Friday, June 2, 2017

Chapter 2 of Book 1 of 3 as a sample read

Chapter 2

Bekka walked slowly to Andale’s, trying to stay cool and dry in the oppressive humid heat of Puerto Vallarta. Her light blue cotton dress clung to her skin, and her red hair reverted to its natural curls even though she had straightened it less than two hours earlier. She wondered, not for the first time that day, why she had left the perfect weather of the Baja to meet a man who had only recently contacted her on line at It was a decision she had made on a whim, without too much thought, because she realized long ago that she wouldn’t do anything, much less anything fun, if she thought too much about it. 
She had driven for six long, glorious days across the top of the Sea of Cortez and down the Pacific coast. Her friends in the Baja, ever fearful of roadside banditry and narco-violence, asked her to check in with them every night. Their concern was sweet but made her laugh out loud; they made it seem as though she were a reporter going into a war zone when, in fact, she was happily listening to the blues, driving on smooth roads past beautiful vistas yet to be experienced.
On the last day of the trip, she almost wished that some bandit would stop her. That, at least, would be an adventure. Bekka wasn’t afraid of much; she loved the freedom of the road and the way her little, red car raced along it. She did take the standard precautions that one takes while driving in Mexico: She used the toll roads, programmed her cellphone with the number for the “Green Angels” and other emergency services, kept the phone available instead of somewhere in the bottom of her purse, and traveled during the day when criminals were still at home recovering from the criminal things they had no doubt done the night before. Their recovery probably included spicy micheladas and shrimp.
Some rules of the road were partially her own: to keep her lipstick fresh and her hair brushed in case she met a handsome man along the way, to make time to explore new places, and to smell the roses.
By the time she reached Andale’s, it was already crowded with students on spring break who were dancing and laughing and shouting and acting like idiots. She stood at the door for a moment, where the cool air from the air conditioners streamed into the street and let the breeze blow her hair and dry her dress. The resident donkey standing next to the door nudged her arm for a pet and a beer. 
For some obscure reason, tourist towns had long ago adopted the practice of giving beer to donkeys, like you would give a bone to a dog. “I suppose beer is made from grains and such things that donkeys eat,” she thought and gave the donkey a pet, promised it a beer, and stepped into the bar.
Demetrio saw her immediately through the thick crowd of dancers. He looked at her red curls falling around her shoulders, and then he saw her face. His gaze lingered slowly over her white skin, damp with perspiration, and then fell to her figure outlined by the street lights behind her. Her figure was perfect a sculpture of Aphrodite come to life before his very eyes. As he stared at her, his throat constricted, and his heart quickened, almost violently; he could hear the blood rushing through his ears. 
He looked away for a moment to collect himself, but his eyes declared open rebellion against his brain and immediately returned to drink in the vision of the woman at the door. He could not take his eyes off her. He was surprised by his reaction and a bit dismayed that his body –  his heart and rushing blood and his eyes and his manhood – were ignoring him. There was no way he could run to sweep her off her feet while in this condition his loose pants were now too tight, and it seemed his traitorous body could no longer be trusted. He searched his long memory for some similar experience. No, at least not beyond vicarious experience through literature. 
Well, perhaps once, perhaps such a thing had happened to him once, in the early 1800’s, but that was a different type of thing shy and awkward and tender and controllable. These feelings, born less than one minute prior, were wonderful and frightening and surprising. He unfortunately no longer met with new experiences, even when he tried. 
In the previous two centuries, he had felt lust less than a handful of times and never to such a degree that he would take action. But this was not lust happening here right now, not lust as he had experienced it. It was something far deeper. Most women he had met on his website were older and heavier than their profiles indicated and uglier than their pictures. But appearances never much mattered he cared only to feast a bit on their blood and never see them again. This woman, he thought, would be hard to forget. 
Bekka saw him immediately and was pleased by the hungry look on his face. She fixed her attention on his piercing eyes eyes that saw into her soul. She mistook his gaze for lust and swayed in the doorway, teasing him, hoping that the light from the street behind her lit her hair like flames and that the breeze blowing around her dress revealed her figure to its best advantage. She pretended that she didn’t notice him and started dancing to the music as she walked to the bar, slowly moving her hips to the tempo and running her hands through her flowing hair.
She thought him very handsome and exotic with his long silver hair and dark skin. She ordered a glass of white wine and waited.  
As he rose and walked toward her, she noticed that he carried himself like an aristocrat, like a man accustomed to giving orders. “Maybe he was a soldier,” she thought, “some dashing captain giving orders on the battlefield, or a boxer, or maybe he just does yoga.”
His tall, lithe body fit well into his tight black pants, and the turquoise silk shirt molded itself to his muscular chest. She mentally took stock of him as he walked towards her. “Muscular,” she thought, “but not grotesquely so, not like a prison inmate. He’s graceful and sure of himself. I bet women have spoiled him forever. Hell, I would spoil him if I got the chance. I want that chance. I need that chance. “Wow,” she chided herself, “that was a random, crazy thought.”
As he crossed the dance floor, she walked slowly toward him. They were drawn to each other, he by blood and curiosity, and she by sheer chemistry. She loved the sport of courtship and considered herself a serial dater a dangerous serial dater wanted by many. New sex and relationships were always exciting until she bored of her catch and threw him back into the big pond.
She liked excitement, not habit, and she took a selfish pleasure in knowing that when she was finished with a man, he would always want her back and would always compare his future lovers to her. At least, that’s how things had gone for her in the past. Knowing that pattern did not make her a bitch. Acting like she knew it did. It was a fine line. She’d always had trouble with lines.
As they stood together, he put his hand out and pulled her close to his body. They danced together as if they had done so for years, moving in perfect, graceful unison. People began to make room for them on the dance floor. Soon, all of the dancers became spectators, watching them, wishing that they had the kind of magic this couple possessed. Were they on a honeymoon or newly in love? They complemented each other in their movements as though they had been together forever.
Bekka felt that dancing was like having sex in public, and she was aroused knowing that all eyes were on them and knowing what they were thinking.
Suddenly, he pulled her even closer and lowered his head toward her face, as if in prayer, and softly kissed her cheeks. A moment later his mouth claimed hers entirely, and their lips locked in a forceful manner. The first kiss is the most important, and this one was electric. He was surprised by his visceral reaction.
He had kissed only one woman like he was now kissing Bekka. That one woman was Rose, the woman he loved, the woman to whom he had remained faithful for over two centuries.
He was not celibate for lack of physical desire; he occasionally felt something close to it, in a bored detached way, but after Rose any woman would be a disappointment, and in the very act of making love, he would only notice what was lacking bringing memories crashing down upon him like so many boulders. He had kissed other women, chastely, as a means to get to their neck, plunge his fangs into their artery, drink just enough blood to sate his appetite, and leave the women unharmed. 
This time, though he was indeed hungry, he wanted to postpone that final moment instead of rushing to it. He wanted to spend time with Bekka, walk with her, talk with her, touch her, and watch her.
He took her hand and led her to the beach. They both took off their shoes and walked hand in hand, playfully kicking their feet in the cool waves and laughing. He wished that this night could last a bit longer, but watching her move undid him. He led her to the sea wall, pushed her against it, and kissed her. 
Then he slowly moved his mouth over her neck, licking the salty sweat from her skin. Her taste and her essence intoxicated him, and he plunged his fangs into her without thought. Her blood was so sweet and so different that he completely lost control.
Normally, he would take only a sip, perhaps a cup, but she tasted like heaven, what he thought things would taste like in that most blessed land, and he could not stop.
His mind told his mouth to withdraw, that this was too much, but his mouth had joined forces with the other rebel senses of his body and went rogue. He surrendered, lost the battle between mind and body, and drowned in his desire. He forcefully lifted her off the sand with one hand, held her up against the rough stone, and ripped her panties off from under her dress. He then thrust his engorged penis deep inside her, 200 hundred years of passion denied and let loose in a frenzied torrent that she seemed to share. Her back was scraped and bleeding, crushed against the uneven stone of the rocky wall.
She hoped, oddly, that she would have scars, tangible evidence that she had been so ferociously desired. The loss of blood, his deep thrusts, and the magic of that moment gave her the most incredible orgasm she had ever had in her life, and one of the few she had ever experienced while making love. She collapsed against his strong body and he, spent and gentle, slowly lowered her to the sand and held her. 
He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. Then, before she drifted into sleep, she felt his body stiffen and sensed his soul slip reluctantly away from hers. 
His mind had returned to the battle, but this time it had brought along the most renowned warrior: General Guilt. Demetrio, horrified by his loss of self-control, by what he had done to her, and by the consequences of his actions, ran.  
She awoke sitting on the sand alone. He was gone, just disappeared, and she had a desire for more of him. Her desire quickly turned to anger as she realized she did not know how to find him. Nobody had ever treated her like this before, leaving her after sex as though she were some whore, but the memory of how he had taken her softened her anger a bit.
Usually, it took a man a lot of time to arouse her, and she rarely had an orgasm. She walked back to the hotel, remembering their brief time together and was determined to find him.
Demetrio had wanted more of her too; he wanted to hold her and make love to her again, but he could not accept what had happened. He had been faithful to Rose for over 200 years, and in one evening in less than three hours he had blown it.
Now, when Rose looked at him and asked him if he had been with anyone else, he would have to admit to this. He was angry and was still shaking with desire for Bekka. “I have truly transgressed,” he said to himself, “and now Rose has a valid reason to reject me… another reason.”
Burdened with guilt but excited by lust, he did something he had never done before: He hunted twice more that night to satisfy his hunger for Bekka – the kind of hunger a man feels for a woman he cannot have, so he finds another.
He saw a beautiful blonde walking into Andale’s and followed her. He asked her to dance and while dancing, he moved his head between the cascade of golden hair and her neck and then casually sank his teeth into her skin. It would seem to those watching that he was merely kissing her neck. She would feel nothing and remember nothing.
Her blood tasted odd to him metallic but he drank more than he should have, just as he had done with Bekka. As he danced with her, he saw a beautiful brunette standing alone at the bar, drinking a mango margarita.
He walked the blonde back to the bar, propped her up on a stool, ordered a beer to nourish her, and turned his attention to the brunette. He stared into her large green eyes and told her, without words, to trust him. She understood and leaned into him, and he held her close as he sank his fangs into her neck.
Even the blonde sitting next to him did not notice what he was doing. This time, he was satisfied, but again he drank more than usual. Suddenly, he was gone, as quickly as he had appeared.  They would not even remember him. 
The two women, now sitting alone at the bar, introduced themselves to each other.  Susana ordered another beer, and Rebe ordered another mango margarita. The conversation quickly came around to where they were from.
They were surprised to learn they were both from California and visiting Puerto Vallarta on the same package deal: Flight and hotel for a ridiculously low price. Both women were fatigued, not at all interested in working up the energy to flirt with the men around them, and they came to the conclusion that the fatigue was brought on by their day of travel. 
Instead of making the five-minute walk back to the Playa Los Arcos, they took a taxi and agreed to meet the next night before returning to Andale’s.
As Bekka lay in bed that night, she thought about Demetrio and wondered how she might find him in this large city, if he was even still here. Why did he disappear immediately after having sex with her? She could not understand a man who had not fallen in love, or at least in lust, with her.
Normally, she slept well, but this night she tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position, and she dreamt of the sun.
Rebe and Susana were exhausted from their loss of blood and slept well.  Both women dreamt of a tall dark man, watching them from across a desert landscape, his silver hair blowing around his sculpted face.
In the morning, all three women, who normally avoided the sun, planned their activities around being in the sun. When Susana went to grab her hat before leaving her hotel room, she decided to leave it behind, and she thought, “The sun is my friend, I don’t need to hide from it.”
Down the hall, Rebe decided against sunscreen for the first time in many years. Something in her yearned for the rays of the sun to caress her skin. She thought perhaps some reptilian part of her mind craved vitamin D, then she worried about early-onset menopause.
Bekka, still furious and confused about being cast off so easily by Demetrio, planned to go back to Andale’s hoping to find him. After all, it was he who had suggested the place, so he might return. Throughout the day, she searched for him everywhere she went and was disappointed at each turn.
Rebe and Susana, as their days ended, returned to their hotel to meet each other in the lobby and walk to Andale’s.
When they arrived, the place was full of people from every corner of the world, and there was nowhere to sit. People of all ages were dancing butt to butt, grinding away in the limited space. But in the far corner, they saw a tall red-headed woman sitting alone at a table for three.
Her eyes were like a hawk’s, searching through the crowd for something. Both Rebe and Susana were drawn to her, and neither knew why.
Rebe suggested to Susana, “Let’s go sit with the redhead. She is taking up an entire table.”
Susana nodded and said, “Yes, we can be Charlie’s Angels: A blonde, a redhead, and a brunette. How fun will that be? I’ll love the attention!”
Rebe responded, “I came here to avoid people. I have way too many students in San Diego right now. It figures that their clones would all end up here for spring break, and by the way, there were two brunettes in Charlie’s Angels, no redhead.”
Susana thought for a second and said, “Even better, we’ll be the new and improved Charlie’s Angels.”
They pushed their way through the crowd of dancers and when they reached the table, Susana asked Bekka if she wanted to be an angel.  Rebe asked Bekka if they could join her. 
Bekka smiled at Susana’s refreshing silliness, offered a hand to both and replied, “Yes, I would like to be an angel. Some think I already am.”  Then she introduced herself. 
As usual in Mexico, the conversation turned to where they were from. Bekka told them she was from Baja California, and they both told her they were from California, and they all laughed at the coincidence.
They next asked Bekka why she was in Puerto Vallarta and explained to her their own reasons. She told them that she had met a man on and had just broken up with her boyfriend although she did not know if he had figured that out yet. She said that she thought it would be an adventure to drive to Puerto Vallarta and meet this man and that she had, indeed, met him at Andale’s the night before. She was hoping to run into him here because she had not heard from him since. 
Susana suggested that Bekka count herself lucky at getting rid of the guy early on, instead of developing a relationship that would eventually wither and die a slow, painful death. 
Bekka laughed, “I know exactly what you mean, but there was something quite different about this man.”
Then the conversation turned to their personal histories. They each related their past: Susana was a 46-year-old doctor from Fresno who had worked her way through college and medical school by teaching martial arts in the evenings. 
Bekka was a 42-year-old dermatologist whose interests had turned to good food, and subsequently, she had received her Cordon Bleu in Paris a few years before and now planned on touring Mexico to find the best regional recipes. She intended to write a travel and food blog as she made her way across the country. 
Rebe was a 41-year-old college professor of history and classics in San Diego who had spent her formative years as an intelligence officer in the U.S. Army. 
The three were well-traveled; they had been to a lot of places and experienced a lot of things.
Bekka noticed that Rebe and Susana seemed weary of travel and weary of relationships. Rebe related the details of her most recent trips in monotone, and Susana discussed her most recent relationship with many a resigned sigh.
“I hope that I don’t end up like them,” thought Bekka. “The world is still a wonderful adventurous place to me. I wonder why they are so worn down?” Then she thought of Demetrio again and, while downing another glass of wine, nurtured her own resentment.
When rumbles of thunder and flashes of lightning started, Rebe cheered up a bit. “I so, so love weather!” she said. “We don’t get a lot of weather in San Diego; it’s always just about perfect there. Perfect and boring at the same time!” 
She wanted to walk back to the hotel at which she and Susana were staying, and Susana refused, exclaiming, “If I wanted to get wet, I would jump in the ocean!”
Bekka concurred, “If I wanted to get wet, I would find that man from last night!” They all laughed at this. Susana and Rebe admired Bekka’s energy and sense of humor.
None of them had thought to bring an umbrella, so they waited for a taxi while standing under the awning. Every taxi that went by was full, so they agreed to share one.
Rebe and Susana were surprised to find out that Bekka was staying at the same hotel. Rebe said to Bekka, “There are so many hotels around, so it’s kind of weird that we are all staying in the same one although it’s a great place and super cheap.”
Bekka said, “Reba, I always stay at this hotel. I love it.”
Rebe stared at Bekka for a moment, then snapped, “Don’t call me Reba again. Do I look like a damn country western music singer to you? It’s ‘Reh-bay’. It’s how Mexicans say my name. It’s short for Rebecca, as I assume Bekka is also short for Rebecca.”
Bekka said, “Excuse the shit out of me! I just met you!” She slurred her words a bit; she had had four glasses of wine while searching for Demetrio.
Rebe softened and said, “I just met you too and wouldn’t call you Becky. I mean, it’s pretty easy to remember a name you’ve been using for the last two hours, isn’t it, especially when it’s your own damn name?”
“No, I’m bad with names,” Bekka retorted.
“That must be because you are self-absorbed. Forgetting names is a pretty sure sign of self-absorption.” Rebe was chuckling now, waiting to see how Bekka would respond.
“If you looked like me, then you too would be self-absorbed!” The three dissolved into laughter.
“I’m pretty sure you’re right,” conceded Rebe.
Susana said, “Yup, she is absolutely correct.”
“Yeah right, I expected you to be nicer,” chimed Rebe.
An empty taxi finally pulled up to the curb, and as they got into it, the attraction that had been developing among them intensified. They mistook this attraction as something sexual because none of them understood the complexities of blood desire that was aroused when Demetrio bit them. 
Rebe looked at the other two women, and she felt she couldn’t part from them just yet and that there was more than coincidence at work here.  “Better yet, let’s not go to our rooms. Let’s share a drink at the hotel’s bar on the beach. How does that sound?” 
She wasn’t surprised when the two women said, “Perfect,” in unison. They exchanged meaningful glances with each other during the short ride, though they were not exactly sure of the meaning behind the glances.
At the hotel beach bar, protected from the rain yet able to see the roiling ocean, Bekka told them more about Demetrio, including what he looked like, and how he had left her alone on the sand. 
Both Rebe and Susana were shocked that the description of this man matched that of the man that they had both dreamt about last night. They kept this to themselves, however, unsure of any significance and not wanting to appear jejune.
Rebe asked Bekka if she had messaged him on the dating site, and if she had heard anything from him.
Bekka said, “Yes, I have messaged him, but I haven’t heard anything back.”
Rebe suggested that, if she really wanted to see him again, she should make a new fake profile and see if he would take the bait. She could elaborate and make it more interesting to hook him in.
They all shared one last drink and finished their fish empanadas and agreed to meet at the pool in the morning for breakfast. Each thought to themselves, “Breakfast in the sun at the pool, how unusual.”
Bekka made her new profile immediately upon returning to her room. She made it so that she would be everything she thought he liked about her and more. Usually honest and bold and not caring if anyone liked her or not, she found this exercise fun, and after she posted it on, she fell asleep:
 “My name is Emma, I am a fairly attractive American woman, 5’ 8”, long red hair, 140 lbs. I am coming to Mexico. My itinerary is not set, but my dates are March 25th through April 8th. I would love to meet a Mexican man who is about six feet tall with flowing silver hair. A man who loves music, dancing and doesn’t want anything permanent. Let’s just have a few wonderful and romantic nights together. Other people say I am pretty – that’s not just me making that up.”
Both Rebe and Susana spent the night tossing fitfully and dreaming about Demetrio. 
          In the elevator the following morning, on their way to meet Bekka, they told each other about their dreams and were surprised to find that they had shared the same dream about the man that Bekka had described.
Susana remembered dancing with him, and Rebe remembered meeting him at the bar. They agreed to discuss this with Bekka as soon as they saw her.
At breakfast, they each decided to order huevos rancheros and asked Bekka if she had made a new profile.
She said that she had, and then Rebe and Susana told Bekka about their dreams and that they had met the man she had described. They then discussed the coincidence of the three being here, meeting him, their new desire for sunlight, and their odd urges to be with each other. 
They all agreed that he was the key to everything, and they hoped he would take the bait. Then they would all three go to meet him and confront him together.
They spent the day shopping, walking on the beach, sharing lobster tacos at the River Café, and drinks. They always preferred to sit or walk in the sun – never in the shade. They agreed to go back to Andale’s, but to sit separately in case he did show up. They did, but he did not show. The three had the same hawk eyes that Susana and Rebe had noticed on Bekka the night they had met.
Sharing a taxi back to the hotel, they discussed their unexpected feelings of lust and desire for each other and also their unfulfilled hunger for something as yet unknown to them.
Bekka sat in the back of the cab next to Rebe and thought about Demetrio. She started to tingle and shake a bit. She crossed her legs, but that made the pressure worse, or better, depending upon one’s view of such things. When she realized she could not contain herself any longer, she caught her breath for a second and thought, “Oh my God! I’m going to have an orgasm!”
Rebe looked at her and rolled her eyes, “Bekka, just think of baseball!”
After she had composed herself, Bekka demanded, “Who does he think he is? Treating me as if I’m some two-bit whore. Having sex with me and then leaving!”
“Did he leave you money?”
 “No, Rebe, he didn’t even leave me one centavo!”
 “Well, he must not have thought of you as a whore then. There’s probably something else going on maybe he’s married, but there’s no way for us to figure that out right now.”
But Bekka missed him – missed his smell and feel. She could remember hearing his heartbeat when she danced with him. She could feel his warm body next to her. She loved the way he had ripped her panties off on the beach and thrust himself into her so quickly. She felt such longing after their short time together. She tried to remember the last time she had felt this way and came up empty.  She had never, ever felt this way.
She began to smile at the thought, just a slight happy remembrance of the one, short-time love affair with him; then she felt it again. It was like a cramp or a pull inside her, but it felt good. She adjusted herself on her seat. Then again, another contraction, only stronger, almost like a charley-horse deep inside her.
She could feel her heart beat faster against her chest. Her face began to turn red. She could feel the wetness begin to rise between her legs again. She was becoming aroused, as if he were right there with her. Her breathing quickened, and her nipples became erect. She crossed her legs tightly, again with the same result.
Rebe rolled her eyes but said nothing. At last, the taxi pulled up to their hotel, and Bekka ran to her room, stooped over as if she were peeing her pants, without even saying good-bye. 
Rebe and Susana laughed and walked hand- in-hand into the lobby. Each went to their rooms and turned on all their lights. Rebe had always loved the night, always preferred darkness, but she no longer wanted to sleep without light.  
Bekka turned on her laptop, and there was a message from Demetrio, “Meet me in San Miguel de Allende,” exactly as his first message to her, “Meet me in Puerto Vallarta,” and she had gone without a thought, and she would again.
Rebe and Susana separately decided that they did not want to be alone that night. There was some weirdness going on here, and they wanted to be with each other and also with Bekka, annoying as her spontaneous orgasms were. Both met in the hallway at the same time and knocked on Bekka’s door. - angels.php

Thursday, October 8, 2015

Book 1 & 2 of the 3 book series.

Our cover painting for book 1 of 3 was made by E.c. Bell. You can see his work on his facebook page with same name. Judith Jenya will do a photograph of it for the book cover designer and then we will auction the painting off for a woman's charity in San Miguel de Allende at our book signing. You can see Judith's work also on her faceook page of the same name.

There is another chapter in this blog with a sample read of Chapter 1 - Book 1.
 Our book summary of book 1:

On a visit to Mexico a mature American woman, Bekka, meets a mysterious silver-haired Mexican man at a nightclub in Puerto Vallarta. After an intense one-night liaison he vanishes and Bekka vows to find him again. In her search she discovers that he met two other women that night, Rebe and Susana. The three women become very quick friends and decide to track down this mysterious man. Bekka felt an emotional and spiritual connection to him, he belonged to her, and she wanted to be with him. She couldn't explain why she felt that way, and Rebe and Susana couldn't figure out why they felt so close to Bekka. The three ladies begin to experience strange dreams and feelings toward each other, a drawing of souls toward one another. They hatch a plot to meet him again, unknowingly throwing themselves into a new beautiful but dark world, a world that few know exists. - the complex and inflexible world of the vampire, or vampiro. Demetrio, as they discovered, was different than other vampires. He could walk in the day, and he could age. He was “A Child of the Light” - a White Vampire whose only weakness was the full moon and only protection was the beautiful pendant he wore. Bekka had hoped to be with him, but as much as he wanted to explore that possibility, he told her the truth - his heart belonged to another and that other had returned to Mexico. He was anxious to reunite with her and had to leave the three women in San Miguel de Allende under the protection of his faithful friend Sister Helga. The Sister would help the three discover their emerging powers and advise them about many future dangers that converged around one name, the one name that would toss their lives into a deeper dark hole - Rose

You can now buy our book as a paper back via this link on Amazon.

A video interview about our book.

Videos made at our book signing March 20, 2016

Interview of Rebecca Fass

Videos of the first book signing in San Miguel de Allende for book1:

Book 2 of 3 is done now & you can buy it as a kindle or hard copy at this link -----

Tres Vampiras is a series of 3 books. A historical fiction, travelogue and gourmet expedition set in the Corazon de Mexico (the heart of Mexico), San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato. In book 1 we met Bekka, Susanna and Rebe, three women who are bitten by a White Vampire named Demetrio.
A White Vampire has the ability to roan during the day, and only needs a cupful of blood each month. His only weakness was the full moon. He was able to withstand death during the full moon because of the necklace he wore. As the story unfolds, the necklace was taken from him by Rose when she took his heart out in a ritual sacrifice.
In book 1 the three women were left alone to deal with Rose and her evil lover, the night vampire Queen Itza. With the help of Demetrio’s servants, Sister Helga, Eduardo, and friend Julia, the three learned what it meant to be White Vampires and to use their powers.
Their adventures continue in Book 2. Bekka, Susana and Rebe visit San Diego, La Jolla, Fresno, Rosarito, and Juarez. They use their powers to gain revenge on old adversaries. While in their quest for vengeance they encounter many mysterious figures that are in a war between good and evil and the church’s involvement.
On their journey they meet Johnny, a brujo who kills cats and young women, Anna, another White Vampire Demetrio had bitten, Mr. Dark, the Vampire King of North America, and finally Rose.
The women also come to grips with feelings and urges toward each other; while Susanna and Eduardo deal with their feelings toward each other.
Read Tres Vampiras book 2 and find out what they learn about Bekka’s shocking condition,  and the book’s surprising ending. Book 2 contains everything you want in a book; sex, violence and great cooking recipes!

Tres Vampiras
 Book II of III
Rebecca Fass
 Demetrio Aldana

We would like to thank our families and friends who have encouraged us to write this trilogy. We would also like to thank our friends who asked us to use their names, personalities or businesses in our narrative. Sharon Griffin, who did the final  proof reading and co-authored chapter 13, Susana Cox a character in our book who has gone out of her way with helping our book signings.

(Book 1 Kathleen Carroll who was our proof reader.)