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.

Excerpt: Blood Bounty, Vampires of Noctra

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“Why?” he asked Skye, pointing to the blood and hair-encrusted axe.

Skye shrugged. “It seemed the thing to do at the time.”

“Do you know what they are? What they were?”

This time when Skye looked at Donte’, the vampire captain saw confusion swirling within the blueness of his pupils. “No. I-I thought–”

Ah, revelation swept through Donte’. “The axe was for me, wasn’t it?”

Skye looked him square in the eye. “I thought you meant to kill all those people. You’re a vampire, what else was I supposed to think?”

“My reputation. They all think the vampires of Noctra sail the seas in search of victims to gorge our thirst. Isn’t that right?” Skye’s hands tightened around the axe handle.

“What else are we supposed to think? Vampires trail a heavy reputation of killing in order to appease their hunger.”

Donte’ started at him for a long time. His instincts told him Skye had been sent here to kill him. So why did he hesitate to have done with Templeton right this minute?

He nodded to the axe. “Well, here you are. And here I am. So why don’t you finish the deed you’ve come here to do?”

“How do you know I was sent to kill you?”

Donte’ shrugged. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

“What happened to the others?”

Donte’ looked back across to the other ship. “A few are now part of my crew. The others,” he looked down at the water. “A few have found everlasting peace or hell, depending on your perspective.”

“You’re a vampire. You have everlasting life.”

Donte’ watched as Skye swung the axe from his shoulder and dropped it to the deck. Donte’ looked down at the discarded weapon and almost felt a twinge of regret. What he wouldn’t give to have all of this done and over with. There was so little he found pleasure in any more. So many lovers dead, so many of his crew sacrificed. He felt the first heat of dawn’s fingers against his neck. All he had to do was remain on deck and it would be over with once and for all. He looked at Skye.

“You could have killed me tonight. My focus was on the undead on the ship. My men might have thought it an accident in the surge of bloodlust and they would have let you go.”

“Yes. That’s true.”

“So, why didn’t you?” He was curious to know the young man’s answer. There was something that intrigued him about Skye Templeton. This was a strong, intelligent man, rather unlike the rest of his crew. Most of them had spent their lives following the orders of others. But not this one. He definitely felt a strong attraction for the man–and it was more than his blood. Yet, his attention was drawn to the purple vein pulsing in Skye’s neck.

“I won’t become part of your food stores, Captain.”

Donte’s attention refocused on Skye’s face. “Do you think I need another?” He swept an arm in a semi-circle. “I have a crew of men more than eager to quench my thirst. Willingly. Do you think I need you?”

There was something indefinable in Skye’s expression. Donte’s attention turned to his mouth. Templeton meant to hold himself apart from the rest of his crew. But there was an element of desire and yet defiance in the way he held himself. A flagrant challenge to the vampire captain to force the young man’s submission. “You will yield to me. Eventually.”

Those beautiful lips curved into a smile. A tongue slipped out to wet the elegant fullness. Suddenly, Donte’ swooped forward and possessed them, curling a hand tightly into the long blond locks. Taking what he wanted, tasting the sweetness of strong defiance in the young merchant’s kiss.

Skye pressed forward, off-balancing the vampire, pressing advantage, forcing Donte’ against the rail, as he took control of the passionate kiss. He thrust his tongue between Donte’s lips; his determined hands cupped the vampire’s cheeks, facing down the danger of such a predatory master.

If Donte had a heart that beat, it would have drum rolled a fast and furious pace as desire roared for Skye Templeton. He pulled free from Skye’s lips and stumbled away. He put the weakness that consumed him down to weariness from the night’s battle.

Donte slid his tongue over his lower, engorged lip and felt a trickle of blood and wiped it away.

“You challenge what you have no understanding of,” he said. He fought the desire to have this human in his bed right this minute. Bound to it, supping from him at his leisure. Or hanging on his wall, the bite of metal binding him in Donte’s presence. There was something in Skye Templeton, something so different and so desirable. So forbidden.

“I’ll give you what you need, my captain, all in good time.”

Constable of Disturbia – revise to Ch1, Pt1 – deliverance

Chapter 1 has lengthened considerably. I’m posting the first part of Chapter 1 today. One of the things I know I needed to do with this story was delve deeper into the background of the main characters. Thus, I begin the journey of discovering who these characters really are.

Chapter 1 – Part 1

“Am I satisfactory, sir?”

Sam inspected the handsome young man standing before him. Pretty might be a better word with his dark brows perfectly arched over periwinkle eyes, and long, gorgeous dark lashes. The stunning brilliance of shoulder-length bright copper-colored hair dusted his broad shoulders. He was dressed not as an upscale gentleman, but clothed in a conglomeration of beautiful and bright colors. The trousers dyed a peacock shade of blue, and resting casually on narrow hips, were fashionable and dapper. A loose cream shirt was opened at the neck, exposing a pale column of Constable of Disturbia: Deliverancethroat, and a glimpse of his smooth, hairless chest. He wore a fitted waistcoat of paisley, stitched and sewn to enhance his slender, youthful frame. The beige leather coat, utilitarian, or might have been, except for the black velvet-covered lapels and cuffs, adding that dash of dapper and debonair, with just a touch of rugged and earthy. And then, of course, the hat resting upon his neatly trimmed and styled locks topped off the look. His head was capped stylishly with a black bowler beribboned in periwinkle to match the shade of his eyes, a brace of vivid scarlet poppies settled at the curve of the brim seemed to match the vivid shade of his lovely perfect lips.

It wasn’t the outfit that Sam scrutinized so thoroughly, it was the man-image encased beneath the civilian accessories. The quality of the skin, ivory-hued and pampered exquisitely with specially concocted lotions, measured up to human expectation—its pale tone, texture, and elasticity would easily pass for human flesh upon close inspection. Then there were his almond-shaped dark-lined deep-set periwinkle eyes that seemed to see everything with a remarkable absorption of detail, the perfect nose, nostrils flared and scenting the faintest nuance of aroma in the air, topped his image of the eligible and virile young male. Sam brushed back one unruly shining lock of hair at Bobby’s brow and peered closely at the fine stitching, then allowed the hair to settle back into its natural fall, the mane buoyant and springy.

“Is something wrong, sir?” Bobby’s expression exhibited curiosity, his gaze was sharp as a hawk’s and all-seeing. The color of his eyes changed, lightening from the bluish-purple to a brighter shade of brilliant turquoise as he looked at Sam. The look still bordered between intimacy and duty. It was an odd quirk about his eyes which changed color depending on the task at hand, be it the dark navy, almost black of close magnification, the sky blue of far-reaching observation, the brilliant turquoise of sexual flirtation and intimate congress, or the periwinkle of ordinary daily engagement. Sam had learned to decipher exactly which task Bobby engaged in at any given moment. He was far too exquisite and complex a creature for Sam’s peace of mind, but there was no turning back. The brilliancy of Bobby’s gaze as it connected with Sam’s just at that moment almost made Sam forget the important matters they were about today.

Sam stepped away. A mournful dread bore down upon him, a punishing weight of iron settling inside his chest made it difficult to breathe. He worked to tamp down the feeling of unease–and regret. He forced his thoughts to the weighty matters at hand.

“You understand what will happen today, Bobby.” Their creation was so perfect in practically every way. Well, really it was Oberon’s creation; Sam’s hand in it was cursory at best, seeing to the execution of Oberon’s half-mad, yet brilliant scheme. Perhaps it was because Bobby was imprinted with at least a shadow of Oberon’s personality that had Sam so taken with the automaton.

Bobby Robbins, the creation standing before him, was truly splendid. The team, and Oberon, had left the naming up to Sam. Bobby Robbins–an unremarkable name for a very remarkable automaton. To Sam it had seemed fitting.

A year of living with him, knowing him, enjoying his companionship altered Sam’s original understanding of where this little intrigue was intended to lead.

“Of course, sir,” Bobby responded in an even tone, no true inflection of emotion suffused his expression now, the blue of his eyes returned to periwinkle. Fear had not been built into his mechanical workings, so that was to be expected. Curiosity and a thirst for knowledge were at the center of his mechanical emotional core. After all, Bobby wasn’t human–he was an automaton. A very well executed, detailed, top-of-the-line creation that could only have come from the brilliant mind of a man like Dr. Oberon Ophelian. The scientific researcher some called a mad man, was now incarcerated at the experimental government bathypelogic internment facility at Mission Point, located just beyond the city limits.

“Oberon, what sort of mess have you gotten me into this time?” Sam muttered to himself.

Complications abounded, and black and white had merged to gray for Sam, which seemed to match the poisonous smog-filled sky that hovered over Ragstown, as well as infiltrating his current mood. Nothing was as clear-cut as it had been at university, nor so simple.

[End Chapter 1, Part I]

I’ve begun revisions to a free short story I have up on Goodreads. I thought this might be a good venue to share the metamorphosis of this story. A bit of an introduction about this story which is really grabbing my muse by the throat and taking me further along my rather demented writing path…

Constable of Disturbia: Deliverance

Constable of Disturbia: Deliverance

A twisted tale of love, loyalty, devotion, and honor in a dangerously insane dystopian world.

Madness does strange things to a man’s passions, especially under trying circumstances. But one adapts… Take Dr. Oberon Ophelian, a mad scientist incarcerated in an institution deep below the water, who is a perfect example of passions gone askew. He is a man disturbed, deeply so, no small thanks to the Mission Point Bathypelogic Internment Facility where he now resides. It’s a cruel fact that sometimes the caretakers are more corrupt and depraved than the inmates, especially those in charge at the Mission Point Incarceratorium.

Constable Sam Dart is an honorable young man, and truly tested by his loyalty to a man so warped by circumstance and his own choices. He and Ophelian go back a long way having attended university together. Sam is the man responsible for putting Ophelian behind bars. But the matter is not so easily put behind him because he’s also a man who is devoted to Oberon–who married Oberon. And now he is the man who plans to free Oberon from the depravity of his confinement. Sane you say? Perhaps not so much. Only by comparison to Oberon. And then there’s Bobby…

A sweet, sexy automaton named Bobby Robbins, fully equipped and who passes surprising well for human, has been at Sam’s side to assist with the insanely wild scheme…as well as other companionable pursuits…and will remain on hand to aid with Oberon’s escape. A bribe here, a promise – a sacrifice – and a career destroyed. Obvious insanity quite fully realized. A tarnished knight, an especially bright automaton, a maniacally unbalanced scientist, how can this mad scheme possibly come out right? Love is quite an insistent, chaotic, and demanding emotion in the best of times.

And this is truly a strange and twisted affair.

Constable of Disturbia – the blurb revision to deliverance