Blog Tour: The Veil of Blood and Magic by Jade Presley

Desire has a thousand different flavors, just like blood, and I need both to survive.

The Veil of Blood and Magic, a Witcher meets True Blood steamy why-choose romantasy set in a rich fantasy world filled with magic, desire, betrayal, and passion from bestselling author Jade Presley is now available!

Desire has a thousand different flavors, just like blood, and I need both to survive. And when everyone who uncovers my secret wants me dead, it’s all I can do to stay alive.

I’ve spent the last decade biding my time until I can do what I’ve dreamed about since my family was brutally murdered…

Kill the Collector and everyone he holds dear.

He’s a ruthless tyrant who overthrew a kingdom. No one is safe from him or his soldiers, who murder anyone he points his gilded finger at.

With an ailment that’s counting down my heartbeats until it stops completely, I have to make the most of every single day, even while on the run. I have fun where I can, but I never let anyone know the real me. It’s not safe.

But it’s a lonely life to live. And I’m tired of running.

When a pair of drifters—monster bounty hunters—find me, I decide to let them catch me.

It’s the only way I’ll get close enough to kill the monster who destroyed my life.

The drifters are nothing more than a means to an end, but I can’t deny that their blood is addictive. The more time we spend on the road, the more I realize they aren’t what they seem, and I hate myself for growing attached to my captors.

But if they discover my secret, they’ll kill me.

And dying isn’t part of the plan.

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Livana

Desire has a thousand different flavors, just like blood, and I need both of them to survive.

Which makes The Red Lion the perfect place to stock up.

Riverthorne sits in the southern, almost desolate landlocked portion of the continent, but its lone tavern is one of the nicer establishments I’ve worked at over the past few years.

The Red Lion is discreet, organized, and has a no-discrimination policy—any being can work or partake here, as long as they don’t draw attention to themselves. The last thing businesses across the continent need is the Collector’s attention, but that doesn’t mean they’ll turn away good workers or paying customers, even though royal decree demands it.

The owner, Aruk, hired me three weeks ago. I usually don’t stay anywhere longer than two weeks, but against my better judgment, I’ve gotten comfortable here. He’s stern—I’m pretty sure he’s at least a quarter goblin thanks to the obsessive way he counts the tills every night—but he runs a clean place.

I mean, as clean as a pleasure tavern can be run, and I’ve worked at more than my fair share of shitholes. But he employs a healthy amount of half-bloods as bodyguards, centaurs and phoenixes alike, and their inherent strength goes a long way when mortals get in over their heads and cross lines that are in place for everyone’s safety.

“You better get up on that stage, girl,” Aruk calls to me from his position behind the wide, worn ebony bar.

He pours a few drinks for the smattering of patrons crowding the space—most are mortals, already half-drunk and ogling the other dancers on the stage.

“It’s good to draw out the anticipation,” I say, squeezing through a couple males until I can lean over the bar and grab a shot of whiskey that Aruk has ready for me. I throw back the amber liquid, licking a few stray drops off my red-painted lips. “Or do you like to just dive right in and get to the good stuff?” I tease Aruk, who’s gotten used to my antics, but that doesn’t mean he likes them.

“Money is what I like to dive right into,” he says. “Get a move on.”

I wink at him as I shift to the right, my body grazing the shoulder of one of the males I’d squeezed through. At the contact, a powerful shot of spice blooms on the back of my tongue—a mixture of nutmeg, ginger, and cinnamon. His desire pulses in flavorful light waves as our eyes meet.

He’s gorgeous, with rich black skin stretched over tons of perfectly sculpted muscles, all visible beneath the tight black shirt he wears, a distressed leather vest over it. His eyes are a dark teal with a touch of pure mischief that matches the taste of his desire, and there’s real power in them…he’s not mortal after all.

“Excuse me,” I say, a fake apology as I bat my eyelashes at him. Normally I’d press on and hop on stage like Aruk told me to, but this one tastes too damn good.

“You’re excused,” he says, his voice a mix of confidence and jest. It’s like liquid velvet, and I eye the guitar strapped to his back before glancing over his full lips, which are turned up in a smirk.

“A bard?” I ask, wondering if Aruk hired him to play. I wouldn’t mind bumping into him after tonight’s shift. I bet his blood tastes just as good as the lust pouring off of him. His pulse spikes when I bite my lip while I wait for his answer. Goddess, this one looks like a good time if I’ve ever seen one.

And it’s been ages since I’ve had a good time.

Feeding off the desire of those who watch me dance is one thing, but actually feeding off of it while having sex is a whole other thing entirely.

A dangerous one.

So why am I still standing here?