Meet The Character | The Last Descendant

Everyone knows my story. It was a fucking blockbuster hit. But, they say truth is stranger than fiction. In my case, it’s just more depressing. No one would be applauding if they really knew all the things I’ve done; the accomplishments I let burn, and lives I destroyed when my own was in chaos. Fire may have been the start, orphaning me as a man, after I’d already been orphaned as a newborn. I was a rising star in the art world, a successful painter with a wealthy patron and my own gallery on the Cornish Coast.

I’ve also been a thief from early on, honing my skills on the streets of London. Hobbies are a healthy break from the monotony, any expert will tell you that.

But, I went mental to the point of utter detachment, returning to lucidity with no recollection. I lost days, possibly weeks all in one go, painting nightmarish portraits of evil, obscene landscapes of blood and depravity. I lived on whiskey and a will that wasn’t my own; a marionette caught in the twisted strings of my feverish mind.

Therapy was a last, desperate attempt to claw my way out. Instead, I was pushed beyond the brink of madness and that’s where I found clarity. It can happen. You can go so crazy you come out sane again on the other side. But, it’s a different kind of sane. It’s the irrevocable death of your former self. I was reborn scarred, changed, unable to return to the life I’d known. I closed my gallery, packed all of my possessions into storage, and abandoned the only family I had left. A clean break. I can’t hurt the ones I love if I’m not there, if they don’t have to hear my voice over the phone reminding them of the damage already wrought.

Across the pond, I kept my skills honed in Vegas, while learning new, highly pleasurable ones and working as a strip-club bouncer. That’s where they found me, all the ones who would turn my life into something only ever seen in movies, setting me on the path to becoming a vampire, and a prince.

Albeit, a prince of Hollywood, but for Americans that’s the closest thing they’ve got to royalty. So, I walk the red carpet same as I’ve done for three years now. I smile for the cameras, as every flashing bulb hurls me back to a rainy afternoon in a London cemetery–and I hate every fucking minute of their repetitive questions.

They want to know if I’ll make another movie, if I’ll play the same role the way my costars have, and the answer is always, agonizingly yes. Legend Studios has a running series and we’re all contracted to fulfill our character obligations. Whatever Evelyn wants, Evelyn gets. She rules our existence; controls our fates. If she wants the vampire, the last descendant of the Order of the Dragon, then she gets him.

When I left England, it was never with the intention of forging kinships again, but the running joke of my life has cast two new brothers for me. Much like this version of sanity, my bond with them is different. My siblings back home were family without blood because we came up together. With Trystan and Dorian, it’s the brotherhood of soldiers fighting the same war, suffering the same tragedies and injustices. We have a common enemy, and she’s drug us across the fucking country to scout a new filming location.

A new movie can only mean one thing: our family’s in danger of getting bigger. My mates and I are on guard, watching Evelyn to see who she’s watching. Keeping track of those she takes a keen interest to. So far, she only seems focused in the filming site. At her request, I seek out the man with the answer on whether or not she gets to use it.

I already know it will be a cold day in hell before Evelyn takes no for an answer, regardless of what the man says, but I do as I’m told like the good soldier I’ve never been. The sexy brunette that runs smack into me in the parking lot is a thrilling, unexpected distraction. I can’t recall the last time I’ve felt this kind of intense chemistry straight off. Discovering that she’s the one with the answer I need doesn’t deter me from pursuing more than just a business deal.

And it’s dangerous, I know. I’m losing sight of the mission, taking my attention off the enemy for the much better view of golden-green eyes and a mouth made for sin. But, I ca’t help it, her ignorance is just as enticing as her clever humor and gorgeous body. She’s never heard of Legend Studios before, isn’t familiar with any of their movies.

Kallie’s got to be the only woman on earth who has no idea about who or what I am. She’s never seen the vampire, the last Dracul, and I’m in no hurry to change that. To her, I’m just Luke, the infuriatingly quick-witted, silver-tongued Brit that can’t get enough of seeing her all flustered and blushing.

And when she threatens to douse me with mace if I get too cheeky, it’s a challenge I simply can’t turn away from. The feisty little Historian is about to learn that I am a man of many skills.

~ Lucien Alexander Drake

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Meet The Character | The Self-Sabotager

They call me Max Carver, because that’s the name on the cover. I’m the latest contender in the world of Graphic Novelists. My fans line up outside the bookstores and comic book shops, dressed like characters I created, waiting to see what carnage will be wrought and what kind of debauched mess their favorite anti-hero has gotten himself into this time.

Insidious “Sid” Strider gives all bad things a bad name, and man, do they love him. They can’t get enough of my morally-challenged alter ego. The one who’s always been free to do exactly what he wants; extending two middle fingers to the world like twin banners of pride.

No one knows that he’s been my cathartic outlet since I was seventeen; that he was born out of the madness following childhood tragedy. That he’s my much needed escape from reality, my purge of all the fear and rage. They can’t know that at times, he’s still the only solace I seek, my most trusted confidant.

Mostly, they don’t know that I’m a girl.

A young woman frayed at the edges behind an easy smile. Picking at the threads of my seams when no one’s looking. They have no clue that Sid isn’t my only sordid outlet.

In my private life, I’m a submissive of the Alternative Lifestyle known by and large as Kink. I found it quite naturally and never looked for anything else, even though I always ruin it. A subconscious demand stemming from my many contradictions, which, eventually–and without fail–push me to rebel against contentedness and comfort.

I’m the good girl in need of a strict-ass Dom who won’t put up with my shit. Though, in all fairness, it’s a lot of shit. I really can’t blame them for falling for the lies I tell myself, while pulling the wool over their eyes because they let me get away with it before. It’s not their fault I’m constantly testing them and watching them fail. Somewhere in the dark complexities of my mind, they’re fighting the inevitable.

I don’t have issues, so much as a solid record.

But Hayden’s not failing. He’s calling me out on my BS at our first meeting, switching up the rules of engagement from any other Dom I’ve ever met and you’d think that was a good thing. Except, good things are like bad thing’s crack, and I feel Sid creeping out of his cage, just waiting to make a long-lasting impression.

I don’t know if this is going to be an amazing ride or the toughest trial of my life, but I do know one thing: I’m destined to fuck it all up. I won’t be able to stop myself. I will tow the line, bend the knee, and earn my “good girls” – but in the end, I’m still a self-sabotaging mess seeking a miraculous change, while fighting tooth-and-nail to remain exactly the same.

~ Catherine Maxine Nicholson

Meet The Character | The Sadist

Screams thread the very fabric of my existence, weaving worlds of pain, blood, and pleasure together. Like any addict or connoisseur, I do have my preferences. Emissions of pleasure wrought by pain are, indeed, my favorite. But I am the Harvester; the one my Head of House turns to when he needs answers. My skills are legendary, as are my results.

They say you can’t glean truth through torture. I say they’re not doing it right. Besides, we’re not human. Most of the creatures who end up on my cross can regenerate within days, if not hours. And trust me, the agony of regrowing bones is far more excruciating than having them ripped out of your body. Loyalties never fail to leach into the bloodstained floor at my feet, the truth pouring out faster than bodily fluids.

I am the sadist without remorse, the second most powerful Elemental in the Phoenix Down Territory. Redford is my Household. Scotland is the one I answer to, for Fire is the demon I feed. But I am also half of a cruelly enforced bond. Berlin is my equal in every possible way, the only enemy I could never defeat on the battlefield and now we are two parts of a shared judgement, sentenced by Aeolus, himself. Due to our major parts in the Territory Wars, we’re now cursed with the inability to find satiation without each other. We live, eat, fight, and fuck together.

It’s much kinkier than it sounds, for Berlin is Water, my natural enemy. Our Elements are fatal to one another’s, making life and fun a little on the tricky side to accomplish with any kind of satisfaction. Of course, we found a loophole–quite a painful one, at that–an exchange I usually endure awash in Berlin’s screams.

Nothing we’ve ever known compares to the one we’re sent to capture for our Elder. Even while her Water slays me, her instant connection with Berlin riles this sadist like nothing else on earth. Because I heard her scream. And, fuck, it was like the maddening ride of an opium haze laced with delirious obsessions, triggering an orgasmic high in each of my senses. I can’t get enough. I would coax the full range out of her if it took an eternity, and I’d devour each pitch until her screams were infused with my soul–if only she were mine to render in pain so reverently.

~ Damascus Dmitri Redford

Meet The Character | The Dark Storm

I was born into money, raised in the upper crust, did my stint in the all boys academy to get a real gentleman’s education. That’s where I met my best friend. Born without money, he was there on a charity scholarship, so of course he was the biggest target on campus. I called him out, took my shot, found a kindred spirit in the little shit that gave back as good as he got and we’ve been inseparable ever since.

That’s how people enter my world: through blood and pain. It’s not always theirs. Just ask my second closest friend. I almost killed him the first night we met, and all he was doing was his job. Too bad that job was as the cop that found my battered baby sister in a blood-soaked alley. Tragedy binds us in ways nothing else ever can, and it’s permanent. There’s no escaping me once you’re here. I’ll go to the ends of the earth for those who matter, but they’re all burned around the edges from the fire of my life.

So go ahead and believe what they print in the papers: Billionaire playboy, spoiled heir to the Kade Legacy, reckless deviant, womanizer, no better than a mobster kind of businessman. I should probably thank them for providing me with the ability to do whatever the hell I want, however the hell I want, but the truth is–I’d do it, anyway. Because I don’t give a fuck about their opinions or yours. If I don’t know you, you’ll never know me and trust me, that’s a good thing.

Death has deemed me the enemy, get’s off on taking the people I love away from me. I was born with a dark tempest raging inside, as if the powers that be knew I would need it to survive. Or that one day, I would need it to protect the only woman who’d own my heart.

Her world is blood and pain. Our tragedies are linked in the darkest places of our pasts, and when our worlds collide, there will be no one left unscathed. Because there will be nothing I won’t do to save her. I might fasten my designer suit the same way every rich man does, but there are no hitmen on my payroll. If I tell you I’m going to kill you, rest assured, my face will be the last fucking thing you see.

~ Voryk Julien Kade

Meet The Character | The Pierced One

I’m the Toy Maker. Not really, that’s just what the pup calls me. Who better to play the villain to his superhero? Kid’s imagination is bigger than he is, but not as far fetched as he’ll hopefully never know. I’m the cool uncle, all tatted up and pierced to the nine. It would break my heart for him to see me any other way.

I love being here, love being in this crazy pack of a family, but love is a doubled edged sword when you’re only half of who you’re supposed to be. I’m a framer by trade, hacker for fun, and Úlfr by birth. Odin’s wolves, that’s what we are; hiding in plain sight as humans in Midgard. Since the dawn of time, we’ve had our share of ups and downs as a species. Hunted alongside our wild cousins by those who didn’t know any better, hunted for being exactly what we were by those who did. Witch hunters, determined to rid the earth of all things non-human.

But nothing hurt us the way the first Fenrisúlfr did when he sent out an army of human-turned vargar to slaughter us with no warning. Entire packs wiped from existence overnight. Bloodlines lost. From Elders to pups, no one was spared. By the time the survivors managed to destroy him and his army, our numbers had been severely depleted.

I watched my entire family perish before my eyes; shredded, bleeding, left for dead and unable to stop any of it. Now, he’s back and I’m just as helpless to stop him today as I was forty years ago. Only, the horrible, fucked up truth of it is this time, it’s by choice.

I’m the pierced one, not for all the superficial hoops, studs and barbells decorating my skin: but for the two posts of Dvergur Járn impaled in my shoulder blades. Dwarf Iron, a powerful Asgardian metal that keeps my wolf caged, unable to escape. I’m a shifter who can’t shift. A wolf trapped in a human’s body. And I asked for it. Hell, I begged for it and you don’t want to know what I endured to finally get it. But it was worth it, because my wolf is ravaged with bloodlust. He’s feral for the taste of his enemy’s screams, hell bent on retribution above all things…even love. The love of my packmates, the Elders. The bond of my Alpha Pair and worst of all…my mate.

How can I keep her safe like this? How can I help any of them, when to become whole again would mean becoming no better than the Fenrir, himself?

~ Shayd Eklund

Meet the Character | The Meddler

Call me cupid. I’m not a sap, I just like seeing my friends so deep in the well, they can’t even tell they’re sinking. It’s that moment when it finally hits them that I get the biggest thrill. And I don’t mind taking in glory only I’m aware of while standing off stage; in the shadows, no one else aware.

They call me a meddler, those friends. They don’t appreciate everything I’m doing for them, and they certainly aren’t there shaking my hand with gratitude when their worlds align with the one that takes their breath away and leaves them staggering for balance.

I’m after some of my biggest challenges to date with this lot and I don’t have much time to pull it off. One week: 8 nights and 7 days is hardly enough time to make hearts collide hard enough to create the bungee effect. Hook those anchors in, so even if they try to run, they’ll eventually come springing right back, unable to stay away. Yeah, I’ve got my work cut out for me…guess it’s a good thing I was left in charge of the guest list.

And if I pick up something a little extra for myself? That’s just for fun, no worries. Everyone knows that cupid’s only care is others, not for himself. We’re aware that love can’t love, it’s the cosmic balance of it all. But lust…yeah, he can certainly lust and I’ve got a wild horse in my sights.

As the son of an equestrian veterinarian, I’m particularly fond of the beasts and the wilder, the better. But, this isn’t about my play time, it’s about those hearts unwittingly put in my care. My bowstring is still quivering, arrows already launched. Now, I guide them with my magic touches, make sure they take hold for the big pay off.

Sometimes, my targets make it so easy it’s almost shameful to take credit, yet I’m going to anyway. Because, to them, I’ll always just be the meddler. Never mind that I could have made these matches blindfolded. Lining them up and hitting them out of the park are two different things, though. I still have a lot of nudging and okay, yeah, meddling to ensure my victory–especially with the two most stubborn targets to ever grace my sights.

People always think those who fight the hardest against love have the most to lose, but I know differently. It’s because they have the most to gain. And I’ve never met two people with more room for a whole lot of love than my favorite picks for the week’s end. I’m betting all my money on them, so they better not let me down.

I can’t afford any more gambling debts.

>>–♥–> Monsieur Louis (aka cupid)