Title: Blood Harvest
Series: The Harvest
Author: Meghan Schubert
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: 09/27/2022
Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex
Pairing: Female/Female
Length: 79200
Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, paranormal, urban fantasy, lesbian, vampire, shifter, angel, succubus, roommates, blood, death, conspiracy
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Description
If you were losing your humanity, how hard would you fight to hold on to it? What would you be willing to do, to give up, to make sure you remained the human you were, rather than the demon you seemed to be turning into? Hope McKinley, former advertising student turned newly undead, finds herself wrestling with these questions and so much more.
Blood Harvest delves into the depths of the human psyche and grapples with the struggle between light and dark in all of us as seen through the eyes of one forced out of the human race and fighting to return.
Blood Harvest
Meghan M. Schubert © 2022
All Rights Reserved
Sun filtered in through the Plexiglas windows making the very bright white room I was in even brighter than it should have been. I curled under the covers, trying to keep everything out. It hurt to look at it, the sun. I shielded my eyes with a veil of hair.
“Hope. How are you, Hope? Doing well?”
“What?” There was a soft voice in the back of my mind. With a groan, I shook my head, intent on ignoring it.
“Ah, ah, that won’t get rid of me, hon.”
It became more obnoxious the more I tried to ignore it, soon accompanied by a light thud…thud…thud. That damned voice was beating my brain! I gripped my hair in frustration and cursed under my breath. No. Voices can’t beat people. I was losing my goddamn mind.
“Can’t you go bother someone else?” I asked. There was no response. I was being given the silent treatment by my own subconscious? How childish.
The banging came back, only this time, it was at my door. I scrambled against the wall in an attempt to hide. Tch, yeah, as if I could hide in a four-by-four empty room.
“You have company.”
The automated door slid open with a soft whoosh. Since when did Death wear white? He stood there a moment, the light behind him blinding. This must be the light everyone talks about when they have those near-death experiences. Right? Right.
Death approached cautiously, like one would a wounded animal, and knelt holding out a hand. Did he think I was stupid? You touch Death, you die. Well, in the movies you did. I snorted and glared at him. If Death wanted me, he would have to take me.
His lips were moving, but all I heard was muttered nonsense. As he went to grab me, I scrambled from the bed and staggered, then leaned against the wall for support. Dizzy spells were a bitch.
He spoke softly again and gently pinned my arm against the wall. I scrunched my face, confused. Why the hell couldn’t I understand him? It was as if he was speaking a foreign language. I heard what seemed to be my name somewhere along the line, but the blood racing through my veins was enough to drown out all the noise in the world.
In a dire attempt to defend myself, I took hold of his arm and dug my nails in. I had no intentions of going quietly. My mind screamed at me to tear his hand off, an animalistic growl working its way up my throat. When he didn’t let up, I gripped harder until my knuckles turned white, sure to draw blood.
A smile quirked my lips. I was fighting Death.
He flinched and pulled back, yelling at me in the same incoherent nonsense as before. He just wasn’t making any sense.
It didn’t matter. I took the opportunity to slip past him only to face another figure in white. Before my brain could even react, I was crouched in the center of the room, teeth bared at the approaching man. I hadn’t meant to do it, hadn’t even realized it until I was…hissing?
The man reached out for me, but I knocked his hand away and kicked his shin. ’Bout time I put those karate lessons to good use. I snickered and went to hit him again when I felt a light sting in the back of my neck. I whipped around and glared at Death, who was putting what looked to be a pen in his shirt pocket.
The hell? I went to swing at him but was suddenly exhausted, fist veering off course. Death caught my arm and scooped me up, cradling me bridal style. I wanted to struggle, really, I did, but he held me tight against his chest in a protective hug. It was getting harder to move, my body slowly going numb, and the warmth coming from his body was lulling me to sleep.
“Night, night, Hope.”
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Meghan Schubert, born in 1985 in the greater city of Philadelphia, has always been a nerd at heart. Dubbing herself an “elder millennial,” Meghan grew up with a love of video games, horror, and Goosebumps books. In high school, she wrote short stories for the school newspaper before working her way up to editor. That love turned into a passion when she took up Video Game Design in college, where the premise of her first novel came to light. Her pursuit of game design was short-lived, however, when Meghan realized that programming was not her forte; the stories behind the games were. Thus, a writer was born.
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