Bite Me, Shapeshifter

Welcome to Arizona. It’s hot. It’s dusty, and it’s absolutely riddled with shapeshifters, sentient dildos, and vampire cult leaders with a taste for blood, drama, and anal.

When investigative journalist Brixton agrees to cover a story on a “peaceful spiritual commune” in the middle of nowhere, she expects sunburns, dry interviews, and maybe a cactus or two. What she doesn’t expect is a blood-soaked sex cult run by pale-skinned vampire royalty, or a pack of feral coyote shifters with glitter kinks.

Now she’s a willing offering. A peace treaty pawn. A cum coated journalist, in over her head (and loving every second of it) There’s garlic bread guillotines. Holy water balloons, and a dungeon tanning bed that doubles as something interesting...

This isn’t a love story, this is war fueled, monster fuck fest, with an edible hangover. Brixton made herself the main course.