Blog Tours

{Blog Tour} Blood Guilt by Marie Treanor




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The Book Tour is Brought to You By: Bewitching Book Tours

You Can See the Entire Tour Schedule HERE






Welcome to Mother/Gamer/Writer for the Blood Guilt Blog Tour. Today, please check out the excerpts from Blood Guilt, and get caught up in this delectably sexy vampire romance.






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The first of a new vampire romance series, a sequel to the Awakened by Blood trilogy.

Mihaela, a fearless vampire hunter secretly haunted by loneliness and childhood tragedy, finds it difficult to adjust to the new world order where vampires are not always the bad guys. She’s taking a much needed vacation in Scotland when she sees a little boy being chased through the streets of Edinburgh. Rescuing him brings bigger problems – two vampires from her past: Gavril, who killed her family; and the reclusive and troubled Maximilian, gifted Renaissance artist and one-time overlord of the most powerful undead community in the world. Maximilian once saved her life and now needs that favor returned. 

The earth moves for Mihaela in more ways than one. From Scotland to Budapest and Malta, she races against time to prevent a disastrous, vampire-induced earthquake and save an innocent yet powerful child – all while fighting a dreadful attraction to Maximilian, her only ally, whom she can’t afford to trust. For Maximilian, the hunter becomes a symbol of renewed existence, as he struggles to accept his past and rediscovers his appetite for blood and sex – and maybe even happiness.












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PG Excerpt



Mihaela sank to her knees, her stake raised for the kill. Unbidden, she remembered the vision of this vampire that haunted her dreams: his face cool and calm above hers as he efficiently staked the vampire who would undoubtedly have killed her. She remembered her own stupefaction as she’d gazed up at him amid the carnage, stunned by what he’d done and terrified as to what it meant. They’d fought on the same side in that battle to save the hunters’ library from the insane Luk’s marauding hordes of undead; but she’d never expected a vampire to trouble to save her life.


It was a debt.


You can’t afford debts to vampires. You can’t take the chance. He was here when the others were; Robbie was drawn to him, whether or not he spoke in words…


She stared down at the scored, bleeding face, still handsome with all its injuries. He wasn’t the disreputable twenty-year-old he appeared; he was a six-hundred-year-old vampire with a penchant for treachery, who’d once commanded the strongest community of undead in the world.


Of course, he’d betrayed his creator in order to do so, and when that power was finally wrested away from him by yet another vampire, he’d seemed to disappear off the face of the planet. Although no one had believed he was actually dead, neither had anyone laid eyes on him for two hundred years until he’d come out of hiding to fight, bizarrely enough, for the newly awakened Saloman. Nevertheless, he was probably still the most powerful being in the world after Saloman, his creator. If he chose to exercise that power.


But he didn’t. He’d left Saloman to come back here. Why? Escaping the world again as Elizabeth said? Or did he have other plans?


It didn’t matter. With a vampire of this caliber, this unpredictability, you didn’t take chances. For Robbie, if for no other reason, she had to kill him.


Her fingers twitched restlessly on the stake. “You saved my life, you bastard,” she muttered.


His eyes opened, almost blinding in their directness. They didn’t blink. He made a strange, choking sound in his throat, as though he were trying to laugh and was prevented by some unspeakable internal injury.


Shit. Slowly, she lowered the stake, although she kept tight hold of it. Maximilian, it seemed, had nothing to say, simply looked at her. Like Saloman’s, his deep, intense  eyes were layered with centuries of violence, murder, and pain; yet Maximilian’s were reflective rather than opaque, which made them, curiously, less scary.


Mistake. Never forget that he is scary.


Beneath her, the world seemed to shake. Not simply in her mind, this time, but in sudden, heart-stopping reality. She reached out instinctively to hold on, as a flowerpot crashed off an upper window-sill, landing barely a foot away from them.


“What the…?” She found she’d grabbed on to the barrel with one hand and the vampire’s jacket with the other, listening to odd sounds of objects falling over in the darkness, cries of surprise from inside the building and from the street beyond.


As the world stilled, Maximilian’s hand grasped her wrist like a vise. An electric charge seemed to shoot from his fingers. She whipped back the stake, staring down at him, but he was frowning, almost…anxious.


“That shouldn’t happen,” he said with strange urgency. “Not…natural.”


They were the first words he’d ever spoken to her and seemed to fit what she knew of him: impersonal and to the point. Still, although Britain was not in an earthquake zone, even here the odd minor tremor did occur from time to time. She doubted this one had been strong enough to do any real harm. Before she could tell him so, he let go of her wrist and made an odd, lurching movement, hauling himself into a sitting position.


Mihaela scooted back, raising the stake higher with more threat than serious intention, for his head lolled back against the wall.


His right arm hung uselessly by his side; his leg was still bent wrongly at the knee.


“What’s the matter with you?” Mihaela said harshly. She didn’t want to see the vampire’s pain, to feel any sympathy; not for this vampire. “Why aren’t you healing?”


For answer, he glanced down at his bloody wrists. “Not enough blood.”


She stared at the wounds in both wrists, in his neck and face. They’d bitten him, draining him to weaken him for the kill. It was a tried-and-tested method by which weaker vampires could kill a stronger enemy. They couldn’t otherwise draw enough blood from him in a single bite to drain him—even if they could get close enough and stay attached to his vein.


She swallowed. “I thought you were just drunk.”


“That too.”


“Will you be able to move from there before sunrise?”


“Oh yes.”


Defeated, because it seemed she couldn’t kill him after all, she stood up, turned her back on him, then stopped. “You’re lying, aren’t you?”


There was no sound, no movement behind her. It didn’t matter whether or not she killed him. Without blood, he wouldn’t heal, and she doubted he was strong enough to take any.




Only, the sun would come up eventually and turn him to dust.


Save her the trouble.


“Shit and shit and shit!” She spun back around.


“Tell him,” Maximilian said. “About the tremor.”


“Saloman?” she said, dropping to a crouch beside him. “You tell him. I don’t like to talk to the bastard. Are both your legs broken?”


“Only one leg.”


Though who knew in how many places. Or however many other bones. No wonder there were layers of pain in his eyes. And it would get worse.












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Adult Excerpt



She let out a cry of rage. At least she hoped it was rage. She could no longer tell the difference between anger and lust. Her whole body seethed so that it took all her effort just to lie still under him and listen to her own ragged, panting breath. At least he hadn’t yet killed her. Although he’d implied he liked to play with his food.


She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut at that thought, but to do so would give the impression of weakness, and that she refused to do. So she ignored the wild desire coursing through her, forced her throbbing body to lie still while she met his stare with defiance.


“You already saved my existence with your blood,” he murmured. “You won’t end it now.” A frown twitched between his dark brows. “Because then you’d never know…”


“Know what?” she said with as much aggression as she could muster when his long, sensitive fingers were trailing down her throat, tracing the veins with something approaching wonder. His eyes devoured her, feeding the helpless fever.


“What it would be like with me.”


For the space of a heartbeat, she couldn’t move. Then, unable to bear the humiliation of the truth he’d perceived, she lashed out, jerking and writhing under him, beating his shoulder and head with her free hand while trying to yank her captured one free. In the end, she simply lost the freedom of both, which he easily held on either side of her head while he slowly, deliberately moved his body against hers, watching her face as he brushed against her peaked, aching nipples, and dragged the ridge of his erection between her thighs and up to her pubic bone.


“You bastard,” she whispered. “You total, utter bastard.”


“I’ll make it good for you,” he promised.


“I don’t want it to be good! I don’t want it at all!”


For the first time in ages, it seemed, his eyelids drooped, and when they lifted again, he was, astoundingly, already freeing her hands. She’d won.


And still she wouldn’t know. She’d never bloody know.


With a cry, she threw herself forward, flinging her arms around his neck to hold him. Then she latched her open mouth to his.


This time, she had, she really had, taken him by surprise. His lips were cool, still, almost rigid for all of a second. Then his arms came up, closing around her, and his mouth opened and bore down.


She fell back under the force of it, although his arms cushioned her fall, and his hand under her head both protected her and held her still for the ravishing of his mouth. She’d never felt or even imagined such hunger in a man’s kiss. His cool tongue delved, tangling with hers, drawing it into his mouth so that she felt his sharp, murderous fangs, and even that drove her desire on. She sucked on his teeth, licked them, as greedy as he; she bit at his lips and writhed under him, for now that she’d begun it, she wanted it all, and she wanted it now.


He’d already pushed her jacket off her shoulders. His hands circled her throat, caressing the length of it, and separated as they glided on over her shoulders to her breasts. Even through her sweater, he must have felt the hardened peaks of her nipples under his palms. Without breaking the stunning kiss, he pushed under her sweater, shoving it up to her chin and taking her bra with it so that he could hold her naked breasts.


She moaned into his mouth, wrapping her legs around his hips, rubbing her damp, aching loins against his rigid erection.


He released her mouth. “Hunter, you kiss like a demon,” he whispered and pulled sweater and bra up over her arms and head to throw them aside before falling once more upon her mouth.


This kiss was more sensual than desperate, and it finished more quickly, though only so he could transfer his attention to her breasts. For an instant, he simply devoured them with his eyes; then he lowered his mouth to the right one and took the nipple between his lips. He rolled it a little, then began to suck, and her womb clenched with need and pleasure. His hands were on her hips, stroking her jeans while she burrowed under his tank to feel his cool, smooth skin. His whole body undulated to the caress of her fingers, and it was the sexiest, most exciting thing she’d ever known.


One of his hands pushed between their straining bodies to get at the fastening of her jeans, and she thought she would come just at the feel of his knuckles so close to the center of her need.


He might have been six hundred years old, but modern fastenings gave him no trouble. Returning to her mouth, he kissed her while he shoved both jeans and panties over her hips, raised one of her knees and pulled the jeans and underwear completely off that leg. Then he left off kissing her, reared up, and tore at the buttons of his own jeans with clear intent. His dark hair fell forward over his forehead, shadowing his face. His eyes blazed silver.


This is going too fast. I’m mad, I’m insane, and I can’t stop. I won’t stop…

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About the Author:
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Marie Treanor lives in Scotland with her eccentric husband and three much-too-smart children. Having grown bored with city life, she resides these days in a picturesque village by the sea where she is lucky enough to enjoy herself avoiding housework and writing sensual stories of paranormal romance and fantasy.

Marie Treanor has published more than twenty ebooks with small presses, (Samhain Publishing, Ellora’s Cave, Changeling Press and The Wild Rose Press), including a former Kindle bestseller, Killing JoeBlood on Silk: an Awakened by Blood novel, was her New York debut with NAL.

Find Marie:




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