I Wrote a Vampire Book
Meet Bound by Blood—plus an exclusive bonus scene
Hello Kittens
So, I kind of dropped off the deep end. I know. You would be surprised what going on vacation, even for a single weekend, can do to your writing momentum. Even with the world’s best boyfriend reminding me to write, and giving me the space to be creative, I just had nothing. Summer, especially one as hot as this one, just saps your energy, and anything I had left at the end of the day went to the kids. But I’m back now. A few cool days, a little time crunch panic, and some gentle prodding from aforementioned boyfriend, and here we are.
What was this time crunch panic? Well, I have a book that’s scheduled to come out next week. Is it part of my K-Pop series? Nope, we’re doing a supernatural 180 and heading towards vampires. What’s really fun? This is my first vampire book. But you say, how can that be? You grew up on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, you named your kid after a character in the vampire novels that made you want to write in the first place (bonus points if you know the series, it’s pretty epic), how is this your first vampire novel, 30 something books into your writing career? I’m not really sure, I guess I just didn’t find the right story to write. But now I have.
Okay, a little about this book I’ve been working on, and not really talking about… I’m writing the first book in my new Motorcycle Club series, and what’s even cooler? It’s part of the Royal Bastards Universe!! I know, I can’t fucking believe that I actually have a RBMC logo on the front of a book that I wrote! It blows my mind. Back to the book. Bound by Blood is the first book set in the Burlington, Vermont Chapter of the Royal Bastards MC. These men aren’t quite vampires. They’re something older, colder, and much harder to kill.
Arden Vale is a librarian whose biggest mistake is taking a shortcut home after a late shift. She hears something she shouldn’t and ends up in the path of four bikers who are no longer entirely human.
Frostbite, president of the Burlington Chapter, has just survived something that should have killed him. Whatever brought him and three of his brothers back also changed them. They’re hungry, dangerous, and running out of time before their enemies close in. Then Frostbite sees Arden and decides she belongs with him in the most literal, possessive, dark-romance way possible.
This book has morally questionable men, forced proximity, supernatural bonds, biker politics, blood, violence, ancient Norse horror, and a heroine who refuses to let Frostbite swallow her whole.
Since you’ve all been patient while I vanished into summer exhaustion and deadline panic, I wanted to give you something more fun than a normal excerpt. Below is a bonus scene from June’s point of view, showing the moment Arden’s best friend realizes she didn’t simply miss work.
The book stays inside Arden and Frostbite’s perspectives, so this scene won’t appear in the finished novel. It gives you a first glimpse of how completely Arden disappears when she steps off the road and into the world of the Royal Bastards.
What do you think? Are you ready to dive into the RBMC Burlington with me?
XOXO,
Kat
Deleted Scene: The First Day Arden Didn’t Come Back
Arden was never late without telling me. She could lose track of lunch, forget where she left her coffee, or spend twenty minutes looking for a book already sitting on the return cart. She always showed up for an opening shift.
At eight-fifteen, I sent her a message.
You alive?
At eight-thirty, I called. Her phone rang until voicemail picked up.
By nine, I had checked the staff calendar twice. No time off. No schedule change. I opened our email, searched her name, and found nothing newer than the list of damaged books she had sent before leaving the night before.
Mr. Delaney caught me staring at the front doors. “She probably overslept.”
I turned toward him. “Arden doesn’t oversleep.”
“Everyone oversleeps.” He straightened a stack of holds on the counter.
“She once came in with the flu because she forgot she had already called out.”
Mr. Delaney stopped touching the books. After a second, he carried them back to the circulation desk.
I called again from the workroom. Voicemail.
Her desk looked exactly as she had left it. A mug with cold coffee in the bottom. Two returned books stacked beside the keyboard. Her cardigan hanging from the back of the chair.
I took it down and rubbed the sleeve between my fingers. It had been cold the night before. Arden complained about Vermont winters from October through April and wore layers inside the library because the old windows let in drafts.
I checked the pockets. A receipt, two cough drops, and a folded scrap of paper with a call number written across it. Her phone and keys were gone.
I called a third time and held the cardigan against my stomach while the line rang. When voicemail picked up, I closed my eyes.
“Arden, call me back. I’m serious.”
My voice shook on the last word, and I ended the call.
By ten, I had convinced Mr. Delaney to let me leave for an early lunch. Arden’s apartment was close enough that I could check on her and get back before he regretted agreeing.
I walked the route she usually took and watched for her the entire way.
At the corner where the main road split from the warehouse district, I stopped. Arden had complained more than once about the shortcut she used after late shifts. It cut several minutes off the walk, but most of the buildings along it had been empty for years.
I took the longer route to her apartment.
No one answered when I knocked. I tried again hard enough to sting my knuckles, then called from outside her door.
Her ringtone did not sound inside.
The neighbor across the hall opened her door a few inches. “She’s not there.”
I turned toward her. “Do you know when she left?”
“No.” The woman kept one hand around the edge of the door.
“Did you see her come home last night?”
Her fingers tightened. “I didn’t see her.”
“Are you sure?”
“I would’ve heard her door.” She glanced toward Arden’s apartment. “I didn’t.”
“Did you hear anything else?”
The woman shook her head. “No.”
The door started to close.
“Please.” I caught the frame with one hand. “She’s missing.”
Her gaze came back to mine, and she opened the door another inch. “Have you called the police?”
“I’m doing that now.”
She nodded once before pulling the door shut.
I stood alone in the hallway with Arden’s name open on my phone. Her battery could have died. She could have gotten sick somewhere. Maybe she had stayed with someone and forgotten to call.
None of it explained why she had left her cardigan at work or failed to come home.
I called the police from the front steps.
The officer asked how long she had been missing.
“Since last night.”
A keyboard clicked on his end. He explained that adults were allowed to leave voluntarily, then asked whether Arden had a boyfriend, whether she drank, and whether she might have gone somewhere without telling anyone.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You don’t understand. She would tell me.”
He paused before promising someone would follow up.
Back at the library, I pulled up the security footage from the previous night.
Arden appeared near closing, walking out through the front doors with her bag over one shoulder. She stopped on the sidewalk, checked her phone, and turned toward the road leading past the warehouses.
The camera lost her at the corner.
I dragged the recording back and watched it again. No one followed her. No vehicle stopped beside her. Arden checked her phone, adjusted the strap of her bag, and walked out of frame.
I opened the feed from the camera on the far side of the building and moved through the recording minute by minute.
Arden never appeared.
I checked the entrance camera again, then returned to the second feed. She should have crossed it if she had stayed on the main road.
She hadn’t.
The warehouse shortcut began between the two cameras.
I called Arden and listened until voicemail picked up. Then I set the phone beside her cold coffee, folded the cardigan across my lap, and watched her turn toward the warehouses one more time.
