born?
Whitborough, on the Yorkshire coast in the North of England. My father built a castle there. It’s full of secret passages and hidden rooms. Or it was. Most of it is in ruins now. I thought coming back here would be sad, but I don’t feel anything.
Do you have a secret?
Do you mean apart from the fact I drink people’s blood to survive? Nobody believes in vampires anymore. That makes feeding easy. I try to feed little and often. I would never drain anyone dry. I used to hate that I preyed on the people I swore to protect, but it doesn’t bother me now I don’t feel.
What makes you laugh out loud?
I haven’t laughed for centuries. Nothing amuses me, and I don’t feel anything anymore. I haven’t since the night I rose as a vampire. Even the color’s fading from my vision now. I feel like I have nothing left to lose. Or I did until this morning. I saw this woman, you see. She put the fire back in my belly and strength back in my soul. Things could have gone better when I spoke to her, but I will find a way to put that right.
Have you ever been in love?
When I joined the Knights Defender, I took vows of poverty and chastity. I took them seriously. My vows were only until I died. After my cousin murdered me, I wasn’t bound by them, but I’ve tried to live a good life. After eight hundred years of feeling nothing, it’s hard sometimes. I fear I’ll lose control and rampage though Britain in a feeding frenzy.
You joined a religious order of Knight – the Knights Defender. What do you think of God now?
I think he’s deserted me. Then again, I don’t have a soul. Why would any God speak to a mongrel creature like me?
What’s your best childhood memory?
My memories are like faded black and white photographs. I wrote them down, then I even if I lose them completely I’ll know where I came from. The one I reread most is about sunny afternoon’s sparring with my brothers. My mother embroidered as she watched. My father shouted out tips. My older brother could never beat me, but he didn’t bare a grudge because of it. I beat my younger brother every time we fought. He was a better tracker than me though. I left the tracking to my dogs. I always had four or five, but since I turned vampire, even dogs avoid me.
Do you have any plans for the future?
Same old. After eight hundred years as a vampire, there’s nothing new under the sun. And yes, I can go out in the sun. That woman though? She made me want to smile for the first time since the Knights Defender stole my soul. Did I say she works at the castle? I think she’s the new archivist, but the last two people who filled that role vanished. I’ll need to look out for her. And that’s her heading for the castle tearooms. Sorry to dash off, but I need to speak to her.
One Knight Stand
PLEASE NOTE – FORMERLY SOLD AS KNIGHTS VAMPIRE
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Crusader knight, Blaxton de Ferrers rises as a vampire after the Knights Defender steal his soul. Murdered by his cousin, he preys on the people he once swore to protect. His emotions leach out of him. Gradually, he forgets how to feel.
Eight hundred years later, he meets Harriet.
Harriet Mortlake’s a strong, sassy woman who battles her weight and her temper. She’s the modern-day archivist in the castle which was Blaxton’s childhood home. She’s supposed to ferret out the castle’s secrets. Instead, she finds the love of her life.
When danger threatens Harriet, Blaxton steps in. Harriet and Blaxton are a match made in heaven. Except… he’s a vampire and he’s destined for hell.
Previously sold as Knight’s vampire
“How dare you embarrass me like that?” Harriet Mortlake planted her hands on her hips and glowered at the man she’d cornered outside the cafe. Her normal iceberg cool deserted her, and she wanted to slap the condescending smile off his face. Around this stranger, she felt as though lightning bolts flashed from her eyes.
“It’s a temple, not a chapel,” he insisted.
Stubborn. Damn. Male. She’d been showing the big guns from the Castles’ Management Trust around the building. They’d already made it clear they thought her too young for the archivist’s role. This know-it-all had infuriated her when he sounded off in the chapel. Now he antagonized her all over again.
“As if!” Harriet snorted. “No way would medieval Christians build a pagan temple on their grounds. Superstitious locals would have accused them of devil worship. They burned heretics at the stake, remember?”
Despite Mr. Condescending’s interference, she’d impressed the big bosses—she thought. Now the sexiest male, ever, clung to his ridiculous belief the chapel had been a pagan temple.
He flashed her a smile which would have lit up the underground chapel where he’d embarrassed her earlier. He should keep his mouth shut and let her admire his looks. Everything about him radiated sex appeal. Looking at him almost made her anger evaporate, but he gave her the know-it-all look that made her bristle.
“You need to get your facts right,” he told her, determined to have the last word.
Stupid, arrogant male. She couldn’t decide whether to show him her diplomas and degrees or kick his shins. She’d reined in her temper while the higher-ups carried out their inspection. Now they’d left, she felt free to vent her rage. Hands still on her hips, she tapped her foot at him.
“Lost for words without an audience? Or don’t you have any facts to back up your cock-and-bull story? Put up or shut up, Mister. Tell me why you think it’s a temple.”
Mr. Condescending sat outside the castle’s tearoom as if he hadn’t a care in the world. His interference when she’d shown the bigwigs into the chapel could have cost her the job she loved. Whitborough Castle’s extensive records needed cataloging, and Harriet couldn’t wait to get her hands on them.
More about Kryssie Fortune
Kryssie Fortune writes the sort of hot sexy books she loves to read. If she can sneak a dragon into her paranormal books she will. Her paranormal heroes are muscular werewolves, arrogant Fae or BDSM loving dragons.
Kryssie likes her contemporary hero’s ex-military and dominant. Her heroines are kick ass females who can hold their own against whatever life – or Kryssie – throws at them.
Kryssie’s pet hates are unhappy endings, and a series that end on a cliff hanger.
Her books are all stand alone even when part of series. Plot always comes before sex, but when her heroines and heroes get together, the sex is explosive and explicit. One review called it downright sensual.
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