Today’s Book of the Day is
Rajveer the Vampire
by Barbara G. Tarn
A “sun clan” warrior can never become a true child of darkness.
Turned into a bloodsucker by an ancient Celtic vampire, Rajveer, a proud Rajput warrior of a Suryavanshi clan in 14th century India, becomes almost invulnerable.
Immortal, he loses his family to war and time and travels through northern India, seeing history unfold. Threatened by both human wars and evil vampires, can he remain true to his sworn vow not to take human lives?
A vampire’s journey through centuries.
In this new novel, Barbara G.Tarn combines her love for history (especially medieval) and fantasy. It’s the story of a vampire through the centuries that will appeal to both historical fiction readers and vampire lovers all over the world.
Excerpt from Rajveer the Vampire:
Rajveer slowly adjusted to his new sleeping schedule. The king, Ratan Singh, wasn’t too happy to hear Rajveer would do all-night shifts from now on, but when Rajveer fell asleep in front of him, there wasn’t much choice. Rajveer just couldn’t keep his eyes open when the sun was up, and awoke only one hour before sunset, falling back to sleep one hour after dawn.
Soon he discovered Bran had been right. The more time passed, the less he needed to sleep when the sun was up. He allowed Bran and Kaylyn to move into his household as revered guests, and they performed what they called a western fertility rite on him and his wives.
Since his skin was warmer to the touch after he absorbed some blood, he made sure to feed before touching his wives. He could still eat normal food, so he could reassure them he was recovering, except for that strange day slumber from which he couldn’t be awakened, but that became shorter and shorter as the months marched on.
Unlike Kaylyn, he didn’t go hunting for old people who wished to die. He’d rather drain animals, and in fact prided himself he hadn’t tasted human blood yet. But if he went to bed without feeding first, his skin was too cold for any of his wives, so he had to make sure to drink at least from a small animal before making love to any of them.
He was neither dead nor alive. His body was supposedly dead, but he could still feel his heart beat and still had erections, although more from drinking blood than touching his wives. Sex felt different, not only because of his new thirst.
Enakshi was the more oblivious to his changes, since she’d just met him. Charumati was the most conscious, but she didn’t dare talk about it with anyone. Especially not Akshita and Nirmala, who would definitely bring up the old story of Jija’s daughter, lost to darkness.
Rajveer began to think there was some kind of truth in the story of the Jain merchant’s daughter, but she had probably killed herself since. If he refused to feed on human blood, her religion must have made her refuse to feed at all, therefore she must be dead.
Rajveer often struggled to feel. Even when he made love to his wives, sometimes he felt cold or detached and had to fight the need to bite them and suck their blood. Anguish often visited him when he was awake, and sometimes his lust felt more animal than human. His faith made him uneasy when he quenched his thirst and thought about it. And sometimes the mood changes were wiped away by a cold determination to survive at all costs that scared him.
All three wives stopped menstruating almost at the same time. Charumati miscarried after five months, Akshita after three. Kaylyn gave them herbs to recover faster, but Charumati didn’t appreciate the gesture.
“Why do you keep the foreigners here?” she asked with a frown. “Their rites don’t seem to work, and I don’t like the way Kaylyn looks at you.”
“She’s like a sister to me,” Rajveer assured her, holding her tight. “She’s here to help.”
“She’s here to steal my husband,” Charumati retorted. “I’m not blind, Rajveer! I can see how she looks at you! Are you planning on taking a fourth wife? Can you afford it?”
“No, I don’t plan on marrying Kaylyn, don’t worry.”
“I sure hope not,” Charumati grumbled. “She’s a wicked manushya-rakshasi.”
“I have never seen a manushya-rakshasi with blue eyes! Kaylyn is not from this country, as Bran isn’t!”
“Which only makes it worse! We don’t know what kinds of demons live in the west!”
“Charumati, Kaylyn is not a demon. And stop listening to Nirmala’s stories. You’re smarter than that.”
She glared at him for his chiding tone, and looked away. Rajveer recited his best love poem to her, but she knew it by heart by now, and it didn’t improve her mood. She actually shooed him out of her bedroom, saying she was tired and wanted to be alone.
The king had bestowed a fortune on him when he’d written the series of beautiful poems that had also caught Bran’s attention, but since the blond foreigner had given him the dark gift, his poetic vein seemed to have gone dry – which worried him a little, since it seemed he must woo Charumati again.
Telling her how much he loved her didn’t seem enough anymore. His feelings often felt muted by his thirst for blood. There were times he saw other humans only as prey. He was beginning to think Bran’s dark gifts were actually a curse worse than dying without a male son to perform his funeral rites – which would turn him into a gayal. He couldn’t decide what was worse between restless spirit or bloodsucker.
He learned to feed all night long on little animals so he wouldn’t wake up hungry and scare Charumati away.
Learn more about Barbara G. Tarn and her books at the following links:
Author Central http://www.amazon.com/Barbara-G.Tarn/e/B0050P0R2G
Publisher’s page with info on all the books: http://www.unicornproductionsbooks.com/