Book Review - "Immortalis Carpe Noctem" by Katie Salidas

**Please note that this story contains some explicit material and it is better intended for audiences 18+**

"Becoming a Vampire is easy.

Living with the condition, that is the hard part."

"Walking back home through the badly-lit campus of UNLV, twenty-five year old Alyssa is brutally attacked by two savage men. By the time a handsome stranger intervenes, Alyssa has almost bled to death, and doesn't even struggle as her new protector sinks his sharp teeth into her neck.

Alyssa wakes to a harsh new reality, and to a raging thirst she's never felt before. Lysander, the sexy yet aloof man who turned her, must now teach her the way of the immortals - and with such a desirable teacher Alyssa starts to realize that her fate is not as dark as she first feared.

But, just as sparks begin to fly between the pair, Lysander is alerted that his enemies are on the move and determined to destroy them both.

Led by the cunning and ruthless, Santino Vitale, the fanatical Acta Santorum have vowed to hunt down and destroy every last immortal in God's name, and they have the vampires of Las Vegas in their sights.

Meanwhile, after seeing that Lysander has taken a new mate, the beautiful and pitiless Kallisto, is out for revenge. Alyssa soon finds out that hell hath no fury like a vampire scorned.

Together the pair must face two separate enemies determined to destroy them. It's time to, Carpe Noctem, or submit to final death."      

I have read multiple Vampire books over the years and as a huge "Twilight" fan (no, I do not approve of the retarded shimmery vampire shit Meyers wrote about) I completely adore anything Vampiresque. There are a million reasons and ways for them to be created, as well as a million ways for them to live.

I had read, quite some time ago, an excerpt that Katie Salidas had posted on her blog and had loved it. Not only her writing is exquisite, but the mystery that surrounded the story itself.
I have to admit that, "Immortalis Carpe Noctem" is THE best Vampire story I have read thus far. I LOVED, LOVED, LOVED the way she explained how Vampires came to be. She stuck to the myths and made it work so perfectly.

This story is packed with action, passion, romance and a lot of stubborness. Katie will have any reader on the edge of their seat. I actually found myself holding my breath multiple times as I read on waiting to see what would happen next
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It is an extremely entertaining story that will keep you begging for more. You will not be able to put it down, let me assure you!

Here is a Sample Chapter:

    "Darkness surrounded me. A voice spoke softly in my head. Do not die, young one. Be strong. Do not die.

I became painfully aware of liquid pouring down on me, each drop like an icy hammer hitting my sore skin. Movement echoed in my ears, telling me that I wasn’t alone. Slowly, I opened my eyes. Harsh light blinded me. My mind was fuzzy. I struggled to recall any small detail that might clue me in to what had happened and where I was.

I reached up to wipe the splattering water from my face. I chanced opening my eyes again. As I looked up, I spotted the source of the water, a showerhead on the opposite wall. Confused by this odd location, I struggled to penetrate the blackness of my memory and figure out how I had ended up in a bathtub.

Where the hell am I?

I tried to focus on the bright, unfamiliar surroundings.

My vision, it seemed, had become remarkably sharp while I was unconscious. I couldn’t remember ever noting so many details in such simple surroundings as these before.

Cream-colored tiles covered the walls, each rippled with tiny imperfections. Each held an individual pattern, making them unique and special. Yellowing, porous grout, framing the tiles, appeared to be littered with dots from small air bubbles that had come to the surface, creating different patterns and shapes.

Even the plain white curtain that separated me from the rest of the room seemed unusually detailed and perfectly woven. I saw each tiny strand that had been tightly bound together to form this heavy, durable cloth.

Small specks of mold building up in the corners of the porcelain basin weren’t able to escape my new sight either.

The amazing level of detail I experienced didn’t hold my attention for long. Freezing water still poured down on me. I needed to reach the handle and end the cold assault, but it seemed so far out of my reach. I eased myself up to a sitting position, my muscles aching with each small movement. Looking down, I saw my beaten body. The water had washed away some of the grime, but what was left of my shredded clothes was stained and clinging to my skin.

“Uggh!” I moaned.

“Oh, good, you’re alive,” said a male voice from behind the white curtain.

The voice seemed strange and yet somehow familiar. I searched my fuzzy memories to place the voice with a face. A wave of fear came over me as I remembered the attack.

Had I been kidnapped? Was I a hostage of some kind? I struggled to recall the events of the evening.

“You’ve been out for a few hours. I was worried I might have lost you,” continued the voice.

“What?” I called, still not sure who I was talking to.

“It doesn’t always work. Some people can’t be turned,” the voice said matter-of-factly.

“Turned?” What the hell is that supposed to mean?

I again tried to run through my memories of what had happened. I remembered blood, and the feeling of my body burning from the inside.

“I’ll explain it when you’re done in there. I’ve left some clothes on the toilet. I hope they fit.” The voice trailed out of the bathroom.

I tried to stand. My muscles ached. Gripping the edge of the tub, I moaned as I pushed myself up. My legs didn’t want to cooperate; they shook as they tried to support my weight. It was as if I was learning to stand for the first time.

I felt weak and a little dizzy. I leaned against the wall, using it as a crutch to help me to balance while I removed what remained of my shredded and blood-stained clothes. I shuddered, seeing more of the wounds that covered my body.

I remembered the two men. Flashes of memory showed me images of the struggle: the man on my stomach laughing, the knife waving in front of my face, teeth biting me, a stranger drinking my blood.

Each bruise I saw invoked a terrible memory. I turned the shower handle to hot and let the water run down my back. The warmth soothed my sore skin. I rested my head against the wall and tried to rationalize what had happened. I blamed myself for walking alone. I knew better. I should have asked someone to walk with me or drive me. I cursed myself for relying on a stupid keychain of pepper spray as my protection.

Some of the events that flashed in my memory were so bizarre I could hardly believe they had happened. I saw myself lying on the ground, drinking blood from a strange man’s arm. 

What was his name? Was I really drinking blood? Why was I even alive? Did that man save me?

The thought of blood caused an ache in the pit of my stomach.

      I pinched myself a few times.

Maybe this was all just a really bad dream and I just needed to wake up.

None of it made sense

Maybe someone had slipped something into my coffee at the café. I hadn’t really been drinking blood, had I?

My mind wouldn’t stop focusing on the blood I had drunk. A sweet, sticky taste crept up from the back of my throat. I gulped at the water pouring down from the showerhead, trying to smother the flavor. My stomach retched as I swallowed, causing me to sputter and spit the water to the ground. I tried to ignore the nagging ache in the pit of my stomach. I needed answers first. I needed to know why I was here and where here was. I needed to know what the hell had happened to me.

I finished rinsing, turned off the water, and slid open the shower curtain. The light seemed brighter in the rest of this room. I squinted, letting my eyes adjust a little. The rest of the bathroom was small and narrow. Nothing more than a simple toilet, shower, mirror, and vanity sink. The only real color in the room came from the red towels hanging on the towel bar and the bath mat on the floor.

I grabbed one towel and wrapped it around myself and then noticed the clothes left on the toilet seat. They appeared to be new and for a brief moment, I wondered where he had gotten them.

“I guess this will have to do,” I mumbled as I pulled on a simple green spaghetti-strap tank top. I slid my legs into a pair of blue jeans and pulled them up. Fastening the button, I felt a small pinch in my back. I reached around, touched a hard scab, and winced, remembering the pain of the knife that had been stabbed into my back.

How was I even alive? I certainly shouldn’t have been after the ordeal I’d been through.

I checked myself out in the mirror. Most of my wounds were already healing. Bruises that weren’t covered by clothing had started turning yellow. The cuts on my back and face had scabbed over too. I noticed something on my neck. Brushing away the wet strands of my red hair, I saw a half-ring of small bruises and two very deep-looking holes.

Lysander, I thought, suddenly remembering the stranger’s name.

My memory flashed again. I remembered the pinch as his teeth sunk into my neck. I shuddered again as a chill danced down my spine.

      What…who was this Lysander? He couldn’t be a…No. That’s silly; they aren’t real.

I gave the rest of my body a quick once-over in the mirror and suddenly I stopped in shock.

     “My eyes,” I gasped. “Oh, my God!”

I couldn’t believe it.

How is this possible? Those are not my eyes.

All the color had disappeared. Large gray eyes stared back at me from the mirror. They were pale and cloudy with hints of blue, no longer the emerald green they used to be. These were the same eyes I looked into when I got my first glimpse of Lysander.

     Wondering what else had changed, I surveyed the rest of my face: ears, hair, lips, all seemed the same. Thinking of the bite on my neck, I opened my mouth. Gone was the five-thousand dollar, perfectly straight, smile —that had taken me four years to pay off. My eyeteeth appeared to have grown larger, crowding the surrounding ones. The new, slightly larger, canine-like teeth poked down below the others, reminding me of fangs— the kind vampires from Hollywood movies were famous for. I playfully licked at them, noting how much sharper they felt as they scraped across the surface of my tongue.
     "This can’t be possible.”

It was time to find this Lysander guy and get some answers."

The Immortalis Series goes as follows:

Book 1- Immortalis Carpe Noctem
Book 2 - Hunters and Prey
Book 3 - Pandoras Box

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I am Super Mom!

Endowed with special powers and abilities, beyond those of mortal women, I can get the munchkin off to gymnastics, cheerleading, Girl Scouts, and swim lessons. I can put hot food on the table for dinner while assisting with homework, baths, and bedtime… And, I still find time to keep the hubby happy (nudge nudge wink wink). I can do all of this and still have time to write my novels.

Sorry… I can’t even write that with a straight face.

Lies all lies.

Here’s the reality. I’m a sleep-deprived, overworked, mom who just doesn’t know the meaning of the word balance. I try so hard to do it all, (be super mom, wife, & author) and at the end of the day I fall face forward into the couch.

Yes, you read that right, I tend to sleep on the couch. It’s a point of frustration for my hubby and a thing of comedy for my daughter. Imagine waking up to your little child yelling, “Mom slept on the couch again!!!”
Because being supermom (or trying to) means a lot of time devoted to family, writing is often done when said family is peacefully snoozing away. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fallen asleep with my laptop, on the couch. It just happens. Then, bright and early at 7am either my hubby (on his way to work) or my daughter (getting ready for school) wakes me up.

Writing is my passion. It’s a part of me. More than just a hobby, it’s a compulsion. I have to do it. If I don’t do at least one writing related thing each day I get cranky.

Hopefully, my passion can be your entertainment!

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