No, no, no and no! I refuse to believe that this cesspool of badly copy-edited, barely correct writing, utterly rushed plot, gosshammer-thin characters, and monstrously silly vampire sexploitation came from the pen of the talented Mrs Calmes. I persevered throughout the book because I entertainted the hope that things would get better, alas it has to be conceded that she lost her literary mojo. Where to begin with the critical comments? Nothing feels cohesive between these covers, as witnessed most glaringly in the opening chapter: the narrative shifts in utterly jarring fashion from the present-time narration of the events to lengthy flashbacks meant to provide the why and the how of this in medias res beginning; the motivation for the actions of the human hero are so feeble, so contrived that he ends up looking childish and ridiculous and stupid instead of the model of military valor the author was attempting to paint him like; the sudden, harsh jumps from one idea to another and one situation to the following one are textbook cases of awkwardness (good writers take care to smoothe out the blunt edges of their narrative lest it looks choppy, as here); the introduction of the various supernaturals pertaking of the crisis could hardly have been done more artlessly; last but not least, there is an enormous disproportion between the all-too-hurried, almost desultory happenings at the mansion which end up with our hero escaping in his car with a wounded vampire and the enormously bloated, flaccid dialogue between those two that takes place while they are en route to an hospital. The same arrant disproportion between huge bouts of, mostly idle or preposterous, and at any rate ineffectual, talking, and skeletal narrative mars the following chapters, especially the second one - there we get to see our former military grunt set up roots in New Orleans at record speed and alongside the most cardboard secondary cast I have had the misfortune of encountering in any book for a long time (boy did Ode ennoyed me... that harridan of a human female is a living cliche, and her lengthy chats with Jason occupy entirely too much space while turning the grunt into a momma's boy with no more than three brain cells). The various ways in which Jason becomes a magnet for vampires, like his paranormal allure, are only the pretext for a long info-dump on the blood-sucking world; his sexual abstinence, almost virgin-like, makes no sense whatsoever for a salt-of-the-earth type of man; and so on and so forth. As if all of this was not enough to sink the story, things fail to pick up even when Jason and the vampire prince at long last get to meet; let me mention that 1) there is not the least bit of chemistry between them, 2) the conflict that puts them at odds revolves around idiotic notions that it would be entirely too charitable to nail down as masculine pig-headedness and casual instances of miscommunication, 3) the danger Jason is exposed to only elicits boredom despite Mrs Calmes's very poor attempts at misdirection, since one is very hard put to make head or tail of the rationale behind it, and 4) the romance leaves a lot to be desired, all purple prose when it comes to smexy interludes and no feelings at all between the enraptured human and his beastly lover. Pretty much everything in this book is in bad taste, or incompetently done, or both at once; why should the love element be handled any better? On the whole, a penny dreadful - I am all the more furious that this was my first non academic reading for months...