The Nightlife: London by Travis Luedke
Series: The Nightlife #4
Source: Review by Request
Copy Provided by the Author
My Rating: 4.5 of 5 Stars
Vampires Aaron and Michelle prowl the dark, gritty, strip clubs and back alleys of London on the hunt for Michael Jamison, the man who stole Michelle’s blood and left her for dead. To assist them, Aaron’s new master, Urvashi, calls in favors from her friends, Russian mercenary werewolves.
Wolves Katya and Ivan, hunters adept at killing rogue vampires, set aside their animosity for Aaron and Michelle to stop Jamison from killing again – he already has one bloodless victim lying in the morgue.
Jamison, ex-special forces, feels his enemies closing in, but he won’t go down without a fight – and like Aaron and Michelle, he also has powerful friends.
Experience the violent, sensual underbelly of Nightlife London, as Aaron and Michelle mix up a wicked blend of sex, chaos, and mayhem.
The Nightlife hits London!
Cockneys, Cartels, & Contract Killers, Oh My!
Death is not neat or pretty, but it can be fun.
New Characters, New Species, New Dangers…
Aaron and Michelle are magnets for calamity, but their blood-soaked misadventures produce highly entertaining stories!
The previous book introduced two new characters/obstacles for the deadly duo:
1. Urvashi the Fallen Angel who now has Aaron under control and doing her bidding.
2. Michael Jamison who stole Michelle’s blood in order to turn himself into a Vampire.
Urvashi sent Aaron and Michelle on an important mission – Take down Michael Jamison before he murders half of London in his blood lust. The idiot newbie vampire has been draining his victims in back-alleys and now the human police are after him.
Aaron considered the ugly truth: there are some people that cannot be saved, no matter what you do.
Aaron is turning into quite the badass. He might not have as much experience navigating the nightlife as other creatures we’ve come across in this series, but he is proving to be just as deadly as anyone else.
Trouble seems to find the poor guy no matter what, but he’s always trying to be the good guy in any situation… You know… the murdery, drink your blood, probably going to fuck you in the back room of a strip-club good guy…
Aaron has no choice but to follow Urvashi’s orders to London. He basically swapped one master for another when he fed from the Fallen Angel in Paris. He might not have appreciated Michelle’s hold over him, but at least he was able to take comfort in the fact that she loved him.
Urvashi, on the other hand, is a scheming, secretive, manipulative, succubus who has been playing puppet master for longer than recorded history… She and Michelle are a deadly supernatural cat-fight just waiting to happen.
Michelle de Mornac
She had carved her way through the nightlife for over seventy years, alone, with nothing more than her wits and sex appeal.
Michelle would rather remove Urvashi’s head from her perfectly formed body than do her bidding… However, Michelle will follow Aaron to the end of the Earth… She has her own score to settle with Michael Jamison. Killing him would be her absolute pleasure.
Urvashi doesn’t just want Aaron and Michelle to kill the bastard, she insists that they team up with some of her associates to do it…
Russian-born werewolves living in London. This pair of deadly best friends likes to hunt rogue vampires for fun…
“I’ll take all those pretty teeth right out of your face with a nine millimeter scalpel! You fucking tosser! Touch me again and I’ll kill you!”
Katya would love to kill every leech on the planet. She is not at all happy at the idea of working side-by-side with a couple of Vampires. There’s no love lost between vampires and werewolves in general, and Katya has personal reasons for loathing the entire population of blood-sucking bastards.
Her partner Ivan is a vodka-soaked barrel of laughs most of the time, but even he is weary about joining forces with two Vampires.
Turns out, they had a bit of a run-in with Michelle a few decades ago… and they know how to hold a grudge.
Searching for Michael Jamison in London is like looking for a needle in a psychotic haystack. The team must work together to track down and kill Michael Jamison in a city filled with cartels, drug-runners, sex-traders, idiot strippers, and who knows what else lurking in back alleys…
Can they work together to take down a common enemy, or will they kill each other first?
“Fifty quid for a blow, a hundred for a fuck, but for one-twenty I’ll take it in the bum.” The topless dancer shimmied up onto his lap and pushed her warm, full breasts in Aaron’s face. He remembered reading somewhere that British girls supposedly have larger than average breasts. This girl lent some credibility to the theory.
Seated near the raised platform and stripper pole in The Rocking Horse strip club in Soho, London, Aaron was truly enjoying his evening. Then she got serious, planting her hot crotch on the lump in his pants and grinding like a curved chalk atop a pool cue stick.
It had been too long since his last feeding. Her blood-filled flesh awoke the hunger he had denied for three nights straight. His mouth filled with razor-edged teeth, aching to be buried in her lush, generous breasts. She pressed her left breast to his lips, serving herself up, a hot ready meal.
His tongue flickered out and pulled her nipple in between his waiting teeth. Her quickening pulse pounded through the warm flesh in his mouth as her nipple grew rigid.
God, I want to bite her. It’ll hurt for only a few seconds.
His teeth dug into her sensitive flesh, deep enough to draw blood. Luckily, her DD tits were one hundred percent real, no silicone. Never knew for sure without a taste test.
The strength of his grip on her ass, and the wondrous euphoria of his venom coursing through her blood stream, prevented her from pulling away from the sting of his needle-sharp teeth. “Bloody hell! That hurts!” She squirmed, but tugging only hurt more, and he wasn’t letting go.
Her complaints turned to moans of pleasure. Her fingers curled into his hair and sealed his mouth tight against her chest. She ground her crotch on his leg, humping and groaning through her peak.
As she quivered in orgasm on his lap, he released his bite. One minute precisely, not a second more. “Shit and butter me muffin.” She humped on him for a few more seconds, wetting the crotch of his black wool slacks with her juices.
Michelle slid up beside them and slipped her arms around Aaron. She purred into his ear. “Information. Remember? We need information.”
Impatient brat. “It’s been three nights. I have to feed.” Michelle let go and Aaron stood with the stripper in his arms, his hands clamped possessively around her firm ass.
The curvy woman trapped in his arms, clad in nothing more than fishing line panties, complained. “I’m not a bloody steak! You owe me twenty. Unless you want a suckoff?”
Aaron eyed her warily, but decided to play her game. “Twenty? For five minutes?”
She nodded with a glazed, warm smile.
He squeezed her ass and whispered in her ear. “I’ll make it fifty if you answer some questions.”
“Is that all you need?” She leaned up against him and whispered, “Don’t know whatcha missin’. I’ll swallow yer tackle whole.”
Michelle glanced towards the strip club security guards then back at him, a look of warning in her eyes. “Better be quick. We are gathering attention.”
“Let’s take it in the back.” Aaron nodded towards the hallway leading to a shadowy area with a series of curtained-off dancing rooms.
“Fifty pounds. But no more than a few questions, maybe a suck-off. And no more biting!” The stripper pointed towards the back hallway like a cop directing traffic.
Far stronger than he looked, Aaron carried her in his arms without so much as a grunt. She waved the security guards off, and a couple guys seated near the hallway hooted encouragement as Aaron walked past. “Give her the business! Get your money’s worth.”
He knew the woman in his arms would gladly give him all the business he wanted. The scent of her arousal flooded his nostrils. As he flowed through her thoughts with his telepathic probe, he found her aroused and eager. She was one argument away from giving it up for free and offering to let him stay in her room overnight. Some of these London strip clubs doubled as whore-houses.
Cock painfully hard, stripper in a G-string humping on the crotch of his pants as he carried her into the shadowy bowels of the club, his priorities began to shift around.
Information. Concentrate on information.
Beyond the curtain, the black lights cast an eerie pallor on the black upholstered bench in the booth. She tugged the fabric closed and tied it off for the illusion of privacy. Secure in their burgundy velvet curtained chamber, Aaron sat down and held her spread eagle on his lap. “Okay, listen. I’m looking for a man who might have been here in the past three weeks.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t have the parts yer lookin’ for.” She rubbed her parts on his spiked erection, hitting his point while demonstrating hers.
“I’m not looking for your lovely parts.” He licked a spot of blood off her breast and suppressed the temptation to bite the other one. That would be dangerous. Overfeeding led to certain … complications. “I need to pick your brain.”
He pulled a photo from his jacket pocket and showed her. “Have you seen him before? He’s an American, goes by the name of Mike or Michael or even Jamison.”
Three weeks they had been looking for Michael Jamison, the man who stole Michelle’s blood and left her for dead.
Having ingested her blood, he survived a changed man, now a vampire.
While the stripper glanced at Jamison’s photo, she ground her wet mound back and forth over the tip of his tented crotch, an agonizing semicircular massage. “Nope. Don’t know him. Wish I could be of more help.” She worked herself back up to another orgasm.
He crept through her mind, adept at hiding his presence in her thoughts. The key to this game was asking the right questions to bring forth the answers he needed. Janette was her name. Janette didn’t recognize the photo. The man who flashed through her mind was one of her Albanian bosses, Reza. He had bragged to her of a stupid Yank who recently bought an Uzi. The Yank’s name was Mick or perhaps Mike.
Aaron grinned as Janette worked him over. “Ah, but you have been helpful.” He wondered why a man with black market dealings worthy of a prison sentence would tell this woman his secrets.
Janette shuddered with another wet orgasm, humping through her finish. She smiled wide and then slid off his lap between his legs. “Let me serve yer right quick. It’s only fair.” Though he needed to know more, he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt her when she unzipped him. “Bollocks – I haven’t seen a prick that big in ages!” She appreciated his size with a smile, and then skillfully swallowed his cock whole.
Aaron threw his head back. The girl knew her business.
Lips, tongue, hard suction, and a then a little nibbling on the very tip of his cock – she had him going. Stroking, pumping her hand up and down his shaft, she sucked hard, and then went all the way to his balls, deep throat. In a shuddering moan, he unloaded into her hot suction. She earned her money, coaxing every drop she could take.
And she swallowed, a true fellatio artisan.
She wiped her mouth off with an absorbent towel conveniently placed atop the back of the seat, and then cleaned him and zipped him up tidy. “There you go, pipes cleaned.” She smiled her lips wet-swollen, and held out her hand for her money.
With a sigh and a lazy groan, he held her gaze. “But what about Reza? We need to talk about him for a minute.”
“How did you –” She gasped and tried to stand, but he shoved her back down to her knees, her face in his crotch.
“Wait a minute, Janette, we’re not finished. You like your clients to leave happy, don’t you?”
“Are you with ruddy Interpol? How’d you know my name? What’d that wanker tell yer?” Her mind exploded with possibilities, zinging off in all directions. She knew of Reza’s illicit dealings in drugs and guns. His whole family was involved, trading back and forth from Albania to all parts of Europe and right here in London.
“Calm down, I don’t work for the police. I just need to know about Mike, the Yank. I need to know everything Reza told you about the Yank.”
“Lord, ye’ll have me killed. You don’t wanna mess with ‘em, not a pretty boy like you.” A common mistake people made. Aaron’s young, pale skin belied a nasty truth. Few suspected that this slim, dark-haired, mild-mannered man disguised a lethal killer capable of slaughter.
But Aaron chose not to be defined by the monster within – most of the time.
“I promise I will not tell a soul. I just need to know.” His words sparked a repeat of the same cocaine-hazy recollection in Janette’s mind: Reza bragging about selling an over-priced fully automatic Uzi. Nothing new.
Shit. Have to talk to Reza directly.
“I told ya, it’s just Reza’s mouth flappin’. He loves to talk while I’m on me knees. He took the Yank for a ride. Charged him two thousand smackers, triple what the gun was worth.”
The fear in her eyes reflected Janette’s grisly thoughts of what Reza might do to her if he found out she’d spoken of him.
“I understand.” He hugged her close. “But you know where Reza lives, don’t you?”
She started to shake in his arms. “I can’t …”
“Shush. It’s alright. You don’t have to say it.” She had already said enough in her unspoken fears. Reza was one of many bosses who frequented her bed, part of the family that owned the club. It was all one big tangled mess of prostitution, drugs, and gun running.
She stood up, avoiding his eyes. “I’ll take me pay now.”
He handed her a fifty pound note and followed her out to the front. Michelle approached looking hopeful. She slid under his arm and whispered, “Une bonne nouvelle?”
“Yes, I have good news. We need to talk to Urvashi.”
Michelle squinted at him. Though Michelle and Urvashi weren’t trying to kill each other – yet – the ladies hadn’t meshed together well.
Aaron had once allowed himself to believe he was untouchable, that no human could best him. As a telepath, faster and stronger than any man, who could possibly threaten him? A man with a gun, that’s who. His overconfidence led to mayhem and chaos in Las Vegas. His foolish pride led to the death and mutilation of his newly wed wife, Anastasia. And yet again, in Paris, a man with a gun had turned his world inside out and upside down.
Michelle was lucky to be standing. She should have died. She had died.
Mistakes. Aaron had made a lot of mistakes in the short time he’d been a vampire. But biting Urvashi, a fallen angel, was perhaps the most ridiculous thing he’d ever done.
The full consequences were still unfolding, and Michelle had grown increasingly agitated over the situation.
“We don’t need her for anything.” she spat venomously. She hated the fact that Aaron had to answer to Urvashi.
His eyes slanted to the shadows. Two Albanian thugs were watching them. Definitely time to go. Aaron ushered Michelle out the door.
“Look, this is another one of those Vegas situations. It’s messy, complicated.” He wished he still had his intimate psychic bond to Michelle. It would simplify the complexities of this moment. Sadly, that link had been broken in Paris. “We need Urvashi’s connections here. But, the good news is, we have our first lead.”
About the Author
Travis Luedke is a NY Times & USA Today bestselling author of urban fantasy, scifi, and paranormal romance, best known for his violently sexy NIGHTLIFE SERIES. Travis can be found catching a third degree sunburn in San Antonio, Texas, while plotting world domination through erotic paranormal badassary.
As the author of the Nightlife Series novels, Travis lives very vicariously through his writings. He invites you to enjoy his macabre flights of fancy, but be warned: The Nightlife Series is violent, sexy, and occasionally violently sexy.