The Beloved series follows the newly made vampire Alistair Leroux, through his journey through the world of the Blood; a world of vampires, myth, and magic.

The Beloved universe is vast, and Alistair’s journey is one of self-discovery. Sexual experience and exploration just happen to be a part of his odyssey.

If you’re looking for a quick fix for erotic fiction, check out my book reviews to get some ideas of what to read. But if you’re ready to immerse yourself in a rich and vibrant world of darkness, which just happens to include taboo erotic scenes, then the Beloved series is for you.

Beloved – The Blood

On September 20th, 1812, Alistair Leroux was stolen away into the forest, drained of blood, and forced to drink from the oldest and most powerful vampire alive: the Imperator of the Blood, Vadzim.

Despite having been made a prince of the Imperium, Alistair is now a prisoner. To escape captivity, he must convince the ancient emperor that he enjoys his affections.

On the advice of a voice inside his own mind, Alistair will spend his nights with Vadzim, pretending to be in the arms of the only woman he’s ever loved: his sister, Aví.


Alistair carefully raised himself up and peeked over the edge of the stone coffin like a timid cat. Vadzim regarded him without expression. Though he was on the other side of the room, Alistair’s undead eyes could see him with perfect clarity.

The beast had been made vampire around the age of fifty-four, but he looked at least ten years younger. His skin was exceptionally pale. His eyes were green and glowing, which meant he was either intoxicated or had just fed from the vein.

Alistair understood that vampires usually took the eye color of their gens, although there were exceptions, Vadzim being one. Their gens, the Nobilitas, were reborn as vampires with violet irises. For some reason, Vadzim had kept the green eyes he’d had as a human. Alistair wondered, not for the first time, if his own eyes were still ice blue.

I told you they were, Alusáterá spat. Now, sit up and talk to the man.

That’s no man, he argued.

The voice chuckled. We’ll see if you think so the next time his cock is buried in your ass. Alistair would have admonished the voice if he wasn’t frozen in fear.

“Come on then, child,” Vadzim said in Russian. Alistair wished he could go back to the time when he didn’t understand the brutish language. “I won’t hurt you.”

Without raising himself up past eye level, he replied in timid French, “Uh, you’ve actually hurt me quite a lot already.”

Gods damn it, Alistair!

The beast smiled. “Do you think so?” Alistair sunk down in the coffin, cursing his own idiocy. “Here I’d thought I was being so gentle with you. Perhaps I should be rougher tonight,” he proposed silkily, “so you can draw a better comparison.”

You’d better sit up and make this right, the voice ordered.

How do I do that?

Be nice to him. That’s what he wants. Just make it believable.

He swallowed, gathered his strength, and sat up, catching the man’s dried-leaf scent as he did. If he’d smelled the fragrance in the wild, he’d have thought it pleasant. Now, his mind associated it with death and decay; of a dead woodland before a long, dark winter.

He looked down at his naked body and said, “I’m sorry. It’s just that…” He wanted to say that he didn’t like being sodomized, but managed only, “I’m very frightened.”

“You have more than eight thousand years of knowledge in that little brain of yours. I’ve made you into a god, boy. What could you possibly have to be frightened of?”

He hadn’t thought about his vampirism that way. He’d been so busy being terrified that he hadn’t considered how unique an individual the plena memoria had made him. He now knew more about human history than any living man. He hoped he would live long enough to put that knowledge to good use.

“W-well,” he stammered, allowing himself to meet the creature’s glowing green eyes, “you’re the most frightening person I’ve ever met.” He thought Alusáterá might chide him, but the voice knew he’d found his footing. Vadzim chuckled. Even his laugh sounded evil.

“If I wanted you to fear me, I wouldn’t have made you.”

“W-why did you make me?” he wondered. Vadzim stood up and Alistair flinched, knowing he’d erred. He crouched down instinctively and trembled as the creature approached.

Calm down, Alusáterá counseled. He doesn’t want to hurt you.

He wanted to believe that, but two weeks of being brutalized had taught his body to fear the monster’s touch. As he grew near, Alistair shut his eyes and braced himself to be pulled out of the box and buggered. After a long moment of nothing happening, he looked up. Vadzim was looking down at him with an outstretched hand.

“Come out here.” Alistair gathered his willpower and took the undead creature’s cold hand in his own. He shivered with revulsion.

Don’t fuck this up, Alistair, the voice warned.

He got to his feet and stepped out of the coffin. Vadzim took a step back and scanned his naked body. Alistair felt like a piece of meat. The ancient man’s eyes lingered long on his genitals. His stomach lurched, but he did his best to push the nausea away. It came screaming back as Vadzim released his hand and gestured for him to spin around. He hoped he wouldn’t bend him over the coffin right there. He was pleased when he was allowed to turn around completely.

“Twenty-six, eh?” the monster mused.

“Yes, sir.”

“Sir?” the beast asked, smiling. Alistair felt as though the floor had fallen out from beneath him. He wasn’t sure which was more terrifying: being raped by the ancient vampire, or conversing with him. Vadzim stepped toward him. Alistair’s body tensed in fear and his mouth seeped blood; his empty stomach threatening to erupt. The monster stroked his cheek with the back of his hand. “Surely, we’re past sir?

He swallowed back blood. The last thing he needed was to vomit on an immortal emperor. He tried his best to speak evenly, but ended up stuttering in a trembling voice, “W-what would y-you prefer I call you?”

The creature grinned. “I’m your father.”

There’d been many times in Alistair’s life when he’d wished he’d had a father, both before and after Ouen had gone missing. On more than one occasion after he had, Alistair had lain awake in bed and prayed to the forest to send his father back to him. It was only after imagining a pale, dead Ouen stumbling listlessly out of the woods and up to his window, did he stop praying for it. That evening, he’d told the woods, “Never mind”.

All this time, he’d thought the forest had been deaf to his pleas. It had taken just under two decades, but the woods had finally come through, delivering to him one dead father.

He thought to quip about the irony of trading one deceased patron for another, but when he opened his mouth to speak, what emerged was, “Well, that makes our relationship a little incestuous, doesn’t it?”

Alusáterá sighed heavily. You’re such an idiot.

Vadzim took Alistair’s jaw gently in his hand and looked into his eyes. When he spoke, Alistair decided that he was in fact, an idiot. “Strange. Incest never seemed to bother you before.” In a single motion, Alistair turned away and began dry heaving.

Beloved the Series

I have an entire site dedicated to the Beloved series, which includes the appendix, and an excerpt from book two in the series: Bound.

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