Sex, Blood, and Rock n' Roll.
Immortal Dilemma is the hottest band in the Las Vegas vampire rock scene. They draw insatiable fans from around the globe, thanks to a supernatural attraction called Bloodlust. Tristan craved such an opportunity to fill his empty mortal life, and now he has eternity to earn his place along the legends of rock n roll debauchery.
Callie always feared that Tristan’s excesses would get him into trouble, but she never thought they’d lead him to immortality. To reconnect with him, she must weave her way through a world not only she had no idea existed, but does not welcome her.
Blade turned down a spot in Immortal Dilemma after learning what he must sacrifice for that lifestyle. He finds Callie a refreshing change from the girls in the vampire rock scene. When Callie drags Blade back into the world of Immortal Dilemma, his resistance drives her into the waiting arms of Tristan, who shows her the true meaning of Bloodlust.
But the very things that Callie fights so hard to save are the very things that fight to destroy her.
Callie has come to Vegas to see the boy that she’s loved for as long as she can remember. But Tristan Trevosier has risen to super stardom with his band “Immortal Dilemma” and is untouchable. But when they run into each other backstage, the sparks fly and the blood flows.
Tristan’s life is not his own. It is now an endless night filled with sex, blood and rock and roll. The more deeply Callie becomes involved in the Vegas scene, the more she realizes that there is a very fine line between life and walking death.
From chin to chest, I was covered in Tristan’s blood, with a few scarlet rivulets making their way down my breasts to my stomach. “I look like a freak,” I whispered, eyes wide, trying not to sob. “You look more beautiful than you ever have. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He turned me towards him, holding my arms lightly, and began kissing and licking me until there was no signs of what we had done. When he was satisfied with his work, he turned me back around to the mirror for my approval. I looked at him in the reflection, not sure what to do next. He kept one hand on my arm as he filled an intricately patterned bowl with water and dipped a wash cloth in it. The reflection of the colored glass danced against his tattooed arm. He dragged the warm velvety cloth across my skin slowly, rhythmically, like he was thinking about every move he made. His eyes never left mine in the mirror, except for when I closed my eyes to fight the gnawing in my belly he created, as the fabric caressed every inch of me. “There,” he whispered in my ear. “We’ve washed away all your sins.”
If only it were that easy.