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Cassie Alexander

Blood by Moonlight: Dark Ink Tattoo Book 4 (Ebook)

Blood by Moonlight: Dark Ink Tattoo Book 4 (Ebook)

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True Blood meets Sons of Anarchy

Menage, MM, MF, FF, etc

Vampire Romance

Werewolf romance

Fast burn, high heat, BĎSM

Las Vegas and everything that comes with it ;)

HEAs all around!


Angela: My secret is out, and now both Mark and Jack know that I’m a werewolf. Worse, my abusive ex-boyfriend, the one who made me this way, has escaped from prison and he’s after one thing: our son. The Pack is a brutal, criminal motorcycle gang: I don’t want that life for Rabbit. Jack says he can protect us, but the Pack is strong and if they catch us, they’ll kill me and take Rabbit. But if I’m going down, I’m taking Gray with me.

Jack: She’s a monster like me, but that doesn’t change how I feel about her. I’ll do everything I can to save her and her son. When old enemies reappear and my Mistress betrays me, I might have to give up everything to protect them from the Pack. Angela’s entrusted me with her son, and I won’t let her down.

A werewolf ready to make her last stand.

A vampire who will do anything to protect the innocent from the unholy.

Welcome to Dark Ink Tattoo, where needles aren't the only things that bite.

Dark Ink Tattoo is a scorching paranormal in the vein of Sons of Anarchy, with strong sexual situations and bisexual MCs.

Read Chapter One

“How soon can we get there?” Angela asked, wide-eyed, now that her man Mark and I had made our deal. And there was the werewolf-proof, vampire-guarded bunker in the desert my Mistress could provide for them, if they agreed to her terms.

Angela’s question echoed in the small room, as I started thinking.

Rosalie would be thrilled to have Mark’s money, of course, and the Fleur de Lis’s backing—but—my eyes flickered over to Paco, who knew I was a vampire, and so was surely thinking the same thing: how close was it to dawn?

It was already late. What if Mark drove a hard bargain? Or worse yet—what if Rosalie whammied him into an easy one? Once he was in the door, who knew what could happen?

And then on top of that, what was the Pack’s timeframe?

“Well?” Mark asked, looking at me.

“We’re going to Vermillion,” I said.

“The strip club downtown?” he asked.

“Yeah.” I snatched my knife back off the table and pocketed it. “I’ll meet you there—I need to pave the path with some introductions.”

“But you made it sound like—” Angela began, worry creeping back.

“It’ll be fine. Bring Paco and then leave him in the car, the place itself is safe.” I pushed past them for the stairs.

“I’ve met the owner of Vermillion socially—and I know Vegas,” Mark said, putting out his arm to hold Angela back. “Why hasn’t he struck me as the bunker-owning type before?”

“He?” I asked, wondering just who Mark thought the owner of Vermillion was. I paused three steps up, thinking fast. “Are you involved in human trafficking?” I asked. His silence answered me. “I didn’t think so. Trust me, you don’t know the owner like I do,” I said, and finished running up the stairs before he could ask anything else.

Paco followed me. “How much of a lead do you need?” he asked quietly when I reached the kitchen.

“Ten or fifteen—thanks,” I said, keys in hand, running for my car. 

* * *

I pulled into Vermillion’s parking lot and took up two spaces near the front, running out and up to the front door, only to be greeted by Tamo again, sitting on a high stool behind the hostess’s podium, looking even more monstrous in an impeccably tailored suit.

“Bouncing?” I asked him.

“Why not?” He gave me a wide and evil grin.

I did my best to look non-plussed. “Where’s Rosalie?”

“In back. Why?”

“Business,” I said, and sidled past. The club’s music hit me like a fist; it was late, anyone still here and partying needed its artificial drum to stay awake and spending. I swiveled my head and saw Rosalie parting the small crowd that remained, like a dark wave.

“Tamo said you were here alone?” she said.

“Yeah.” I frowned, and looked behind myself, where Tamo had been obscured by a turn in the club’s architecture—and for the first time realized the entryway had been converted into a defensible bottleneck after the latest remodel. “Telepathy?” I wouldn’t put any creepy power past Rosalie.

“Radio technology. You might have heard of it?” She laughed and then sobered. “Why are you here, Jack?”

“My friend’s interested in the bunker option.”

“Oh?” Her eyes lit up with the promise of cash. “Well, where are they?”

“On their way here, shortly. I just wanted to set some ground rules with you, first.”

“Really?” she said, her tone somehow managing to capture the complete disdain she had for me.

“Yeah. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Her lips lifted into a smile showing teeth that were, for the moment, human. “Of course.”

* * *

Rosalie led the way back to her private room. I realized it halfway there, far too late to complain, and I didn’t want to seem weak besides. But my gait stiffened, my hands curled into fists, and while she walked across her room to lounge in a chair behind her vanity I stood near the door, for all the good it’d do me.

“Jack, please.”

“You’re the one that told me that being a vampire meant having a long memory.” This room was where she’d changed me. 

“Are we reminiscing or are we doing business?” She gestured toward her couch. It was black now, presumably part of her remodel, so not even the same couch I remembered. I grit my teeth and sat down on it, for Angela’s sake. “So—the Fleur?”


She clacked her nails on her vanity in excitement. “Tell me more.”

“I can’t. I don’t know everything, yet.”

“Then why’re you here?”

“Because I want to make sure you play fairly.”

“Jack, if I’d wanted a club at every casino in this city I could have one, easily. You’re not the only one with contacts—everyone in Vegas walks through my doors eventually.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because what’s better than having business arrangements is having someone owe you. And finding reasons to have people owe you is harder than you’d think.”

I knew all about how Rosalie liked to be owed. “In case they find out your secret. So they won’t hurt you—or tell.”

“Precisely. So I’ll play fair—mostly—never fear.” There was a knock at her door. She went to answer it and stepped outside, returning not that long after. “Sorry, club business. Now—about what your friend requires....”

“The bunker—immediately.”

She settled herself regally back into her chair. “It won’t be ready until tomorrow night.”


“Surely you realize this is short notice, Jack. We use it for storage.”

“Of what?”

“You don’t want to know. But—what’re your next steps? This is related to your werewolf problem, right?”

“Yes.” I was still reluctant to tell her anything, but Angela herself would be talking to her shortly. My phone buzzed in my pocket—likely Paco telling me they were leaving. “My friend—she’s were. As is her boy. And the Pack can track her. What can you do about that?”

Her eyes glazed in thought. “Difficult—but not insurmountable. I have a magician friend who can help. It’ll cost more, of course.”

“Of course,” I snorted.

“But,” she said, drawing the word out. “How long will they need to stay there? Hiding them is not the same as fixing their problem. Why does the Pack even want them?”

“I don’t know, yet.” I wished I’d gotten a few more minutes alone with Angela in Mark’s wine cellar. I still hadn’t managed to figure out how Bella and her unborn child had fit in. Except maybe…. “The Pack wants what’s theirs?” I guessed.

“The boy?” She considered this. “Werewolves are a slow breeding race—and not for lack of trying, I hear. But why on earth would he be special?” Her eyes narrowed. “Who’s his father?”


“Their imprisoned packleader?” She leaned back in her chair and cursed.

“She just needs to buy some time—to figure out a plan to get away.”

“Time isn’t going to fix this—it’s a fight for succession, Jack. Legitimate male heirs—ones born, not bitten—are rare.”

I rocked back on my heels. “So? If your magician can stop them from being able to trace her, she can go to ground.”

“They won’t stop looking.”

“The world’s a big place. Besides—what other choice do they have?”

Rosalie stood and started to pace. “Apart from hiding them, we’ll have to have guards, night and day. I’ll have to pull some of my girls from here, which’ll be a loss of income—mine and theirs—and we’ll need enough blood slaves to keep our strength up, and they, in turn, will need food. Not to mention that none of the ammunition we have will work, as it’s not like I keep silver in stock.”

I was taken aback by her use of the word ‘blood slaves.’ “There are normal people that know?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” she said, dismissively. I made a mental note to come back to the topic the second Angela was safe. “How many days will you need?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, the price will rise exponentially, as the risk does. It won’t take long for the Pack to realize their beloved leader’s bitch has gone to ground.”

I grit my teeth. “Don’t call her that.”

“Temper, temper,” she warned, still pacing. I could see her doing the calculations in her head—in her life before this one, whatever time period it’d been in, she must’ve been an accountant. “What kind of cover story did you give me?”

“I said you were a human trafficker.”

At that, she guffawed. “Quite.”

“Speaking of—he thinks you’re a ‘he’ for some reason.”

“Ahh—he’s met one of my friends before is all. You know the difficulties of managing day life—I tell assorted men they own Vermillion, and then they helpfully file my permits with the city during daylight hours.”

I snorted. “Gotcha.”

“Now,” she said, standing straight and raising her chin to a regal height. “Time to see how much we can shake Mr. Carrera down for.” She turned on her heel, and headed for the door.

“Wait—they’re here?”

“Got here right after you. Been alone out there for, oh, fifteen minutes?” Rosalie saw the haunted expression on my face. “Oh, come now, Jack. What’s the worst they could’ve gotten into?”

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