Guest Post: Ofelia Grand drops in to talk about The Blood Witch

Hello, everyone! Thank you, Ally, for allowing me to swing by again 🥰 (You’re always welcome!-Ally)

A couple of days ago, The Blood Witch was released. It’s a story I wrote for National I am in Control Day. If you don’t know me, I write stories for all those silly days out there – today, for example, it’s National Black Forest Cake Day. Always nice with an excuse to eat cake, right?

National I am in Control Day is observed annually on March 30th. It was created because when, back in 1981, there was an assassin attempt on Ronald Reagan, the secretary of state told everyone at a press conference that he was in control. Chaos erupted since some folks thought he was trying to take over after Reagan when he had no right to do so.

Sometimes it doesn’t take much to create a holiday 😄

I seldom read stories where the characters are royalty – some, of course, but I’ve never gone looking for a story with a king or a queen, and I’ve most definitely never written one.

I’m Swedish, and Sweden is a monarchy. The royal family is mostly there as decoration and a waste of money. In case you didn’t catch it in my tone, I’m not a fan. I don’t dislike the king as such, the poor sod never had a choice, and I would never want to trade places with him, but…

So when I decided to write a king, I also decided there would be no fancy clothes, balls, princesses in expensive dresses, and the king would not be there as some kind of ornament.

Conri is a werewolf, and he rules over Northbridge, a small city. The world is divided into areas, most pretty small, and the supernatural population are ruled by a king or queen. The supes have fewer rights than humans – they’re not allowed to own businesses, they’re not allowed any higher education, the legal system doesn’t treat them fairly and so on.

To make sure no supernatural being is lying about their race, there are blood tests when applying for school and other things.

Nick is a blood witch, and as a blood witch, he can change blood. This makes him a great asset to a kingdom, but blood witches are often kept prisoner by their kings or queens so they can be forced to work for them. Nick managed to escape his former king, and he has no plans of going back to working for a king ever again.

He’s managed to hide in Northbridge for six years, but one day he outs himself, and now the king demands he come and pay his respects.

I loved writing this one, and who knows, I might write more kings in the future LOL

Excerpt:

A blood witch—Conri had a blood witch in his kingdom, and it could earn him power and freedom beyond any king’s dreams. He wasn’t sure how it would work, but it was what he’d heard—a blood witch could strengthen a king’s power in ways no one else could.
Conri had promised no harm would come to the man who’d saved Cellica, but now the little shit refused to pay his respects, and Conri was running out of options.
People flocked around him. They came to Twilight, his nightclub, simply to be close to him. His bed never lacked lovers, and his schedule didn’t have any gaps unless he put them there—which he tried to do as often as possible. Everyone wanted to be close to the king, and when he summoned someone, they showed up. He did not beg for anyone’s attention. He didn’t have to. He was king. The fucking witch.
“I’m going to talk to him.” He grabbed his phone and called Urien, his second in command.
Most would frown at a werewolf having a vampire as his closest ally, but it worked great. Conri didn’t do packs, so he didn’t have a beta, and if he’d picked an alpha from another shifter group, all hell would break loose. Urien was a godsend.
As soon as the call connected, he spoke. “Will you be in soon?”
Urien slept through the day, so Conri couldn’t fault him for not being in earlier—it was the only downside with having a vampire as his second.
“I’m already in the building. There was some trouble by the stage. It’s sorted.”
Conri hummed. In one area of the bar, they had live performances during opening hours. If there was trouble, it often started there.
“I’m going out for a bit. You can reach me on my cell.”
He ushered Zephirah out of the office and locked the door.
“I’ll come with you.” Zephirah fluffed her hair.
“No, I’m going alone.”
She pouted. “But it could be dangerous.”
He gave her an impassive look until she snarled “Fine!” and stomped away. Conri feared she’d become a problem one day soon.
The closer he came to the house where the blood witch lived, the deeper his frown became. Blood witches were wealthy beyond belief, and yet this one lived in the worst part of the city.
Cellica lived here because the pack had shunned her. She’d broken a mating—no one ever did. The male she’d been mated to had been picked for her and wasn’t her true mate. He had personally made sure the mate wouldn’t come back. He could do nothing about how the pack treated her, not without becoming a member, and he wasn’t going to. He had tried to move her to a better area which she had refused, but she had allowed him to pay her rent a couple of times when things had been worse than usual.
He jogged up the stairs of the decrepit building where he’d been told the blood witch had his apartment and knocked on his door.
“Hello?”
Conri frowned at the door but didn’t reply. When the footsteps moved away, he knocked again.
“Yes?”
“Open the door.” Conri would not shout through a closed door.
“No.”
“Open the door or I’ll open it myself.”
“I’m calling the cops.”
Conri cursed. “I only want to talk to you.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
Conri frowned again. He wasn’t patronizing. “I wasn’t.”
“How naive do you think I am?”
According to Cellica, the man was short, slim, and young-looking. Conri had been thirty-one when he’d become king, and he’d ruled this city for eleven years. When Cellica had said young-looking, he’d assumed the witch was in his early twenties—a pup. Someone he could intimidate and control. The months leading up to this day had told him the witch wasn’t easily intimidated. “Open the door.”
“I think not. Calling the cops now.”
Conri growled. “I’m the king.”
“I don’t care.”
For a second, anger flared in his chest, then he pursed his lips. “You’re not human, which means you belong to me.”
“I’m human. Now go away.”
A second later, Conri heard the witch talk on the phone, informing someone—the police most likely—there was someone trying to break into his apartment.
Conri growled. “I’ll be back.” He gave the door a soft knock before slinking down the stairs and out on the street. He walked to the back of the building and counted the windows. The tiny balconies didn’t look sturdy enough to carry his weight, but it was worth a try.

Buy The Blood Witch: JMS Books :: Amazon :: books2read.com/TheBloodWitch