Warnings: BarbarianSpy Xtreme: contains frequent fatal gay vampire feedings, reluctance, paranormal horror, rough gay sex, frequent graphic language.
Emile LaCour, the mid nineteenth-century scourge of the finest young male flesh of the plantation area of the Louisiana delta region, has been freed from his tomb. And once more he needs to sustain himself by loving the young men of New Orleans to death to steal their essences. He does so by draining them of their blood and vitality, which then rejuvenates LaCour.
Lamont Breaux, who is responsible for freeing LaCour in an effort to uncover the vast fortune LaCour’s family hid before LaCour was entombed, oversteps himself in his greed and falls victim to LaCour’s wrath.
Needing a new financial manager and now wanting a companion as well, after a succession of brushes with Angle family men over the century, LaCour seduces Gage Angle, a blond giant member of a motorcycle gang and descendant of an old love. But when LaCour’s experiment to find the balance between making love to Gage and loving him to death goes awry, the curse of LaCour’s never-ending life and the extreme requirements to sustain that lifestyle are transferred to Angle.
Angle, however, is not the self-possessed moral decadent LaCour is, and his struggle with what LaCour is and what he himself has become leads to a fiery conclusion.
This is the expanded relaunch of the 2008 EXcessia novel of the same title.
Review:(original Excessica edition)
“Emile LaCour is a tantalizingly subtle novel of the paranormal and a neat interweaving of historical and contemporary settings. Settle back in your favorite armchair and curl up for an enjoyable read of characters, plotting, and vivid imagery. That subtle twist of humor underlying the action just adds extra scintillation to the story. Prepare to be tantalized and scintillated by Emile’s upfront eroticism. He is so more-than-life-size that his actions don’t even count as cruelty, for he is like a force of nature. In his very immensity he is an appealing character, and the secondary characters, who are like ants before a giant, are a fine backdrop for Emile as he strides across contemporary Louisiana, as he did in the nineteenth century. Caution: kicker ending!” —Frost’s Fancy, Rainbow Reviews
Emile had seen the young man in a gay bar just off of New Orleans’ upper Esplanade that evening and knew, immediately, that he would take him. The young man had been at the bar, boisterously sharing drinks with other young men, telling them tales of the ridiculousness of his job at the nearby City Park, where he had, earlier in the day, been directed to rip out an almost-new plot of one variety of flowers just to replant the same variety of flower but in a slightly different shade of color. The men were exuberantly enjoying the absurdities of life and of the city park system. Emile had been hovering in a corner of the bar, enveloped in his black cape, sizing up the opportunities. The open, inviting eyes of the gardener passed over the violet, searching eyes of Emile and then came back to them almost immediately, to be mesmerized and drawn in. He wasn’t the quality that Emile sought, but there was something sweet and vulnerable about him that Emile wanted to capture and possess.
With only a perfunctory leave-taking, the young gardener pushed away from his friends at the bar and walked out of the building, over to Esplanade, and up into the corner of the park. Emile followed him, keeping to the darker shadows of an already-dark night. Emile, in turn, was being followed by one of the friends the gardener had abruptly bid good-bye to at the bar.
The young man walked through the garden, to a small hillock that was topped by a table-sized marble column capitol from an ancient Greek temple, placed there for visual interest for those strolling along the paths. When he reached the column capitol, he turned, stripped down, placed his clothes in a neat pile at the side, and smiled as Emile—his cape billowing behind him; his mature, but still-comely torso naked; his inhumanely long, thick cock dangling between his legs from the crotch opening in the black leather pants—slowly ascended the hill.
The gardener spread his arms wide as Emile approached, his smile broad and his eyes flashing in amusement and lust, and it was the gardener rather than Emile who initiated that deep, completely open kiss, where lips bruised lips and tongues dueled with tongues, and saliva was freely shared. The venom in Emile’s saliva was quick to assert control. The young man’s senses heightened, while his strength and response were dulled and he felt drowsy. The young man’s hands had gone under the leather at Emile’s buttocks and were kneading the older man’s butt cheeks when the kiss began, but as the sedative set in, he stopped kneading those and the hands just stayed there, trapped between leather and skin.
Emile’s lips disengaged from the gardener’s lips and traveled straight down to the side of his neck, searching for and finding that throbbing carotid artery. The young man was in superb physical condition as the strong throbbing there attested, and Emile lingered there a moment, savoring the strength of the life he held, before plunging his teeth into the throbbing artery and beginning to feast. The young man jerked and lurched at the bite, and his hands dislodged from behind Emile and just hung at his side. Emile disengaged and looked into the young man’s face. He just smiled beatifically back at his masterful new lover. Emile went back to his quiet feeding, and the young man’s back arched back and his head lolled back as well.
