Showing posts with label Erotic Paranormal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Erotic Paranormal. Show all posts

Monday, April 16, 2012

UNSPOKEN LIES by Sarah J Pepper

UNSPOKEN LIES by Sarah J Pepper

"Not everyone falls for the psychopath with killer good looks, but Roxy hasn't ever been very lucky by Sarah J Pepper"

With the Unseelie prince’s dangerously addictive kiss lingering on her lips, Roxy is appointed by the Seelie Court to investigate their king’s murder. As more faeries turn up missing or dead, Roxy must find the killer before accusations push the two courts into war.

One problem: the killer orchestrates a twisted game of hide-and-seek, as if amused by the web of lies they create. The catch: all the clues lead to an Unseelie prince being the killer mastermind – the very faerie whose touch Roxy craves.

BUY THE BOOK *** BUY IN eBOOK *** BUY IN KINDLE *** READ THE EXCERPT *** WATCH THE TRAILER


© copyright by Sarah Pepper, December 2011

Cover Art by Eliza Black, December 2011

ISBN 978-1-60394-674-2


New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.


“Open them,” Alexander ordered, slamming her against her bedroom door, closing it.

Obeying, Roxy’s starry vision stole her balance, but Alexander pressed his cold body against hers tight enough to her bedroom door, she wasn’t about to fall. They stood there, staring at each other as if they both wanted to see the hunger blazing in each other’s eyes. It only took a few moments before Roxy couldn’t control her breathing and Alexander’s body became entirely hard under her touch. Leaning forward, his mouth hovered above hers but didn’t close the space to kiss her. Instead, he dug his nails into her back, dragging them down her spine until she trembled uncontrollably. Finally, she screamed into his mouth as he swallowed her cries with a kiss.

His hands plummeted lower while Roxy’s found his crown and thick black hair. The harder she pulled, the lower his hands fell. Finding the dress’s slit, he gripped her thigh, sliding upward as a cool sensation wrapped around her leg.

Once his hand reached her hip bone, Alexander abruptly broke their kiss and stared at her with his cool silver eyes. A smirk slithered across his face as he rubbed this thumb over the area her panties would have been.

Parting her legs for him, his hand dipped down until he could feel just how wet he made her. Forcing his tongue into her mouth, it turned cold as a winter’s breeze. Mimicking his mouth, his fingertips turned icy. She screamed with pleasure and jerked on his hair. With his hand becoming wetter, Alexander tried to untie the dress but groaned with frustration after only a few moments. Pulling his fingers out of her, he backed off and flung her body around. Roxy caught herself against the door just as Alexander ripped the dress off her.

Taking both her wrists, he shoved them against the door. Stepping back, Alexander lightly touched her thigh as if he’d break her. Slowly, he let his hand travel up her back, examining her body with utter amazement.

“Damn,” Alexander muttered.

Twirling his cold finger down her bare back, she shivered. Turning her head, she caught a glimpse of his expression. He looked as if he wasn’t worthy enough to gaze upon her body, let alone touch her. A cold breath of air broke from him as he studied every crevasse, curve, and line of her body. Spinning her around, she ate at his mouth, struggling to control her eagerness.

Images of him, wearing only a white towel, flooded her mind. The body he’d flaunted that morning, the night he saved her life, and the afternoon practicing fighting stances, was what she wanted pressed up against her. Shoving her hands against his chest, she ripped at his shirt. Tearing her hands from his clothing, he pushed away from her. Before she comprehended what he wanted, he picked her up and tossed her onto her bed as if she weighed nothing.

Strutting over to her, Alexander reached for his shirt and leisurely popped the buttons apart, allowing her see his body… excruciatingly…unbearably…slow. Unable to wait any longer, Roxy crawled to the edge of the bed.

“Stay,” he demanded, waiting to see if she would comply.

Her body ached for him, but she held her own. Clenching her sheets as if they were his clothing, she watched in anticipation. Once all the buttons were undone, he pulled the shirt off on one swift movement. Imaging her tongue tracing his perfectly formed stomach, she moaned at the sight of his body. Ripping at his shoulder holster, he never took his eyes off her. Loving that she couldn’t bear not to see all of him, Alexander let the rig fall off, hitting the floor raucously. After he removed the knife sleeves from his forearms, he pulled a thick blade from his waist band.

Struggling to stay, Roxy nearly lost control when he reached for his belt. His breathing became ragged, watching her fight herself to stay on the bed. Removing his belt completely, it fell to the floor. Only then did he walk the last few feet to the bed. Undoing the pants that had to have been sewn on, Alexander stood only an arm’s length away. Unable to wait longer, she crawled out of her bed. Sliding her hands down his lower back, she jerked his pants off.

As her gaze dropped, Alexander caught her chin and swallowed her lust before she could see all of him. Wrapping her hands completely around the length of him, her moan was lost on his throat.

LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE BOOK

Sunday, January 22, 2012

ANCIENT TIES by Jane Leopold Quinn

ANCIENT TIES by Jane Leopold Quinn

21st century teacher Janney Forrester needs a vacation. She gets one, across a stone threshold into the hard, muscular arms of 2nd century Roman soldier Marek.

When Marek seizes her, she decides to seize the day. Carpe diem!

Can a new world for her, timeless desire, and a loving exploration of each other's bodies forge a passion that survives centuries of separation?

BUY THE eBOOK   ***   BUY IN KINDLE   ***   READ THE EXCERPT



Excerpt:

Marek was familiar with strategizing warfare and solving problems, but he had never known a precedent for what just happened. Augusta seemed to believe the woman’s story, but he wasn’t so sure it was true.

Travel through time was impossible. So he told himself. But how did that explain this woman and her insistence on what had been outside the front door? How did that explain her clothing that was like nothing he’d ever seen before? No stranger to a woman’s body, he did like the way it molded to her curves, the soft white, clingy covering over her breasts accentuating her attributes in a way that was almost more desirable than if she’d been naked.

Mmm…almost. He rolled his eyes. Well, obviously, naked would be better.

Strange blue cloth tightly sheathed her long legs all the way down to her ankles. The big white, puffy things on her feet looked clumsy and ungainly, but she was able to move around silently.

He decided to watch her carefully, which was certainly no hardship. Her face was fine-boned -- soft, pink, round apple cheeks, and a determined, pointed chin. Her eyes, the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, were at times pale with uncertainty, then bright with fascination at her surroundings. Spellbound, he watched. Something caused her breasts to be thrust out under her coverings, and a man would have to be blind to miss the hard nipples so visible. His fingers flexed, craving to touch them. He could almost feel their velvety softness on his lips.

Augusta had taken control of Janney Forrester, had invited her into the peristyle. Before showing her around, she took Janney to a bedroom and urged her to change into a tunic and stola. No one else in the villa had seen her yet, and until they figured out what was going on, it would be better if the servants didn’t suspect anything odd. He’d sent for Gaius, his friend and mentor, Augusta’s husband. Gaius would help sort this mess out.

As the woman wandered around the peristyle after Augusta left to see to the evening meal, he stood guard. Legs solidly planted, arms crossed over his chest, he scowled. She was not going to leave his sight. If he had to perform his self-imposed guard duty, a beautiful woman was a pleasant change from scruffy enemy Celts.

Occasionally, she would glance over her shoulder to see where he stood and throw him a wary look. Then, at times, she seemed to forget his presence and peered at carvings, benches, and the fountain with a near reverence, even tracing patterns of curves and hollows with her fingertips.

Hmm.

His face flamed, his jaw dropping open in surprise. He’d bedded a lot of women during his long years in the army, and he’d never been embarrassed before. But the sensuous drag of her fingers along the ridges of carved flowers felt like she had placed her hand on his hip and traced across his tightly clenching stomach muscles.

Vae!

He froze and gaped idiotically when she encountered the cool, smooth marble statue of a nude Hermes, one hand on its hip, a knee cocked forward. Her gaze rose to the top. When her gaze lowered to Hermes’ middle, she squinted, bit her lower lip, and stared at the God’s larger-than-life phallus. He squirmed awkwardly, shifting his feet on the gravel pathway.

At the sound, she turned, looked directly at him, and flushed brightly. Their eyes locked. Gods, what was happening to him? He couldn’t breathe with wanting to grab this woman and prove to her that he was every bit as impressive as the statue.

She bit her lower lip.

Marek suddenly realized he wanted to bite her lower lip. To suck on it.

“Umm,” she murmured, lost in his eyes.

And her upper lip…

Like a bolt of lightning, carnal heat ripped through his belly, and he gasped as if in pain. He turned on his heel and stomped off. Slamming the door to his bedroom, he stood in the center of the room, aghast.

Good Gods! I’m insane.

Marek Benin Verus had never run from a woman in his life. And he hadn’t this time, either. But what had he done? Shaking. He was shaking.

Stop! He ordered himself to think. Cut off the emotions and think. Yes, he wanted the woman. Naturally he did. What sane man wouldn’t want her? That innocent face surrounded by all that curly, yellow hair, and the body of a goddess. He hated that he was completely unnerved by her. This was a first for him. Women were a means to assuaging physical desires, but this one…

He knew her. Oh, not her name, nor specifically her face. She’d been in his dreams, though. Since his breakdown, he’d awakened many mornings hot and agitated, wondering what was wrong with him. It wasn’t unusual to awaken aroused, but remnants of the fantasy of a bright presence touching his body, the voice a mere gentle hum filtering through his brain, stayed with him even after he woke. The shock of the dream becoming reality staggered him. Why had this woman invaded his dreams? What plan did the Gods have? Because without a doubt, she’d been brought to him by the Gods. The question was why?

Humph. Do the reasons matter? The woman has been sent to me. I will have her. The omen is too strong to dismiss.

The yellow-haired woman was a gift to him from the Gods.

LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE eBOOK

Friday, June 24, 2011

MY STRANGE LITTLE OASIS #2: BOTHERHOOD OF THE FIRE

MY STRANGE LITTLE OASIS #2: BOTHERHOOD OF THE FIRE by Steven Kerry

Book 2 in the My Strange Little Oasis trilogy

Go, the voice of the spirit whispers to Ren Gallagher.

Ren fears he will only be rejected at The Oh Aces due to his disfigured face, but yearns for relief from the suicidal depression and social isolation he is sure will kill him in time.

At The Oh Aces Ren finds its members, The Aces, are like brothers, and share such a blazing sexual bond they happily “eat together and then eat one another.” To his surprise, what he doesn’t find is rejection.

However, a gifted psychic named Andy wants more than just sex with Ren. He wants to win Ren’s love by helping him out of the abyss of his depression. But Ren soon fears he has a stalker of the worst kind: one who wants his body and invades his mind.

BUY THE BOOK *** BUY THE eBOOK *** READ THE EXCERPT

EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.



On his way out of the club Ren said goodnight to Lee, Benjy, and a few of the other Aces sitting at the snack bar, and he wondered if he would ever return.

As he walked out the door, he glanced at the red light at the entrance. This time, instead of seeming to wink at him, it appeared weak and faded as though its bulb was burning out. Ren drew closer to the light, and it sputtered briefly, then crackled back to life with renewed energy. For all its tacky, artless simplicity it’s somehow perfect, Ren found himself thinking. In its way it seemed to symbolize so many things at once: sex, lust, heat, the allure of the forbidden ... everything that nearly two decades of disease and death had destroyed or diminished in a community. He then looked at the ivy-covered brick walls of the club’s exterior, telling himself he should never return, yet knowing he probably would, although he definitely needed to avoid Andy.

“Quite an odd little outpost, isn’t it?,” a man suddenly said, startling Ren.

“What?” Ren replied. The man stood beside a glistening blue Ford pick-up truck that looked brand new. Ren recognized him as the guy with the amazing muscled chest, the one who never took his shirt off in the club, much to his disappointment.

“It’s just a funky little outpost that’s somehow managed to survive just like we have. Pretty amazing, huh? So are you coming or going?”

“Oh ... well ...” Ren said, caught like a deer beneath the all too bright security lamp of the small parking lot. He stepped out of its direct glare. “I’m going ... because I already ... came.”

The guy laughed. “ I’ll bet you did. Good for you. I like that. That’s what it’s there for, a little bit o’ joy in the wilderness. I was kind of hoping you were just getting here though.”

“Really?” Ren said, dubious.

“Sure. I don’t want you to think I’m a snob. I’m a friendly guy. I’ve seen you in there. I just never had the opportunity to say hi. You’re always ... busy.”

Ren shook his head and looked away shyly. “You must be kidding. I have a reserved seat at the far back corner of the patio. I probably look like a mannequin.”

“Yeah, but that horn dog who thinks he’s Merlin the Magician always seems to dominate your time. I never get a chance. Anyway, if I said you had a beautiful body would you hold it against me?”

And he smiled this great, warm smile that made him look super-woofy. Ren was expecting the What’s Wrong With This Picture look by now, especially considering the bright lighting in the lot. Damn, he thought. Why couldn’t we have met in the club? I feel so fucking naked out here.

“Sorry,” the guy said sheepishly. “That was pretty lame, I guess. It’s the title of some country song I heard on KZLA. Anyway, I really have been wanting to talk to you a little in the club. Don’t worry, I don’t bite.”

“That’s too bad. I kind of like nasty animals,” Ren said.

The man chuckled. “ Oh well, maybe we can talk sometime soon. I think I’ll be here Friday night if you’re around.”

Ren looked at him, not sure whether to feel flattered or confused.

“What’s your name?”

“Ren.”

“Hey Ren, I’m Gust. Nice t’ meet you.”

“Gus?” Ren asked. What’s with all the old geezer names in this place? he thought. Barney ... Cornell ... Gus ... isn’t anybody named Billy or Josh or “Mikester” like they are in bars or chat rooms?

“No. It’s Gust. Like a ‘gust’ of wind. And please don’t say what that goofy psychic who’s always talking to you on the patio always says to me: ‘Hey Gust, you blowing or wanna get blown tonight?’ And then he cackles like some demented hyena. That guy’s got more tricks up his sleeve than I got in the seventies. He gives me the creeps.”

“Me too,” Ren replied immediately. “ I thought I was the only one ...”

“Hardly. Oh, well, hey, I don’t wanna hang you up out here since you’re leavin’. Maybe I’ll see you on Friday night if you can make it. That would be nice.”

“Sure” Ren replied. “Maybe I’ll see you.” By now he had gradually scooted well outside the glare of the security lamp and was a little more comfortable.

Gust noticed this, but remained in the light himself, a short distance from Ren, not wanting to seem too aggressive or overbearing. “And maybe I’ll see you,” he replied, smiling winsomely. “Have a good night.” Gust headed toward the entrance to the club.

LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE BOOK

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

BELOVED VAMPIRE by Joey W Hill

BELOVED VAMPIRE by Joey W. Hill
Book IV of the Vampire Queen series

Mason has lived in the Sahara desert for almost 300 years, grieving for a lost love and guarding her tomb. When the tomb is breached, his bloodlust is stirred to raging by the thought of someone disturbing her sanctuary.

What he finds is Jessica, a fugitive from his own world. Jessica was the forced second-mark servant of a cruel vampire master. Through an unexpected turn of events, she was able to kill him when he tried to give her the final mark, which would have made her his full servant, bound to him even in death. Because the third marking was not complete, it left her alive...barely.

Drawn by the historic legend of the tomb, not knowing how it intertwines with the vampire world she is seeking to avoid, Jessica's only desire is to die there, with her hand on the sarcophagus of the woman who'd had an unyielding faith in love.

Instead, she finds her desire to live forcibly re-awakened by the vampire who refuses to let her give up. She clings to her hatred, but the more Mason struggles with her, the more determined he is to help her believe in love again. The only catch is he might have to do the same. But can he offer up his heart to another extraordinary woman if he already gave it away centuries ago?

BUY THE BOOK *** READ THE EXCERPT


Excerpt:

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

Beloved Vampire
Erotic/BDSM Paranormal Romance
© Copyright 2009 - All Rights Reserved



The Sahara had once been green. Lush, a verdant land supporting civilizations. Then the earth’s orbit changed, the sun came a little closer, and the land altered, becoming a desert that swallowed armies. It had happened three or four thousand years ago, barely a blink in the nine billion year life of Earth, but in that blink, Heaven and Hell had switched places. Had it been cosmic boredom, a need for a different perspective? Life giver, life taker.

Jessica wondered which face the Sahara preferred. Since she’d come here to die, it was a point of interest. Barely two years ago, her body had been vigorous and fertile as well. Now it, too, was a barren skeleton that repelled most sensible life forms. She felt almost at home here.

As the largest desert in the world, this was a place one could walk for days—if one had the constitution of a camel—and see no other human life. But the history of the area was still mapped on this wasteland, if one had trained eyes. Though she’d had to study it primarily from within the walls of her prison, she’d done little else of importance in the past months but study her final destination.

She didn’t really count killing Lord Raithe as important. The vampire who’d forced her to be his servant for over five years, and the reason she was dying now, was relatively nothing in the scheme of things. Creatures lived, creatures died, and their bones became sand like this. They all walked over the remains of their ancestors. At least he’d never torment anyone again. That mattered, though in truth, she’d been sick for so long now, she couldn’t even recall why that had been as important as it had once seemed.

In contrast, Farida had remained significant to her. In the midst of a life so horrible Jess often thought she’d already died and somehow deserved Hell—though she couldn’t recall her crime—Farida had given her a spark of light. It had amazed Jess, discovering the body’s desire to live was stronger than anything, even despair. Maybe that was why she’d connected with a woman who had chosen love and then lost everything.

From the very first moment Jess opened the ancient binding and discovered the written memories of the sheikh’s daughter who had lived over three hundred years ago, a bond had formed between them. Farida had spoken in her memoir passionately, vibrantly, of a love worth any torment.

Between being on the run as a fugitive and hoping she had the strength to keep going the next day, Jess had read her words. Hiding in dank places that only society’s forgotten frequented, often there was nothing else to break her thoughts, except the trickling background of an internal hourglass, the sands of her life running out. Her cells were being subsumed in that flow of sand, as if she were becoming part of a place like Farida’s Sahara. But she was okay with that. There were those who believed that the Sahara would return to greenness, that the cycles of climate change would evolve again, the sun getting less hot and the rains increasing. A different way of life would return.

After Jess killed Raithe, Farida’s journal and the diamonds were the only things worth her life to slip back into his house and retrieve. Maybe even then, in her subconscious, she’d realized where she was going to go and what she was going to do with the short remainder of her life. It was no more fantastic than what her life had been for the past five years. And no one would look for her in the Middle East.

When she’d arrived in the Sahara, she realized that those who wrote of it as a desolate place, devoid of life, didn’t know it. There was life here. Not just in the few peoples and creatures that called it home, but in the ghosts that whispered, finding voice through the movement of the sand, a haunting noise like blowing across the top of a soda bottle. She knew what that sounded like, for she’d done it as a teenager, clustered with her friends on the curb outside the Quik-Stop with soda and Cheetoes, eying the boys that came in after school. Boys who eyed them right back.

God, that was a long time ago. She held those memories to her occasionally like a favorite doll, even as she knew the act was closer to that of a mother holding a dead baby.

The three men she’d paid to accompany her this far thought her a madwoman, of course. But she’d paid them enough to indulge her, and there was nothing to lose, no liability. Take a crazy, dying woman out to a remote part of the desert that wasn’t on any map, and she’d eventually tire of her fantasy of finding the marker for a dead woman’s grave or die. They’d be rich men, either way. She’d shown them the jewels, what would be theirs if they helped her. She thanked whatever capricious Deity watched over fools that she’d had the foresight to take the gems while everyone was still out looking for her. Raithe had had a hoard to rival a dragon’s, so they’d never be missed.

Now, as she rolled the comfort of familiar thoughts through her head, a reminder of where she’d been, where she was going, she looked over the endless stretch of dunes. The breathtaking artistry of the wind upon them rivaled the greatest sculptors of the ages, and the sun collaborated, providing a different view with each degree it descended. But even that beauty couldn’t distract her from the fact night was drawing close. God, she hated darkness. But she fingered the compass in her pocket, reassuring herself. The stars would help her find Farida tonight at last.

Reading the words of that diary made her feel as if she were in Farida’s silken tent, where they cuddled on the pillows as girlfriends, pressed forehead to forehead. In the darkest time of night, Farida whispered in her ear. She’d told Jessica that, while everything in life could be taken away by uncontrollable forces, there was always a choice left. Something overlooked, if one did not let fear overwhelm desire.

Farida’s choice had been an incomparable man. Jessica’s would be where she wanted to die. Closing her eyes, Jessica remembered her favorite diary entry, about the night Farida had met Lord Mason…

* * * * *

I was behind the screen when Prince Haytham entered the tent to speak with my father. My father valued my counsel and often allowed me to do this, perhaps because he knew how very restless I became in a woman’s world. Why does Allah create dreams and appetites, the desire to live free and fierce as a man does, if those things are to be denied a woman’s soul? I have often wondered this.

Then I saw the man with the prince. Those longings, banked always against my responsibilities as my father’s daughter, exploded inside me like the brightness of stars, such that they couldn’t be contained. I bit down so hard on my lip I drew blood, though I knew I must fly, sing, dance…all for him.

He had to be a djinn spun from the desert sand, for never has a man been so beautifully made. Face carved with the sculpted beauty of the dunes, but smooth as watered stone, as if a goddess had created him and then lovingly stroked him, over and over.

When they sat for coffee, he removed his robes, showing he wore the brown riding trousers and white shirt of a European. He lounged back on the pillows, a graceful animal. Though he smiled and listened in that relaxed way of men as coffee was prepared, he reminded me of a desert tiger, for his hair was burnished copper, an animal’s pelt. He had it scraped back from his face, so every magnificent plane was emphasized. My fingers wanted to feel that fall of straight silk, tied back from his shoulders.

His eyes were true amber, like the tiger as well, an almost unnatural brilliance to them, as if he carried the fire of the desert within him. A djinn, as I have said. I heard Prince Haytham say later that he suspected Lord Mason was a British spy, for during the time he stayed with us, he was always gone by dawn, and returned at nightfall. He also spoke our language as well as a native, and his accent was not as precisely bitten off as other Englishmen who have met our camp.

The prince said Lord Mason’s purpose was nothing that concerned us, though I imagined him stepping out of view of our camp and dissolving into a tornado of sand, a desert devil spinning across the dunes. He had too much energy to contain in the body of a mortal man. I imagined that he returned to us at night only when his need to exercise his powers was temporarily sated.

But I need to leave off my fancies and go back to that first time I saw him. As I bit down on my lip and tasted my blood, I must have made a sound despite my efforts, for he looked at me, found me behind the screen. Those tiger’s eyes flickered. I saw his nostrils flare, as if he had my scent, knew every shameful thing I wanted. A passing moment, over in a blink. He shifted his attention away, not disrespecting my father by staring at a woman of his house.

But when he raised his hand to perform the salaam, I drew in another unsteady breath, thinking how those hands would feel on my flesh, compelling my surrender, my obedience, my devotion and love throughout eternity. I knew then. From that very first second, Fate tied a gentle but unbreakable tether around my throat and handed the lead to him. I would follow him, no matter what our end would be.

LIKED THE EXCERPT??? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE BOOK

Friday, March 4, 2011

CACIOUS & SAKARA by Jason Daniel Kowalczyk

CACIOUS & SAKARA: The Blood Companion Conclusion by Jason Daniel Kowalczyk

"The erotic nightmare gets a bit of humor tossed in the mix with Jason Daniel Kowalczyk's new volume of the Blood Companion Series."

You know Sakara as a key character in the story of "The Blood Companion," but you don't know the truth.

Now you will...

This is the real story of Sakara and how she fits in to the tales that Lelio began to tell you of. You will finally know the truth about Lelio Froste, as well as his beginning.

Along for the ride is the cursed Vampire, Cacious. This vampire has spent his time as a vampire slowly rotting, and he finally reveals what he knows of his curse. Our marble-shooting hero who has stayed in the background until now.

The 8th and final volume of the Blood Companion series will take you on a roller coaster ride that will come to a screeching halt. It will end in a way that you least expect. You may just want to hold your breath...

BUY THE BOOK *** BUY ON KINDLE *** READ THE EXCERPT *** WATCH THE TRAILER


Excerpt from “Cacious & Sakara” By Jason Daniel Kowalczyk

I finally fell into dreamland, but then I woke after a couple of hours as my hotel room was beginning to smell like a rotting corpse. I sat up in bed and saw him sitting in a chair at the little table in the corner. I must admit, I would have expected the room to smell far worse than it did, “Marbleton's Water Seal,” he blurted as if I had said it out loud, “Simon developed it to help with the smell.”

It was Cacious, the poor vampire that was cursed by rotting his way through his existence. He was wrapped like a mummy, but this mummy's wrappings were made of the silver fix-all, duct tape. He had even fashioned ears, eyelids, and a nose. He was wearing clothing over the duct tape, but it was still an odd sight. He had white hair that stood up in the air like he had received a massive electric shock. I did not feel that I was in danger; he looked at me as if he were curious. It took all of my control not to burst out in to laughter at the mere sight of him. An odd fellow, I was actually quite happy to get to speak to him.

“Cacious, I am guessing?” He nodded his reply. Unfortunately the duct tape wasn't good for facial features; he brought both hands to his face and used his fingers to move his duct-taped lips into a smile. “I have to ask, was anything, other than your condition, true in Lelio's book?”

He laughed outlandishly, “I do shoot marbles with a slingshot. I can take out a flea that is sitting on a cat’s ass a mile away. ” Cacious had an air of humor to him, he was surely not insane, he was just an oddball, and he was a vampire that was able to find the comical side in anything. “You do not need to explain anything that he put in there about you; I know it was just slap-chunk.”

“Slap-chunk?” An odd term, I actually giggled a bit as I got out of bed and sat at the other chair at the table. I had already gotten the coffee maker ready so that all I had to do was push the on-button so it would brew. I pushed the button and readied myself for what I figured would be a fun talk. “Slap-Chunk?”

“Lies,” he laughed. “Anyway, I help to keep an eye on things in this city, I was informed that you were here, and I was kind of sent to figure you out, but I already know what you are about.” I was a bit unnerved, but it was Cacious, and he obviously was not here to harm me. He could have killed me in my sleep, which would have been the only way this skinny thing would have been able to kill me. “So what did Lelio do to get you all pissed at him?”

“He is my brother,” oh, how his questioning gaze changed. Suddenly he was wondering if his impression of me was off by miles. “Calm down, I want to kill him. His father raped my mother, and I was the result...” I told him my story. I told him about my adopted father, my lineage, the story of the things Nicolae did, and how I made it here. “I may have Nicolae's blood in me, but I am trying to do something with my time on earth.”

He was speechless for a moment; he was thinking hard, I often wonder if there were marbles bouncing around in that duct-taped head of his when he thought. Oddly enough, I seemed to notice a grave look come over his face, which should have been impossible considering how his face was made up. “Things are becoming difficult in the city with Lelio. Especially after what he did last night…”

“I caught glimpses of you last night, which is how I knew where I could find you. I travel by rooftop all the time as I keep an eye on the city.” He paused as he tightened a strip of duct tape around his right index finger. “Lelio was extremely busy. After I found Roger in a helpless state, I went around the city in the hopes that I could find a reason to rip his head from his shoulders.

“I never found him, but I found two dead bodies that I am sure that he was the killer. The male will be most problematic, considering he was a shifter,” he noticed my questioning glare as I poured myself a cup of coffee, “werewolf. The shifter was a male; he was obviously attacking a woman while in his human form. The woman was murdered as well.”

“Cocky little bastard, isn't he?”

“That isn't even the worst of what he did. There is a hunter, Ariel, Lelio mentioned her in his writing.” Cacious pointed to my copy of Lelio's book on the nightstand. “He made her into a vampire,” He laughed at the sickened look on my face.

“Just to see if he could, just to torture her,” he nodded. His head tilted a bit to the right as he considered me. I closed my eyes and tried to reach over the distance between Lelio and I to see if I could find his jumbled mind somewhere in the city. I did not know if I could do it, but it is weird how the demon blood whispers hints in my mind.

I thought of the connection that I felt the first time I walked into that room where Lelio sat. I felt my brother's mind, I hoped when did find him that he would not be able to find my location. I concentrated on trying to lock up my mind while scratching around in his. I found what I was looking for; I began to speak to Cacious as I dug around.

“They did not head to the city in the vampire way, They took his Cadillac, which was much more comfortable to him than having wings sprout out of his back and take to the air. He wore a pair of jeans as well as a sport coat and a tie.” I opened my eyes to make sure he was listening, oddly enough, he was transfixed.

“He is not powerful enough to simply will myself up into the air and go wherever he pleases, like elder vampires might. Hope liked to hunt in the open and make it a game to lure her prey into the dark corners. Lelio preferred to hunt in the darkest of alleys, that way, he could do as he pleased and simply kill and move on about his business. He strolled along in the darkness, passing an addict here and a homeless man there. He scanned the minds of the few he passed in order to gauge their innocence or guilt; none of them were worth him extinguishing their life then and there. He passed evil, he passed dealers, and he hungers for innocent blood.

“Then he finally found the innocent soul that he so desperately needed to quench his undying thirst. He turned into a dead-end alley, and he found a man that was digging for food in a dumpster. Lelio strolled quietly up behind him; he started to pluck things out of his mind to know what he was doing here. He was so sure that this fool should die, that he did not even try to sneak up behind him, but he was too preoccupied to notice him.

“His name was Albert, he had been a self-published author, and now he picked his meals out of the dumpster. Lelio rushed forward and pinned him up against the metal. He struggled to free himself from his grasp but it was useless. Lelio again went into his mind; he was nothing but a psychic psychotic, Lelio was all the worst parts of his father, festering here on this earth. 'You are such an innocent soul; this should piss your God off.'

“Lelio grabbed the man's face and squeezed his jaw, purposely trying to hurt him; Lelio sank his fangs into Albert's neck, and drained against his innocent and frightened heart. The fear in him seemed to change the feeling of the blood he was taking into him. It was beautiful, and he almost wept when he could pull no more from the wound.

“Lelio bit into the tip of his tongue to use a small amount of his blood to heal away the puncture marks to ensure that there were no signs of the vampire left on this bastard.

“Lelio heaved Albert up and on top of the trash in the Dumpster and began to straighten his tie when he turned around see the exit to the alley being blocked by one beautiful individual. A very beautiful young woman was staring at him. She stood about his height, her blonde hair flowing over her shoulders. Her skin was very pale, but not as pale as one of his kin. Her blue eyes were fixed on him with such hatred that it almost knocked him to the ground. Once our eyes met, he knew her, she is known as the most feared vampire hunter that was in existence.

“Now, Ariel was standing a few hundred feet in front of him and she was in no mood for mere conversation at this moment. A mental strike was sent at him from Ariel, it hit him with such force that he slammed into the Dumpster, nearly folding it in half. He could hear the body within being squished in the act. Imagine being struck by a speeding car, that is what he felt come from Ariel, and it was all for him by her mind. This was a mortal woman with the mental strengths that most vampires could not achieve for centuries of life, or unlife if you want to be specific.

“Lelio was hurt, but he could feel his body already trying to heal him, but it was far off from being in the condition to battle this oddly powerful mortal woman. Ribs were broken, several vertebrae were shattered in his neck and back, and there was a gaping hole in the back of his head. He was on his hands and knees, crawling away from the Dumpster when he realized that she was now standing right above him with a crossbow in her grasp.

“Lelio could not get to his feet, he was way too hurt, and all he was able to do was get to his knees. He used his demon blood to muster enough strength to tackle her as she fired the crossbow. The shot missed and he sunk his demon fangs into her side. He was able to draw quickly, weaken her, and then he got the idea. He held her by her hair as he let his blood pour into her mouth. He thought it was funny, what he was doing to her. He was slightly unnerved though, he was not able to pull out her secrets, either way. Then he just left her there,” I was sickened by what I was able to pull from his mind. I was trying to figure out more, but I think he realized what I was doing, and his mind clammed up. “I think he figured out what I was doing. I cannot get any further from this way.”

“It is alright, I know what happens next, I found her,” Cacious pulled out a marble and began to bat it back and forth like a cat with a ball of yarn, “I stayed with her through the change. I told her how to find Valentino, and then I went to try and find him. He also killed that chick that he was sleeping with, Hope.”

“At least I was able to get that, I think he figured out what I was doing when I tried to figure out where he was as well.” I was sort of transfixed at the way he seemed to be getting annoyed as the marble would get away from him and roll to the floor, and then he would pull out another, and so on as we talked. “What in the world are you doing?”

“Sorry,” he chuckled as another marble rolled to the floor. “The marbles call to me, I just can't keep my hands off them. I am one with the marbles.”

I looked under the table to see about 40 marbles lying on the carpet. “Apparently not,” I couldn't help myself from laughing at him.

“I am not here for your entertainment,” Cacious seemed miffed. “Are you amused with my marbles? Am I funny to you? Do I amuse you; do you think I am here to make you laugh?” He could not even keep from laughing anymore. “Like so many others, you must be wondering how I have survived so long.”

“How long have you been around,” Cacious was surely an interesting character, I almost totally forgot about Lelio.

“To be honest, which I usually am not, I am not sure. I was around for the establishing of this city,” he shrugged his duct-tape covered shoulders. “It was a long time ago, in a land far away from here, before the invention of porn that I was born. Oops, I made a rhyme. Anyway, I guess it was not before the invention of porn, since they have even found dirty paintings in the homes of Egyptian elite.”

“Are you really sitting here, or am I actually still asleep,” it put me off now and then to see these eyes moving around under duct-taped eyelids. He reached up and pulled his white hair off of his head. It was Velcroed to his head. I could see the Velcro attached to his skull. “How do you keep that attached to your head?” I tried to stop myself from asking, but it was too late, I was afraid of the answer.

“Staples.”

I had to change the subject, “You said you watch over the city, how do you do it?”

“I saw you last night because I travel the tops of the building’s myself.” Again, he pulled a marble out of his pocket and began to bat it back and forth. “My smell tends to give my whereabouts away, so I tend to stay out of other creatures nostrils by staying above them. Jacob fitted me with a hearing accelerant made from part of a toothpick, chewing gum, and a cigarette filter. I can hear very well.”

“Jacob?” Once again, I just could not stop myself.

“One of my swarm.”

“Swarm?” Sooner or later I would have to train myself not to ask questions of this vampire without thinking first.

“Rats.”

“Okay, you were right; you don't tell the truth very often.” I was giggling when I said it.

“That isn't a lie. I don't know if they were an experiment, or born that way, they build things and invent things. Kinda like the little green guys from Fraggle Rock.”

“Toothpick, chewing gum, and a cigarette filter?”

“Hey, I don't understand it myself,” he looked directly in my eyes, “but I can take you to them if you need to see it to believe it.” I viewed his micro-expressions, his eyes stared off in the feelings quadrant then rolled over to visual conceptualization. In plane-Jane English, he was telling the truth.

“Now is not a good time, I need to take a look around the city.” I rose to my feet and began to dig out some clothes to wear. “You can see yourself out, but I do hope we can chat again soon.”

“We will, this was fun.”



LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE BOOK

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

SILENT HOWL by Stacey Kennedy

SILENT HOWL - The Blue Bloods  - Book Two by Stacey Kennedy

When murder threatens innocent lives, will one woman unleash the wolf within her or hide behind the human that cowers in fear.

Rynn Murphy is a werewolf and she is in a state of bliss - her junkie parents are in recovery for their drug addiction. Her Grandfather, Pops, suffering from Alzheimer's has settled into a nursing home in Utah. And she has just witnessed the bonding ceremony of her friends, Nexi and Kyden from the Otherworld. With her mate, Briggs by her side, life can't get any better...

But this happiness is about to end as Rynn is brought to Philadelphia. As a Blue Blood Werewolf, she has been given a special gift to possess a strong scent. And after horrific murders take place in the Pennsylvania territory, Rynn must use this ability to seek the killer out...

This task does not come easily, Rynn is struggling. The human in her flees from danger. The wolf in her is desperate to end his murderous rampage. Rynn must reconcile these two halves while these murders begin to cross State lines. Soon, danger will be all around them, and Rynn will have to decide what is more important - the human who remains in her or the wolves she has sworn to protect...

Chapter One


Twelve Steps by Narcotics Anonymous:

1. Admit we were powerless over drug abuse--that our lives had become unmanageable.

2. Come to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

3. Make a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.

4. Make a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

5. Admit to God, ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.

6. Be entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.

7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.

8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed and be willing to make amends to them.

9. Make direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

10. Continue to take personal inventory and when we are wrong promptly admit it.

11. Seek through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, as we understand Him, pray only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.

12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics and practice these principles in all our affairs.

*

Plymouth, Minnesota may have been voted America’s best place to live by Money Magazine, but Briggs would argue that point. It’s really a vague memory now. Such a short time ago, his mate had walked home from a long shift with sore feet and a deep ache to her back. What she hadn’t known at the time was that walk would change her life forever. Attacked, bitten and then transformed into a werewolf--it was of no surprise to him that she was still trying to adjust to the horrors of that night.

He looked to Rynn as she sat next him in a hard chair that was not made for comfort. Her long brown hair cradled her face as her deep silver eyes penetrated his soul. How he craved to reach out, touch her creamy skin, kiss those soft lips of hers. But when a chair shifted in front of him, the present situation drew him back to where they were and why they were here. Rynn’s parents, Warwick and Tarina Murphy.

Just a few short days ago, Briggs had forced them into drug rehab treatment at On Belay House in Plymouth, Minnesota--Rynn’s hometown. Now, her parents were in the recovery process. As he knew it, they were on still on stage one and needed to admit their lives had become unmanageable. Which is exactly why they were here now, sitting in these chairs and staring into the faces of people Briggs wished had no part of her life.

The room had soft pale yellow paint on the walls, simple office chairs with even a fake plant in the center of the coffee table--classic therapy room--to avoid distraction for the reason they were here. Briggs glanced away from the room and back to an old guy with glasses sitting low on his nose in a proper office chair as he spoke. “We are here today for Warwick and Tarina to share with you the process that they’ve been through these last few days here and to speak from their hearts. We’re not here to judge, only listen.”

Briggs’ anger grew in strides. What a ridiculous display this was. No conversation would fix what they had done. He came here for Rynn, and her alone. He hoped this meeting would give her a sense of peace. Resolve this situation in her heart. Yet, he doubted that was possible. Knowing that his emotions were running away with him, he tried his best to close off his feelings so Rynn wouldn’t sense them. He wanted her to deal with her own emotions, not his. Usually, he enjoyed the intense connection they shared as werewolf mates. Now, she needed him to lean on for support and he did his best to remember that.

But tonight, he could sense her unstable emotions. Clearly, she wasn’t sure how to feel about this meeting with her parents. They looked great, probably because they continually washed. When Briggs discovered them, they’d resorted to living on the streets, caring for nothing and no one except drugs. Pathetic couldn’t even explain how unclean and disgusting they had looked when he’d first laid eyes on them.

The Doctor’s gaze left Briggs and he gestured toward Tarina to start.

“Rynn,” Tarina said, her voice soft and reserved.

Briggs could immediately sense Rynn’s emotions crumble. This wasn’t going to be easy for her. He could feel the anger within her that they’d chosen drugs over her but there was also sadness that they had abandoned her so young.

He could throttle the two people sitting before him. They were only lucky they had gotten this far. His resolve to this problem was to see the end of them, but his mate wouldn’t have that. For her, he would sit through this ridiculous display and listen to the two individuals who had caused her a lifetime of pain. He doubted anything they said would change his opinion of them.

Tarina cleared her throat softly before she continued. “There is nothing I can say to change what has happened in the past. Nothing that will forgive what I have done.”

“You’re bloody right about that,” Briggs interjected.

Rynn squeezed his thigh, drew his gaze down and into her pleading eyes. He took a deep breath and settled back to listen. She needed his support and he would give her that. Again, he reminded himself to rein it in. But it didn’t change the underlying truth that these two sods could rot in hell as far as he was concerned.

Tarina started crying.

Briggs snorted. Her mother knew how to put on a show. How many tears had Rynn shed for them? The woman’s sadness did only one thing...pissed him off more. She was not going to earn his sympathy.

“Go on, Mom,” Rynn said and frowned at Briggs.

It only amused him and eased a bit of the tension along his shoulders. His soft mate looked so lovely when she was angry. Such a little ball of fire she was. He’d piss her off at times just to see that look, it enthralled him.

Tarina sniffed a couple times. Her look was so similar to Rynn, brown hair the exact shade, except Tarina’s was cut at her chin. Even her silver eyes were nearly identical in color and held the same round shape to them.

Yet, her eyes didn’t hold the sweet soul that belonged to his mate. That could never be duplicated. “We were never there for you growing up. Never saw you or cared for you, and that is what I’m so very sorry about. You didn’t have a family.”

“Yes I did,” Rynn retorted without a moment’s hesitation. “I had Pops and he was all I ever needed.”

If it wasn’t for Rynn’s grandfather who had taken her in when she was four, Briggs couldn’t even imagine what would have happened to her. His heart clenched just thinking about it. Now, her grandfather was sick with Alzheimer’s and couldn’t remember her.

Briggs knew the pain it caused her daily. She hadn’t been able to go and visit him since her transformation. Without the control over her wolf, she couldn’t risk shifting in front of him. Just because his mind was gone, didn’t mean that seeing a human morph into a wolf wouldn’t be shocking. No need to make his situation worse.

Soon, she would see him again and Briggs eagerly wanted to take her. She’d only been released from the hospital earlier tonight. It took a little while to recover from her recent injuries.

Injuries sustained by Danika, a wolf determined to see the end of Rynn so her daughter could bond with Briggs. The plan was so unbelievable no one had put it together. It consisted of the fake kidnapping of her own daughter, Kali, bring Rynn out into the wolf world to expose her, then have hired goons kill her.

Luckily, Danika failed, but it wasn`t without injury. Grazed by a bullet and nearly blown to pieces, Rynn was lucky to be alive. In the end, Danika was dead, killed by her mate for her acts of betrayal. Briggs was certainly glad for that. Rynn had a hard time accepting her fate and although he understood that, he wouldn’t have wanted any other outcome.

Briggs drew back from his thoughts when Warwick reached out to take Rynn’s hand. His growl came immediate. No, the man was not allowed to touch her. Warwick wasn’t as stupid as Briggs thought, he instantly placed his hand back on his lap.

Her father looked much older than his forty years. Briggs suspected this was from prolonged drug use. Deep crow’s feet that seemed to create crevasses along his face surrounded dark eyes. His hair, recently cut, had salt and pepper coloring. The man looked worn.

Warwick’s gaze left Briggs and fell to Rynn. “We’re sorry that we let our disease rule us and made us forget everything that was important. We’re grateful that Pops knew just how special you really are.”

Rynn’s eyes began to well up and tumultuous emotions ran through her. Briggs tensed and she reacted to it instantly. She reached out and ran her fingers along his tight fist. Her emotions told him that she was okay--overwhelmed--but okay.

“You have turned out to be a fine lady and are a better person than your mother and I will ever become. We owe Pops a great deal for raising you so well.” Warwick turned his gaze to Briggs. “I respect the loyalty you have to her and if I was sitting in your position, I’d be looking at me like you are now.”

Briggs arched a brow. “Would you now?”

Warwick nodded, his tone full of disgrace. “We have failed her and if you held us in high regard, I suppose that would say you don’t deserve her.”

“And do you think you are worthy of her?” The accusation from Briggs held heavy in the air.

Warwick’s head hung in shame. “No. I do not think I am.”

“Then we do agree on something.”

Dr. Wanker cut in. “We are not here to judge, only to listen.”

Briggs steeled him with a hard look. “Best we direct the conversation away from me then. I have nothing to say here that’s not judgmental.”

“We are here to help in their recovery,” the Doctor chastised.

“No, I am here because my wife wants to be here.” Briggs corrected him quickly.

Rynn stiffened at the word wife. Briggs understood why she felt uncomfortable with the title. She was his mate. The two seemed worlds apart. She gave her head a shake, then looked to Briggs. “Can we just move on please?”

Dr. Wanker pushed his glasses further onto his nose. “Yes.” He nodded at Warwick to continue.

Warwick’s gaze focused, unwavering, on Briggs. “We will make right what we have done wrong to her. We see now what our disease has done to us. We can gain her trust back.”

Briggs’ tension multiplied. He was doing his best to shield his emotions from Rynn, but suspected she could sense that he felt they could never nullify what had been done.

She ran her fingers softly against his hand to gain his attention. When he glanced at her, she gave him a little smile. It said it all. She didn’t mind his protectiveness, but she wanted her parents to get well, needed them to.

He reached up and brushed his fingers along her sweet soft cheek and Rynn leaned into his fingers. No matter what his feelings were on the matter she was his only priority.

Tarina sniffed loudly. “You seem so happy.”

Rynn moved away from Briggs’ hand and glanced at her mother. “I am, very happy.”

“Thank you for taking care of her,” Warwick said to Briggs.

Briggs thought he was in control of himself. Apparently, he wasn’t and had reached the end of his tolerance. He forced himself to keep the glare from showing on his face, but was unable to control the anger in his voice. “Your daughter needs to be taken care of by no one. If you hadn’t spent the last years out of your mind, you would know that. She’s kind, generous, loving and strong--all qualities that obviously came from neither of you.”

Briggs raised his hand to stop Dr. Wanker when he was about to speak, his scowl prevalent. “And what you should all realize is that this ridiculous session has nothing to do with you. It’s not about you.” He pointed to Rynn who had a tear falling down her cheek. He could feel the swell of love course through their bond. “It’s about her--her healing. Your words will fix nothing. Hearing you apologize is meaningless. If you want to make it up to her, get well, and begin to restore the betrayal she suffers. Show her. Not until then should you speak a word of your happiness because we all know, your word means jack shit.”

Silence filled the room. Rynn looked at her hands as she cried.

Dr. Wanker cleared his throat loudly. “I believe Tarina and Warwick have spoken what needed to be said here.”

Briggs was still furious. What had been said really? That they now realized they made mistakes? Well, it was too late for that. The damage was irreversible. The future would be what determined their fate in his eyes.

Tarina stood and went to hug her daughter, but Briggs stood quickly and stepped in front of her. “Embracing her is something you must earn and you have not even come close to that, woman.”

Tarnia dropped her arms and sobbed again, but said nothing. Warwick still sat in his chair, gaze on the floor. Dr. Wanker just looked pissed.

Briggs turned and helped Rynn to her feet. When she glanced at him, her eyes tearful, all he felt was a feeling of security. She seemed to understand what it cost him to be here. He wanted to kill them. It may be violent, but that’s just the wolf’s way. His only thought was of her, to shield her, and she was humbled by that.

He also sensed that she craved to go into her mother’s arms and tell her that she forgave her. She wanted her to know that it was all right and that she understood, but also understood why Briggs had done it. He was doing this to protect her. If she allowed herself to open up to them, they could hurt her and that was one thing he couldn’t allow. Not ever. She had already had her fair share of that. He wouldn’t see her hurt again.

With a final look at her parents, seeing them in all their misery, he pulled on Rynn’s hand and led her from the room. Just as the door closed behind them, Briggs’ phone rang. He reached into his pocket and flipped it open.

“Aye.” He listened for a few moments, then he smiled as he met Rynn’s gaze, happiness flaring through him. This call was just what they needed after this ordeal.

Rynn’s gaze turned curious. When he closed the phone, she asked, “What?”

“We have somewhere to go.”

“Already?” A little pout rose to her darling face. “We can’t go home?”

He shook his head, grinning. “Not yet, darlin’.”

LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE BOOK

Friday, February 4, 2011

THE BLOOD COMPANION by Jason Daniel Kowalczyk

THE BLOOD COMPANION by Jason Daniel Kowalczyk

"The Erotic Nightmare begins for Lelio Froste in Jason Daniel Kowalczyk's first release."

This is the story of Lelio Froste and how he became a vampire. A man that in his mortal years, sadness was allowed to rule over him. It was the sadness that cost him his first love Sakara. It was many years after the divorce, when he had decided that life was not worth living, that she returned to him to save his life. She also offered him a new one. Lelio had to go through the transformation into a vampire to finally learn to value life. This story is not for the faint at heart or the easily offended. Jason spins a story of gothic, horror, erotica, love, and violence. Not only is Lelio able to save his own self, he somehow manages to save the world in the process. This is the first cut, first release, and unedited version of the tale.


BUY THE BOOK *** BUY THE eBOOK *** BUY ON KINDLE *** READ THE EXCERPT *** WATCH THE TRAILER



Excerpt from “The Blood Companion” by Jason Daniel Kowalczyk

It was not hard to find Sakara; I was able to find her by homing in on her scent. Not the slight scent of death that one carries throughout his vampiric immortality. But the scent that she had always had, the scent of her skin, her hair, scents that I had always associated with her. The wind seemed to carry that scent directly to me. It was as if the world was trying to usher me to her side.

She was at the top of the lighthouse that was set on the island just off the coast of the city. There were only two structures on that island, as I have mentioned before, the lighthouse and the Asylum for the mentally handicapped and disturbed.

It was like a scene out of a movie, her there on that catwalk, her hair gently swaying in the breeze. The sea beyond her, the stars in the sky, and the moonlight dancing on the waters adding a sparkle to the entire scene that could have been in any movie and warmed your heart.

I came down on the walkway near her and she threw her arms around my neck, she was giggling, “I am so happy that you came to me. I thought you were angry with me.” This was the Sakara that I had first fallen in love with when I was a mortal boy. This is the Sakara I had always wanted to have back in my arms again.

“No, Sakara,” I paused to kiss her neck, “you are my eternity, I love you.”

She pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, how I loved when she would do that. Her green eyes sparkled in the moonlight; “will the tale you are writing on the computer have a happy ending?”

I laughed heartily, “being in your arms right now, could there be any doubt to the ending of the tale being a happy one.”

Chills and a sinking feeling in my stomach.

Why?

Her smile wavered for a moment, then it was altogether gone, “I don’t want this, and you know that don’t you.” It took me a moment or two to realize what she had just said to me. It felt so right to be in her presence, and it shocked me to hear her make that statement at that moment. Not now, don’t do this now, this is too happy of a moment.

“LIES!” That buzz in the back of my head.

I knew what she meant, and I knew that it was not the love that we shared, “Don’t say this now, Sakara. It is not what you have; it is what you do with it.” Yes, I stole that line from the visions Sakara had shown me so long ago; Roger’s parents had said that to him. It was a true statement, wasn’t it?

“I don’t want to live forever, I never did, remember? I showed you that I was made against my will, I never wanted it, and I still do not. I had told Maggie I could deal with it, but I was so very wrong. I thought that if you were here with me, I could do it, but look what I did to you once I brought you over. Please, Lelio, do it because I do love you.” The saddest part of it all, as I looked at her, I saw her as more beautiful than I had ever seen her. She had finally regained that innocence that I had always seen in her eyes.

My arms came away from her and I stepped back a few steps, “I wanted this only to be with you. We should be one, how can you say that you do not want this, when we are finally together.” I was groveling, I know it, but I know what she was to ask of me, and how could I do such a thing.

She sighed and turned her back to me, “I do not want to be a monster. I may have control of the Darkness within me, but I am still a monster that lives by killing others. Deep down inside, you have always been strong and can take whatever comes your way and survive with it no matter how you ache. I am not as strong as you are. I do not want this, I never did, and I could never live with it. No matter how you hurt, or how you have thought to kill yourself, you go on, and you survive. The vampires need someone that strong to be their god. There can only be darkness if I keep this power.”

“LIES!” All right, that damn buzz in my head was beginning to piss me off.

I placed my hands on her shoulders and turned her to face me, “Let me be strong enough for you, don’t give up as I have done all of my mortal life. Fine, you don’t want to kill, that is fine, I will overfeed each night, and you can feed from me. I will do anything it takes to keep you here with me. Hell, I will open up my own blood bank; let the humans donate their blood to you. What we do not feast upon, we will give to the hospitals to save the lives of the innocents.”

Her eyes glistened as blood tears swelled in her eyes; “you would do such a thing for me.”

“Your happiness is very important to me,” I think there were tears in my eyes; “I will easily do anything it takes to keep you here with me. I don’t like to kill, and I don’t even have to, as Roger told you. That is why I only feed on the scum of the city; it keeps my conscience from attacking me. But if you wish, I won’t even kill then, I will take what I need and let the bastard live.”

“It is different for me and you know it. It is not only the monster that I have become, I want to be free, and there is only on way for me to do that.” She struggled to be strong and to hold her tears back; “the only way I can truly be free from all that I have done is to fade from existence. I have thought only of this while you were in the earth. It is what has to be, I cannot turn away from what must be. If I destroy myself, hundreds will die, I can‘t allow that. It has to be you.”

What has to be?

If I had not been so heartbroken, I may have asked what the hell she meant by that.

“Is that why, because I left you to go into the earth?”

“No, Lelio. This is not for me, and you have seen that, you have to have seen that all along. I know that sooner or later my mind will go again, and if I have all this power, then there will only be disaster in my future, disaster in everyone’s future. I don’t wish to hurt anyone anymore. I meant it when I asked you to do it when we were in Pensacola and I have wanted it ever since. I required you to take me before you took Adella, but after all I had put you through, I did not have the heart to ask.”

“LIES!”

“You are hurting me right now, Sakara.” I know it was a very selfish thing to say, but it was the truth and she knew it, I could tell by what I saw in her eyes. I should have never tried the guilt trip. I was desperate to change her mind, and I knew of nothing else to say that would make any type of difference.

She kissed me on my lips, “I love you, Lelio Froste, but this is not what I should be.”

“You do know that I love you, do you not?” Blood tears were streaming down my face as I heard her ask that question. I didn’t want this, but it was staring me in the eye.

(Her kiss was more passionate than ever before. “Make love to me, Lelio,” her smile was now a sensuous grin. I looked into her eyes and say my dreams of the past few years coming true.)

“I have always known this; it was just that I sometimes chose not to see it.” I felt my soul was about to shrivel and fall from my heart as I sighed my response.

(In that moment, the entire world disappeared, only the kiss existed. It was only this kiss that mattered, the past, present, and possible futures melted into the kiss, which suddenly defined our souls.)

“I don’t want to go on without you, Sakara,” I was lost in a sea of hopeless despair, and once again, the tears building were for my first love.

(Sakara never seemed to move from that chair, she just appeared lying on top of me, running her fingers through my hair, which I had always loved her to do and missed so very much.)

“YOU SON OF A BITCH, DON’T YOU DO IT. YOU CAN’T DO IT, IGNORE WHAT SHE IS ASKING OF YOU!” Catrina’s voice came into my head.

Not the scent of slight scent of death that one carries throughout his immortality as a vampire, but the scent that she had always had, the scent of her skin, her hair, scents that I had always associated with her. The wind had seemed to carry that scent directly to me and I followed it here to her and now I was in the midst of it all.

“I love you, Sakara,” I paused to kiss her neck, “you are my eternity, we are finally one.”

Sakara pulled a lock of her hair from her head, pulled the glove off of my dangerous hand, and tied it around the pinkie finger of my right hand, surprised to say the least that it did not burn away due to my small fiery affliction.

She smiled and looked into my eyes as she put her powerful hand on the back of my neck and pulled me down to her and led me to her soft neck. I pressed my lips against her neck in a kiss. I could see the gooseflesh rise before I let my fangs pierce her neck.

(In that moment, the entire world disappeared, only the vampire kiss existed. It was only this kiss that mattered, the past, present, and possible futures melted into the kiss, which suddenly defined my soul.)


LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE BOOK

Monday, January 24, 2011

CARNAL DREAMS by April Reid

CARNAL DREAMS by April Reid

In a land where magical abilities rule and shapeshifting is the norm, Ashlyn, daughter of a wizard and sorceress, has no paranormal abilities until - in the midst of danger - she makes love with a man she first met in her erotic dreams.

From thousands of miles away, Basil Greenstorm, warrior and dragon shapeshifter, flies into the forbidden zone searching for the dreamer who had already touched his heart. He's dismayed to learn that, against her wishes, Ashlyn has been chosen to be the king's third wife.

Will their love, born in carnal dreams, overcome danger and death in this new erotic fantasy adventure from the pen of April Reid?

BUY THE BOOK *** READ THE EXCERPT

Excerpt:

The Pepper/Ashlyn fairy-dragon arrowed higher. Wings grew tired, breath ached in their throats, but still they climber higher—driven by the primitive need to sort out the strongest mate.

One by one the males fell away, except for Hawthorne. His determination both angered and thrilled Pepper at the deepest level.

Closing with her, he tried to coil his tail around her body. She swooped away and up, only to find herself trapped in his embrace. He rubbed the side of his neck along hers. His erotic male musk filled her senses and set her own female juices flowing.

She twined her neck with his and opened her slit to his swollen cock. As they fell through the sky, he thrust in, pumping his great shaft—slipping out—thrusting in again—and spurted his living seed into her womb, while she screamed with pleasure.

Still rocked with glittering bliss, she suddenly saw the ground rushing up to meet them.

::Hawthorne?::

“I have you, Ashlyn,” a deep male voice answered, and dazedly she realized Basil held her hand.

“Pepper? Hawthorne? Where?”

“Safe.” He pointed upward where Hawthorne’s strong wings carried both him and Pepper toward the ground in a long glide.

“Gods!” She drew her fingers away from him and scrubbed her face with both hands. Her swollen nipples scraped against her tunic. The hot coil of lust between her legs tightened.

Basil’s awesome male body so close was a temptation she couldn’t ignore.

He touched her shoulder. “Ashlyn, can I help?”

“Help?” She turned toward him like a female dragosaur pouncing on fresh prey. “Take me. Love me,” she panted, tugging at his vest, too blinded by soaring desire to unlace the fastenings across his chest.

Brushing her fingers aside, he quickly unlaced the garment, while she turned her attention to the sash around his waist.

“Hurry, hurry,” she demanded.

His vest flashed past, revealing his muscled abdomen. In the meantime, she fought the obstinate coils around his waist. She wanted to tear away the stubborn fabric with her teeth.

Finally, the intricate knot yielded. She drew it away from him, unwrapping the male glory that was Basil Greenstorm.

She heard a rip as her own clothes gave way to his strength.

Locked in an embrace, they rolled across the narrow strip of grass and landed on their sides in the fragrant bed of lemon mint and basil edged with spicy sweet William.

His mouth fastened on her nipple and sucked. His busy hands found her erotic places—not only her pussy, but also the shivery places behind her knees and the dimple at the base of her spine.

One of his fingers, moistened in her own woman’s dew, teased her swollen clit—sliding over and around the throbbing love knot. The other slipped down the crack between her butt cheeks.

Wildly, she scrabbled at his broad back with her fingernails—deep in desire and blinded by need. The scent of his moist male skin filled her nostrils. Rearing her head back, she bit his side under one arm.

He growled and plunged two fingers into her slit and partway out. His other hand reached between her legs from behind, dampening his fingers in her natural lubricant.

“Ever been finger-fucked in your ass?” he asked in a low, dangerous tone, pressing against her butt hole.

“N…no, but I want everything, everything…”

“Good. It’s your first time, so I’ll use my smallest finger.”

His hand slid back and forth across the tight opening. Nerve endings came alert in a shimmer of waiting.

At the same time, his fingers between her labia twisted. She caught her breath. The heavy, hot tension expanded through her nerves...

LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE BOOK

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

CRAZED HEARTS by SHILOH WALKER

He’s no fairy-tale prince. But he just may be the hero she needs.

CRAZED HEARTS by Shiloh Walker - Grimm’s Circle, Book 3

Ren has always danced along the fine line between being a little bit crazy and being overcome by a darkness that’s haunted him since his mortal days. As an empath, he prefers to live far from people who would leak their emotions all over him, so he’s not expecting the woman who drives right into the heart of his wood. She has a cursed book with her and demons hot on her heels. Even more surprising are her abilities and the reaction Ren has to her.

Aileas is on the run. She just isn’t certain if she’s running from something real or imagined. One thing is for sure, her brother is dead and she’s certain the book she found has something to do with his death. She really starts to doubt her sanity when she meets a hot but somewhat crazed man in the middle of nowhere.

He calls himself Ren, and although he doesn’t seem to be out to hurt her, he definitely seems to want something. She just doesn’t understand what. She does know what she wants though. She wants him, and the shadows and darkness she glimpses inside him don’t matter. At least, right up until he claims to be a guardian angel.And she thought she was going crazy.

Product Warnings - This title contains soul-sucking demons, kick-ass angels and a hero who is a little crazy and a whole lot sexy.

BUY THE BOOK *** READ THE EXCERPT



Excerpt:



Reaching for the corkscrew, he opened the bottle of wine and poured her a glass. From the corner of his eye, he saw her rubbing at her head, frowning. Through the low-level shields he kept up, he could feel her vague unease. Wondering now if she had hit her head—despite the fact that she was actually very convinced she hadn’t—if she did have a head injury, and if she should be drinking the wine.

He sighed and lowered his shields. It had been years, decades…longer, since he’d attempted to use his gift on any mortal. But she couldn’t be running off on him. He’d have to stop her and that would frighten her more. She couldn’t leave his home tonight. Too much danger in the woods. And although he had it under control, his temper was balanced on a hair trigger tonight. He didn’t need to tangle with her and risk setting it off.

As he poured the wine, he took a deep, slow breath and centered himself. He’d need to touch her.

A quick touch, make sure she was open. Should be, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to feel this much from her.

As long as she was open, he could plant a gentle, easy suggestion for her to relax. Trust him. Rest through the night. It would be quick and easy, nothing he couldn’t handle. He might not use his gift, but they’d seen to it that he was trained. That was one thing he hadn’t had much choice with. Calming a tired, nervous woman who already looked exhausted wouldn’t take that much, surely.

Come morning, he’d get her pretty ass out of these woods and figure out how to handle the demons who’d set themselves on her tail.

He had a score to settle with them anyway.

Setting the wine bottle aside, he turned and gave Aileas a small smile. Easy. The one he used when he was dealing with his animals, or the few times he had to handle children. Not the crazy, just-this-side-of-maniacal smile that had made grown men piss in their pants.

“Your wine,” he said, strolling over to her. He handed it to her and casually, easy as you please, he hooked his arm through hers, guiding her to the table. “Why don’t you sit in here a bit, keep me company while I cook? Not too often I have company, you know…”

As he spoke, he pushed. Oh, she was open.

And holy fuck, the pain inside her. It screamed at him. A loss, like a bloody, gaping hole. Fear, gnawing and deep. Determination. He also sensed that taint he’d felt earlier. But it was light, just hovering on the surface…like the book had been trying to sink its evil inside her. It clung to her skin, but it couldn’t get any deeper.

Her soul…it was strong.

It called to him too, damn it. The same way her eyes did.

Ignoring that deep, relentless tug, Ren planted a suggestion, buried it inside her heart. You can relax here. You are safe. You can sleep and nothing, nobody, no thing shall harm you. I will keep you safe.

Her subconscious resisted. You can’t.

She hadn’t felt safe in a long, long time.

I can, he promised. He wanted to do more than that, actually. He wanted to cuddle her close, run his hands through that silken, dark hair and promise her all sorts of nonsense…not just that he could and would protect her, but more. So much more.

Mentally, he jerked himself back, slightly stunned at the path his thoughts were taking.
Getting a little off tangent there, mate, he told himself. Way off tangent. He just needed her calm. And asleep. So she didn’t rabbit on him. That was all.

But he didn’t believe it. Not even for a second.

You are safe, he whispered inside her heart again. Safe, I swear on my soul.

Then he retreated. It was the best he could, he told himself.

Retreating, pulling away from her, it was something he did not want to.

Only seconds had passed.

When he looked into her eyes, he gave her a smile and pulled out the chair, let her sit.

Just seconds. Mere seconds.

Yet, as he moved to the counter to work on dinner, the ground beneath him no longer felt quite so…steady.


LIKED THE EXCERPT??? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE BOOK

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

VAMPIRE TRINITY by Joey W Hill

VAMPIRE TRINITY by Joey W Hill
Book VI of the Vampire Queen series

Vampire hunter Gideon Green sure as hell never intended to become a vampire's servant. But when Anwyn Naime, a woman with whom he shared an unforgettable night, is turned by a vampire pack, they become bound by something far greater than either imagined. It also forces Gideon into an uneasy alliance with one of the most terrifying vampires he's ever encountered: the mysterious Daegan Rei.

Daegan also has a vested interest in Anwyn. His history with the lovely nightclub owner is both intimate and intense. As Gideon and Daegan shepherd Anwyn through her dangerous validation with the Vampire Council, it's clear the three of them must learn to trust each other. But as boundaries between them erode and vulnerabilities surface, Gideon realizes he is no longer the man he thought he was - changed by a strange and unexpected bond with the two new people in his life he can't survive without...vampires.

BUY THE BOOK *** READ THE EXCERPT


Excerpt:
By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

Vampire Trinity
BDSM/Paranormal Erotic Romance© Copyright 2009 - All Rights Reserved
Note: This is a pre-copyedit draft excerpt, so it may vary from the final copy.

Background: Anwyn’s turning was violently done by a schizophrenic vampire. As a result, in Daegan’s absence with the Council, he’s asked the scientist, Lord Brian, to stay with her to see what can be done to help stabilize her transition seizures. In this scene, she and Brian are at dinner with Gideon and Debra, their respective servants, when Brian tells her he needs to monitor her vitals during a sexual experience to get a better baseline for the seizures. Needless to say, it puts a different spin on dinner conversation...

Now she turned her gaze to Brian, arching a brow. “Will masturbation provide the same data?”
He cleared his throat, giving her some small satisfaction at her reminder that on some things, at least, she didn’t need kid gloves.

“Similar enough. And tonight would be preferable,” he said, with just the right note of apology and concern in his eyes.

“All right. But first I want to know something. The first night Debra made us dinner, when she pulled out the table settings, she stopped and looked at you, as if waiting for an answer to an unspoken question. You said, ‘We’ll all eat at the table. No games.’ What did that mean?”

“Good memory.” Brian nodded. “You remember Lord Daegan said you and your servant were exclusive until your transition was complete and he returned?”

Dear Goddess, let him come home before the transition is complete. That could take up to three months. If she had to wait three months to see him, she might completely lose it. But she nodded. She felt Gideon’s gaze on her. Since, as her servant, he could be in her mind and she wasn't so adept yet at keeping him out, she knew he might have heard that thought.

“Vampire social gatherings always involve sexual games with the servants. It’s required by etiquette, and there are many political strategies worked out through such games. Though it’s also for the pleasure of the diners.”

Brian lifted his wineglass without glancing toward Debra. Putting down her fork, she immediately rose, took it from his hand and went to the sidebar to pour him another glass.
“During a typical social gathering,” he continued, “a vampire’s servant either stands behind her Master’s chair, or kneels next to him, if he wants to feed her portions of the meal he’s sampling.”
He glanced at her blood-laced wine. “You and I are not sampling human food. And I am here merely for your protection and diagnostics. Therefore, it made more sense to have our servants join us at the table and engage in conversation. Keep it more informal and relaxed.”

“So this is the vampire version of eating dinner at home, in front of the TV?”

Brian inclined his head toward Gideon, acknowledging the sardonic question. “If you like. But there have been times, even when eating alone, that I have bade my servant perform at my direction as she would at a gathering. Test runs, to help her confidence.” He turned his gaze back to Anwyn, a clear message there. “As well as for my own pleasure.”

Brian shifted from absentminded genius professor to urbane and well-versed dinner guest with barely a grinding of gears. Since he was a born vampire, his father a Region Master, it shouldn’t surprise her that he’d been trained to handle himself that way. Had Daegan imposed that directive about Brian not sharing servants because he didn’t think her capable of the other right now? Or he didn’t want to share her with anyone? Perhaps he was concerned about how Gideon would handle such a situation. She’d caught his sharp glance at the exchange. She knew Gideon wasn’t going to participate in anything like that, because she could hear it in his head. A cold day in hell before that will happen...

It was no less than what she expected, but it still added to the heavy, cold weight in her lower belly. Every day she grew more dependent on him, the first man in her life she could say that about and not feel she’d betrayed herself. When he left...

By the time that happens, you’ll be on your feet again, Anwyn. You’ll have graduated, gotten your full-fledged bat wings and not need me in your head anymore.

How do you know?

Because I know you. And because I won’t leave until that happens.

Was it something perverse in her that wanted to test that?

“What kind of things?” she asked Brian with not-so-casual interest. Crossing her forearms, she leaned forward, toying with the stem of her glass. Her nostrils flared, catching the scent of fresh blood as Debra cut her wrist with a tiny pearl-handled knife she’d had tucked in her bodice, let it flow into Brian’s glass. He drank white wine, so the crimson exploded like a flower blooming, sparkling in the candlelight Debra had set in the center of the table.

Brian glanced toward his servant. She’d changed for dinner. While Anwyn expected it was still demure and casual by vampire standards, the short, sleeveless lavender dress hugged Debra’s curves and gave her gray eyes a violet hue. Her hair was down, and the straight strands teased her fine cheekbones and lightly glossed lips.

As if visually recalling some of those “tests,” Brian’s gaze lingered on her as he spoke. “Simple things. Requiring that she strip naked and cook me human food, gourmet choices. Then lay on the table before me, with those samples placed on her body so I can use her as my table, my plate. Sometimes I bind her to a chair, with a vibrator inside of her, and watch her writhe and beg to come while I drink her fresh blood from a glass and go over my notes for the day. If she’s been a little too opinionated”—his eyes glinted as she turned back toward the table carrying the wine—“she kneels between my knees and holds my cock in her mouth as long as I demand. Not sucking or stimulating, merely holding it, feeling it grow harder until it fills her mouth and pushes into her throat.”

Brian took the glass from his servant, his hand closing over hers. Debra was still, her eyes lowered, her lips pressed together, but Anwyn recognized the flush of arousal on her soft cheeks. She wasn’t wearing a bra, because her nipples were points pressing against the fabric.

Gideon had put down his fork, sat back. Though he was trying to stay removed and wary from the turn in the conversation, Anwyn could tell the images Brian had painted were affecting him, as they would any male with alpha tendencies. Which her vampire hunter had in spades.
“That takes some self-discipline,” she observed. “For both of you.”

What Brian had described fired her own blood, ratcheted up her earlier yearning to be more demanding with Gideon again. But each time she thought about it, she remembered the way she’d lost control when she was overstimulated by the club environment. A Mistress’s first responsibility was protecting her slave, and she was his worst danger. Vulnerability had crippled her confidence. Brian was here, yes, but she didn’t trust him the way she trusted Daegan.

They said they needed readings. Gideon’s voice, in her mind. Why not handle two birds with one net, Mistress? Confidence and coitus?

She didn’t smile, because his mind-voice, which had some of the same sexy, deep cadence it had when spoken, ran chills and pleasure both up her spine. He knew. Of course he did. He was in her mind, but more than that, Gideon was always hyperintuitive when it came to her. He would have noticed her holding back.

You don’t want me to do this. Not this way.

Yeah, I do. Because I miss the woman I met in the Queen’s Chamber that first night. Almost as much as you do.

I don’t want to hurt you.

You won’t. Not that way. Just... I don’t want him anywhere near me, all right? That’s all I ask. On everything else, I’m all yours, Mistress.

This was why she needed to work harder to turn the thin screen between their minds into a solid wall when needed. He already knew what would heat her blood, arouse her Mistress instincts and put them in forward drive. She felt like a teenager whose driving instructor had just mashed down the gas pedal, taking them into a merge lane toward a busy interstate. Out of control, but a surge of exhilaration, knowing she could do this; she was just scared. She hated her own fear almost worse than anything else, but fear of what she might do to someone else was a harder animal to control.

Gideon rose from the table, collecting his dishes as well as Debra’s, taking them into the kitchen. He dumped them in the sink and ran some water over them. Watching him do the domestic task, his hips shifting with the movement, head tilted down and shoulders flexing as he moved the dishes into the dishwasher, she made her decision.

“Gideon.”

He straightened, turned, met her gaze. Whatever he saw told him she’d transitioned into that mode, because his firm mouth curved. “Mistress?”

He was calling her that more often now. To help her confidence, yes. If only for that, it would have irritated her, made her feel patronized. But in those dreamland drifts through his mind, she’d found he liked using the title, though like so many things, he couldn’t define why, or admit it to himself when waking. Gideon’s mind was divided between the lies he told himself to function while awake, and the truths that comforted him in his dreams.

She’d been the kind of Mistress who made a man face his truths, to bring them both the maximum pleasure that such brutal honesty could invoke. She could be that again.

“Leave the dishes for later. I want to give Lord Brian his readings. Go to the playroom, bring the strap-on with the six-inch phallus. The curved one that vibrates, and some lubricant.”

He’d anticipated, or perhaps hoped, that it would be simple, she straddling him on the couch or chair, where he could close out everything but the vision of her riding him, the feel of her cunt clamped around him. The arch of her throat, those miles of hair tickling his bare thighs as she dropped her head back, her breasts straining upward, begging for the cup of his hands.

No part of my body begs, Gideon. It demands, and you beg for the right to give it what it wants. She arched a brow. You wanted me to reclaim my confidence as your Mistress, right?

A rueful, somber smile touched that tempting mouth, and he set aside the dish towel, giving her a look before moving toward the playroom. Anwyn concentrated, hard, brought that screen down, where thoughts and words, unless directed right at Gideon, were harder to discern, like parceling out chatter at a crowded mall. Looking toward Debra and Brian, she discovered the rules were not so different here than in the underground level of Atlantis.

When he’d released her hand, Debra had gone to a kneeling position next to Brian’s thigh. He’d taken his wineglass from her, letting the silent interaction between Anwyn and Gideon play out while Debra assumed a common submissive position. Her hands were clasped behind her back, her knees spread in the short dress, making it ride high on her thighs. As Anwyn watched, Brian painted a drifting line of the blood-laced wine along the upper portion of her bosom, exposed by the low scoop neck of the dress.

Desire curled in Anwyn, seeing the tableau. She’d missed watching the games above, unable to spend time in her club during open hours. She could get the video feed, still did a lot of review of those tapes, but it wasn’t the same as being a direct witness. With his vampire senses, Brian picked up on her response. Though he could send a command to Debra’s mind, Anwyn realized he was offering her, a Mistress, something directly with his spoken words.

“Unzip your dress and let it fall to your waist. I want full access to your breasts.”
Debra complied, and tugged the soft fabric over her aroused nipples, giving Brian a wider expanse of flesh to paint, increase that flush of arousal and the still tension of her body. Anwyn realized she could smell the response of each one of them. Debra’s moistening sex, her own. Even Brian was hardening, such that he already had some fluid leak at the tip under his slacks. Heartbeats were quickening, Debra’s breath becoming more shallow.

“Lord Brian, I’m on familiar and yet unfamiliar ground here.” Anwyn straightened in the chair, met his gaze when it turned to her. He had such a level, calming expression, but now, in arousal, it had taken on that faint predatory gleam she realized that even a vampire scientist could possess. “I assume you would tell me if any step risks either of our servants?”

“I will. I assume you would tell me if anything we do risks your protector’s displeasure?”

Anwyn smiled at the quirk at his mouth. Having been raised in Britain, Brian possessed that dry humor that struck at unexpected times and made the green eyes and sculpted face all the more appealing. She’d noticed he often pushed the dark blond, straight hair that fell over the high brow out of his eyes with muttered impatience when trying to look through a microscope.
Despite his good looks, he didn’t seem the vain type, so she’d wondered why he didn’t cut it. Sliding a glance to Debra, noting her studying that very feature in his profile, she thought she maybe had her answer.

According to Daegan, Brian and Debra were supposedly a textbook example of the perfect Master-servant relationship. While there was an obvious deep bond there, Brian was clearly Debra’s Master, in a way that even exceeded the definition of the 24/7 couples Anwyn had seen at the club. There was the same flavor, in terms of the sexual practices, but a different animal entirely in how it was manifested. Debra truly belonged to him. Anwyn didn’t want to equate it with historic slavery or even indentured servitude—there was a willingness and devotion here that characterized neither of those situations—but the power Brian held over her, and her submission to him, were close kin to those states. And unlike the world in which her 24/7 couples lived, the vampire world did consider human servants property of the vampire who marked them. Debra seemed not only to understand, but to accept that.

She wondered if that was another reason Daegan had wanted them here. To remind her vividly of why Gideon couldn’t be a permanent part of her life? Or to give Gideon an example to follow, a way to learn without dictating to him?

Daegan was mysterious, manipulative and arrogant. But he was also insightful, exceedingly clever and unmatched in his judgment of people. Seeing such a relationship was entirely too fascinating to her Mistress nature and the vampire blood in which it now churned. She kept telling herself to proceed cautiously in those waters. She had to proceed cautiously in all waters, because any type of volatility or passion could be taken way too far.

But still, as she heard Gideon returning, saliva gathered around her fangs, reacting to the surge of adrenaline through her chest, the tightening of her thighs and breasts. A simultaneous animal possessiveness and wave of lust washed over her as she turned to look at her servant.

He brought in the strap-on, carrying the sterilized sexual aid rolled up in his hand and low to his side, the way men carried things they didn’t particularly want or know how to carry in a masculine way, like a woman’s purse. When she reached for it, he gladly turned it over to her. Rather than rising to initiate something, however, she laid it on the table, in front of Debra. She shifted her gaze to Brian.

“I would like your servant to wear this, and take my servant from behind, while he is inside of me. Would you permit her to do that, Lord Brian? Can you perform your readings that way, or do you need her direct assistance?”

Brian considered that, glanced toward Debra. Debra had lifted her gaze to Gideon, briefly, then cut back to her Master, awaiting his decision. Anwyn saw trepidation and curiosity simmering in the gray gaze. Debra had never done that to a man. And definitely not to a man like Gideon.
“Yes,” Brian said at last. “I think that will work. Debra, remove all of your clothes, except your heels and stockings, and put on the harness.” He glanced toward Anwyn. “Do you think the couch would be best?”

She nodded. If Debra wasn’t involved, she would have chosen the easy chair, aligned with the sofa. She told herself it was a coincidence that it was Daegan’s favorite chair. It was best suited for a larger man’s frame, was all.

Brian got up to retrieve the sensors. She’d been aware of the turmoil in Gideon’s mind, and now tilted her head back, studying him upside down, standing just behind her, arms crossed and thumbs hooked in his armpits.

“Gideon,” she murmured. “Take off all your clothes as well.”

His gaze flickered to Debra, already lifting her dress over her head. She was entirely naked under it, except for the thigh-high stockings Brian had mentioned that she wore with three-inch ankle-strap heels. She’d been wearing a choker of steel links with a pendant. Anwyn realized it was a collar, something that Brian must have gotten for Debra, liking the symbolism of it. It was a romantic gesture, making her wonder anew what lay under the surface of the “textbook perfect” Master-servant relationship of these two.

Anwyn brought her attention back to Gideon, who hadn’t yet started to undress. Not afraid of two girls, are you?

He narrowed his eyes at her. I think you’re obsessed with sticking things in my ass.

I’ll take a strap to your ass if you don’t start undressing.

You and what army? But the devilish thought came with compliance as he unbuttoned the shirt he’d borrowed from Daegan’s closet for their more formal dinner. He looked incredibly handsome in Armani, those vivid blue eyes even more compelling, the ends of his hair brushing the collar, but when he shrugged out of it, with a ripple of chest and biceps muscle, it was enough to make any woman take a breath. Anwyn rose, cognizant of Debra’s gaze passing over those muscles, down to the waist and below, a moment before Anwyn shifted to block the view, deliberately bringing her gaze back to her.

“You’ve never done this before.”

“No, ma’am. But I’ve had it done to me.”

“All right.” Anwyn unpinned her hair, let it tumble down her back until it caressed her hips. She shook it out, threading her fingers through it, and felt Gideon’s hands pass over it, a quick tug. But when she glanced back at him he was unfastening his belt, the picture of obedience. An illusion, she was sure. “Then you should know you ease in. Let him relax, and I’ll help him get that way.”

“I’ll be fine,” Gideon grumbled. Anwyn pivoted on her heel. With unerring direction, she closed her hand over his testicles in the slacks. They were a little snug, because though Gideon had a whipcord musculature she wanted to feed, it still had more Irish brawler bulk to it than Daegan’s graceful physique.

“That’s enough,” she said softly, looking up at him. “It’s time for you to listen, and be still, and obey your Mistress. Do you understand?”

There it was, that quiver in the muscles her senses were fine-tuned to detect. She’d been so gun-shy of doing this, but all of a sudden, she knew what she wanted and how she wanted it. She was demanding it from him. She wouldn’t hurt him. Brian was here, and it was going to be okay.
She could be the Mistress she’d been aching to be to him for three long weeks.

His gaze held hers for a long moment; then he gave her a nod.

LIKED THE EXCERPT??? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE BOOK

LinkWithin

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...