Book Title: BOLEYN: Tudor Vampire
Author: Cinsearae S.
Watch the trailer and read another excerpt at Blazing Trailers.
Reviewed By: Stormy Janes (Member of Paranormal Romance Review Team)
REVIEW:
Boleyn – Tudor Vampire is the incredible “untold” story of Anne Boleyn, Queen of England and wife to King Henry VIII. The Author, Cinsearae S., has taken a piece of history and wrapped it around an amazing story of love and hate, devotion and deceit, betrayal and compassion but most of all revenge.
The story of Anne Boleyn has been told for centuries. She was the Queen of England by marriage to King Henry the VIII and hated by members of the King’s court. The Duke of Suffolk was instrumental in convincing the King that Anne was not only a whore but more importantly, a witch. As the shadow of deceit grew, even Anne’s own father turned his back on her. The King condemned Anne to death by beheading as well as sentenced to death anyone who defended her.
In history as we know it, Anne’s beheading was the end. In Boleyn – Tudor Vampire, Anne’s beheading is just the beginning. A short time after her death, Anne awakens and digs her way out of her unmarked grave. Slowly she begins to realize she is no longer living but is in fact a creature of the night. Anne begins planning her revenge for all those who have wronged her. Anne is not alone in her quest for revenge; she gains assistance from those once close to her. Her accomplices’, both living and dead, add conflict, love lost and rekindled and humor to her terrorizing plan of revenge.
Cinsearae S’s story of Anne Boleyn is exceptional. It almost seems this is the story written “between the lines” in history. She does an excellent job of keeping with the facts of history and uniquely weaves her darker tale within. You will be hooked from the very beginning.
EXCERPT:
One of my undead army men snatched a black hood off of Cromwell’s head. He was unconscious, so I slapped him awake. He gasped, shaking his head, and then looked around himself.
Cromwell stood on the scaffold, his neck in the hangman’s noose. Hands tied behind his back, he gave pathetic, whiny noises of fear as the crowd around the gallows was nothing more but a sea of the dead, the majority of them the ones who died during the bloody onslaught caused by the Pilgrimage. The moonlight cast a pale, grisly glow over the worm-infested crowd as I now stood in the center of them, smiling at him, my arms folded.
“How does it feel, Cromwell?” I called out. “To be judged and tried for crimes you never committed?” I gave a mock gesture of surprise by covering my mouth. “But then again, I stand corrected, don’t I? Aren’t you partly responsible for all these innocent lives lost?” I gestured to the ghoulish group around me. “So tell me, what does it feel like?”
“Let me go!” he cried out, and another one of my soldiers tightened the noose around his neck.
Irked, I appeared before him, scaring the daylights out of him yet again.
“You were a witch all along! Henry’s marriage to you was born out of sorcery!”
“You fool,” I hissed. “I was no witch then… not that it matters now.”
Through his torn shirt, I glanced at the base of his neck and the two marks I left there earlier. I ripped the shirt further, pressed my index finger against the wounds, and callously wiped off a trickle of blood that lingered there. He winced in pain as I licked my finger next, frowning at him as I did so.
“I do not like how you taste.” I frowned, and spat in his face. Cromwell flinched in disgust as a mixture of his blood and my saliva ran down his cheek.
I turned my back to him, and, while not even looking, waved at a third soldier to release the hatch as I walked down the scaffold’s rickety steps.
The hatch dropped, and Cromwell swung. However, Cromwell was tough, and a mercenary in his youth, so I heard. He would not give up without a fight.
I let him writhe, thrash, and sway wildly by his neck until he was just near the brink of death -- then the soldier who released the hatch produced a knife from his tattered, fraying doublet. He cut the noose, and Cromwell dropped through the hatch, falling to the ground with a thud.
My army men clambered down the steps, walked under the scaffolding, and dragged Cromwell out from underneath it. I stood over him, peering down at his terrified face.
“Be lucky I didn’t have you cropped at the neck,” I said, giving an evil grin. “But I need not worry; you’ll get yours in due time.”
I left him there among the moldering crowd that began to circle him. I cared not what they did to him, as his screams echoed throughout the Tower grounds, and well into the night.
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