Crossing Over will take you on a powerful and intensely erotic journey through the sacrifices a man must make to find unconditional love. Across the span of twenty centuries, Jovian’s fiery passion for integrity captures the attention of the evil Titus, who converts Jovian to a vampire so that he may covet him for the rest of time. When Titus’ affections go unrequited he is driven to torture Jovian, influencing events in history all along the way. The love triangle between Titus, Jovian and his drug addled boyfriend brims with the trials and tribulations of immortal life, virtue, rebirth, and in the end will take your breath away.
Roman Stafford walked by One Liberty Place on a Friday night in July to clear his head. He dashed past the glass doors, dropped off the sidewalk, and rose into the air. It dawned on him, as it invariably did, that sooner or later he would eventually be seen. He always said it was bound to happen. When you were fated to live forever, despite your best efforts, you had to be sensible about the realities of the day. Cell phones, security cameras, SLRs at the ready. Big Brother loomed large, yet somehow he and his brethren had been able to handle their affairs for centuries now without getting noticed.
In the United States there was an intense loathing of paranormal lifestyles-by politicians, mainly, brimming with insensitive and derogatory remarks starting the day they ran for office, hungry for power, and armed with a slew of ridiculous questions: Why must such creatures be allowed to fly wherever and whenever they want whereas mere mortals have to rely on planes? Still others were concerned with the irrational notion that vampires would somehow be a drain on the nation’s blood banks. Referred to as “bloodsuckers” by the ignorant masses, something vampires found offensive, obscene. It was a little excessive in terms of propaganda against paranormal individuals, mainly used as a wedge issue to acquire votes. Laws were passed, freedoms were stripped. But rules were meant to be broken as far as Roman was concerned, and he never hid his fondness for getting around a system that was firmly aimed at restricting his very nature.
He glided close to a nearby building and landed on his favorite ledge to gain some perspective. The streets were wet with rain, dark and shadowy, gleaming under the silent city lights.
Five stories up, Roman squatted down and leaned against the stucco facade. He was nearly twenty centuries old and had buried them all. It blew his mind sometimes to think about it. His mental capabilities were as razor-sharp as they’d ever been, he spoke over eleven languages, and he was keen to debate every fine distinction and evolutionary transformation that had occurred in human nature.
On one of his previous pub crawls, he’d been caught ducking out the back exit by a painted harlot.