Dead Camp Book 1
Sometimes the past refuses to stay buried, and sometimes it comes back to bite you in the ass.
Blurb
Eli is an ancient vampire with an ego the size of a planet and a sex drive to match, but his tumultuous past left him broken, so he hides from humanity and cowers from love, left to endure the crushing guilt that haunts his every waking moment. Even his best friend, Malachi, a ghost who is hopelessly in love with Eli, remains unaware of all that transpired in London. Malachi can never know the truth.
When the Angel Daniyyel pays an unwelcome visit, Eli must face his secrets, secrets that he has tried so long to hide. To make matters worse, a chance encounter with the most beautiful man he has ever seen shatters his beloved isolation, pushing him into the world of the living once more. Something about this strange man seems so familiar, but Eli can’t even remember who he was before he became a vampire, never mind explain the unwanted emotions the enigmatic stranger ignites in his dead heart. So Eli has a choice – return to the world that ruined him, or continue his self-imposed exile with no hope of salvation.
Kindle Edition, 238 pages
Published December 22nd, 2015 by eXtasy Books
Erotic Romance, Gay, GLBT, Historical, Horror, Paranormal, Vampire
Dead Camp Book 1 Excerpt
With a sickening wet sound, his body finally broke free of the earth. A cry of agony burst from between his perfect lips and his head fell back against my shoulder. I felt his long eyelashes brush against my neck as his eyes flickered in defiance of the blackness trying to consume him.
“Stay with me fella, stay with me, we’ll be home in a jiffy.”
Home, back to my castle, what the fuck was I thinking? I was out of my little fucking mind. I didn’t know the man. I owed him nothing. I had an Angel in my dining room and a German soldier in my dungeon and to top things off, I lived with a ghost. Yet I still wanted to take him home? No, I was intent on taking him home, I had decided that the moment I saw him.
But why, why should I get involved, why should I tread that path again, the path that could only lead to pain. It always did. And yet, as I held him in my arms I felt it, something inescapable, something that I could not understand, a stirring, a feeling, like something found when all hope of ever finding it had been forgotten. Something complicated.
A tingle of warning trickled up and down my spine making my hair stand on end. I lowered the hunk to the ground, slowly, carefully and whispered into his perfectly shaped ear. “Remain quiet.”
In a flash of lightning speed, I leapt into a tree, clinging with one hand to a thick branch while my legs wrapped around its thick girth. Someone was out there and not just Mr Fuck Me He’s Perfect. The smell of human, living heart pumping human was unmistakable, that incomparable odour carried on the wind to entice my nostrils and excite my senses, and I was dutifully excited. But there was something else there too, a feint undercurrent, an elusive aftertaste that went beyond sweat and skid-marks, an elusive scent that pricked at my memory, the smell of Demon.
I saw him then, a German soldier winding his way through the field of corpses. His uniform, a grey green feldbluse replete with bottle green collar and shoulder straps, made him almost invisible amongst the branches and the sludge. I could not see his face beneath his field cap but I could easily make out the eagle and swastika emblem embroidered on the bottle green cloth and I noted with disgust the Sturmgewehr semi-automatic rifle hanging loosely from his shoulder.
The Nazi stood barely six metres away from my injured future husband. Do not move lovely man, I said to myself, do not move and don’t make a sound and if you can, be still your beating heart, because to me it sounded like a jackhammer pounding through the forest. He was frightened and in pain. His eyes darted everywhere looking for me, desperate for me, pleading for me to drag him out of that Hell.
I saw the agony flash across his face before the sound escaped his lips. My entire body tensed. Too late, the soldier heard his pain.
He was running then, running towards my Adonis in the pit. Without hesitation, I soared through the air and landed with feline grace before him. The soldier fell backwards with a bloodcurdling scream. The rifle landed at my feet and I picked it up, rising to my full magnificent height, slowly and with purpose, relishing every moment of fear that blossomed across the soldiers white features. I snapped the weapon as easily as though it were a twig and threw the shattered weapon at his feet, watching with satisfied relish as he scrabbled backwards in the mud, his mouth curling away from his face as his terror burst from his throat.
“Demon! You are not from the camp. What are you?”
My teeth extended and my eyes flashed black. My Vampire was out. In one swift movement, barely visible to the human eye, I leapt at him, pulling him off the floor with effortless ease, lifting his flailing body high above my head. I threw him with all my might at the nearest tree. His spine snapped with an audible bang as his fragile body wrapped itself backwards around the trunk of the trembling pine, his lifeless body sliding to the ground and my stomach rumbled. Dinner was served.
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Dead Camp Book 2
It is said that the Devil is in the detail, but what if the Devil was in you?
Blurb
The world is at war, a war determined to involve Eli, whether he likes it or not. Hitler, his dark army of feral vampires, and even the Devil himself, all conspire against Eli, leaving him no choice but to fight back, risking Malachi’s soul in the process.
Eli is determined to find Ethan’s father, no matter the cost to himself or Malachi, and in a place filled with death and unending cruelty, Eli realizes that some truths should remain buried, and some truths are just too terrible to bear. When the old enemy, demons from Eli’s dark past, find him once more, they reveal a secret so impossible, so terrible, that it pushes Eli to the very edge of his endurance. They took his boyfriend from him once, and the secrets that they reveal about the man he once loved threaten to strip Eli of everything that he holds dear, pushing him to the edge of his sanity.
Eli thought that he had nothing left to lose, but at Welwelsburg Concentration Camp, he realizes that he was very wrong.
ebook, 206 pages
Published February 15th, 2016 by eXtasy books
Erotic Romance, Gay, GLBT, Historical, Horror, Paranormal, Vampire
Dead Camp Book 2 Excerpt
Three prisoners had died in my block that night, two elderly and one young man not old enough to grow pubes. It sickened me. Never, in all my years, had I witnessed such a callous waste of human life. And then to see my fellow prisoners undressing the dead, striping their cold stiff bodies before my unbelieving eyes horrified me even more, and I clung onto Jakob’s broken body for dear life. All around me the clunk of bodies against wood and concrete. My eyes tried not to see and my ears tried not to hear.
A cold clammy hand gently caressed my arm and I nearly shot off my shelf in shock. I didn’t scream. I refused to scream.
“My friend, I’m sorry, my friend, but you must undress him. The rubbish men will be here soon and you must strip him of all clothing before they take him. Please, you must do this for him—they will be less kind than you. Do you understand?”
“Why? Why must we do this?”
“His clothes are of value, my friend. They will be re-used for the next intake.”
“And what of his body, what will become of Jakob?”
“You don’t want to know, my friend.” His whispered words made every hair on my body stand on end. A sound outside caused him to return to his unsavoury task with renewed urgency. “Quickly, they are here.”
What followed felt like a dream. I had undressed many a man under many circumstances, but that was a first. Already poor Jakob stiffened, and it pained me to hear and feel his bones crack as I gently prised his pale thin body from the clothes. I whispered my apologies into his unhearing ears and I hated my eyes for glancing across his pale dead flesh.
I had to free them, all of them. That place, that death camp, it had to end.
I lifted his dead naked body into my arms. Emotion, so alien to me, invaded the shrivelled blackness that was my soul, and I knew my eyes betrayed my grief. Emotions made you weak. Emotions made you vulnerable, emotions hurt. And I was hurting. The passing of that human, that mortal man I had known for less than a day, had brought back that affliction from which I had been running from for so very long.
I had only opened my heart to the world again but for the briefest of moments. And already I felt pain.
Gideon hurt me. He made me feel unloved, unwanted, he made me feel ugly. How I would crave for his touch, how desperate I was for his love, to feel the thrill of his fingers upon my bare flesh, to feel his attraction to me, to feel wanted. But all he ever did was refuse me. Every time I tried to touch him, he turned me away. He was not in the mood, he told me to come back later.
Come back later.
But later never came.
I carried that pale body into the grey wet misery of morning. The sun was trying desperately to penetrate the thick layers of brooding clouds that clung stubbornly over the camp, but the sun was losing. Rain dripped incessantly from the skies, melting the remaining snow into a muddy slush. Grey skies, grey ground, grey people. The camp drained the colour out of everything. Welwelsburg was like me, a vampire, sucking the life out of everything it encountered, sucking away hope and dignity, leaving nothing but pale grey husks clinging to the brink of existence.
Two men stood next to a large flatbed trolley. Dead, naked bodies lay crumpled in a pile on top of the trolley, legs and arms sticking out at all angles like some grotesque starfish. I saw children amongst the corpses.
Pale white flickering figures surrounded the trolley. Insubstantial wisps of lives spent before their time. The rubbish men looked at me expectantly but I could not move for the sight of those spectral beings and I clutched Jakob’s dead body tightly to my chest, unwilling to relinquish my charge. If I put him on that trolley then he would be dead, another lump of cold meat on the pile. He deserved more than that.
The ghostly figures turned to look at me, each one knowing me, seeing me, seeing me see them. And they smiled at me. Cold shivering prickles erupted across my skin as their eyes took me in and they were such kind eyes, such trusting eyes. A figure pushed its way between them, its shadowy form brushing gently against the others as it came to stand before me.
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Dead Camp Book 3
Blurb
To understand the present, you must first understand the past.
As Wewelsburg castle burns, Eli carries Isaiah to safety. So much is lost, Malachi is gone, the Demon from Eli’s terrible past is reborn into a world already at war, and to make matters worse, Gideon is back. Yet, before Eli can even reach the sanctuary of his home, he learns a painful truth about Gideon, the truth of why he left him, and Eli can barely hold onto his own sanity. Eli quickly understands that not everything in life, or death, is black and white, and sometimes to protect the ones we love, we have to make the greatest sacrifice of all.
Something is coming. Eli can feel it, there, in the darkness, taunting him. The truth of his own mysterious identity. But the road to the truth is paved with the pain of a story that he has to hear, a story that will change his perception of history forever, a story of great love, and a story of two lovers who died to change the world. He does not want to hear it, he does not want to believe it, but if he is to understand who he was, if he is to understand why he was made Vampire, he has no choice but to listen as history unfolds before him.
With Morbius close at his heals, the truth is finally out, and Eli can either allow himself to be crushed beneath the burden of his own identity, or allow the world to be consumed by the evil knocking at his door.
Death is just the beginning - love is the end.
Dead Camp book 3 took me six months to write. It was a tough one to balance, dealing as it is with a particularly contentious period of history. I nearly chickened out. It terrified me. Even though, two years ago when I sat down and planned out the books, it was always there, this idea, this key concept that connects the entire series through to the end. Dare I do it? Dare I connect the dots? I asked so many questions during the first two books, always with the intention of answering them on book three before hurtling you through to the last two books. As I started to write it, I knew that the original concept, the original idea I had for these characters had to follow through, so with a lot of coffee and chocolate, I stuck to my guns and wrote the book that will break open this entire series.
Am I frightened of the reaction to this book? Hell yes! Many may see this as controversial, but that is not the reason I wrote it. Dead Camp 3 is about love, it’s all about love and the lengths we will go to protect and cherish that love. As the pages of this latest volume in the Dead Saga turn, I will ask you another question. What would you do for love?
It is my pleasure to present to you an exclusive excerpt from Dead Camp 3 which is only available for Divine Promotions and my wonderful friends Anders, Maggie and Ronni, who have helped me so very much to realise this tour.
When we first built the Apostolic Palace, the Cappella Magna stood an unassuming chapel of unremarkable stone and marble, but Pope Sixtus IV had a profound love for the renaissance movement, and his restoration work saw the chapel transformed with paintings of the most exquisite beauty. Botticelli, Perugini, Roselli, I met them all. Such was the profound impact of that Pope’s unrelenting search for artistic perfection that the faithful renamed the chapel in his honour, and history would forever know it as the Sistine Chapel.
Nothing, however, could compare to the genius of its most famed artist, brought to add his unique touch to the chapel in 1508 by the then Pope, Pope Julius II.
Michelangelo had a knack for making me laugh, and he turned out to be one hell of a good lover, passionate when I needed him to be, rough when I demanded it. He called me his muse, and there is much of me, or at least parts of me, scattered throughout his work. I used to stand and watch him paint for hours. I never tired of the sight of his muscles twitching beneath the fine olive skin of his arms as his brush danced across a canvas or caressed stone. He was a true Master, in every way that I needed him to be, but as with all those who crossed my path and dared to love me, I broke his heart, too.
I walked into the Sistine Chapel—the last time I would do so for many years—to the sound of whistling from the top of the huge scaffolding standing in the middle of the space. My Maestro lay up there, painting his magic onto the ceiling, creating a blaze of exquisite colour with every stroke of his brush. I smiled and climbed up the wooden structure with ease.
Michelangelo lay flat on his back, brush in one hand, and a wooden palette in the other.
“What are you so fucking cheerful about painter man?” He liked it when I called him that. It never failed to make him smirk, and he really did have one hell of a sexy smirk.
“I’m doing it, Gideon, I said I would.”
“You little fucking shit, let me see.” I crawled onto the platform and shimmied over to lie beside him. Above me, flesh already vividly realised, I saw two fingers painted with such perfection, two fingers reaching out across the void with the germ of a spark between them.
“The creation of Adam.”
I started to laugh—I really couldn’t help myself. That’s what I loved about him the most, his insane ability to make me laugh, a pleasure long forgotten in my bitter past.
“You fucking shit, why would you paint that cunt on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel?”
“Language, Gideon, what would God say?”
“Fuck God, he’s fucked me over enough, thank you very much.”
Michelangelo laughed, and I turned over and rammed my tongue down his throat, pushing my length into his open mouth until his own wet organ embraced my tongue.
“Do you kiss God with that foul mouth of yours?”
“Shut the fuck up, painter man, and answer my question.”
“Well, you see that finger there? Well that’s my finger, and originally the other finger was going to be your ass hole, but somehow I didn’t think his Holiness would approve.”
My laughter shook the platform, and I couldn’t help slapping the wood surface with my hand, it made me laugh so hard.
“Hey, muscles, do you mind? You might be immortal, but if this bloody thing collapses I’m screwed.”
I turned to face him, my handsome, rugged painter.
“Then I would have to turn you.”
“Hey, the only thing I want to see turned is your ass. Stay still, I want to try something.”
Before I could say anything, Michelangelo shimmed down the deck and started to pull my already stiffening cock from my bulging linen trousers.
“What the fuck…ahh!”
His mouth wrapped around the girth of my cock, and his tongue flicked across its throbbing head, and I brought both of my hands to grip the top of his head, ramming my length deep into his throat.
Michelangelo took my hands away from the top of his head, holding them either side of my waist as he continued to swallow me, his warm, wet mouth moving up and down my shaft in long, deliberate strokes that made me gasp. His movement began to gain momentum, his tongue frantic against my head, licking, sucking, spit running thick down my cock, but he didn’t relent as I felt my balls tighten. I tried to move my hands, to stop him from bringing me to a climax, but he held my arms firm. I could have stopped him, easily, but already I felt my cock swell, and I gave in to his insatiable hunger. With a cry, I felt my spunk shoot from my cock, filling his throat and his mouth in great pumping waves of passion until I emptied myself completely into him.
“Fuck in hell, someone was keen.”
Michelangelo shimmied back up the platform, his mouth tightly closed, and then he spat my load onto his wooden palette and began to mix it into his oil pigments. As I watched, he coated his brush and continued to paint the fresco with the spunk and paint concoction.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Adding you to my masterpiece, of course. Now you will forever be a part of this space! If I can’t have your asshole up here, I can have your semen. Now, when I am long gone, every time you walk in here, you will think of me and this moment.”
“You are off your fucking head.”
“Yeah, maybe, but you love me anyway.”
Clapping echoed around the chapel, and then a voice bellowed upwards towards me, one that I had hoped never to hear again.
“Bravo, Barbarian, nice to see that you can still entertain.”
Before the last syllable left his filthy fucking lips, I fell from the top of the platform to land at his feet.
The bastard looked good, standing there in tightly fitted black leather pants that clung to his bulge and a white see through shirt that accentuated his erect nipples. He wore thigh length black boots, and his black hair lay slicked back across his magnificent head. I never thought to see those eyes again, to feel their yellow fire burning into my soul, but there they were, fucking me over yet again.
“I must say, Gaius, eternity suits you. Looking good!”
“It’s Gideon, you prick, what the fuck are you doing here? How did you find me?” I glanced up towards the platform and saw Michelangelo looking down on us. I shook my head at him, an urgent little gesture, praying that he would stay out of the way.
“Oh don’t stress out, Gideon, your little play thing means nothing to me, though I must admit, I have always fancied having my portrait done. What do you think? My left side? I always fancied that my left side is best, don’t you?”
“How did you find me, Melek?”
“Oh please, have you forgotten who I am? Really, dear heart, you’re not exactly discreet, are you?” He brushed the side of my face with a long index finger, and I could not help but shiver at his touch. “Don’t trouble yourself, Barbarian, I’m not here for the spear, not yet.”
“Then what the fuck do you want?”
“Something has…come up, something that I thought you should see. Come with me, there is someone I would like you to meet.”
Melek led the way, and the last I saw of Michelangelo was his confused face hanging over the edge of the platform. Yet another regret to add to my long, long list. I never said goodbye.
As we walked through the marble halls of the Vatican, I felt the chill of the stone permeate my hard flesh, or it may have been the presence of that creature walking next to me.
“What the fuck is all this about Melek? Where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere where Angels fear to tread, my strapping Barbarian, to meet an old friend.”
“I’m surprised you don’t wither away in here, or that God doesn’t shit on your head from a great height.”
Melek skidded to a stop, his yellow eyes blazing into my cold flesh. That had touched a nerve.
“Have you forgotten who I was? I was an Angel once, remember?”
“Thrown out by your own father.”
“Yes,” he boomed as he stormed ahead. “And I wasn’t the only one. Keep up, Barbarian.”
I had to wonder why he chose that direction. Every bit of stone, every step, every piece of marble ransacked from Rome, I knew them all, I had helped build it, so I knew exactly where his footsteps led, towards the Apostolic Palace.
“Why are you taking me to the Stanze?”
“Patience, dear heart. I must say, it’s so nice to be back. You know, I could tell you a story or two about this place. My, the Borgia’s knew how to party! The things that went on in that…”
“Raphael is working up there.”
Melek turned and grinned. “I gave him the day off. Come on.”
WARNINGS: a little bit of gore, on page; implied rape; heartbreak; cheating; historical events that may be upsetting for some readers: Holocaust.
I am stunned. This is the author's DEBUT work and it was enchanting. From the entertainment factor of Mal and Eli bickering like an old married couple, the intensity of the mystery surrounding Eli's past as well as Ethan's father, and the incredible historical detail, there wasn't anything I didn't love about this book.
Oh, and editing? Normally, if a book has less than five notes from me about editing issues, I don't mention them unless they hugely impact my reading. This book had ONE. One tiny little slip of a comma (which are the bane of my existence, so I get it!) and that was it. I never saw anything that could count as a spelling, grammar, editing or plot mistake, slip up or accident. In a debut novel.
When it comes to POV, 1st person has never been a friend of mine. There are few books that actually write it the way that I can read it – which is falling into the story and never having a million unanswered questions about who “I” as the character am supposed to be. Because, the trap with 1st is that it's written where you're supposed to know who you are already, so there's no real introduction.
There was no need for an introduction here. Eli is perfectly clear and brilliant as a main character. Sarcastic, but deeply troubled, he's the quintessential tortured soul, with a difference. He feels sorry for himself, but only rarely; he tries not to let his failings, past or fears distract him and tries not to let anyone else see them, either. His ego is incredible; he's the kind of man who loves himself deeply and isn't ashamed of his vanity. But, at the same time, he uses it as a shield to prevent anyone from seeing the dark side of him. He's far from your typical hero. But, then, maybe he's not a hero? Maybe he's just a regular guy (vampire) who has a job to do?
Similarly, I love Malachi. He's a ghost, but he's hilarious, camp and all the other things Eli claims he is. Utilizing some seriously eloquent snark and unabashed campness, the pair together are a riot, but Malachi himself is just so adorable. I spent half the book shipping Maleli and the other half shipping Elian. Now I can't decide what I want or if I really want Gideli back. (Not that I ever saw the together, to begin with, but you know what I mean.)
The way the POV was used – primarily in Eli's 1st person, but also with extracts of Ethan, Daniyyel's POV and diary entries for Isaiah, Ethan's day – meant that we got to find out all the important things, as and when we needed to know them. Eli wasn't there for the big events, but through the eyes of other people's memories and accounts – told in 1st person, which is much less draining and less complicated than having a long explanation from them during a conversation – we get to experience them with all our senses, to make sure we don't miss the important details.
Ethan is an enigma. I know there's a big secret in his past – as there is for all the main characters, Malachi and Eli alike – but I can't wait to see how it will be discovered. Knowing that all three have huge secrets, but that Ethan is the only one opening up about his past so far, would normally have me desperate for information. But, I'm enjoying the journey and the way that the secrets are revealed too much to demand that they're spilled in a quick, unsatisfactory manner. I want to juice, the detail, the gore and the excitement. So I'll patiently wait.
For me, the genius of this book is in it's detail. From characterisation – slowly explored, with hints and suggestions or more, as well as all the characters being nicely transparent or confusing as hell – to the detail of the locations, the historical facts, the emotions and the way that the characters all interact with each other. Not only is there a lot in this book, but it all comes together seamlessly, because of the detail binding it all together in a believable way. Characters like Eddie, Vicky and Adi were an interesting twist, allowing us readers to ponder and wonder, only for the big secret to be revealed when it was all beginning to come together.
The story covers a lot of historical incidents – Queen Victoria, her grandson Prince Albert Victor, Jack the Ripper, Nazis, Jeiwsh Concentration Camps, Adolf Hitler – but it never once feels disjointed, ridiculous or fanciful. The way the events are linked, how and the way they're interlinked is the interesting part. And the bit that is so clever.
And let's not forget the most important player of all – The Devil, AKA Melek.
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For me, there was so much depth to this story that I can't believe it was contained within less than 250 pages.
It tackles some seriously hardcore issues – there is nothing light and fluffy about it. With a strong theme of the Nazis and Hitler's prejudice against the Jewish people, told through Ethan's story, and historical events that Eli has personal experience of – Jack the Ripper and Queen Victoria's reign – intense, upsetting historical crimes are explored in a way that is readable, but has the emotional impact of reverence towards the subject. Adding in Eli and Mal's naturally humour natures, these events offer a darker side to their lives and shows the horrors they've endured or are yet to endure.
Beneath the intensity, is a beautifully explored journey of self-discovery, themes of resilience and love in the face of adversity and the overwhelming need to see these characters rise from the ashes that other people have made of their lives. Somewhere along the way, I know hearts are going to be broken, but then again, this isn't the type of book (series) where everyone will get their happily ever after. It's more realistic than that.
When I read this part of the author's biography, I just knew that it was perfect. Basically, this one sentence can describe me to a tee. “My fascination with History, Religion and Conspiracy theories have, in this instance, gone hand-in-hand with my love of all things vampire, fantasy, sci-fi and horror.” Me too, Sean. Your books and I are going to be spending a lot of time together in the future.
All I can say is bravo. Bravo, Sean. You're onto a winner and I can't wait to see what else you write. Whatever it is, I'll be waiting with impatient grabby hands to get my copy.
~
Favourite Quote
“I was Atlas, carrying the agonies of the world.”
“I had an angel in my dining room and a German soldier in my dungeon, and to top things off, I lived with a ghost.”
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WARNINGS: a little bit of gore, on page; heartbreak; cheating; secrets; historical events that may be upsetting for some readers: Holocaust.
Oh, Eli!
Oh, Mal!
Gideon, you rat!
This, pretty much sums up my thoughts of book 2. I needed to read it so badly that I didn't finish until 2.30am. And then I had a total book hangover for half an hour, unable to even attempt to sleep, while wishing book 3 was available already. Because then I'd have bought it and stayed up until 6am if that was what it took to read it and find out what happens next.
And the annoying thing is that I can't tell you anything about the plot! Because it's all spoilers. Secrets, man. So, so many secrets!! And we finally get to learn some, in the heartbreaking, perfect way I imagined.
To try to articulate how I felt reading this installment of the saga that is Dead Camp, I spent half of the book crying. Poor Eli, for being so tormented and so evil that he couldn't make up his mind whether to love the humans of the world or hate them. And poor Mal, for trusting so unconditionally, when he really should have questioned everything.
Again, Melek was a troublesome, sneaky one, but I only fell more in love with him. I now very firmly ship Melmal. To the end! The way he dealt with things, carefully manipulating a really, really long game, was just genius.
The world building, once more, was spectacular. Not only did it use real events in history, but it wove them into this paranormal tale seamlessly. I cried so hard for Joseph and celebrated with even more tears when the prisoners from the camp fought back against the Nazis. Ugh. The way Sean Kerr can write emotion, can tug at your heart strings within a brutal, bloody battle scene, is just beautiful. Then I cried for Eli, because Gideon is a rat bastard.
It was a shame not to see Ethan, but I also think it was important. He wasn't strictly needed right now, though I don't doubt that he'll have a very important part to play in part 3. Daniyyel, similarly, is only in the story very shortly, but Wowee does he have a huge part!
~
In the end, this is the story of Eli, Malachi and Gideon, and how all three are intermingled in a war between Heaven and Hell, God and Melek. And how, ultimately, there are no heroes in the world. There is a world full of hatred, horror, death, lies and secrets. And there are humans, vampires, Menarche and more. But, in the end, there are only the monsters within us all.
All I can say is that I NEED book 3. NOW! Please and thank you.
~
Favourite Quote
“All humans were the same, but not all humans were Ethan.”
“You go for years without seeing a single ghost and now I was positively drowning in them.”
“Damnation was calling my name, and I deserved it.”
“I had gambled everything with a dangerous strategy. And Heaven would either stand or fall by my hand.”
Am I frightened of the reaction to this book? Hell yes! Many may see this as controversial, but that is not the reason I wrote it. Dead Camp 3 is about love, it’s all about love and the lengths we will go to protect and cherish that love. As the pages of this latest volume in the Dead Saga turn, I will ask you another question. What would you do for love?
It is my pleasure to present to you an exclusive excerpt from Dead Camp 3 which is only available for Divine Promotions and my wonderful friends Anders, Maggie and Ronni, who have helped me so very much to realise this tour.
Excerpt
When we first built the Apostolic Palace, the Cappella Magna stood an unassuming chapel of unremarkable stone and marble, but Pope Sixtus IV had a profound love for the renaissance movement, and his restoration work saw the chapel transformed with paintings of the most exquisite beauty. Botticelli, Perugini, Roselli, I met them all. Such was the profound impact of that Pope’s unrelenting search for artistic perfection that the faithful renamed the chapel in his honour, and history would forever know it as the Sistine Chapel.
Nothing, however, could compare to the genius of its most famed artist, brought to add his unique touch to the chapel in 1508 by the then Pope, Pope Julius II.
Michelangelo had a knack for making me laugh, and he turned out to be one hell of a good lover, passionate when I needed him to be, rough when I demanded it. He called me his muse, and there is much of me, or at least parts of me, scattered throughout his work. I used to stand and watch him paint for hours. I never tired of the sight of his muscles twitching beneath the fine olive skin of his arms as his brush danced across a canvas or caressed stone. He was a true Master, in every way that I needed him to be, but as with all those who crossed my path and dared to love me, I broke his heart, too.
I walked into the Sistine Chapel—the last time I would do so for many years—to the sound of whistling from the top of the huge scaffolding standing in the middle of the space. My Maestro lay up there, painting his magic onto the ceiling, creating a blaze of exquisite colour with every stroke of his brush. I smiled and climbed up the wooden structure with ease.
Michelangelo lay flat on his back, brush in one hand, and a wooden palette in the other.
“What are you so fucking cheerful about painter man?” He liked it when I called him that. It never failed to make him smirk, and he really did have one hell of a sexy smirk.
“I’m doing it, Gideon, I said I would.”
“You little fucking shit, let me see.” I crawled onto the platform and shimmied over to lie beside him. Above me, flesh already vividly realised, I saw two fingers painted with such perfection, two fingers reaching out across the void with the germ of a spark between them.
“The creation of Adam.”
I started to laugh—I really couldn’t help myself. That’s what I loved about him the most, his insane ability to make me laugh, a pleasure long forgotten in my bitter past.
“You fucking shit, why would you paint that cunt on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel?”
“Language, Gideon, what would God say?”
“Fuck God, he’s fucked me over enough, thank you very much.”
Michelangelo laughed, and I turned over and rammed my tongue down his throat, pushing my length into his open mouth until his own wet organ embraced my tongue.
“Do you kiss God with that foul mouth of yours?”
“Shut the fuck up, painter man, and answer my question.”
“Well, you see that finger there? Well that’s my finger, and originally the other finger was going to be your ass hole, but somehow I didn’t think his Holiness would approve.”
My laughter shook the platform, and I couldn’t help slapping the wood surface with my hand, it made me laugh so hard.
“Hey, muscles, do you mind? You might be immortal, but if this bloody thing collapses I’m screwed.”
I turned to face him, my handsome, rugged painter.
“Then I would have to turn you.”
“Hey, the only thing I want to see turned is your ass. Stay still, I want to try something.”
Before I could say anything, Michelangelo shimmed down the deck and started to pull my already stiffening cock from my bulging linen trousers.
“What the fuck…ahh!”
His mouth wrapped around the girth of my cock, and his tongue flicked across its throbbing head, and I brought both of my hands to grip the top of his head, ramming my length deep into his throat.
Michelangelo took my hands away from the top of his head, holding them either side of my waist as he continued to swallow me, his warm, wet mouth moving up and down my shaft in long, deliberate strokes that made me gasp. His movement began to gain momentum, his tongue frantic against my head, licking, sucking, spit running thick down my cock, but he didn’t relent as I felt my balls tighten. I tried to move my hands, to stop him from bringing me to a climax, but he held my arms firm. I could have stopped him, easily, but already I felt my cock swell, and I gave in to his insatiable hunger. With a cry, I felt my spunk shoot from my cock, filling his throat and his mouth in great pumping waves of passion until I emptied myself completely into him.
“Fuck in hell, someone was keen.”
Michelangelo shimmied back up the platform, his mouth tightly closed, and then he spat my load onto his wooden palette and began to mix it into his oil pigments. As I watched, he coated his brush and continued to paint the fresco with the spunk and paint concoction.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Adding you to my masterpiece, of course. Now you will forever be a part of this space! If I can’t have your asshole up here, I can have your semen. Now, when I am long gone, every time you walk in here, you will think of me and this moment.”
“You are off your fucking head.”
“Yeah, maybe, but you love me anyway.”
Clapping echoed around the chapel, and then a voice bellowed upwards towards me, one that I had hoped never to hear again.
“Bravo, Barbarian, nice to see that you can still entertain.”
Before the last syllable left his filthy fucking lips, I fell from the top of the platform to land at his feet.
The bastard looked good, standing there in tightly fitted black leather pants that clung to his bulge and a white see through shirt that accentuated his erect nipples. He wore thigh length black boots, and his black hair lay slicked back across his magnificent head. I never thought to see those eyes again, to feel their yellow fire burning into my soul, but there they were, fucking me over yet again.
“I must say, Gaius, eternity suits you. Looking good!”
“It’s Gideon, you prick, what the fuck are you doing here? How did you find me?” I glanced up towards the platform and saw Michelangelo looking down on us. I shook my head at him, an urgent little gesture, praying that he would stay out of the way.
“Oh don’t stress out, Gideon, your little play thing means nothing to me, though I must admit, I have always fancied having my portrait done. What do you think? My left side? I always fancied that my left side is best, don’t you?”
“How did you find me, Melek?”
“Oh please, have you forgotten who I am? Really, dear heart, you’re not exactly discreet, are you?” He brushed the side of my face with a long index finger, and I could not help but shiver at his touch. “Don’t trouble yourself, Barbarian, I’m not here for the spear, not yet.”
“Then what the fuck do you want?”
“Something has…come up, something that I thought you should see. Come with me, there is someone I would like you to meet.”
Melek led the way, and the last I saw of Michelangelo was his confused face hanging over the edge of the platform. Yet another regret to add to my long, long list. I never said goodbye.
As we walked through the marble halls of the Vatican, I felt the chill of the stone permeate my hard flesh, or it may have been the presence of that creature walking next to me.
“What the fuck is all this about Melek? Where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere where Angels fear to tread, my strapping Barbarian, to meet an old friend.”
“I’m surprised you don’t wither away in here, or that God doesn’t shit on your head from a great height.”
Melek skidded to a stop, his yellow eyes blazing into my cold flesh. That had touched a nerve.
“Have you forgotten who I was? I was an Angel once, remember?”
“Thrown out by your own father.”
“Yes,” he boomed as he stormed ahead. “And I wasn’t the only one. Keep up, Barbarian.”
I had to wonder why he chose that direction. Every bit of stone, every step, every piece of marble ransacked from Rome, I knew them all, I had helped build it, so I knew exactly where his footsteps led, towards the Apostolic Palace.
“Why are you taking me to the Stanze?”
“Patience, dear heart. I must say, it’s so nice to be back. You know, I could tell you a story or two about this place. My, the Borgia’s knew how to party! The things that went on in that…”
“Raphael is working up there.”
Melek turned and grinned. “I gave him the day off. Come on.”
Reviews by Elaine White
Book – Dead Camp #1
Author – Sean Kerr
Star rating - ★★★★★
No. of Pages – 238
Cover – Nice!
POV – 1st person (with multi-POV)
Would I read it again – Yes
Genre – LGBT, Paranormal, Historical, Religion, Nazi, Angel-Demon
WARNINGS: a little bit of gore, on page; implied rape; heartbreak; cheating; historical events that may be upsetting for some readers: Holocaust.
I am stunned. This is the author's DEBUT work and it was enchanting. From the entertainment factor of Mal and Eli bickering like an old married couple, the intensity of the mystery surrounding Eli's past as well as Ethan's father, and the incredible historical detail, there wasn't anything I didn't love about this book.
Oh, and editing? Normally, if a book has less than five notes from me about editing issues, I don't mention them unless they hugely impact my reading. This book had ONE. One tiny little slip of a comma (which are the bane of my existence, so I get it!) and that was it. I never saw anything that could count as a spelling, grammar, editing or plot mistake, slip up or accident. In a debut novel.
When it comes to POV, 1st person has never been a friend of mine. There are few books that actually write it the way that I can read it – which is falling into the story and never having a million unanswered questions about who “I” as the character am supposed to be. Because, the trap with 1st is that it's written where you're supposed to know who you are already, so there's no real introduction.
There was no need for an introduction here. Eli is perfectly clear and brilliant as a main character. Sarcastic, but deeply troubled, he's the quintessential tortured soul, with a difference. He feels sorry for himself, but only rarely; he tries not to let his failings, past or fears distract him and tries not to let anyone else see them, either. His ego is incredible; he's the kind of man who loves himself deeply and isn't ashamed of his vanity. But, at the same time, he uses it as a shield to prevent anyone from seeing the dark side of him. He's far from your typical hero. But, then, maybe he's not a hero? Maybe he's just a regular guy (vampire) who has a job to do?
Similarly, I love Malachi. He's a ghost, but he's hilarious, camp and all the other things Eli claims he is. Utilizing some seriously eloquent snark and unabashed campness, the pair together are a riot, but Malachi himself is just so adorable. I spent half the book shipping Maleli and the other half shipping Elian. Now I can't decide what I want or if I really want Gideli back. (Not that I ever saw the together, to begin with, but you know what I mean.)
The way the POV was used – primarily in Eli's 1st person, but also with extracts of Ethan, Daniyyel's POV and diary entries for Isaiah, Ethan's day – meant that we got to find out all the important things, as and when we needed to know them. Eli wasn't there for the big events, but through the eyes of other people's memories and accounts – told in 1st person, which is much less draining and less complicated than having a long explanation from them during a conversation – we get to experience them with all our senses, to make sure we don't miss the important details.
Ethan is an enigma. I know there's a big secret in his past – as there is for all the main characters, Malachi and Eli alike – but I can't wait to see how it will be discovered. Knowing that all three have huge secrets, but that Ethan is the only one opening up about his past so far, would normally have me desperate for information. But, I'm enjoying the journey and the way that the secrets are revealed too much to demand that they're spilled in a quick, unsatisfactory manner. I want to juice, the detail, the gore and the excitement. So I'll patiently wait.
For me, the genius of this book is in it's detail. From characterisation – slowly explored, with hints and suggestions or more, as well as all the characters being nicely transparent or confusing as hell – to the detail of the locations, the historical facts, the emotions and the way that the characters all interact with each other. Not only is there a lot in this book, but it all comes together seamlessly, because of the detail binding it all together in a believable way. Characters like Eddie, Vicky and Adi were an interesting twist, allowing us readers to ponder and wonder, only for the big secret to be revealed when it was all beginning to come together.
The story covers a lot of historical incidents – Queen Victoria, her grandson Prince Albert Victor, Jack the Ripper, Nazis, Jeiwsh Concentration Camps, Adolf Hitler – but it never once feels disjointed, ridiculous or fanciful. The way the events are linked, how and the way they're interlinked is the interesting part. And the bit that is so clever.
And let's not forget the most important player of all – The Devil, AKA Melek.
~
For me, there was so much depth to this story that I can't believe it was contained within less than 250 pages.
It tackles some seriously hardcore issues – there is nothing light and fluffy about it. With a strong theme of the Nazis and Hitler's prejudice against the Jewish people, told through Ethan's story, and historical events that Eli has personal experience of – Jack the Ripper and Queen Victoria's reign – intense, upsetting historical crimes are explored in a way that is readable, but has the emotional impact of reverence towards the subject. Adding in Eli and Mal's naturally humour natures, these events offer a darker side to their lives and shows the horrors they've endured or are yet to endure.
Beneath the intensity, is a beautifully explored journey of self-discovery, themes of resilience and love in the face of adversity and the overwhelming need to see these characters rise from the ashes that other people have made of their lives. Somewhere along the way, I know hearts are going to be broken, but then again, this isn't the type of book (series) where everyone will get their happily ever after. It's more realistic than that.
When I read this part of the author's biography, I just knew that it was perfect. Basically, this one sentence can describe me to a tee. “My fascination with History, Religion and Conspiracy theories have, in this instance, gone hand-in-hand with my love of all things vampire, fantasy, sci-fi and horror.” Me too, Sean. Your books and I are going to be spending a lot of time together in the future.
All I can say is bravo. Bravo, Sean. You're onto a winner and I can't wait to see what else you write. Whatever it is, I'll be waiting with impatient grabby hands to get my copy.
~
Favourite Quote
“I was Atlas, carrying the agonies of the world.”
“I had an angel in my dining room and a German soldier in my dungeon, and to top things off, I lived with a ghost.”
Book – Dead Camp #2
Author – Sean Kerr
Star rating - ★★★★★
No. of Pages – 206
Cover – Nice!
POV – 1st person (with multi-POV)
Would I read it again – Yes
Genre – LGBT, Paranormal, Historical, Religion, Nazi, Angel-Demon
WARNINGS: a little bit of gore, on page; heartbreak; cheating; secrets; historical events that may be upsetting for some readers: Holocaust.
Oh, Eli!
Oh, Mal!
Gideon, you rat!
This, pretty much sums up my thoughts of book 2. I needed to read it so badly that I didn't finish until 2.30am. And then I had a total book hangover for half an hour, unable to even attempt to sleep, while wishing book 3 was available already. Because then I'd have bought it and stayed up until 6am if that was what it took to read it and find out what happens next.
And the annoying thing is that I can't tell you anything about the plot! Because it's all spoilers. Secrets, man. So, so many secrets!! And we finally get to learn some, in the heartbreaking, perfect way I imagined.
To try to articulate how I felt reading this installment of the saga that is Dead Camp, I spent half of the book crying. Poor Eli, for being so tormented and so evil that he couldn't make up his mind whether to love the humans of the world or hate them. And poor Mal, for trusting so unconditionally, when he really should have questioned everything.
Again, Melek was a troublesome, sneaky one, but I only fell more in love with him. I now very firmly ship Melmal. To the end! The way he dealt with things, carefully manipulating a really, really long game, was just genius.
The world building, once more, was spectacular. Not only did it use real events in history, but it wove them into this paranormal tale seamlessly. I cried so hard for Joseph and celebrated with even more tears when the prisoners from the camp fought back against the Nazis. Ugh. The way Sean Kerr can write emotion, can tug at your heart strings within a brutal, bloody battle scene, is just beautiful. Then I cried for Eli, because Gideon is a rat bastard.
It was a shame not to see Ethan, but I also think it was important. He wasn't strictly needed right now, though I don't doubt that he'll have a very important part to play in part 3. Daniyyel, similarly, is only in the story very shortly, but Wowee does he have a huge part!
~
In the end, this is the story of Eli, Malachi and Gideon, and how all three are intermingled in a war between Heaven and Hell, God and Melek. And how, ultimately, there are no heroes in the world. There is a world full of hatred, horror, death, lies and secrets. And there are humans, vampires, Menarche and more. But, in the end, there are only the monsters within us all.
All I can say is that I NEED book 3. NOW! Please and thank you.
~
Favourite Quote
“All humans were the same, but not all humans were Ethan.”
“You go for years without seeing a single ghost and now I was positively drowning in them.”
“Damnation was calling my name, and I deserved it.”
“I had gambled everything with a dangerous strategy. And Heaven would either stand or fall by my hand.”
Bucket List
- Retire to Barcelona where
- I can write, surrounded by gorgeous Spanish men
- Write an episode for Doctor Who
- Write the next Alien film
- See my Dead Camp series made into a film or a Netflix series
- Go on a world cruise on a Luxury Liner
- Travel around America and Canada (there are some people there I particularly want to visit!)
- Earn enough from my writing to enable me to give up the day job.
- Share a bed with Hugh Jackman
- Be the first gay man to play the role of Norma Desmond in Andrew Lloyd Webbers Sunset Boulevard
- I want a naked house boy to attend to my every need – possibly in the shape of Hugh Jackman or Henry Cavill.
An E-Copy of Dead Camp 1
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Hi everyone, my name is Sean Kerr, and I am a 46-year-old gay man living in Cardiff, Wales, with my husband of 28 years, Derek. We have two cats, Rita and Harry, and a host of tropical fish.
By day, I am an Interior designer, and I have had a shop, Home Zone, in Cardiff with my amazing business partner Jayne, for eleven and a half years. It has, and continues to be a struggle, the recession hit a few years after we opened, and it has been challenging to say the least. I consider myself to be lucky though, because the shop pays me a wage, and I have been lucky enough to furnish my house with lovely thigs because of it, and I really do have some spectacular curtains lol.
I worked on building sites for years, and I used the money earned from that to put myself through college, specialist paint techniques etc. I trained in fine art, and then I went out and painted murals on client’s walls, and created Roman Bathrooms and fantasy, hand painted bedrooms, all the rage back in the late eighties and nineties. I then became the Interior Designer for a large DIY chain, and that is where I met Jayne, my business partner, and the rest is history.
By night I am an Author, and I am proud to be an author for Extasy Books. I currently have three books under my belt, with extasy about to release Dead Camp 3. I am also working on a secret project at the moment, something between book 3 coming out, and starting book 4 in the Dead Camp series. I love writing, so very much. It has always been my dream, and the wonderful Extasy Books has made my dream come true, and it is a world that I am totally in love with, and I hope to be a part of for a very long time to come.
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Wow. first of all thank you so much for hosting me today, but most of all thank you so very much for the stunning reviews. your words really touched me, and i am so grateful to you for your kindness xxxx
ReplyDeleteWow! Wow! WoW! Those reviews would have to be by far the best I have ever read. You have captured the essence of the books Elaine but most of all you understood the brilliance of Sean's writing. Now a big fan of yours. Already Sean's number one fan so I totally agree with every word you have written. And you Sean, I am so absolutely enamoured with your books, now, if you could slap someone real hard to get Book 3 onto the market I would very much appreciate it.
ReplyDeletebless you my amazing friend! i am so lucky to have you in my heart every day, and i bless the day we met. yours always Maggie, always xxxx
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