DANCE MACABRE by Susan Saville

DANCE MACABRE by Susanne Saville

London, 1897

Caught in a web of poverty and injustice, Lily Rafferty takes employment in a dancehall. Though she loathes being viewed as a pretty piece of meat wrapped in silk for the enjoyment of the West End gentlemen out for a bit of slumming, she can't help but feel her luck is about to change.

Rhys Trevan Morgan, Viscount Talfryn is a vampire with a mission. Another supernatural creature prowls the night leaving a trail of blood and gore in its wake that eventually leads him to London's East End and to the Barbary Coast dancehall. He doesn't need the distraction of coming to the aid of a young woman forced to strip and parade herself on stage for the voyeuristic pleasure of the club's wealthy patrons.

Soon, the momentary distraction becomes a craving Rhys can't resist and he wonders if the fair Lily will be the end of his frightful curse or the vehicle of his destruction.

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London 1897

Lily Rafferty would never become accustomed to unfamiliar men embracing her in public. She stiffened involuntarily, but if he noticed her reluctance, it did not dampen her partner’s enthusiasm. Seizing her body, he pulled her away from the relative safety of the shadowed wall. His careless speed gave her an excuse to keep her eyes riveted to the pointed tips of her black satin slippers as they appeared and disappeared under the swishing accordion gores of her yoke skirt. It fit snug and sleek down to her knees before flaring out like a bell, and moving quickly was a dangerous proposition on the slick wooden floorboards. The last thing she wanted was to fall. Not here.

Elegant music soared above the crowded dancehall floor as the shop-soiled quartet on stage launched into a waltz. He flung her into position. Lily felt one of her little puff sleeves slip farther down her shoulder and gave it a quick tug. Her décolletage was quite low enough, thank you. For a moment he looked disappointed she hadn’t popped out of her bodice, then he started to dance. She found her steps and followed his lead.

His hand pressed against the back of her corset. Not for the first time, she wished her undergarments were fashioned from solid steel. She glanced at his other hand, at the stubby bare fingers. At least her hands were protected from his rude skin by her long white gloves.

She risked a look at his face. Flushed cheeks. Watery eyes. A high forehead from which heavily macassar-oiled hair lay slicked back. Her gaze traveled down, past his fierce moustache, to his neck. He wore a diamond tie pin. No need to look further. Decidedly a gentleman. Yet another toff come to enjoy the pursuits of the lower orders. As if being poor were an exhibit in Regent’s Park Zoological Garden.

He noticed her attention and smiled. “Like what you see, m’dear?” He leaned down. His face was close to hers now. Too close. He panted against her cheek, his breath hot and reeking of liquor. “I like what I see. And I’ve got streamers of tickets to give to a welcoming sort of wench.”

Stomach churning, she struggled to hide her distaste. If she wrinkled her nose he surely would not dance with her again, and she needed every ticket she could collect.

“Thank you, sir.” She fixed her lips in a smile.

“Nice, ripe partridge, you are.” He removed his arm from her back and suddenly his bare hand was roaming the low neckline of her gown, where the tight lacing of her corset had affected an impressive cleavage.

As she started to object, he abruptly switched from waltzing to walking. She stumbled. Before she could completely recover, he had maneuvered her past a screen of potted aspidistras and into one of the dance hall’s dark corners. Inwardly she groaned. The management of the Barbary Coast Dance Hall arranged these corners deliberately—and for one reason. Any man without a Malthus sheath to contain his effluxion could release his seed upon the floor in the semi-privacy of such a corner.

Her French heels slipped and she clutched her partner’s sleeve. While the night’s fluids had been tracked around much of the dance hall, the floor was still slicker at the scene of the unmentionable deeds. She tried to wipe all such details from her mind. Thinking about it made her feel unwell.

“Eager, are you?” He chuckled. “Excellent. Excellent.” With drink-clumsy fingers, he stroked the skin of her breasts.

The effrontery of his actions was compounded by his bare hands. Gentlemen were supposed to wear gloves. Such crude undress would not have got him past the door of any other place but here. Here, where men with money could throw away their manners.

Closing her eyes, she choked back the protests raging to escape her lips. Kitty had warned her there would be men who wished for services beyond dancing. Touching him would earn her extra tickets and, since the girls were paid for every ticket they turned in, it meant her wages for the evening might grow considerably.

But her stomach threatened to rid itself of her meager dinner at the prospect of seeing his unmentionables.

She hadn’t wanted to be a Cyprian—in fact, she’d been fired from her last job for refusing her employer’s advances. But times were so hard, especially for orphan girls without references, and a doss house charged tuppence just to sleep standing up. She needed money.

Kitty didn’t mind the unspeakable work. Less tiring than a dance but just as quick, she said. Plus you got better paid. Getting pulled into a corner was an unparalleled opportunity in Kitty’s opinion.

His sloppy kiss upon her neck jerked Lily’s thoughts back to the present. An unparalleled opportunity, I don’t think. She’d gain more coin but lose her self-respect.

“Sir….” Politely, she tried to extricate herself from his embrace. “Sir! Sir, the music will end soon….” She turned her face away, hoping if she concentrated fixedly upon the dance floor she could get back out to it.

He mumbled something, his lips pressed against the curve of her jawbone, and continued to fondle the tops of her breasts. Her skin crawled at his touch. Not that he was behaving any worse than the other dancehall customers. Small wonder a steady trickle of girls walked out without notice each week.

“Do you not wish to finish our dance?” She attempted to pull away again, but he jerked her close.

“No, I’d much rather you finish off this.” His hand fumbled with the opening to his trousers as his hips furtively thrust against her. Not on my lovely dress! She shuddered to think what his abrasion, let alone his eventual wetness, would do to the fabric…. And she still owed money on it.

“Truthfully, sir, I am not…I don’t…I would really rather not….”

Laughter trickled through his sneering mouth. “That’s what you’re meant to say, I know. But you strumpets are never in earnest with your protests and false modesty.”

“Oh, I can assure you I am in earnest.” She endeavored to pull away once more.

He grabbed hold of her by her neck. “No, you don’t. I can’t stop now.” His voice sounded strained, and she didn’t like the look in his eyes.

“If you please,” she whispered, attempting a smile so as not to betray her growing horror, “I’ll just take the one ticket, sir. For the dance.”

“You’ll take what I give you and like it.”

Panic clutched at her heart. She couldn’t escape. She did not wish to do this—and he didn’t care. Flailing her fists, she pummeled him about the head and shoulders. His hand tightened about her throat. Changing tactics, she tried to pry his fingers loose, to no avail.

His grip hurt. She felt her lungs struggling for air as if they were battering against her corset’s constraints. No air. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart pounded wildly. She had to get out of here. Get…run….

“No!” She had meant it to be a scream. Instead she produced a breathless whisper the music easily drowned. No one would have paid her cries the least bit of attention anyway. A woman’s willingness did not matter. Most customers assumed this was what she was paid to do.

She kept scuffling despite the increasing heaviness of her limbs, despite the pointlessness. He was going to spend himself right here, in public, on her, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. With a biting stab of terror, she realized he might even kill her. And she would die in a stained dress. That relatively inconsequential concern almost made her smile at herself as dark spots obstructed her vision. What a ridiculous last thought to have.

“Hartengate.” It was a male voice, a stranger’s, rich, raspy and aloof, slicing like flint across the scuffle to pierce the haze in her brain.

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AN ENDOWED VALENTINE by Tianna Xander

AN ENDOWED VALENTINE by Tianna Xander

The Endowed Series

Find love where you least expect it this Valentine’s Day.

Valentine’s Day sucks. At least that’s what Mia thinks when her two lovers disappear and never arrive at their Valentine’s Day ceremony.

Now her boss wants her to attend this year’s mass wedding. It’s that or lose her job. What will she do when she finds that her two missing grooms are in attendance as well?

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February 12th 2013

Mia stared up at the ceiling, her unfocussed gaze seeing nothing more in the darkness than the spinning blades of the fan over the bed. She blinked slowly, swallowing as her lovers kissed her neck. Their tongues traced a path to the tips of her breasts, drawing each one into the warmth of their mouths.

Wet velvet tongues circled her sensitive nipples. Moist lips circled the tight buds. She arched her back with a moan. Why didn’t they hurry? She needed them inside her so much, she thought she might go mad with it.

Strong fingers caressed her skin as they delved deep between her legs. She bucked at the first contact with her clit. Sharp teeth nipped and shards of pure electric pleasure shot straight from the hardened tips to her groin. Moisture slid sinuously from her channel, slickening her flesh.

“Tell us you want us, love.”

How could she tell them anything but what they wanted to hear? “God, yes! I want you so much.”

Tonight was the second time they would take her together. Afterward, they would leave for two days, returning just in time for the wedding ceremony they all had planned. Her blood heated at the thought that soon, the two of them would be inside her and she would truly belong to them both.

It was one thing to have two younger, hot men date her, and bed her, saying that everything was okay. It was another to have them together while she made love to them both.

Never had she thought she would ever be lucky enough to catch the attention of such handsome men. Never had she dreamed that the same two handsome men would want her—not at her age.

They looked so young, and she was no spring chicken. That was for sure. At forty, she looked almost old enough to be their mother. What had shocked her, though, was finding out that these two gorgeous guys were vampires. Both of them were ancient. She might look like a cradle robber while she went out with them, but the situation was, in fact, quite the reverse. Not that she minded at this moment in time.

They both suckled her nipples, pulling the tight buds into their mouths until she squeezed her eyes shut. Her thoughts, every conscious desire she had, floated away on a sea of lust and want until all she could think about was having them both inside her.

“**** me.” She tossed her head on the bed. “I can’t take this anymore. Please. **** me,” she begged while they continued to stroke her sensitized flesh. They nipped and licked their way over her body as she whimpered, her head thrashing on the thick comforter.

“We want this night to be unforgettable.” A hand cupped her cheek and turned her head. “Look at me,” Pierce said, the bass of his voice low with command.

Mia opened her eyes and looked up into his dark gaze. A lock of black hair fell over his forehead, masking his brows.

“This night is in preparation for the fourteenth.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “We will claim you in the way that only we can that night. Until then, this must be enough, though it will give us all a cursory bond.” He bent his head to her breast to suck its tip into his mouth, his teeth nipping lightly. “Do we have your permission to do so?”

“Yes! God, Pierce, you and Vincent can do whatever you like. Just **** me!”

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DEAD SANTA by Lizzie T. Leaf

DEAD SANTA by Lizzie T. Leaf

The bat bite received when making Christmas Eve deliveries changed Santa. His life and the holiday he loves may never be the same.

Exhausted after his Christmas Eve deliveries, Santa wakes up with hungers he finds hard to control. A bat did fall out of a tree and take a bite out of him when it landed on his neck, but why would that make him lust for blood and sex?

Tired and sore from her husband’s insatiable desire for her body, Mrs. Claus can’t take it any longer. There is only one thing to do—leave this sex manic that has replaced her gentle husband. His new lust for raw meat is bad enough, but his out of control sex drive has her tired and sore and in need of a break. Venturing into the mortal world to stay with their son, she finds a job with an unusual family that sheds light on her husband’s issues.

Shocked at his wife’s departure, Santa is sure he knows why she left and must find a way to control his overheated libido, and his thirst for blood. His head elf learns of the existence a vampire king, sending him into the mortal realm. In his meeting with Daniel, the vampire king, Santa learns of issues far more dangerous than his.

Will what happened to Santa be the break the vampire king needs to stop a drug war that will turn Los Angeles into the drug capitol of the world?

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~Excerpt~

Honey, why don’t you come to bed?”

Lost in concern over how long Santa had been sleeping, Merri gasped and whirled around. The sight of her nude husband holding his erect cock took her breath away. This wasn’t the right day for sex, so what was going on? “It’s not New Years, dear. Are you sure?”

Did he just leer at me? Oh, my stars, I hope so. He’s shaved already too. Another thing that he only does once a year. And he’s Kris.

Tossing the dishtowel on the counter, she sauntered toward the man who stole hear heart over a century ago. Those were the days before the dashing Kris Kringle took over the reins of Santa Claus from his father and magic created the illusion of the portly elf to the mortal children. Never to her though. She usually chose to look past the glamour and hoped he did too. When they made love, they each let the glamour go and became their true selves. The man standing in the doorway was her husband, not the provider of Christmas joy.

Hips swaying, Merri sashayed her way to her him. “Looks like three days of sleep were exactly what you needed.” She rubbed her hand across Kris’s smooth cheeks and smiled, pressing her curves up against him. Yes, the facial hair would grow back, but without his glamour to create an illusion, the growth would come in golden sprinkled with a little gray, not the long white, flowing beard featured in the pictures mortals drew.

She shuddered at the memory of a picture taken of her when she attended a party with her husband in the mortal world. Thanks to the magic forms they assumed, humans or cameras couldn’t penetrate their glamour. The picture that a zealous photographer snapped made her appear to be a short, plump little woman with gray hair.

Nothing could be further from the truth. She wasn’t short, more average height. And yes, her dark hair had streaks of silver, but her body was far from plump. The curves she had as a young girl were still there. All the walks in the frigid Artic air kept her firm and supple.

Merri’s knees weakened when her husband captured her mouth with his. The trail of his warm lips along her jawline stoked the embers of a fire she’d tried to ignore over the past year.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes.” He pushed her toward the bed, untying her apron then moved his hands upward to unfasten the buttons on the back of her dress.

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BLOOD PROPHECY by Marie Treanor

BLOOD PROPHECY by Marie Treanor

Blood Hunters Series Book Four

From a shameful past, rises a vital destiny...

"The junkie whore shall save the trinity in the first hour." So spoke the insane Luk, last of the Ancient undead prophets. The enigmatic vampire Dmitriu believes he knows the junkie whore in question, destined to save the daughter of his creator Saloman.

But the Edinburgh prostitute Janine, who once showed Dmitriu kindness, has not only got clean; she's become a vampire hunter, determined never to be helpless in anyone’s power again; and Dmitriu's pretty high on her kill list. Instead of renewing his beguiling sexual relationship with her, he has to kidnap her to force her cooperation. Bombarded with sensual memory and the lust Dmitriu still inspires in her, Janine also has to fight her way through renegade hunters, Dmitriu's rebellious creation, Antonia, the bizarre Militant Church for the Defence of the Holy Trinity and the first anti-vampire protests. It’s too much; the prophecy could be broken.

 Unless Janine's destiny is Dmitriu.

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Excerpt

“How monstrous, exactly, do you think I am?”

“As monstrous as you want to be?” she guessed.

“Good answer,” he approved. “And about right too. I will do my utmost to save this baby. And I think you’ll want to as well. You smell good.”

She blinked at the sudden change of subject. He didn’t appear to be inhaling her, but his eyes had darkened, and a faint smile played around his lips. He looked—predatory.

Her breath caught. “Like good, fresh meat?” she retorted.

“Like a summer day in the hills,” he said unexpectedly. “It’s an old memory. Can I have the stake now?”

“Fuck off.”

He considered her, his head leaning slightly to one side. “You do know I’m humoring you?”

Her heart thudded once, but she refused to be cowed. “You do know I’m grateful?”

“You should be. Why do you think I killed your other visitors? Just to clear the competition?”

“It crossed my mind,” she said evenly.

His gaze dropped again, this time to her lips, but his next words, although softly spoken, were hardly romantic. “I could have killed you here two years ago. I was tempted, but I didn’t do it. I could have killed you in London, in Essex, or on the train. I could have killed you tonight and still taken out my enemies with my free hand.”

She forbore to mention the vampire she’d killed. And the one who’d run away. She had the lowering feeling that it had made no real difference to the inevitable outcome of the fight.

“I know who you are,” she said coldly.

His lips curved. His head bent closer. “Then say hello as if you remember.”

There was nothing she could do. A quick, instinctive jerk only confirmed his immovable strength. Desperately, she tried to glare at him, but she was concentrating so hard on keeping the fear at bay that God knew what he read in her face as he slowly, inexorably, lowered his mouth onto hers, and fastened.

Jesus, she remembered the soft, tender surface of those lips, a tempting, seductive disguise for the controlling hardness that lurked beneath. Memory, emotion battered at her as he took his kiss and coaxed, gentled, persuaded her mouth to give up its response.

She couldn’t remember much of what had really happened two years ago. She had a vague idea she’d never kissed her ‘clients.’ But she knew she’d kissed Dmitriu, and he’d kissed her like this before. Before he’d taken her to bed. After he’d drunk from her, like a thank-you, as if the orgasm hadn’t been enough.

Shame tangled with past and present pleasure. His tongue dipped between her lips, over her teeth, and inside her mouth, caressing, exploring, inviting. Kiss me. Give me your blood, your body.
She shuddered beneath his mouth, against his hard, lean frame. She couldn’t escape him; she could only deny him her response, and so she hung in his powerful arms and let him deepen the kiss, devouring her mouth without violence, using only the devastating sensuality of his cruel, tender lips.

She could force herself not to kiss him back, but she couldn’t prevent her body’s arousal. Hot dampness had gathered between her thighs, flooding her with new weakness. She shook with the effort of resisting, of not lifting her free arm to his neck. But she’d never be that willing victim again. Never.

And yet his mouth was so sweet; his body felt so good crushing hers. One of his hands slid down her arm to her naked wrist, feeling her pulse, the bastard… His thumb moved to her fingers, her palm…

And she realized he’d taken her stake.

She gasped into his mouth, jerking against him once more, but he didn’t release her, just took advantage of her further opened mouth to deepen his kiss even more, drawing her tongue into his mouth, stroking, caressing, kissing.

“Bastard,” she whispered against his lips, and they smiled against hers and kissed some more before finally he raised his head. His eyes were impenetrable black, and yet somehow they glittered with naked lust.

His long, cool fingers touched her cheek, the corner of her mouth. “Now you remember me.”

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DARK MIST by Fantasia Virtuoso

DARK MIST by Fantasia Virtuoso

The Hidden Book One

For over a thousand years, Deacon has led his vampire brethren to live in peace amongst humans. But that was before he entered the dreams of the beautiful Rose, hungering desperately for that which he could not claim because the very laws he had set forbade it. Laws that meant certain death for the Hydden should they be broken...laws that Deacon himself might just shatter for a tiny little human.

Skirting the razors edge of lunacy because he hungered for her blood, can he ever possess the unattainable while still protecting himself from someone close by who seeks to destroy him? Or will Rose mourn the promise of an eternal forever if Deacon brings about his own death?

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~Excerpt~

The mist slipped through the open third floor window of Hydden Enterprises, slithered under the heavy drapes and across the carpet until it came to a stop in the center of Deacon’s office. From the mist emerged Deacon primped in a dark gray herringbone single breasted suit, light blue ainsley collar herringbone dress shirt with a medium gray pin dot silk tie and a pair of black oxfords. No lights were on in the room, but since he could see perfectly in the dark it didn’t prove a hindrance. Deacon strolled over to his desk and pressed the two-way intercom button without willing any artificial lights on.

“Anna, would you please let Ms. De La Cruz in as soon as she arrives.” He raised his head and scented the air, he could already sense her in the building.

Deacon released the intercom after Anna’s acknowledgment of his instructions and walked toward the antique brass nail head accented, barolo colored, roll arm leather sofa positioned in the far corner. Dropping onto one of the end cushions Deacon sat back comfortably letting the shadows embrace him as he wondered how Rose would react to their ‘official’ first meeting. Deacon possessed the ability of compulsion and had tried to manipulate Rose’s thoughts the night before, enough for her to believe what they shared was still yet another dream but he lacked the ability to read her mind. So he was unsure if she continued to believe what they’d shared was a dream or not. She would learn the truth soon enough. Although she was now bound to him through blood, he didn’t want her under his compulsion. He wanted her to truly want him, like she wanted him last night. For the first time in a thousand years, he was unsure about a woman.

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BLOOD DESCENT by Marie Treanor

BLOOD DESCENT by Marie Treanor

Blood Hunters Book Three

A child is born...into the final showdown of Vampire and Hunter

The face of a killer, the heart of a lost child… Konrad once led the legendary first team of Hungarian vampire hunters. Now, refusing to ally with the undead, he goes his own way, slaughtering vampires across the length and breadth of Europe.

The dying thoughts of one such vampire send Konrad to Britain in search of a dangerous instrument that might be just what he needs in his obsessive war with undead overlord Saloman – a war he’s determined to win at any cost. The only being who can lead him to the instrument and its current, evil possessor, is sexy, mysterious, young Glaswegian vampire Maggie, who holds herself aloof from her own kind.

Maggie sees much more than Konrad’s anger and cruelty. She makes it her mission to reach beyond the horrors of his past and find the man he should have been. Difficult, when he threatens her heart as well as everything she believes in; and when her whole being clamors for his body and his blood.

While journalists circle, about to break the news of vampire existence on mainstream television, Elizabeth Silk labors to give birth to Saloman’s daughter, and Maggie plays a dangerous game that risks everyone for her belief in one troubled man.

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Excerpts:

“Torture?” Maggie stared at him. “Why do you imagine Dmitriu would torture her? It’s hardly his style.”

“He’s a vampire,” Konrad retorted, glaring at her with something very like defiance. “However civilized the veneer, brutality’s never far from the surface. Now stay out of my fucking mind.”

He turned away from her, and she gazed at his rigid back. None of the vampires in his vision resembled Dmitriu. In fact, the victim wasn’t even Janine.

“Oh, Konrad,” she whispered. “That’s what happened to you…”

“Crap,” he said shortly, throwing himself onto the bed. “And if it was, I bloody wouldn’t want another vampire’s pity!”

But she wouldn’t have that. She flew at him before he was prepared, and managed to hold him only because he’d grown too used to her and too dismissive. She knocked him backward, straddling him, holding his straining wrists on either side of his head.

“No vampire’s pity,” she agreed. “And no human’s either. You can’t go on like that.”

Pure hatred, fury, spat from his eyes. It wasn’t really for her. He wasn’t even seeing her, not as she was.

“Konrad. There’s nothing wrong with pity. Here’s mine.”

He was strong. She couldn’t hold him for long. So she leaned down to him, put her lips to his forehead, and kissed him. Warm, male human skin. With delicious hunter blood flowing beneath. He stared up at her as she raised her head.

“Just that?” he said and lunged upward, crashing his mouth into hers, seizing her lips.

Surprise loosened her fingers on his wrists, and abruptly he pushed her off him, flipping so that he now lay over her. His mouth bore down harder, opening hers for the invasion of his tongue, devouring her.

And, God, it felt good. Pity and compassion drowned in need of his hard, muscular body, in wanting the rich, powerful blood now rushing through his veins. She met his tongue with hers, caressed it, moved her lips with his, struggling for a dominance she didn’t really want. She was enjoying the fight too much. And it did feel like a fight, a hot, sexy battle. She undulated beneath him, loving the feel of his warm, strong body pressing her down into the bed. Between her legs, lust raged as she rubbed her tenderness against his erection.

This was what she’d wanted in London, when they’d fallen together over the wall above the canal—this wild, rising passion, his erection grinding into her, reaching between her thighs, his mouth hot, commanding, his hands all over her body like this, one closing on her breast, his thumb grazing over her aching nipple again and again.

But he hadn’t done it earlier, because he’d almost liked her then. He hadn’t wanted to punish her.

God help him, he imagined this was punishment.

She tore her mouth free, glaring at him. “Why are you such an arse?” she raged.

Just for a moment, he looked blank. His blue eyes, no longer hard or icy, were clouded with lust, his lips softened from kissing her. Slowly, the mists cleared, and yet something fierce remained, overlaid with the faintest hint of humor, which was, surely, his saving grace.

“Well, at least we know where we stand,” he observed. “I want to fuck you. You want me to fuck you. But we’ll never do it, because you’re a vampire and I’m an arse.”

Hurt and fury melted under the hunter’s mouth. She’d never imagined he could or would kiss like that, tenderness mixed with the ferocity sizzling just below the surface. Need blazed under the weight of his hard body, weakening and arousing. When she heard the soft thud of the stake hitting the floor, she let out a sound like a sob, muffled by his mouth, and her fist tightened in his soft hair.

His tongue found her fangs, and he growled, licking them and sucking them, and triumph soared because he wanted all of her. Releasing his hair, she swept her hand down his back to the hem of his T-shirt and plucked.

He released her mouth, sat up, and tore the T-shirt off. His chest was beautiful, smooth under her caressing hand except for the ridge of old scars and the scattering of fine hair at the center. Deliberately, he tugged at her already rucked-up dress. With both hands, he pushed the fabric up over her waist and breasts, where he lingered. His breath caught, perhaps because she was naked beneath.

A smile played around his lips. She’d never seen them so softened by sensuality. He pushed the dress up over her head and her free arm, and threw it to one side over the cuffed arm.

“Fuck,” he whispered, staring at her, devouring her with his eyes. “Just fuck.”

“That,” she said unsteadily, “would be acceptable.”

He cupped one breast in his palm, moving his palm across the nipple, then slowly lowered his head and kissed the other. His lips, his tongue caressed, and she closed her eyes in bliss, arching up into him. With her free hand, she held his head to her breast, then slid it down over his naked back in a sweeping caress that ended at his jeans. She pushed inside the waistband, feeling the hot curve of his buttock, and pulled him closer.

His lower body shifted, as he shoved his hand between them to unfasten his jeans, which he all but kicked off in his urgency. Then, at last, he was naked between her legs, kissing her breast once more while his hand caressed the length of her leg and swept inward, bathing in the wetness of her need. He muttered something under his breath, adjusted himself, and pushed inside her with a groan.

“Oh yes,” Maggie whispered as anticipation drowned in excitement and intense, rising pleasure. She pushed up onto him and twisted her hips, moaning as the hot thickness slid farther inside her.

He began to move with a fierce urgency that delighted her. She squeezed him, writhed and pushed under him, egging him on until he slammed into her over and over. Excruciating bliss built and soared. When his mouth crushed hers, she nibbled his lips, tasted the tiniest droplet of his gorgeous blood and bucked as she scrabbled against his undulating back. He arched once more to reach her breast with his mouth, sucked strongly on her nipple, and orgasm exploded...

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HIS SOUL TO KEEP by Luxie Ryder

HIS SOUL TO KEEP by Luxie Ryder

Malachi Bane had been condemned to live forever without the woman he would love until the day he died. He waits out eternity in isolation, on a small island near Maine. When a visiting couple threatens his peaceful existence, Bane prepares to kill them but is compelled to save the life of the woman he has become strangely fascinated with.

Amber Kirkwood isn't impressed by Bane's macho attitude and has no idea how her rescue from the island will set off a chain of events she has no control over or desire to be a part of.

When the physical and emotional bonds begin to grow between the unlikely couple, Bane longs to 'change' Amber, in order to save her life and keep her with him forever. But she fears for her immortal soul and Amber can't be sure that what she feels for Bane truly is worth dying for.

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~Excerpt~

Amber gasped when she noticed Bane’s erection and she cast a quick look at his face to see if he had woken. He hadn’t moved a muscle since the last time she’d checked —except that now, his obsidian gaze locked with hers.

 The shaking in her knees intensified and a tremble skittered across her skin as her groin convulsed. Amber knew she should run back to the sofa and rethink her plan to seduce Malachi Bane.

 She had waited for him to return, determined to make him face her as an equal rather than his victim. What he’d done to her with nothing more than his mind hadn’t even nearly satisfied her. Amber wanted him.

 Bane’s strong, muscled body lay inches from her if only she had the courage to reach out and show him what she wanted. Amber took a step closer, ignoring the hand he put up in warning. Emboldened that he hadn’t told her yet to stop, she pulled her t-shirt off, revealing her bare breasts to him.

“Amber, no,” he groaned, but she could see by the hungry glint in his eyes that he didn’t mean it. She pulled at the zipper of her jeans, holding his gaze with hers and silently pleading that he let her do what she needed to. She kicked the denim off along with her panties and closed the distance between her and Bane.

 He shut his eyes again, as if trying to blot out her image. “It’s not really me you want,” he said, his voice rough with tension. “You are reacting to an inbuilt lure, designed to pull you in so I can prey on you.”

Amber placed her knee onto the edge of the bed and crawled over him, coming to rest with her legs straddling his. The skin of his thighs was cool against hers, his body the same temperature as the interior of the cave.

“That’s why I came to you this way – so you would know I am here because I want to be.” She dropped a kiss on his chest. “Because I need to be.”

Bane lay beneath her unmoving; his jaw set in a rigid line as if trying to keep control. Amber licked and nibbled at him, ignoring his attempts at resisting her and thrust her groin down onto his, gasping as his erection brushed against her sensitive skin.

 Suddenly, his fingers slid into her hair, his movements so fast that the gentle touch surprised her. But just as she thought he had accepted her – that he would give her what she asked for – he lifted her head to look at her, a plea in his eyes.

“Amber, don’t do this.”

She hushed him. “You could have stopped me by now if you wanted to, Bane.”

His hand slid out of her hair and she turned her face to it, kissing his palm and trailing her tongue up to his fingers. She locked her gaze on his and sucked the tip into her mouth. He tensed beneath her and his eyes closed with a groan, his body shaking, as if fighting the urge to move or respond.

 Amber leaned forward, brushing her lips across his gasping mouth. Bane jerked away from her, holding her off by her shoulders. She diverted her attentions to his lower half, snaking her feet into the gap between his thighs as she moved down with the intention of taking him in her mouth. Her tongue left a wet trail over his skin and she heard the breath still in his throat as he anticipated her touch. Her head came to a rest on his pelvis and she looked at him, watching his reaction when her breast came into contact with his rigid penis.

 Bane surged up from the bed, grabbing her shoulders again and lifting her away from him. “Slowly, Amber…don’t move too fast.”

Simply relieved that he hadn’t rejected her again, she laughed at his warning. If he came quickly, they could try again as soon as he had recovered. Her hand moved to his cock without hesitation.
A growl erupted from the man beneath her, so sudden, loud and fierce, it scared her upright. Bane threw his forearm over his face, but not before she’d seen the long, white teeth biting into his lip.

 Amber screamed…and then things started to happen really fast.

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ELYSIUM by Sylah Sloan

ELYSIUM by Sylah Sloan

Meadow Caldwell is about to learn a very dark secret about herself.

When she is taken away from the only family she has ever known and thrust into the world of the paranormal, she learns not everything or everyone is what it seems.

Arcane Manor, a school for creatures of myth and lore, is all Meadow knows now. The only person she can rely on is herself in this strange, new world, especially with the secret of her true identity.

When Dr. Cadeon Frost, an enigmatic vampire, helps her unravel her past, Meadow finds herself falling for the quiet, intelligent doctor.

When she is thrust out of reality and into the arms of a mysterious man, she is trapped between the world she knows and one that nightmares are made of. It is up to her to stop not only an evil that threatens her, but everyone she cares for.

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Excerpt:

 

“I’ve never been kissed.” I wasn’t looking for sympathy, not in the least, and I was probably embarrassing myself with my admission, but I wanted him to know. I wanted him to be the first guy I kissed. I wanted to share that experience with him. He didn’t speak, and I worried I had screwed up anything which might have been created between us. He almost had a troubled look on his face, but then he let out a deep breath, his hand going back to my face and his fingers trailing along my jaw.

“You’re so special, Meadow.” He whispered the words.

 I didn’t feel special, not in the least, but I would have been lying if I didn’t admit that hearing him say those things about me had butterflies in my stomach. My eyes widened when I noticed his head coming closer. Oh my. This is it. He’s going to kiss me. I didn’t move and held my breath as he stopped an inch from my lips. It was torture, pure and simple.

“Just a small kiss.”

I nodded and braced myself, as his lips pressed against mine. The setting was perfect, the kiss magical. He smelled so good, and I was being kissed for the first time in a romantic place. The beautiful flowers blooming all around me, their intoxicating scents surrounding us, just made the experience that much more incredible.

 Soon that small kiss became more heated, and he cupped my cheeks with his hands. Whatever I had imagined it to be like to kiss, it had never compared to this. His lips on mine were demanding, yet soft, like he wanted to show me all the passion he had, but didn’t dare let loose. He pulled away and looked at me, his breathing as fast as my own. I was glad he had the same reaction to me, as I did to him.

 He cleared his throat and sat back, running his hand through his hair and looking around. “We should get back.”

In a few short hours it would be dawn and even though I didn’t know if I would fry out in the sun, I wasn’t ready to test my luck. I nodded, letting him take my hand and getting tingles all over my body when our skin touched. We slowly made our way back to the Manor, my mind a whirlwind of emotions. He seemed more aloof, more distant, and I wondered if I had done something wrong. Had I pushed him into kissing me? Made him feel sorry for me and now he regretted doing it? He was older and maybe he feared he would get in trouble. I certainly considered the kiss innocent, but now felt shame for what we had done. I didn’t want him angry at me and worried about it.

“Cadeon?”

He stopped before we reached the front doors, the wind blowing by us and ruffling his dark hair. “I’m sorry.” I tightened my coat, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

 He knitted his brows and took a step towards me. “For what?”

 “For the kiss. I didn’t tell you to make you feel sorry for me. I just, I don’t know, wanted you to know.” He didn’t say anything, his attention on the greenhouse.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m just frustrated with myself. I find it difficult to keep my control around you, but I should. I need to stay strong and levelheaded because it won’t do anyone any good if I let my emotions control me. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I didn’t, but I nodded anyway. I kind of thought he was telling me he cared for me, which was what I deciphered back in the greenhouse. I was happy to know he couldn’t keep his control around me, but not so happy that he wanted to keep it. When he kissed me, he showed me a side of him that was wilder, more intense. It was another part of his life, a part more exciting. The kiss showed me what it could be like, what I had been missing this whole time. It sounded silly, even as I thought about it, but it was true. We stared at each other for another suspended moment and then he smiled.

“Goodnight, Meadow.” He turned, and I watched him walk away. I didn’t close my door until he was gone.

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SERAFINA AND THE VIRTUAL MAN by Marie Treanor

SERAFINA AND THE VIRTUAL MAN by Marie Treanor

Serafina's, Book 2

Real man versus dead man - no contest!

Dale Ewan, the wealthy owner of Genesis Gaming, has a serious poltergeist problem. In desperation, he calls on Edinburgh's unique psychic investigation agency, Serafina's.

But Sera and her hacker friend, the beautiful and aggressive Jilly, find more than one spirit haunting the ugly country house. While Sera fights the poltergeist, Jilly encounters what appears to be the ghost of Dale's brilliant ex-partner, Genesis Adam, trapped in his own new virtual reality system.

 Jilly delves headlong into Adam's mystery. How did he get there? Why is he more exciting and attractive than any of the real men in her life? How are Jilly's own criminal brothers involved in his death? And what are Dale and his wife Petra hiding? Apart from the body buried in their garden...

While Jilly falls in love with the sexy, virtual ghost, Sera has problems of her own, not least the shadowy presence of the undead Founder that seems to threaten Sera, her vampire lover Blair, and all her friends.

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~Excerpt~

He groaned into her mouth and lifted his head. His breathing was ragged, his voice unsteady. “Would you allow a dead man to make love to you?”

Jilly, who’d had such difficulty encountering a live one she could even tolerate, just said, “Please, please…” in a mindless sort of way she suspected she’d despise in the morning. Right now, it didn’t matter, since she was pulling him with her toward the large, ornate bed.

He muttered something beneath his breath, and suddenly he lifted her off her feet and strode across the room with her. Now here was the Rhett Butler that Dave Jenner had so signally failed to emulate the other night—masterful, urgent, strong. And yet he laid her on the bed with gentleness and straightened to drop the braces from his shoulders and tear off his tie and shirt.

She reached for him, and he came into her arms as if it was the most natural place in the world to be. He lay over her, his body deliciously heavy on her hips, her pubic bone. His still-covered erection pushed between her parted thighs. His skin felt warm and smooth under her hands as she ran them over his shoulders and arms and back. He was beautiful, she realised; a naked man could be astoundingly beautiful, and suddenly she wanted to see all of him.

She wriggled under him, which had the additional advantage of pleasing her body, so avid now for new and greater thrills, pushing at him until his face changed and he yanked himself off her as if afraid he’d been hurting her. Suddenly terrified he’d go too far away, she seized his naked shoulder, pushing him onto his back on the pillows so she could stroke his lean, broad chest.

Breathing deeply, he let her, watching with obvious pleasure. She smiled and kissed his chest just above the nipple, then the nipple itself, letting her lips linger there to enjoy the novel sensation.

Muttering something that was at least half groan, he reached up to the unseen fastenings of her dress and tugged once. It slipped down her shoulders to her elbows, revealing some weird corsetry that he began to unfasten at her back, hook by hook. His gaze never left hers, and suddenly it was unspeakably exciting to feel his fingers working at her back, knowing that any moment, she’d be naked. Greatly daring, she traced one finger down the central line of his chest to the waistband of his trousers. She unfastened the buttons there and kept going, revealing the fine line of hair that ran from his belly button into his shorts.

She paused. The full length of his erection lay thick and hard over his flat stomach. She laid her hand over it, and he exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath for ages. She liked the feel of it, hot, ridged, enticing; she yearned to see it.

But she hesitated, suddenly unsure. A thread of panic brushed through her, threatening her with memory. But he seemed to read her mind and obligingly shoved his trousers and underwear down over his hips.

Her breath caught. He took her hand, and, under her widening eyes, he kissed her fingers and palm and then placed them over his naked cock. She swallowed. The skin felt so soft over all that steely hardness, so amazingly hot under her hand. She closed her fingers around the shaft, and he smiled at her.

“Oh yes,” he approved softly, and then, swiftly, he sat up and rolled her under him, and there was no dress, no corset between them. A quick scuffle of his feet, and the last of his own troublesome clothes vanished too. His hand closed over one breast, softly, tenderly caressing.
Slowly, oh so arousingly, he lowered his gaze from her eyes to her uncovered breast.

“Fuck,” he said huskily. “I knew you’d be beautiful all over. But your breast is like…” As if he ran out of words, he lowered his head and took her nipple reverently between his lips. The pleasure was exquisite, especially when his lips moved in the sweetest caress she’d ever imagined, gently rolling and tugging.

She closed her eyes, never wanting it to stop. And it seemed he was in no hurry, for he kissed her nipple for a long, long time while his hand kneaded the other, doubling her pleasure. His leg, long and muscled, stretched over both of hers, and he moved it caressingly until he shifted position and lay instead between her thighs.

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IMMORTAL THIRST by Tyler Robbins

IMMORTAL THIRST by Tyler Robbins

Vampire, Tristan Deveraux, savored the night with his young progeny, Caleb, by his side. Satisfying his shameless desires, he took what he wanted without reprisal or regret, until Gauge Roberts darkened his door.

Gauge, an ex-Navy Seal, offered more than muscles and brawn when he became Tristan’s personal security coordinator. Surrendering to an undeniable attraction, the dominating soldier scratched an itch both had ignored far too long.

A remarkable bond is quickly formed between the three very different men, allowing each to fulfill individual needs while maintaining separate but equal relationships, until a surprising enemy threatens to destroy it all.

Will they survive the deadly fight, or is heartbreak the only price for satisfying their kind’s immortal thirst?

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Excerpt:

Gauge cautiously entered a spacious loft with high vaulted ceilings and a dining room table filled with an assortment of food. To the right, he spotted a black, leather sofa with a very handsome and very naked man sprawled across it.

 

Gauge’s cock instantly twitched, his proclivity toward men revealing itself through his physical reaction.

 

“Hope you’re hungry.” Tristan’s voice resonated from the far left of the vast room.

 

Gauge’s gaze drifted away from the naked man and settled to where Tristan knelt at the foot of a chaise-lounge, intently suckling the inner thigh of yet another man.

 

The erotic moans of Tristan’s live meal filled the room, further stiffening Gauge’s shaft. Unsure what he should do, Gauge stepped back, only to be met by Caleb who handed him a glass of scotch.

 

“Please, help yourself to whatever appeals to you.”

 

Dizzying thoughts danced in his mind. Which appetite should he satisfy first? This was new territory, far beyond the realms of even his vivid imagination. Should he indulge his physical hunger, his sexual needs, or neither, and keep his first day on the job strictly business?

 

“Perhaps he’s a watcher.” Caleb brushed past him as he strolled toward the lone man on the sofa.

 

Gauge drew in a deep breath to steady his spiraling nerves. “You feed right out in the open?”

 

Tristan ran his tongue up the length of the human’s cock then smiled. “They have no objections.” He then pricked his wrist with the tip of a pointy fang and allowed a few crimson drops to coat the lips of his quarry.

 

The man licked the blood, and his pupils immediately dilated.

 

“They drink from you?” Gauge swallowed hard, still trying to keep his wits about him.

 

“They give me the gift of an existence without pain. I give them unimaginable pleasure.” Tristan then kissed the man and returned to feasting upon his inner thigh.

 

Gauge glanced over at Caleb, who stood before the other man with his pants unzipped, gazing down intently as the man eagerly sucked his cock. Caleb’s hips rolled with the motion of the man’s bobbing head.

 

Caleb eyed Gauge with a smug grin. “He’s really good.”

 

Gauge licked his lips and wandered back toward the table where he blindly reached for a chair and took a seat. His heart pounded, and his cock pulsed. So fucking hot.

 

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BRIGHT CITY LIGHTS by Declan Sands

BRIGHT CITY LIGHTS by Declan Sands

City of Lights Series Book 1

Sometimes it's harder to be together than it is to be apart.

Rabb is an alpha shifter, a werewolf, who likes to defy both the odds and authority. He prefers the city lights over the open spaces most shifters enjoy.

Brant is a politician with a secret that's becoming harder and harder to contain. As mayor of Bright City, he's determined to keep the city free of shifters to protect his secret.

The two men share a fair amount of distrust, along with a smoldering history that threatens to drag them under again. But when shifters begin to die in Bright City, Rabb and Brant need to find a way to work together again. Especially when one of them inadvertently steps right into the murderer's deadly path.

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Excerpt:

 

The bike’s single headlight swung over trees and flared against open land as Rabb turned onto the dirt road leading to the running grounds. The trip to the forest had taken two hours. Two hours of feeling Brant pressed against him. Two hours of smelling the other man’s incredible scent—the scent that still permeated his dreams every single night.

Two hours of a raging hard-on he couldn’t possibly ignore.

Brant’s hands resting lightly on his thighs didn’t help. Or the soft wash of his breath bathing the back of Rabb’s neck. At least Brant couldn’t hear the embarrassing thud of Rabb’s heart beneath his ribs. The husky roar of the bike saved Rabb some serious embarrassment on that score.

He pulled the bike alongside a line of cars, trucks, and bikes and stopped. The silence that met their ears when he killed the engine seemed almost louder than the throaty rumble of his Yamaha.

Cricket song throbbed through the velvet black night, driven past on a soft breeze that carried the scent of shifters. Lots of them. Rabb looked at Brant. “Whatever happens, stay close to me.”

Brant’s handsome face looked ghostly in the moonlight. “That isn’t exactly reassuring.”

Rabb shrugged, grinning wickedly. “Maybe I’m trying to keep you close for other reasons.”

Brant laughed. “Yeah, I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Come on.”

They left the small spot of flattened grass that served as the parking area and moved into the trees. Though dense and claustrophobic, the forest wasn’t as uniform as it appeared from the road. They followed a narrow, path worn into dirt by shifters and their prey. Looking close, Rabb could see small signs of the packs’ passing. Small, broken limbs and mashed vegetation told a story only the most observant would recognize.

The night enveloped them. The woods seemed empty until Rabb tuned his senses to it, tapping into an entire ecosystem that was replete with warm and cold blooded inhabitants of all shapes and sizes.

The air between the trees was cool and damp and the earth beneath their shoes was rich with the scent of all the decades that had passed before.

Rabb focused on all of it, while keeping one ear on Brant, making sure he stayed close. He hadn’t been teasing the other man, or trying to score, he was worried about bringing him there. The pack wouldn’t appreciate his bringing an enemy to their most sacred place. In fact it was a pretty sure bet they’d be royally pissed. Rabb would be the only thing standing between Brant and a painful eviction.

Or worse.

Secrets lived long and prospered in the running grounds. Enemies were extinguished, soul and body, there. Mistakes were permanently obscured. And grudges were laid to rest, along with the losers.

Rabb would have his hands full keeping Brant from becoming a permanent part of the landscape.

They hadn’t gone far before Rabb smelled wood smoke. He stopped, throwing out a hand to halt Brant. “Stay behind me and keep your mouth shut. No matter what.” He turned and fixed the other man with a warning look. “Understand?”

Brant nodded but his expression held far too much arrogance for Rabb’s comfort. “I mean it, Brant. There are no laws here except pack law. You’re in our territory now. I’m the only insurance you have that you’ll walk out of here tonight.”

Brant crossed arms over chest, belligerent. “Which totally explains why you insisted I bring no guards.”

“I had no choice, fang. One look at your conglomeration of black suited thugs and this would have been a blood bath.”

Brant glared at him. Rabb could deal with that. It was the pinpoint of fear in the icy gaze that did him in. “Look, you’re just going to have to trust me. The pack is understandably jumpy right now. Someone is targeting us and when that happens we tend to contract and isolate. You’re not pack so you’ll be suspect. They aren’t going to care that we slept together once. A long time ago.”

“It was a hell of a lot more than once,” Brant offered.

“You know what I mean.”

They stared hard at each other for another minute and then Brant finally sighed. “Okay. I’m trusting you with my life, wolf. Let’s see if you can take better care of it than you took with my heart.”

Rabb felt the sting of that remark all the way to his gut. But it wasn’t the time or place to get into it. “I’ll do as well as you’ll let me. Just like last time.”

He turned away and started forward, not wanting to give Brant the chance to say anything else. Their past was their past and he really didn’t want to rehash it—now or ever. Some relationships just weren’t meant to be.

Theirs was apparently one of them.

Golden firelight danced through the trees as Rabb emerged into a small clearing. The fire raged at the center of the space, filling the sky with soft, gray smoke. Dozens of people stood around the flame, their faces blank and their muscles taut with anger.

On the ground next to the blaze was a slim form, wrapped in a blanket. Kneeling on the ground next to the woman was her mate, his head bowed. He was covered in blood, most likely some of it hers, and his big hands were clenched in tight fists at his sides.

As Rabb stepped out all heads turned in his direction. Almost immediately, faces softened, legs buckled, and several shifters hit the ground, prostrate with grief. A soft keening sound filled the night. One of the women sobbed, her head dropping back on the heartfelt sound.

Rabb was their alpha. Pack law said they showed no emotion until the time was right. Until all was in place. With Rabb’s arrival the pack could begin the grieving process. They wasted no time.

Brant stepped out behind him and the mood changed with the swiftness of a hatchet slamming into wood. Tension pulsed across the space, hitting Rabb with the fierceness of actual violence.

Slowly, in movements borne of exquisite pain, the mate of the slain woman stood and turned. His bloodied face was purple with rage, his hard eyes bright with it. His gaze found Brant and his jaw worked, the vein at the side of his throat throbbing with rage. “Good. You brought us a sacrifice. Let the blood feast begin.” He turned to the waiting shifters. “Tonight, let the woods fill with the sound of screams and the scent of death as we avenge our fallen packmate.”

Rabb’s muscles tightened, ready to fight if he had to. He’d known it was coming but even he was shocked by the swiftness with which it occurred. As the entire pack moved forward, all eyes fixed on Brant, the only sound Rabb heard was the startled gulp of the vampire standing at his back.

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UNTIL THE NIGHT by Wendi Zwaduk

UNTIL THE NIGHT by Wendi Zwaduk

Having a mate can be a pain. Having three…now that’s unheard of…

Gypsy volunteered to become a vampire, but she had no idea just what she’d agreed to do. As a human, she’d had her pick of willing males to warm her bed. As a creature of the night, she’s striking out. Until she meets Kendall. He knows what she is and doesn’t care. He’s loved her since he met her, but he had no idea just how complicated her life truly was. Her protectors refuse to leave her side. But what if he wants them on his side, too? Allan and Todd are mates, plain and simple. Gypsy is in their charge. Period. Until they start to see her not as a problem, but a sexy solution complete with an adorable human thrown in for fun. Can they come together as a foursome or will they destroy everything they’ve built in the name of passion?

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Copyright © Wendi Zwaduk, 2013
All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Total-E-Bound.

Excerpt From: Until the Night

"I’m lost and I want to go back home."

Gypsy sang the song she’d made up to herself and shimmied in her cage. The patrons around her gyrated and waved their hands in the air. Smoke billowed from the machines by the DJ table and floated out over the crowd. Lights flickered over the sea of bodies, but the scene around her didn’t capture her attention.

Someone touched her foot. When Gypsy glanced down to the bottom of the cage, her relief, Alyssa, one of the other dancers, offered a lopsided grin. "You can go now."

When the song ended, Gypsy opened the catch on the cage and stepped into the main room. Most nights, the allure of the Chatty Catty Club suited her. Not tonight. She stared at the bar. Allan wasn’t standing in his regular spot at the far end by the kitchen doors. Another bartender was working the margarita machine. Todd wasn’t at his post by the main entrance, either. Two muscle-bound men hulked on either side of the double doors. Where the hell were her best friends? Probably off with some sexy club girl wanting a good time. The Goddess knew Allan and Todd liked to have a good time.

Not with her.

Allan and Todd had their pick of the women who frequented the club. Both of them spent lots of time with Gypsy, but neither wanted anything other than friendship with her. She wanted more—Todd behind her, Allan in front while they pleasured her. Then in reverse. Except she’d never bothered to tell them how she felt.

Sighing, Gypsy hiked the bodice of her top up to cover another inch of her cleavage. Her inner wrist brushed her nipple through the thin fabric. She shivered. What if the objects of her desire touched her? Her pussy quivered and her fangs elongated in her mouth. She needed blood and sex. Preferably from someone who understood her new vampire nature—a man, or two, to love her. Going without blood for nearly a week hurt. Her body constantly ached, she wobbled in her cage and her focus flailed…but, damn it, she refused to hunt.

If someone had told her when she’d agreed to let Jamison change her that her life would never be the same, she would’ve dug in her feet and not have become a vampire. She didn’t mind sleeping during the day and partying all night, but the cuisine choices sucked. Either kill to eat or beg a human to allow you to bite them—and if that didn’t work then she got to starve.

What if I want a steak? Or a daiquiri?

Thinking about food wouldn’t help matters, anyway. She shoved the thoughts aside and strode to the bar. A woman from the fringe of the crowd stopped her. Her dark eyes glittered in the flashing blue and green light. "Care to dance, sweet thing? Aren’t you…mmm…sexy?"

Her smile, wide and bright, didn’t do anything for her. Sure, she embodied sex with sumptuous curves and beautifully shaped breasts, but Gypsy didn’t do girls. Not usually. Moreover, her admirer wasn’t Allan. Or Todd for that matter. The guys understood her. Hell, they intrigued her. They made her body quiver in all the right places with just a look. The chick smiling at her? Nada. If anything, she was creeped out.

"Thanks, but no thanks." She brushed by the woman and stepped forward.

"You’re here to entertain. Entertain me." She dug her fingernails in Gypsy’s arm. "I want to see something sexy. Do it."

Her growl chilled Gypsy’s blood. She caught the distinct whiff of fruit. Oranges? Gypsy ground her teeth together. O’Toole had smelt of strawberries, but she’d seen her sister destroy him.

"Look, asshat, this isn’t a tittie club. It’s a dance club. Skin, yes—sex, no." Gypsy shrugged out of the woman’s grasp. "I’m not interested and I will use my boot. Got it?"

The woman’s eyes flashed and she tipped her head once in a jerking motion. "Whatever, bitch. You will."

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BLOOD THERAPY by Lynda Hilburn

BLOOD THERAPY by Lynda Hilburn

Book 2, Kismet Knight, Ph.D., Vampire Psychologist Series

Dr. Kismet Knight and the dark world of vampires are back in this sexy sequel to the wicked romp The Vampire Shrink.

Still reeling from her earlier adventures, the spunky, smart, and tough heroine tries to adjust to her new reality--and new undead clientele. Then she discovers a frightening secret about these powerful immortals that further warps her world.

Needing to escape, she flees to New York for the American Psychological Association's conference, where she meets up with hottie FBI Agent Alan Stevens. Unfortunately, he's not the only blast from the past in the Big Apple: so is Lucifer, the demented tormentor who nearly killed her. As the killer closes in, everyone is rounded up for a shocking finale that no one will survive unscathed.

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Excerpt from BLOOD THERAPY, Kismet Knight, Vampire Psychologist Book #2

“I don’t blame you for being upset, and I know you’ll acclimate.” I repeated the same word he had used—it seemed like weeks ago—when he was talking about me and his vampire intensity. “You’ll see that nothing important is different.”

He didn’t look convinced.

I had to grin. He was so out of his comfort zone. If he were a client, I’d be very happy about this development because it meant he was ready to explore unknown territory. But I didn’t think an 800-year-old master vampire would really like the idea of change much. I pretend-genuflected. “You’re still the almighty vampire king of the universe.”

The corner of his lip tugged up until a full, brilliant smile blossomed.

“Well, as long as we are in complete understanding about that.”

We lapsed into silence again. This was, without a doubt, the most awkwardly uncomfortable time Devereux and I had ever spent together. It was my turn to fidget. I played with my hair and stared at the floor. The rules had changed. Neither one of us knew what was going on, and until we figured out our new roles in our relationship—or whatever it was we were having—we’d feel insecure.

I felt sad that things had become so strange between us, because I really did care about him, vampire insanity and all. I guess I hadn’t let myself think about how much I wanted us to work out our issues.
He cleared his throat and stood. “I imagine you are tired, and would like some time to yourself. I will go.”

I held out my hand for him to pull me up, and when he did, my robe, clearly acting out my unconscious desires, came untied and draped open. I started to close it, to cover myself, but then chose not to. “Don’t go.” I suddenly felt shy with him, but wanted to take the risk of reaching out. I took a deep breath and threw back my shoulders, momentarily afraid he’d choose to leave.

His mesmerizing eyes tracked down my body. “Are you sure?”

Relieved, my nipples hardened and my hormones, dressed in cheerleader costumes, formed a conga line and began calling out the letters of Devereux’s name, flailing their pom-poms across the landscape of my mind. My libido did a backflip. Apparently I was sure.

“Yes.” Warmth radiated up my body. “All I’ve done is sleep for the past seven days. I’m not tired at all.” I took his hand and pulled him toward the stairs. “Besides, I’ve missed you.”

“And I you.”

We climbed silently. I felt jittery, on edge, as if I’d never been with him before. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. His beautiful profile looked serious, but I sensed his excitement and uncertainty.

Instead of turning on my bedroom light, I went to the nightstand, pulled out a lighter, and lit the wicks of several candles I’d kept in my room since the last time Devereux and I had spent time there. I closed the door and dropped my robe to the floor.

He peeled off his black leather coat and tossed it on a chair, his eyes never leaving mine, then he tugged off his boots, pulled the silk shirt over his head in a smooth motion, and shook his lustrous hair. His expression ravenous, he unsnapped the waist of his leather pants and drew down the zipper. With vampire speed, the pants were off and kicked to the side.

We moved slowly toward each other.

My heart pounded and my body heated, as if the candles were giving off a blaze instead of tiny flames.

When we were standing close enough for my nipples to touch his chest, he wrapped his arms around me, and nodded at the candles, extinguishing them. The room went dark and immediately wind blew against my face as we soared through space.

“Hold on!” he said.

“Hey—it’s cold out here! I’m naked! Where are we going?”

“You will see.”

“Devereux, really,” I yelled over the sound of the wind. I loved his surprises, but his mood had been so odd I wasn’t sure I was ready for another mystical adventure. “Where are you taking me?”

“Wherever I wish.” He laughed.

We landed gently in an incredible room that looked like my fantasy version of Arabian Nights.

He released me, and I scanned the immediate area, dazzled by the gorgeous layers of multicolored silk and satin fabric which covered the walls, and draped randomly and luxuriously across the expanse.

I wandered, touching and rubbing the layers between my fingers, very aware of his gaze on me.

A massive bed topped with a bold red, purple, and blue silk spread dominated the room. Unobtrusive music drifted from hidden speakers and rich, exotic incense burned in a small bronze tray sitting on a low table surrounded by oversize pillows scattered across the floor. Candles atop tall holders arranged throughout the space created a soft golden light.

“Wow, this is quite something.” I felt like a kid in a candy store. “Is it another one of your properties?” I knew he had hundreds.

“Yes.”

Hmmm. My previous enthusiasm drooped. No confusion about the purpose of this opulent sex den. I tried to keep my voice neutral. “Do you bring women here often?” Fearing what he would say, my stomach muscles contracted. I was surprised by how much his answer mattered to me.

The corners of his lips rose. “I do not need to read your mind to know the response you wish me to give.” He moved to me, lifted my chin, and brushed my lips with his. “I am petty enough to be happy you are jealous.”

Was I jealous of the other women he’d brought here? Hell, yes!

I imagined the truly gorgeous specimens he might choose and shifted carefully out of his reach. “I’m not jealous. Just curious.”

“You are a bad liar.” He grinned. “But I can give you the answer you desire: no, I do not bring women here. This suite is part of a fantasy-based business I own. The company offers multi-themed buildings all over the world for the purpose of romantic escapes. The business is very successful.”

“Oh.” I looked away as relief swamped me.

“I chose this destination because I thought we both could benefit from a little positive fantasy, and some time without interruptions of any kind.”

My pulse quickened.

FANGS FOR CHRISTMAS by Cutter Phoenix

FANGS FOR CHRISTMAS by Cutter Phoenix

Seven years ago on Christmas Eve, Justice, the one person Tristan cared about the most, vanished. Alone for yet another holiday, he rescues a man in an alley only to come face to face with his missing lover.

But something is different about Justice, and before Tristan can stop himself, he welcomes him back into his life. It forces him into the middle of vampire gang wars and he finds himself on the run with Justice. A car chase, a destroyed Christmas tree, and the alleged murder of a spy vamp sends them into the worst blizzard Pennsylvania has endured in years.

Can he allow Justice to have his heart, or will he demand Tristan’s life instead?

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Excerpt:

 

“Come here,” Justice said softly. “Let me hold you for a moment.”

At his words, Tristan gulped, the familiar surge of adrenaline jumping through his system. He allowed Justice to draw him closer. In the embrace of the shadows, he savored the feel of his ex’s lips on his forehead then along his temple and down to his mouth where he kissed Tristan deeply. Their tongues dueled, and dimly he remembered how Justice had sucked the steak dry and how he’d showed him fangs and a distorted face. But just as quickly as the memories surfaced, he dashed them to bits. This was Justice, his Justice.

He kissed his old lover back and threaded his fingers into his hair. Everything about his ex felt cold, but surely that stemmed from the winter wind? Justice pushed him more firmly to the bricks and then swept his hand inside Tristan’s coat and palmed his groin. Thoroughly aroused, Tristan groaned loudly, his cock hardening until it throbbed painfully against his zipper.

“I’ve missed you more than you can ever comprehend,” Justice murmured in his ear. He rubbed Tristan’s erection faster. “The memories of making love in your loft apartment are what kept me from going crazy.”

If he didn’t stop caressing him, Tristan would come right there in his jeans. It had been seven long years since they’d been together, and he’d not found it in himself to pursue anyone else, not even for pure carnal pleasure.

“Please, Justice.” He gulped. “Don’t do this to me."

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HIGHLAND JACK by LaVerne Thompson

HIGHLAND JACK by LaVerne Thompson

 

After 500 years Laird Jack Buchannan thought it was time to take a companion to walk with him through eternity. And since this was the modern age he'd try finding true love through a reality television show. But what he found instead was a witch who cast a spell on him.

Serissa Helstrom was a white witch who on a lark decided to join a friend on a reality television show. Not for one second did she take it seriously, until she found herself falling for a vampire.

Or was he just messing with her mind?
 

 

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There were several squeals of excitement, even Jil turned to look at her and grinned. All the women began fluffing or smoothing their hair and adjusting their clothes. Kevin left the plane, but the assistant stayed and everyone rushed to peek through one of the windows for a first glimpse of Jack as he got out of the Range Rover. There was more than one gasp as over six foot of prime cut stepped out of the limo and planted booted feet on the tarmac.

“Ohmygod!”

Serissa wasn’t sure who said that but she couldn’t agree more. She’d remained in her window seat and the cool air from the vent blew right on her, but her skin felt heated and flushed from just the sight of him. For the last couple of months this entire thing had all been fun and games. A means to get her out of the slump she seemed to be in, just another lark she embarked on with her best friend Jil. After seeing Jack, that changed. Mine! The word rose up from the depths of her soul and shook her to her core. She shuddered at its strength and glanced up at the women leaning over to look out the windows. They all wore the same shell-shocked expression, Serissa was sure she did too. Jack packed a punch.

Maybe that’s all there was to it, he had some serious pheromones going, and she wasn’t immune, she was after all only twenty-seven a youngling. Some witches lived well into their hundreds. The women lined up again and after a lot of giggling and posturing one by one they left the plane. She and Jil were the last ones, they hugged and wished each other luck. By the time her turn came around her mind still churned in confusion from her strong attraction to the man. The closer she got to him the stronger the emotion. She barely heard what he’d said to her because she’d realized why they’d all had such a strong physical reaction to him. Her especially. Vampire.

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