Bone to Metal – an excerpt from Silver

Humanotica, Book 1

Silver, born female, is now an owned gender-mated trinex thanks to the edicts of the Politico Judicalati and time imprisoned at the Factorium. She must choose between her charismatic power-elite, secretive owner, Minister of Acquisitions & Antiquities, Lel Kesselbaum, and a seductive revolutionary, Entreus, a humanotic who tempts her with freedom.
Not all is as it seems–allies who may be traitors, lovers who are more than they appear. A power-mad government, a machine known as the Elite Logical Life Core that uses human intelligence for its knowledge source. The Factorium that acquires humans as research fodder for their experiments and then spits them out when they are of no further use. Sex used as a tool to unearth enemies and traitors, and intimately align allies. Love that is not simple, relationships that are dangerously complex. This is Silver’s highly-complex world.

One misstep in the fight for freedom could mean death for them all.

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Warning: Not for the faint of heart.

As one reviewer said about this story: …an intensely sexual read, with innovative obscenities and novel delights that never cease to amaze…

You’ve been warned…

 

 

EXCERPT

“This is the package from Dr. Starlinger?” he asks as he picks up the small parcel from the gleaming surface.

I cringe at the thought of what is inside, but I try to keep my expression impassive.

“Yes, Dominor.”

He studies it almost reverently and then carefully peels back the layers of white cotton. I want to twist away. My stomach roils at the sight of the innocuous-looking wooden box.

“Lovely,” he murmurs as he raises the lid and strokes a finger over the contents. He lifts the small, thick envelope holding the thin silver punch cards—the latest replication of my brain patterns. They’re a duplicate set to that which will be fed into the Core by the doctors. It is mandated by the Politico that all information, whether set to government gold or non-official silver or bronze, be assimilated into the community intelligence of the Core for processing. Not to do so is considered a traitorous act punishable either by Factorium confinement or death.

They appear to be such fragile things to hold the contents of my thoughts, my emotions, the very essence of my human energy. I know there will be more changes from the previous version. There always are; it is inevitable. Even though the doctors don’t tamper with my brain, what they do to my body impacts my mind, so the cards are always etched and studied after modification.

The minister walks to the closet and steps inside. There are secret places hidden within the walls of this estate. I’m not privy to most of those secured rooms, but I know they exist.

I know where he’s headed as he disappears inside the closet. Another hidden door leading to a secret vault. This room alone he’s shown me, when he placed my first memory cards into safekeeping within the vault.

It’s where he keeps these bits of prized possessions I always return with from the Factorium. These new items will be placed into the box inside the drawer marked with my human name, Elissa Longview. The woman I’d once been. More pieces of me to be separated and locked away. Inwardly, I rage with my impotence. But the anger seems less fierce than it used to be. I try to call upon the full flame of my anger. It worries me that I can no longer depend upon its empowering fury to remind me of my losses, to keep me strong.

Later, he will bring out the red velvet box, along with his personal Intellometer. He’ll attach the wires to himself and feed my thoughts into his own mind. He will watch me as he dissects the changes, assimilates them into his own thought processes. Compartmentalizes them in order to access them when he wishes. Sometimes he’ll echo my own words back to me to prove his control even of that part of me he allows to remain mechanically unaltered. When he does that, I feel utterly vulnerable and powerless. Which, of course, is what he wants.

I, who had once dreamed of becoming an engineer and working in the mysterious Factorium, am now simply a product of it. High aspirations for one so lowly born, and an orphan, at that. But I’d almost made it. I would have, if not for my attraction to Minister Kesselbaum—and for his to the young man I’d pretended to be.

I had learned over the last many months to suppress my human thoughts as much as possible, compartmentalizing and locking them away as though they were separate from me, so he couldn’t find them when he assimilated the silver cards I always returned with. It had become a game of sorts, something to live for. A battle of wits against my owner. I think he knows what I do and enjoys the challenge. I can’t hide my body—what is left of it. He owns me in total. One speck of emotion I can secret away is a small battle won.

But my mind is something he hasn’t replaced—at least not yet. There is ongoing research at the Factorium in that area. As far as I know from his discussions at various social functions where the doctors are present, the experiments thus far haven’t been completely successful. I know my time is running out. There will be no glimmer of memory of what I was. But he will have it—there, in that red velvet box—on the sets of cards that one day will contain all I had been.

There are others in that secret vault. Deliveries when his manservant will present him with a box. He will open the package, examine the contents thoroughly and then take them to the hidden room to be assimilated later and locked away. These he will not share with me.

He’s not in the mood for a private concert tonight, but I’ve been given a sheaf of music to memorize. I’m reprieved from that this evening. Tonight there are other games he wishes to engage in, other torments at hand.

I sit in a chair in front of the fireplace, wearing a transparent white lace negligee with matching wrapper trimmed in black satin. The corset beneath rises to just beneath my breasts, forcing them up against the expensive material. My ribs are constrained tightly, forced close. I know he is testing the modifications. Will they yield as they are meant to? Or will they snap the same as my fragile human bones would have done with such tight confinement? My breaths are shallow, painful. The front of the gown dips low, exposing the full curves of my breasts. My silver-tipped nipples shimmer in the firelight. My legs are curled beneath me. I hold myself erect, shoulders straight. Now I am able to breathe. I sip from the glass of golden cognac Silver3_smhe has allowed me this evening. Warmth curls in my belly. It helps to mellow the pain.

He sits across the room at his desk, the red velvet box opened, a soft sky blue polishing cloth in his hand. He has already carved his initials—and mine—into the marrow. He lifts out the first piece from the box and holds it up to the light. Instinctively, I brush the fingertips of one hand along my imprisoned ribcage. I want to reach out to snatch the items from the desk, and my fingers curl into a clenched fist against my flesh.

Not my fingers. Not my ribs. Not my legs. What will be next?

 

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Nightingale – an excerpt

From the Journals of the Viadine…

They Walk the Earth Among Mortal Men…

The Fallen, having descended to earth, vulnerable to all manner of earthly pleasure and sin, were barred forevermore from Heaven. Easily seduced by the beauty of humankind, henceforth they divided, light and dark, order and chaos, lovers and destroyers of mankind. Being now branded as the Phratry, or Brotherhood, of the Fallen—henceforth eternally earthbound, divided and marked as Viadine and Diadune. Thus fashioned from the ashes of desolation a choir of men, offering a measure of serenity and renewal for those who seek order and light—henceforth known as the Gios of the Nightingale—men gifted with the voices of angels, poignant reminder of an existence now lost forever to the Phratry of the Fallen…
— Rahuael, First Chronicler, Viadine Secretorum

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An earthly balance is at stake. Nothing happens by chance. And fate, here on Earth, will demand its bloody tribute no matter how high the cost…

The thirst for deliverance and absolution are transformed into explosive flames of forbidden passion when a mysteriously charismatic masked man encounters a brilliant and handsome composer. Their lives are intertwined with those of two others, and only the ultimate sacrifice will satisfy the greedy appetite of fate…

Retribution is his only desire…Fabienne Brunetto, a 17th-Century castrato of amazing vocal talent, is brutally attacked by a twisted enemy. But agonizing death is not his destiny. He is saved by Annatoly Constantine, the immortal hand of a brotherhood of fallen angels devoted to protection, balance, and order on Earth. But Fabienne bears the scars of his terrible encounter, and his song has been extinguished forever—at least until a rite of redemption can come to culmination. He must wait two hundred years before his hunger for deliverance can fully be sated.

Wounded and shamed…Annatoly Constantine, whom centuries before was also a man, is the protector of the Gios of Nightingales, a choir of immortal voices created to soothe and heal the world. Annatoly has always been destined to lose what he loves, never able to fully offer himself to a lover. Until Carne Giraint, a gifted composer, appears in his life, making him yearn for something more, something exquisitely forbidden.

A composer marked by the cursed blood of his ancestors…Carne Giraint is a mortal of extraordinary talent, tapped by the brotherhood of angels to accept his destiny as composer to the gios. Carne’s greatest passion has never been ignited until he encounters a masked man known to him only as Maître. One night of fiery desire leaves him ravenous for the touch of Maître, a man he cannot forget.

A greedy man willing to give his soul for power and money…Dandrae, a slave to the dark beings who seek to alter the course of Fabienne’s and Carne’s destinies, is tasked with quashing Carne’s mystical gift for composition.

An earthly balance is at stake. Nothing happens by chance. And fate, here on Earth, will demand its bloody tribute no matter how high the cost…

EXCERPT

Carne removed the mask and tossed it toward Maître, who deftly caught it, caressed it, and then gently set it aside. Carne stood poised in the firelight, completely vulnerable, his cock thick with arousal, the sheen of pre-come glazing the tip, his balls heavy.

Maître walked to Carne. He circled slowly, minutely inspecting Carne. Carne’s nerves stretched taut as his desire mounted. Would he find Carne lacking? Maître completed his inspection and returned to face Carne. With his gloved hand he cupped Carne’s testicles, weighing them, stroking them.

“Lovely,” he murmured.

He slid his hand up Carne’s erect shaft, brushed over the engorged knob of his prick. “Precious. A set of manly jewels to be prized by any lover. I wonder, have you the fortitude of a well-hung young stallion as well?” The hue of Carne’s cock deepened, the flesh stretched and hardened, his balls already drawing up close to his body at Maître’s handling and obvious appreciation. With his fingers curled around Carne’s erection, Maître drew him forward. Carne could feel the unyielding presence of the mask against his cheek.

“You like being ordered, don’t you? You like men.” His voice was a steamy intimate whisper against Carne’s ear. “My touching you is arousing. How many men have you been with, Geraint? And women? Have you a patron among them?”

There would be no prevarication. This man, in some supernatural way, would peel Carne’s secrets from his soul. And Carne couldn’t stop it from happening, he could do none other than yield himself. “I-I think you know my preference, Maître. I think you know it well enough.”

His mother had thought it was the music tutor who had ruined him. She blamed herself for Carne’s eccentricities. But Carne had known from an early age, when he’d secretly watched the actors changing backstage, when it had been the men who he fantasized about, not the women. He had understood his predilection for men before his mother’s latest lover had seduced him. But he never told her the truth before she died of consumptionNightingale_sm in the poor house. He never absolved her of her false guilt.

“But the women give you fine jewels, don’t they? Little gifts because you please them so very much. They yearn for you to spend time in their bed, they are eager for you to sleep with them, to show them even more of your secret magic. To ply your command of… instrument in a much more personal and intimate fashion.”

“Yes, but I don’t give them what they want. I’ll sire no bastards. Ever.” He was never going to subject a child to what he had suffered. And since he had no plans to marry, nor a desire to lie with women, he offered them no encouragement to pursue him.

“So maybe they want me more because of it. But the men. They can be even more generous than the women.” Perhaps so generous because they sought to assuage their guilt for wanting him instead of the beautiful actresses for whom he composed his arias to make their voices shine.

“They can also be more brutal. Is that what you like about them?”

Carne didn’t respond right away. It was that, but there was more as well. “Not all of them are brutal,” Carne finally responded.

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Haevyn – an excerpt

In a city controlled by men, her choices will destroy her or empower her. There is no middle ground. And the love of two very different men may yet define her triumph…

 

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Duty and honor demand the ultimate sacrifice.

Everyone has their poison. For Haevyn Breina, it’s her inability to resist a dare. This time it’s a challenge from her friend and lover, Grisha, to sneak into the popular, illegal cage fights that always end in all-male orgies. Eagerly she snaps up the gauntlet, unaware that she will end the night forever changed.

When expatriate humanotic warrior Entreus locks eyes with Haevyn at the sex-fueled event, he is instantly captivated. Despite a duty that binds him to an exiled malevolent sorcerer, he seeks her out in a shattering, illuminating encounter.

Grisha’s plan is in motion—to bring both his warrior lovers together and heal their scarred souls with a combined passion that he alone cannot provide. But Haevyn’s tormented past refuses to die. And Entreus will not rest until the Core (the ELLC) that ruined his life is destroyed.

Amid ever-tangling emotions and a brutal plot to take over the city, the three lovers walk a tightrope that could be cut at any moment. Fighting for justice, bound by duty…and a love that could alter the foundations of their world.

Excerpt

“You shouldn’t be out walking these docks alone.”

She whirled around, a hand going to the weapon in the deep pocket of her cloak. Instinct kicked in.

It was him, the humanotic champion from the Cockrage. Her fingers curled around the unyielding handle of the revolver. Just that act alone offered some security. She should have scented him, known he was near. Facing him, though he stood some distance away in deeper shadows untouched by the bright moonlight, she took a cautious step back. He reeked still of game-savage intensity. And the scent of that barbarian earthiness appealed to her in a way it shouldn’t. But now, at least, he was partially clothed, though the trousers fit him all too snugly.

“Are you following me?” she asked in a deceptively deep tone, still trying to mask her sex. He stepped forward, lamplight spilling over him, glinting on his bare, skinmetal chest. Gods help her, why was she drawn to this stranger so peculiarly? She fought the attraction with everything she had, but it was almost more than she could withstand. Something seemed…different about him. Or maybe it was just the energy of the night still drenching her from the games. Aberrant attraction. She would be the cause of her own destruction if she wasn’t careful.

He shrugged. “I saw you at the fights. I knew you weren’t one of them. Perhaps you intrigue me. There’s little in this dimension that…arouses me of late.”

The tenseness of his half-guarded expression seemed familiar—a resonance in the intensity that shot through her, sporiti-deep. She connected with that emotion. Understood it. The cowl of her coat still shrouded her face; the bulkiness of the outer garment engulfed her form. “I’m not what you think I am.”

Her nipples drew tight and hard as an unexpected desire took root. She saw a glint in his eyes and knew that probably, with his altered senses, he could smell her arousal.

He took another step toward her. “You belong to Grisha. I saw you with him. Why are you out here alone?”

“What’s it to you?” Her heart pounded. They were alone here in the dead of night. He might do anything to her.

Anything at all.

Her nipples scraped against the rough fabric of the binding beneath her shirt, the contact shooting a jolt of blistering desire through her body down to her cunt. She fought for control; her fingers trembled against the grip of the gun, but it wasn’t because she was chilled, nor was it from fear. What would it be like to fuck him? She already knew every inch of his man-flesh from the cockfight. She’d seen him aroused. Had watched him dominate and claim sexual victory over his opponent. She had even imagined herself in the place of that vanquished warrior, feeling that cock penetrating deeply into her pussy.

Haevyn tightened her fingers around the revolver. With her other hand, she reached up and yanked back the hood of her coat so the champion could see exactly what she was. She waited for his reaction. His expression didn’t alter in the way she expected. Somewhere in their depths, she saw…recognition that went deeper. A foreshadowing. A connection.

He had known she was female. She saw it in the deepening of his expression. No surprise. No shock. More an acknowledgment of what he’d expected.

“Yes, Grisha’s,” he said, stepping closer. “I doubt he would want you to be alone on the docks at this time of night. It’s not safe.”

She loosened the grip on her weapon. Every sensation sharpened. Another, alien emotion melded with arousal. Outside of Grisha, she had never lain with a man purely for pleasure. Even her relationship with Grisha didn’t leave her feeling as though a raging ball of fire burned inside her gut. Her response to this man took her by surprise, and she wasn’t necessarily ready for the…elemental lust that consumed her. She didn’t want to know this humanotic’s true identity. She didn’t want to give him hers. But, by the gods, she wanted to fuck him. She wanted him so badly it hurt—hurt so damned good.

Fear tinged that sensation, deepened it. And in this moment, she had no thought about what came before or after. These were the moments she lived for, her senses firing on every level, gut-deep, primal. This was what she craved.

Haevyn eased her hand away from the gun and waited for him to make the first move. He stepped forward, apparently understanding the silent invitation. He drew close, so close she could feel his heat.

“I want you,” he said without preamble.

“So have me.” Neither was she in the mood for coyness or flirtation.

He unfastened her cloak, and it dropped to the boards. He studied her a long, heart-pounding moment. She reached out, slipped a hand inside the waistband of his simple linen trousers. Found him hard and ready for her. She remembered the look of that cock, oiled slick in the cage. She recalled watching, unable to look away, as he reigned triumphant o

ver his vanquished opponent.

“I know what you want,” he said. He yanked the tail of her shirt from the confinement of her britches, even as her fingers curled around that thick, hot cock imprisoned inside his pants.

“Unfasten my trousers,” he said. He unbuttoned her shirt, unwound the binding and tossed it away. Her breasts popped free, nipples erect, exposed and vulnerable. Cool air mated with hot flesh, causing her to shiver.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“No.” She definiHaevyn_smtely wasn’t cold. Her hands shaking from the need to have him buried inside her, Haevyn released the fastening on his pants, and his big prick burst free of the confinement. His was a human prick, not made of humanotic material. That this part of him was human pleased her.

“Here, on the dock? Or some place more private?” He cupped her breast with his humanotic hand.

She noticed a slight difference in texture and warmth, but only marginally different from human hands. The touch sent a current of electricity zinging through her body, arrowing down to her vagina. He could easily crush her. Breathlessly, she leaned into him. He kneaded her breast, a touch of skinmetal to human flesh, and she barely caught the moan before it escaped her throat. “Here. Now.”

 

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(#erotica #darkromance #mystery #contemporary #MF)

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The murder victim had been discovered naked and handcuffed to a bed. Pandora Edwina Willmington was Detective Alex Johnson’s prime suspect. He was certain she was guilty as sin. Coming face to face with the beautiful, sensual suspect fueled far different thoughts than escorting the young, wealthy widow to jail.

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An Excerpt from Run To Ground

Run To Ground

(#darkfantasy, #MM, #shapeshifter, #werewolves, #eroticromance, #secondchance #kindleunlimited)

Blurb:

RunToGround_medA savage and passionate breed of mythic wuv. Two men—alpha and mate, fight for their clan, and their lives, and to reclaim the passion one threw away when he left. Loyalty might be earned, but could trust be regained? There are no half-measures in the world of the Zhalazti. One will rule; one will submit. A new pack will arise. It is the law of their species and all will obey. Submit or die.

Tallin Undine, human-made savage wolfish creature. He was once human, now wuv-beast—a creature ruled by the moon—made through moon-madness and savagery, his human family slaughtered. It is a continual struggle to hold on to some bit of his humanity. Scarred by his former lover, a Zhalazti Luminarian of noble and ancient heritage, during a rite of passage, who then abandoned him, Tallin has clawed his way to some measure of standing. But now the vaida, his Zhalazti clan chief, his accepted alpha, has been killed, and the security of his adoptive nation is at risk. His mission—to bring back the man who must battle to claim his position as rightful chief against a Negraluna cursed usurper to the position. One problem – Emmanuel Grimshaw is the very man Tallin does not want to see again. It was Emmanuel who mated him so long ago, and then left Tallin to pick up the pieces of what was left of his life. But Tallin has little choice.

Emmanuel Grimshaw, of the Zhalazti Natasia, a Luminarian, born of full-moon royal heritage, walked away from his clan, his mate, because of the savageness with which he claimed, and maimed, a man he loved, when he was too young to control his beast. He’d gone in search of his humanity, and a way to tame the wuv within. But when Tallin unexpectedly arrives, any peace he thought he’d found with his human companion, Niles, vanishes. And it isn’t long before Emmanuel’s beast within rises and in a savage mating, he reclaims Tallin—binding him, once again.

Zhalazti wuvs, like no other; a mysterious nomadic tribe—not the werewolf of loric myth. Descendants of a Sumarian god and his consort, who birthed the gods of the underworld, and evil demons. Emmanuel will do his duty, but not without the human stray, Tallin, at his side. A battle for survival and love is about to begin. Who will triumph?

EXCERPT:

All things were dead in the garden, curled up, brown, brittle. Except there was a certain beauty to it in the thin veneer of frost that covered everything. From wilted brittle vine to defeated rose. The crystalline sparkle made it seem as though one stood in a vastly different world than that of human.

Tallin had waited. Upon his arrival in Vienna he’d taken rooms at a hostelry on the outskirts, near a densely wooded area, allowing him freedom to run when his animal urged him to flee the confines of the city. Mostly it occurred in the twilight hours. But it was early morning now as he stood in the garden, behind the elm waiting for Emmanuel to emerge. Having watched him for the last three days, Tallin had discerned his routine.
A smoke in the morning in the garden, to the university for lectures until mid-afternoon. Home to fuck his pet and take tea, not leaving the house again until twilight, and then off to the opera or some social event. Home again at two or three in the morning to fuck his pet again, before turning in for a few hours of rest. Emmanuel rose early, his pet later, obviously exhausted by the long grueling schedule Emmanuel set for them each day. So this was the best time of day to catch him alone. Today Tallin would confront him and then he would know what his next move must be.

He pulled out his pocket watch, flipped it open to check the time, closed it and repocketed it. Any moment now and Emmanuel would step out into the briskness of the winter morn. Being Zhalazti, the chill would not affect him keenly as it did humans. Nor did it affect Tallin in quite the same way. In fact, their kind thrived in the colder climes.
He scented the smoke of the cigar before he actually saw Emmanuel emerge from the house. Dressed in dark trousers and a white shirt unbuttoned at the neck, black leather shoes polished to an unmarred shine. His shirt sleeves were rolled back to reveal his dark, densely pelted arms. He turned away from where Tallin stood at the corner of the garden and stared up at the lightening sky.

He took the cigar out of his mouth, released a line of smoke into the cold stillness. Still a fine fashion of a man as he stood astride. Broad shoulders stretching the white shirt to its limits, tapering to narrow hips, muscular buttocks and thighs—a measure of the beast that thrived in his Lunaria blood. This morning he looked…human. More so than he ever had back in France. He looked almost tamed, so refined. A gentleman. Perhaps even more charismatic and seductive than Tallin had ever seen him.

“I know you’re there,” Emmanuel suddenly said. “You might as well come out of hiding. I can smell you. One does not mistake the scent of wuv blood—even if it is diluted blood.” He spun around to face exactly where Tallin stood. Tallin stepped out from behind the tree. Emmanuel’s eyes flashed, his focus going immediately to the eye patch and the scars on his face. Tallin didn’t flinch.

Emmanuel nodded. “I thought it was you. Why are you here, Tallin? I’m not returning. I’ve found some balance here. Some peace.”

“With your jijo? I take it he serves you well.”

Emmanuel’s eyes flashed angrily, a growl erupted from his throat. “Leave Niles out of this. He’s human and he’s fragile.

Tallin stepped more fully into the garden. “I know exactly how fragile humans are. I do recall something of their humanity.”

Emmanuel lifted the cigar to his lips and studied Tallin silently for a long time. The tip of the cigar glowed orange as he sucked. Tallin recalled Emmanuel’s special skill at sucking.
“You still have a fondness for cigars.”

Emmanuel released a cloud of smoke to meld with the frigid air. He set the cigar on the edge of the table he stood next to. “You should know. You were the one who stole the first box from Shiri. Have you lost your fondness for savoring fine things?”

“I have tempered somewhat.”

“I heard you have been named a captain in Hirmes’ war pack. You have come far in a short time. Few possessed ever—”

“Survive as long as I have?” Tallin said mildly. He should have died in the rite of passage but he hadn’t. He’d lived and thus gained some measure of respect. Of course, he’d not survived without cost.

“I wasn’t going to say that. We both know the reason humans are made wuv. It’s no secret,” Emmanuel said.

“Exactly. I was trained for it, wasn’t I? Treated little less than a slave—humans—jijos—were treated better than I was. But rikos are the expendable ones, aren’t they?”

“I helped you train, Tallin. I wanted you to survive, you know that.”

Tallin smiled bitterly. “What you did was give with one hand and take with the other. I never really knew where I stood with you until the hunt. Then we both knew, didn’t we?”
Emmanuel spun away. “Why are you here? Everything you speak of is in the past. It serves no purpose in bringing it up now.”

Tallin tamped down the beast and the memories. His wounded eye itched, the scars on his face throbbed with the memory. “Hirmes is dead, Emmanuel…”

 

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Eternity – an excerpt

In the end he begged to serve the demonic vampire who made him. Maximilian Wolffe was unwillingly turned vampire in 1570. A brutal master should always beware of what he creates.

He claimed her as his servitess. In 1872 Venice, Max and Claudio hunt the streets of Venice. What Max finds is not what he expects–a woman to equal his passion. He claims her and then one day, abandons her. To save her. The memory of his vampiress may be the only thing that saves him from the beast within.

And now he’s back to claim what is his.

 

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EXCERPT:

Lena pulled back the black curtain and looked out the window. Torchlight illuminated what looked like a courtyard beyond the thorn-entwined wooden gate that was being raised by a couple of long-toothed, big furry beasts.
“I still can’t believe there are such creatures as werewolves. Over the years, you’ve certainly turned my belief system upside down, Max.”

“These wolves have been sentries of the land surrounding the castle for centuries. They have served the Conastrata descendants since the castle was built. And they keep the vampire hunters away. A very useful species.”

The horses’ hooves clattered over the cobblestones as they entered the courtyard.

“How old is this place?”

“It dates back to the fifteenth century, constructed in medieval times.”

“Kind of like you.”

She heard him chuckle. “Yes, I guess you might say that.”

Finally the carriage came to a halt in the courtyard. Max waved a hand, the door opened, and he stepped out and then he handed Lena out.

Tonight her gown was in shades of gold and black shot through with crimson thread, split at the front. Rubies had been sewn into the black overskirt. Red lace at the bodice barely concealed her dusky nipples. The caplet and underskirt were gold. Beneath the black silk corset and a multitude of black, gold, and crimson petticoats, she wore no undergarments, no bustle. And she felt decadently bare and wicked beneath the voluminous skirt and petticoats. Her thighs were slick with anticipation as the silk and lace rubbed against her skin.

“I need time alone with you, Max.”

A head taller than Lena, Max looked down at her as they awaited Claudio and Werner’s arrival.

“There’s no need for secrecy here, my dear. You may be quite shocked by the openness of the festivities. The body is to be admired and enjoyment of the flesh is to be openly worshiped.”

“You mean, there is no privacy?”

“As much as you would like, cara. Or as little. I have kept you rather sequestered since turning you. It all may be rather overwhelming for you at first.”

“I think I can handle it. I’ll just follow your lead, darling Max.”

Just then Claudio’s carriage clattered into the courtyard and came to a halt. Claudio stepped from the coach. The vampire was dressed quite elegantly in midnight blue velvet and silver. As he stepped down he tugged on a thick silver-colored chain.

Lena’s jaw dropped when she saw Werner. Oh, she’d seen him naked before, but never like this.

“He let you do that to him? It is Werner, isn’t it?”

“It is. He had no choice. He’s a servitor, he does as I say. As a human there are certain rules to follow. He has the smell of human. If he doesn’t want to end up in another vampire’s coffin, he’ll do exactly as I say. Isn’t that right, pet?”

Werner’s head was completely encased in some sort of black hood. Lena could see his eyes. And there seemed to be a slit for his nose, but there was a buttoned closing over his mouth. All he could do was nod in answer to Claudio’s inquiry.

The hem of the hood was attached by silver rings to a wide iron collar. There were strips of black leather crisscrossing his chest, and decorative chain hanging from a wide leather belt that seemed to serve little purpose. And more straps, with rolled leather edges, running up between his legs, displaying his softened penis.

Cuffs of iron encircled his wrists and ankles, and chain looped through them, soaring upward through the iron collar. The collar was decorated with slender, curved pieces of iron interlaced in a woven pattern. All of the chains seemed to come together culminating in the leash that Claudio held in his hand.

Lena was shocked to see a brand at the center of Werner’s chest that looked quite sore. “What is that? When did you do it?”

“My mark. I should have had him marked long before this, but since we haven’t attended any type of formal gathering, I didn’t think it necessary. Max and I have tended to circuit away from formal vampire affairs in the past. But nevertheless, the brand was accomplished last night. I have used herbs to cement it and help it to heal quickly. You will find all the servitors marked here. Servitors require a great deal of attention. You should think long and hard before deciding to acquire one.”

“As if I would.”

“You never know. One of these dedicants may just appeal to you.”

Lena slid a glance to Max. She couldn’t imagine doing to anyone what Claudio had obviously done to Werner. She glanced again at Werner.

Attired as he was, made him look…anonymous. The depilation was a surprise, but this was far more shocking. Anonymous was the only word she could think of. Indistinct. And yet—

She walked to Werner and reached out, then hesitated, first looking at Claudio. For the first time she found something intriguing about her husband. Was she changing that much in her tastes?

“May I?” Some undefined instinct made her ask permission to touch Werner. Even though technically the man was her husband. And he was a baron. Looking at him, one would never think of him as nobility in his present condition.

“Of course, my dear. What’s mine is yours.”

 

Now available on Amazon and currently a #kindleunlimited selection

Silver and blurring boundaries in sexuality

Humanotica 1: Silver, an intergender hero/ine erotica scifantasy

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Elissa Longview was a free woman of Quentopolis until she committed the ultimate crime–pretending to be male to gain entrance to an exclusive science academy. Her punishment: modification. Now she is trinex–equal parts female, male, and machine, And her name is Silver. She is the property of the Secretive, charismatic Lel Kesselbaum, whose appetites push her to unfettered realms of sensual discovery. Enter, the humanotic rebel Entreus, who will challenge the boundaries of this new trinex nature differently. Three lives intertwine and much more than individual survival is at stake…

“…intensely sexual… a story comprised of contradictions – justice/revenge, male/female, slave/master, human/machine, dominant/submissive, science/supernatural…” #GLBT #scifantasy #intersex #erotic

A story referred to as both groundbreaking and original, in Silver the boundaries of sexuality and the human condition are blurred. Silver, a trinex, and her journey of discovery, is at the heart of this scifantasy novel. Today, we have plastic surgery, liposuction, tighten here, remove there, refashion and reshape – all manner of body modification. We have bionics. We want robots to be more human, we want our fragile human bodies to be more resilient. What’s real and what’s not? We have research and test subjects and experiment in all phases of life. What if after so much “modification” one loses rights to freedom? Would that stop someone from going too far?

Silver, at its heart is a story about breaking, or blurring, boundaries in a fictional dystopian society. It’s about how we view love, about how we interpret freedom. It’s about control and choices and complications, it’s about passions and desires and acquisitions.

Available in ebook and paperback formats at most fine bookstores and online digital ebook distributors.

Find it on Amazon:  http://www.amazon.com/Silver-Humanotica-Darcy-Abriel-ebook/dp/B0047DW4LO

Find it at Samhain Publishing:  https://www.samhainpublishing.com/book/3770/silver
Or other fine ebook retailer…

Warning: Contains wickedly inventive sexual situations and language, including not-so-ordinary body modification and same-sex scenes with BDSM elements. And a most unusual application of decorative silver. Please step away if your taste doesn’t run toward the exotic.

Discover more about Quentopolis and the world of Humanotica at www.humanotica.com.

Excerpt from Gulietta by Darcy Abriel

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She reached for him, but he stopped her. His big hands locked around her fragile wrists.

“Slowly,” he said.

“I can’t wait. I need you now.”

“And so you shall have me. Calm yourself. I know the rage is upon you. You’ll enjoy it so much more if you relax.”

“Enjoy it? You’ve got to be kidding.”

He tilted his head as he looked at her. “You’ve never enjoyed the mating?”

“Not that I can remember. Now stop talking and fuck me. Or I’ll find someone else who will.” She reached for his cock and again he pushed away her hands.

He leaned toward her, and his lips brushed against hers.

“Open your mouth,” he whispered.

If she wanted to ease the pain, she was going to have to do what he asked. She couldn’t bear the cramping of her womb any longer. The medicine the doctors gave her never helped. There was only one way to ease the ache.

She opened her mouth. He licked across her lips, then buried his tongue inside. She sucked for all she was worth. The clench of her womb increased as though to say, “Yes, this is the one. I want him.”

And so you shall have him, bane of my existence. As soon as he allows me to have him.

He withdrew his tongue, then began to lick along her jaw, circling over her chin. Tilting her head slightly, he tracked down her throat. Then he unbuttoned her shirt, peeling it back to expose her breasts. The cool night air brushed across her skin, heightening her awareness. She shivered from the exquisite contact.

The cramping continued, but something else curled inside her. A heat that spiraled through her. A wetness that pooled between her thighs. Wetter than she’d ever been before.

A sound somewhere between a purr and a moan escaped from her. He lifted his head and looked at her. Then she gasped as he spun her around and pulled her even deeper into the alleyway. Not a sound but their heavy breathing. The long, drawn-out yowl of a cat suddenly echoed through the deserted passage. She stiffened, but then the stranger captured her attention once more and she forgot about anything else.

His kisses drugged her as he claimed her lips, then dipped lower and sucked a nipple deep into his mouth.

A tight arrow of ache and ecstasy shot through her, from her breasts to her cunt. Oh, God, it felt so good. Too good. Her womb clenched tighter, and her pussy dripped more cream onto her thighs. One of his hands gripped her calf and lifted her leg. He yanked off her boot and she heard the thump as it landed on the pavement.

She didn’t care. She wanted him more than she’d ever wanted any man before. However he wanted to do it, she was more than willing. There was a difference. Yes, she had needed the sex before. But on this night she wanted it. And that was unusual. He shoved her pants down her legs, all the way, then yanked one leg of her jeans complete off, freeing one of her limbs.

He raised the bare leg, anchored it against his powerful thigh, opened her wide, then shoved his cock into her wet pussy. He lifted her with huge muscled arms, and she wrapped her free leg around his waist. His mouth found hers once more, fusing them together. Not a space for breath, from willing mouth to wet cunt, locked lips to rigid cock, and she felt him so deeply the world rocked, splintered and fell away.

He forced her to remain still, just holding her close, her pussy wrapped tightly around his cock, lips wide, hairs tickling. Sanity shifted.

“I have come for you and you alone, woman,” he said.

“W-who are you?” His cock nudged deeper and she whimpered as the tip brushed against the opening of her cervix.

“I am Quintus, the Roman. Servant of your father.”

Her eyes widened. “My father!”

And then he began to move inside her and she thought she would die from the pleasure. Slow surges, in and out as he ground against her. Her back wedged against the brick wall, he drove his cock into her channel. The first climax shattered her.

An Excerpt from Siren’s Nocturne

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The night should frighten her, but this was her home ground. She actually felt more at ease in the darkness than she ever had during daylight. She and Etienne had often traversed the night long after her parents were asleep. He would call to her and she would climb down from her window to join him on their nightly excursions.

On many occasion in the past Lucille had thought that must be the reason daylight seemed to sap her strength. She had become so used to the night. As soon as the sun set, it felt as though energy flowed through her, calling her out to adventure in the darkness.

She hadn’t realized how much she missed Etienne and this place. Not until this very moment. It seemed to Lucille that she had spent so many years fighting her true calling, pushing against walls that refused to budge. Tonight it was as though she flew across the ground, weightless and free.

She inhaled the night air deeply, filling her lungs with its moist density, before entering the pavilion proper.

As she arrived at the entrance to the foyer, she halted when she noticed the hundred or so black candles burning brightly scattered through the main room. It was as though the flames hovered in the air, the candles themselves blending into the shadows of the room. And then she gasped and drew back when she saw the two pale bodies, a woman with long, flowing dark brown hair that spilled over the edges of the white marble altar, stretched out at the feet of the statue of Hel. Lucille drew back into the shadows and set down the lantern at her feet.

Flickering candlelight bathed the flesh of the naked woman sprawled on the altar, a man poised over her on his knees. Flesh so pale it matched the pristine marble of the altar upon which the woman lay. Lucille’s gaze focused on the strange wispy cloud hovering between the woman’s lips and the man’s. Undulating and swirling between them.

Lucille’s acute eyesight, particularly in the most limited illumination, had been another curiosity. Tonight it worked to her advantage as her sharp gaze flashed over the man’s body, noting the column of marble white, rigid cock swinging between his legs as he seemed to inhale the ethereal cloud, rocking his body over the woman. Tight, muscled buttocks flexed with his movements as he undulated back and forth, the image weaving a seductive spell through Lucille. The woman’s body levered and arched up, pressing against the man as though locked to him by the odd misty vapor. Her head tossed back and forth and Lucille could hear her throaty moans echo throughout the chamber. Sounds of pleasure, a keening pitch to the tone that vibrated within Lucille.

It made her yearn to be the woman, to feel the man touching her, fucking her. Something seemed so familiar about him. About the act that was being performed before her right now. Her breaths quickened as she watched, the flood of her juices evidence of the depth of her arousal as she watched the erotic passion play.

The woman dropped back down onto the ledge as though weakened by whatever had just taken place; the vapor dissipated. Her head lolled to the side, the crimson mask glittering in firelight, her eyelids fluttering as though she couldn’t keep her eyes opened.

Lucille was shocked to realize it was a look she’d often seen on Brad’s face after they’d made love until the wee hours before dawn broke.

The man rose up, grabbed the woman’s lush, pale thighs and yanked her to him, positioning his cock at her entrance. As he slammed into her, a strange white light flooded the woman, and the man stroked his hands over her body, a path of pale light trailing his every touch like bits of lightning, flickering in his wake. Veins of light littered her flesh, ragged arcs of energy racing over her skin, sucked to the surface by the path of his hands over her body.

What was he doing to the woman? Lucille had never seen anything like it. The fascination held her rooted to the spot, unable to move. The heat of sexual frenzy bloomed over her own flesh at the terrible, seductive sight.

Available on Amazon and on Smashwords.

Siren’s Nocturne

Siren’s Nocturne by Darcy Abriel

#darkfantasy #eroticromance #contemporary #MF #darkromance

Otherworldly and unusual … a woman who fulfills her deepest desires with a lover from her past…

Now available on Amazon, readSirensNocturne2_lg it for free on #kindleunlimited:
https://www.amazon.com/Sirens-Nocturne-Darcy-Abriel-ebook/dp/B01G6BZOK2

Lucille is a woman who has tried desperately to deny her nature. She has needs that can’t be satisfied by one mortal man. Powers she doesn’t understand.

There is one man who may be able to answer her questions, but is she ready to know the answers? Though she’s known him all her life, she’s about to discover he’s no ordinary mortal.

Etienne is someone from Lucille’s past who just happens to be a very seductive demon – incubus to be more precise – and he wants Lucille for himself.  He’s been patient long enough. Once she learns her true destiny, how long before these nocturnal lovers devour each other? Hel’s dominion awaits.