Black Heart: The Crimson Knot (Black Heart Series Book 3)

Black Heart. The very name strikes fear in the dead hearts of Dallas' vampire population.

Sable Hart patrols the night streets of Dallas, hunting for rogue vampires. She is the undead's self-appointed sheriff — called Black Heart in the paranormal community. When a rogue goes on a killing spree, he kills a woman belonging to the Vampire Mafia boss. Henri Trudeau tasks Sable with finding the killer, or he will kill Sable, her family, and all of her friends. She has one week. It's a no holds barred fight as Sable must fend off a pack of werewolves, a police homicide detective, and deal with her own personal loyalties.

Warning: This urban fantasy novel contain scenes of graphic nature, including sex and violence.

Read all of the novels in this series:
Black Heart
Black Heart: Coeur de Sade
Black Heart: The Crimson Knot

Excerpt:
My wings were wonderful things. God knows I love them. Morphing into a bat and flying around had its benefits, but sprouting wings and flying around like the angel of death was even better. Of course, my wings looked more like demon wings. But they were wings, wicked bad looking, and worked perfectly.

Dane had a new truck. Okay, it wasn't exactly new. He had a new to him, five year old Jeep Wrangler. Forest green, black canvas top. I didn't know until I zeroed in on him coming down Central Expressway. It was about time he got rid of that old shot up Ford Explorer. I recognized Mercedes Trudeau in the midnight blue GMC Denali following him.

Two wolves on Suzuki Katanas. Oh, how I wanted to race them on my Ninja.

I looped around and down, coming up behind them just past the Royal Lane exit. I swooped down behind the trailing bike, grabbed the back fender and lifted it up and over. Mr. Wolfie got a concrete facial. Good thing he was wearing a helmet.

The other werewolf looked back and almost wiped out. Now that would've warmed my heart. He hit the brakes hard when I approached him, rolling up on his front wheel before coming to a stop. I flew right past him. I don't know if he was trying to impress me with his ability to do that, just like in the movies, but he did.

"Okay, then let's go see if Mercedes bends around a light post," I said, amused by my own joke.

I beat a fast climb. The Denali had pulled far ahead. Not sure they knew about the motorcycles yet. They were past Northwest Highway and NorthPark Mall before I caught up.

I did a big loop, and swooped down fast and kicked the windshield in front of the driver. One of those spider web fractures blossomed in front of them, and he started swerving all over the place. Ten seconds after kicking that windshield I heard the satisfying thunk and crunch of that expensive luxury truck smashing into a retainer wall.

So it was up, up and away for me. I double checked to make sure the other motorcyclist wasn't still following Dane. He stopped to help the other bike rider. So I was free to return to Deep Ellum and get Dane all kinked out.

"He's going to be one miserable puppy," I said, grinning wickedly. There wasn't a kinky bone in Dane's body. My own fetish wear tended to make him more uncomfortable than excited, while it was different with most other men. "I can't wait. Wish I had a camera phone."


About the Author:
Tom Gallier was born in Beaumont, Texas, to Texan/Cajun parents. He served 7 years in an Armored Cavalry Regiment (11th ACR Blackhorse Regiment), learning no useful skills. After the Army he went back to school to study electronics, figuring that would be a profession with job security. In 2008 he was laid off. It wasn’t the first time or last time he was wrong. But while in school, and holding down a full time job, he began writing in his spare time. In the mid-nineties he had his first short story sale and publication. He shares his life with his wife and their Yorkie American Princess. He writes Fantasy short stories and novels under “Tom Gallier” and Urban Fantasy under “TW Gallier.”