Blood Betrayal ButtonBlood Betrayal
Book 1 in The Primigenio Tales

Alison Beightol

Genre: Paranormal Romance/Dark fantasy

Publisher: Charles River Press/ Cambridge Press US

EBook ISBN 13: 978-1-936185-83-2

Paperback ISBN 13: 978-1-936185-82-5

Number of pages: 384

Word Count: 98,000

Cover Artist: Laurie Mc Adams

Book Description:

Being the world’s oldest vampire, Eamon Rutherford has enjoyed women throughout the ages as beautiful meals and one night stands. That is until Eamon decides to find a mate and settle down. His less-than-perfect choice is temperamental ballerina Lauryl Mellis. When Lauryl escapes from him in London, Eamon discovers that true commitment requires him to love another more than himself. As he struggles with his inner awakening and Lauryl’s rejection, Lauryl is busy planning her own special event, which might include the death of Eamon Rutherford.

Amazon    BN

About the Author: 

Alison Beightol works as a registered nurse but also studied history and theatre at the University of Florida. For as long as she can remember, she has had an affinity for vampire stories, romance, and gothic tales that keep her up at night.  Blood Betrayal: Book One of the Primigenio Tales is her first novel. Alison lives in a haunted house in rural north Florida where she is putting the final touches on book two of the Primigenio Tales: Blood of New Beginnings.


The Silly Thing Didn’t Realize She Was Going To Be Late Night Meal

Who to eat, Eamon thought as he studied the capacity crowd of the Marion Oliver McCaw Hall. The marker of another vampire, a much younger vampire, in the audience caught his attention. The mystery vampire’s energy had a quiet dignity intertwined in it. The marker intrigued him and he scanned the audience with greater intensity. His Blackberry vibrated in his pocket, distracting him before he could identify him or her. He looked down at his phone.


That dancer, what do you see in her? There are plenty like her here, the text message read.

Eamon put the phone back in his pocket without responding. “That dancer” was

the reason he delayed his return to New York .There were not any others like her.

Lauryl Mellis had been the pride and problem of the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis School

of Dance at the American Ballet Theatre. Once at a cocktail benefit, the student dancers were selling signed dance shoes of some of the school’s notable graduates. Lauryl asked

one patron in her Georgia twang, why he wanted a smelly shoe and did he plan on

“jizzing” in it when he got home? Her dismissive attitude and scorn of the patrons

amused Eamon but not the elite school. The powers that be often bent the rules for her,

giving her chance after chance because of her talent.

Her talent and what he had seen of her stormy personality was magnetic. She

would back up whatever insult or harangue with a lovely smile or a toss of her auburn

hair. He enjoyed her from a distance, though. He’d never missed a performance or

fundraiser, but never approached her or introduced himself. She was young, still in her

teens, so he waited. Then he had lost track of her. But to his good fortune, here she was on tour in Seattle.

Eamon studied the crowd a few more minutes and then flipped through the stage

bill. He passed ads, the story synopsis for the ballet, and then found what he was looking for, Lauryl’s picture. Gone was the teen he remembered. Instead, he saw a radiant, young

woman with a dazzling smile and bright eyes. Eamon’s interest increased sharply.

The phone in his pocket vibrated again. It was Irina but he saw no need to

acknowledge his former companion. He looked back at the picture of Lauryl. The change

was remarkable. She was stunning. The idea of a dancer for a companion intrigued him.

All of that beauty and grace amplified as a vampire. It was a perfect combination. The

image lingered in his mind for a moment and then the framework of a plan materialized.

How much of her adolescent, edgy personality remained after dancing professionally for the past six years? Had she outgrown that or had she at least learned to temper it? After the performance, he’d find out.

The house lights dimmed and Eamon closed his stage bill. He tossed it onto the empty seat next to him in the box and waited as the orchestra tuned up. The cacophony of instruments merged together into a more harmonic air but the familiar sensation of a woman studying him turned his gaze back to the audience.

A young woman with light brown hair watched him. She rubbed her hand over

her thigh and crossed her legs. The slit in her skirt revealed a tantalizing preview of her

legs. Eamon followed the line of her legs back up to her ample breasts. Her body

reinforced the silent invitation in her expression. He nodded acceptance of her naive

request. The silly thing didn’t realize she was going to be a late night meal.


It took more time than Eamon expected to work his way through the backstage crowd. He stopped twice to speak with business acquaintances but soon found himself outside of Lauryl’s dressing room or as close as he could get. A throng of her admirers blocked the entry. The ones that couldn’t fit in her dressing room hovered around the doorway, waiting for their opportunity to enter. He stood for a moment with the crowd but became bored after few minutes. He looked at the mass of people and focused on their collective thoughts.

Leave, he told them silently. One by one, they filed away and he entered the dressing room. Other dancers, all drinking champagne and chattering, surrounded Lauryl.

She was seated in a chair with a blanket over her shoulders and a champagne bottle tucked between her thighs. Eamon could smell blood and his eyes tracked down to a bucket of ice water that her feet were soaking in. He looked at the bucket a moment longer and then at her face. She was lovely, even lovelier than in the program picture by far.

Her pale skin was flushed pink and her green eyes sparkled with excitement. Her full lips turned in a smile for one of the dancers before she waved at them. The mass of curly, red hair he remembered was scraped back in a tight bun. She laughed at something a dancer whispered to her and she pulled the pins holding her hair back out. Auburn curls dropped down and framed her face. Eamon smiled inwardly and took a few steps toward her.

“Lauryl Mellis,” he said as he extended his hand to her. “It’s such an honor to meet you.”

Lauryl turned to him and her expression changed. Her smile withered and her eyes narrowed as the happiness disappeared from them. She took his hand like it was covered in filth and shook it. “Thanks.”

Her boredom with him was apparent but he continued on, intrigued. “I’ve followed you since you were a student at ABT. Your talent has certainly blossomed, as well as your beauty.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, thanks again.”

“You’re welcome.”

Suddenly he sensed that he was just like the school patrons that she scorned back in New York. He bristled slightly but his expression didn’t change. As he looked into her eyes, the irritation he felt faded into amusement. He’d play along with her. Besides, the delicious aroma of her blood continued to drift up from the bucket of ice in front of him. Lauryl pulled her hand away and continued to look at him with the same disinterested expression. She even intensified her dismissive stare. He knew that she wanted him to leave, which fascinated him. It also excited him because this  was a first for him. Never had a woman reacted that way to him. He concentrated on her thoughts for a moment. She thought he was a rich asshole looking to get laid.

A dancer kissed Lauryl’s cheeks and hugged her. Then Lauryl shifted in the chair. She looked at him and then looked at the door.

Eamon almost laughed. A not so subtle hint, he thought. He’d comply. After all, he had the young woman from the audience waiting for him. “I just wanted to tell you how talented and beautiful you are. Thank you for the engaging conversation.” Eamon bowed his head some and smiled.

Lauryl’s green eyes blazed angry. “I’ll remember it always.”

“So will I,” Eamon said before he walked out.