title: Blood Lust: Conversations With Real Vampires
author:  Carol Page 
description: A survey of honest-to-goodness human bloodsuckers that manages to buffer sensationalism with sympathy. Through historical research, anecdotes, and interviews, free- lance journalist Page (Cosmopolitan, Omni, etc.) celebrates ``the decade of the vampire'' and the impact of the vampire image on popular culture from cereal shapes, novels, movies, and fashions to rock music, pornography, and political cartoons. While admitting that the vampire mystique is ``about sex and power,'' she tries to debunk the myth by portraying her subjects as needy and lonely souls whose craving for blood or obsession with those who crave it are not much different from such other emotional maladies as manic- depression or eating disorders. Among her subjects: a gay vampire who ``drinks other people's blood to get to know and understand them better''; a vampire hunter who claims to be a distant grandson of Lord Byron; and a young man convicted of murdering a woman whom he perceived to be his blood-sucking grandmother. Without getting too mired in theories or details, Page also discusses African blood-drinking rituals, a London ``Dracula Society'' that stages a ``Hunt-A-Vampire Weekend,'' the influence of the 60's soap opera Dark Shadows, and a Fox-TV vampire special in which facts apparently were egregiously fudged. She also draws a hilarious comparison between Vlad Tepes--the infamous Romanian prince on whom Bram Stoker's Dracula is supposedly based--and Romania's toppled dictator Ceausescu. Avoiding the lurid gush of Norine Dresser's American Vampires (1989), Page entertains, informs, and even inspires the cause for ``Vampire's Rights'' without draining too much out of us. -- <i>Copyright 1991, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.</i>
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  ### **Lover Eternal**
  
  
  
  
  
  **By J. R. Ward**
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Chapter One
  
  
  
  
  
  “Ah, hell, V, you’re killing me.” Butch O’Neal mined through his sock drawer,
  looking for black silk, finding white cotton.
  
  
  
  
  
  No, wait. He pulled out one dress sock. Not exactly a triumph.
  
  
  
  
  
  “If I were killing you, cop, footwear’d be the last thing on your mind.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Butch glanced over at his roommate. His fellow Red Sox fan. His… well, one of
  his two best friends.
  
  
  
  
  
  Both of whom, as it turned out, happened to be vampires.
  
  
  
  
  
  Fresh from the shower, Vishous had a towel wrapped around his waist, his chest
  muscles and thick arms out on display. He was pulling on a black leather
  driving glove, covering up his tattooed left hand.
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you have to go for my dress blacks?”
  
  
  
  
  
  V grinned, fangs flashing in the midst of his goatee. “They feel good.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why don’t you ask Fritz to get you some?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “He’s too busy feeding your jones for clothes, man.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Okay