An Excerpt from Gulietta

Gulietta

(#eroticromance #darkfantasy, #mfm)

guliettasmallOne explosive encounter with an immortal shapeshifter finds seductive Gulietta embracing her powerful, magical destiny…and so much more…

Kansas City-raised Gulietta. Fathered by a far more magical species than human – the identity of whom her mother never shared. Sexual needs and desires not fully understood. Secrets abound.

Gulietta’s uneasy reality is tossed onto its head when a handsome stranger enters her life and whisks her away. Games played, lives and freedoms hang in the balance. This ain’t Kansas City, and Gulietta isn’t Dorothy, but she may be the hope for the future of the Sabine females in Antius’s court. Will she also be the savior of the immortal shapeshifter, Quintus–apparently the one man who has the ability to satisfy her in so many ways? Or is he the only one? The biggest prize in this game may be love…once all the secrets are finally revealed…

EXCERPT

Kansas City, Six Months Before

 Quintus watched her from the darkening shadows of a damp, garbage-infested alley, having only just arrived in Kansas City on orders from Antius. To approach the woman too quickly would send her running like a doe sighting the hunter who tracked it. He glanced up at the black sky. No, the moon would drive her to him. He slowed the breaths in his huge body, and his cock surged as he watched her pass slowly along the dark, wet pavement.

“She’s beautiful,” the man standing next to him murmured.

“She won’t be happy when she discovers what Antius has planned for her. You should go to her apartment and wait there. I will bring her along when she is more…agreeable.”

Within moments the other man had shifted to wolf form and loped off, swallowed by the darkness. Quintus turned back to watch Gulietta as she made her way along the deserted street.

She was not what he’d expected for the daughter of a Sabine woman and a powerful, lusty satyr. Although, as far as Quintus knew, she was not aware of her heritage and perhaps that was the reason for her easy grace. She didn’t look the predator. She looked human. Thus, his purpose for being there—to make her aware of her ancient lineage. To return her to her proper place at the side of her father, Antius.

She was…striking. A fitting mate for a man of Roman blood. She walked with purpose, her strides measured yet graceful, shoulders back, forcing her firm, young breasts up. Temptingly full. Lean hips, strong flanks. Perfect proportions. Not as tall as some of the women of Antius’s court. Many of them were almost Amazonian in their lusty proportions. Strong, fierce women.

Not this wench. She intrigued him. More dangerous than the others. Her sexual energy, a gift from her sire, undulated, crackling the night air, surrounding her, beckoning lovers to her side. No problem for this female to assuage her sexual hunger.

Man after man passed her, giving her hungry looks that she scorned. She could take her pick of the lot. Humans unable to resist her. Quintus could tell she had not yet peaked. He had chosen the time with care. The only way to bring a female like her to heel was to take her at her most vulnerable moment.

She rode the edge carefully. Quintus had never seen such self-control in a Sabine of the satyr court. They usually submitted to their instincts quickly and effortlessly. This one fought the natural order.

She staggered and clutched at the hard edge of the brick building, hunched over in pain. Her knees started to buckle, but she didn’t drop. It was the satyr blood—it had to be what kept her on her feet. Most of the women of his acquaintance would have shed their clothes long before this, flat on their backs, legs spread, welcoming man after man to quench the lust.

He smelled the earthy cinnamon scent of her and dragged the smell deeply into his lungs, filling his lungs with her aroma.

Another man passed by. Quintus saw her clench her fist. She fought valiantly against her sexual nature. He was impressed by her control. But he knew that eventually she would have no choice. She would give in to the lust. The need for that connection only fucking would provide. Straightening her shoulders, she staggered forward. Two steps and another attack claimed her. Her natural-born instincts would win out.

Quintus heard the soft groan. The breathless siren’s call spun through him. Her need was desperate. Twenty feet more and she would reach where he stood in the shadows. And the full moon would drive her passion. It would be her most vulnerable moment. And then he would take her. Binding her to him in the most elemental way of their immortal kind. Only then would he take her back to Antius. The old satyr would not cheat him of the prize. Not this time.

His cock pulled hard, demanding surcease. His muscles knotted as he readied himself to pounce. A deep growl rolled from his throat. Fangs bared, he gathered strength, calling from his animal core. There would be time for explanations later.

Would she fight him? Or would the need be too fierce? Would she spread her thighs for him without a battle? Did she cry out when she climaxed? Would the juices of her quim taste of honeyed mead, sweet enough to quench his millennia of thirst?

The night reeked of danger, cutting through the scent of her. Could she smell it as well? Did her mother’s warrior blood flow hot and heavy through her veins? Or was she too far gone to be able to detect the danger, her drive now only to appease the lust burning her up?

How soft would the female petals between her legs be? How tightly would her cunt grip him? By the gods, her strength crackled through the air. The need to mate her ruined his mind. Quintus studied the light and shadow of the street.

His preternatural awareness heightened, honed in and caught the scent of immortal attack. But who?

And then he saw what he had missed. A portion of the mist solidified into form.

“Fuck.”

As soon as he formed, the man rushed at Gulietta, shoving her to the pavement. One who would usurp his right to her. Quintus shifted to his wolf form and leaped at the attacker, fangs bared, a growling rage erupting from his throat as he fastened his teeth onto the thick wrist of the satyr.

The satyr howled and struggled to free himself. These lesser satyrs were by no means fighters. The woman was no victim. She curled her fingers and scratched at her attacker’s face, causing him to yelp even louder with pain. Tracks of blood decorated his dark skin.

Quintus used his large furry body to shove him off Gulietta and onto his back. A human corner of his brain warned him not to kill the fool beneath him. Too many questions if his kind where discovered on human soil. Quintus shifted back to human form.

“Leave now, Titus, before I forget Antius’s law and kill you right here. You will not claim what does not belong to you.”

“Damn you, Quintus. You can’t have it all. She doesn’t have a speck of Roman blood.”

“She is not for you. Try it again and the next time you will die and your satyr’s horns will hold a place of honor on my mantel. Now get out.”

He cautiously lifted off the blood-streaked satyr.

“One of these days, Roman, you will pay.” He flung the words at Quintus.

“She’s Antius’s daughter. Do you really think he’d let her mate with you? All you want is the power you think she has or will have. I am here to safeguard her from the likes of you.”

“She doesn’t even know what she is. How can she begin to use her power? She doesn’t even look like one of us.”

“Leave, Titus. Now.”

“This is not the last of this, Quintus.” And then he was gone, a trail of mist rising into the sky and vanishing.

Quintus whirled around only to find that Gulietta was no longer where Titus had dropped her to the ground. Already one block farther along, she was on her hands and knees in front of a man. Her hands at his belt.

Quintus raced down the street, ripped her away from the stranger, and shoved her back into the dark alley. He turned and growled at the man, baring his fangs. It was enough. The man spun around and ran down the street.

Quintus turned back to face Gulietta.

“You don’t need him. I’ll give you what you need.”

Her arms were wrapped around her waist as she tried to hold back the pain. When she looked up at him, her eyes blazed with blue-violet fire. Her teeth clenched tight, her lush, red lips drawn back in a grimace. He understood the war waged behind that look.

The lust was upon her. He saw it in the lines of her body as they softened and yet the sexual aura intensified, the look of the siren predator in every line. Her fingers slowly unfurled to shove her jeans down over her hips. He gripped her hand and felt the red-hot heat of her skin that almost singed him. The glow of sex, ruby silk flesh, the scent of hot cinnamon, spicy and enticing permeated the air as she revealed her sex.

“Then take me, damn you. I can’t stand the pain any longer.”

Quintus shoved her back into the alley as he released his cock from the confinement of his pants. It bobbed thick and tall. Larger than most men’s. But Gulietta was not most women. She would take him. Again and again and again.

She was a satyress and was meant for him.

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Excerpt from Run To Ground

Run To Ground

(#darkfantasy, #MM, #shapeshifter, #werewolves, #eroticromance, #secondchance)
In the savage and ancient breed of mythic wuv, two men fight for their clan, their lives, and to reclaim the passion one threw away…

Tallin Undine was once human, but is now a wuv-beast, a creature of the Zhalazti clan, ruled by the moon, and made through moon-madness and savagery. With his human family slaughtered, Tallin continually struggles to hold on to some bit of his humanity. After being scarred by a former lover, Tallin has clawed his way to some measure of standing. But now, his clan chief has been killed, and the security of his adoptive nation is at risk. His mission is to bring back the man who must battle to claim his position as rightful chief. Yet there’s one problem—Emmanuel Grimshaw is the very man Tallin does not want to see again, who savagely mated him so long ago, then left him to pick up the pieces of his life.

When he was too young to fully control his inner-beast, Emmanuel Grimshaw claimed—and maimed—a man he loved. After fleeing his clan, he’d gone in search of his humanity, and a way to tame the wuv within. But when Tallin unexpectedly arrives, any peace Emmanuel thought he’d found with a human companion vanishes. And it isn’t long before Emmanuel’s inner-beast rises and he reclaims Tallin, binding him once again.
Now, Emmanuel will do his duty, but not without Tallin at his side. A battle for survival and love is about to begin. Who will triumph?

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EXCERPT

Tallin turned away from the place they’d chosen to consummate the werevaria claiming. He forced his animal down. A large paw-like hand settled upon his shoulder, the claws digging into his human flesh. He turned to gaze up at Emmanuel’s man-beast visage.

“You want something that is not our nature,” he said in a deep throaty voice. His red-hued eyes glittered. “I need your help. I need your…commitment.”

Tallin felt the possession of the claws on his shoulder, drawing his blood. The warm crimson liquid that spilled down his shoulder.

“It shouldn’t be this difficult,” Tallin said, “but something is different between us–something has changed. You and I…” He couldn’t help but be truthful, though he would prefer to remain silent and follow orders as he was bred to do. Emmanuel’s grip tightened, but so quickly he transformed back to human form and his claws no longer dug into Tallin’s shoulder. His human grip seemed just as firm.

“Tell me,” Emmanuel said in his human tone.

“It all comes so easily to you,” Tallin said. “Watching you change is breathtaking, almost rapturous, waiting for your beast to emerge. But it’s not so much a beast–wolfish alone–it’s that blend of otherwordly creature that mesmerizes me. When I transform there is no sophistication, no purity to the shift. We are so different.”

“You’re of my line’s blood. You were made by a Grimshaw.”

“I know all that. The blood we share forced my allegiance to your family. That’s why…when you left I–”

“Do you think what I do here is because I fault you on your allegiance to Hirmes?”

Tallin shook his head. It was so much more complicated than that. “It’s not that. You and I–it was more. And now…” How did he come up with the right words? “You say you want to change and make us more civilized so that we can abide among humans. With Hirmes it was different. With you I want monogamy. It’s important in a way it never was before. I know it’s not possible, especially concerning the direness of the situation. And they’re in a position to force your hand in this.”

Emmanuel seemed to consider. “You realize without their loyalty there’s little chance I can succeed in my challenge. I need them at my back. Just as I need you at my side.”

“I know that.” Tallin was being a fool. He had no proper claim. He wasn’t even blood-born. He was rikochetji. These petty human jealousies had to stop or he could cost Emmanuel his life and the clan’s leadership position. “I’m a fool. It’s of no consequence.”

He was a mongrel and mongrels had no standing. They took the scraps that were offered and licked the hand that offered the choicest pieces of reward, even if it was followed by a kick to the ribs. Such had been the way with the Zhalazti and the riko. Such would be the way with Emmanuel.

He tipped his head to the side baring his bloodied throat. “Your will, Alpha. I’m yours to command.”

Emmanuel seemed to study him for long moments, his eyes went to the puncture marks on Tallin’s neck. “We are not a civilized race at heart, are we?” he said as he trailed his fingers through the blood, then brought them to his lips and painted them red. He leaned forward and kissed Tallin. The primal taste of Tallin’s blood melded them together. He pulled back. “You are not a mongrel in my eyes. You are my equal. Because I seek to be chief makes you no less.” He gripped Tallin’s head. “I have always loved you. I need their loyalty, their allegiance. The history of our kind leaves me no choice. But, Tallin, know this–you are mine in a way none of the rest can ever be. You are my mate. I left because of the depth of my emotions and my inability to deal with such strong passions. The beast would not rest when you were near. I couldn’t control it.”

He stroked the scarred side of Tallin’s face. “My lack of control almost killed you. I’m back to save our clan from a brute. I can’t allow my personal human feelings to sway what I must do to secure my pack. You brought me here; you knew what it would take to secure their commitment. We all make sacrifices for the well being of the clan. Tell me you didn’t accept our fate when you came for me.”

“Do what you must, Alpha. I’ll support you.” Emmanuel was right. This had to play out, and in order for Emmanuel to show a strong front he needed the intimate ties that bonding with these werevaria would give him. One by one he would claim his pack, and at one level Tallin had to respect that commitment.

He felt his beast rear. There was only one way to properly support his alpha. Slowly the shift consumed him. He howled. Emmanuel shifted much more quickly. And then they turned to face the others. The low rumble resembled the roll of thunder across the sky, growing louder and louder.

Emmanuel surged forward, fangs bared as he confronted Valmont, the first who would submit and swear allegiance.

NOW AVAILABLE

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Haevyn and Emotional Cost

 

Haevyn_smIn Quentopolis women have been relegated to secondary status in many cases. Women of the working class society, lead very difficult lives. The Elite are treated more as pampered dolls, cosseted and spoiled, to be seen but not heard, with some similarity to that experienced in the 19th century. Yet, as with any society, there are some who do not tow the line, who break from this suffocating sort of bondage.

There are women–some surviving by their wits and intelligence, some by courage and an adventurous spirit–these are women who strive to break free. Some, like Silver from the first book in this series, end up paying a high price, including human and personal freedom. For some, such as the courtesan madam, Violette Goldswan, they wield their power through different, more shadowy avenues. And some, like Haevyn Breina, will attempt to rise through the more public ranks, clawing their way to a position where they have a chance of gaining societal acceptance as an equal, and gaining respect in the more demanding arena of this male-dominated society. None of this is accomplished without emotional cost. None of these women face and accept the challenges of this rather brutal society in quite the same way. For Haevyn, the rewards are worth the steep price. She does not back down from doing what must be done.

In Quentopolis, sexual relations and sexuality are very open and accepted parts of this society. For some it is about pleasure, for some it is a tool to rise through the ranks. Sex is used for negotiation; it is also a shared bond between friends. And it is also an art form, highly prized by a nobility class known as the Dominatae.

Haevyn Breina is of the Moondown Water District working class. Her parents were killed in a factory fire, leaving the care of her younger brother, Bhrett, in her hands. Responsibility came to her at a young age and she accepted it, along with every hardship and payment that security demanded. She gave up her virginity to a higher purpose and though it left her bruised and battered, she has never regretted her choices. When a brand new arm of the Regulate opens up to females, she jumps at the chance, even though strictly speaking the Compsociate Branch is considered by many to be simply a finely labeled government sanctioned army of courtesans in service to the upper Regulate officers. Haevyn accepts the challenge determined to rise within the ranks, but it is not without additional damage to her psyche.

Her lover and friend, Grisha, has served as her anchor, her “calm, safe haven” throughout her life. A simple fisherman, he is far distanced from the machinations of the political arena. But Grisha, more wise than Haevyn realizes, knows there is more that his lovely, wounded lover needs than the warmth and healing of his loving embrace. He knows very well how close to the edge she really is. But so is his other lover, an expatriate Orictan warrior by the name of Entreus.

In any world an emotional cost must attach, though all creatures deal with trauma differently. Some will splinter, some will rise to meet the challenge of adversity and fashion it into their strength. Some bear an anger or rage–they try to ignore or funnel through some other channel. Entreus funnels his rage and frustration through the illegal Cockrage events. Haevyn tries to bury her anger beneath a veneer of tightly-held control. Grisha knows this about each of them and has a sense of their needs.

How these three people adapt, grow, and hopefully heal is at the emotional core of this story. The journey is complicated by a very dangerous and deadly enemy to the city-state whom they must battle.

This is the world of Humanotica. Read an excerpt from “Haevyn,” the second book in the Humanotica series…

Read an excerpt from Silver, the first book in the Humanotica series.

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Gulietta – an excerpt

Blurb:

guliettasmallThe lovely and seductive Gulietta requires sex on an inhumanly frequent basis. It isn’t until the Roman immortal, Quintus, barrels into her life, revealing the identity of her father, that suddenly she’s dropped into a magical world populated with atyrs, fairies, and shapeshifters. It seems her “problem” is not rooted in human sexual dysfunction after all. Gulietta finally discovers who and what her father is–as well as what she is. And Quintus has made it clear he is the man who can provide exactly what she needs. That is, if her father’s game plan doesn’t get in the way…

 

EXCERPT:

Satyr’s Court, Reate, Italy

The wide braided red leather collars were a striking improvement over the boring black of her father’s court. The father of whom she’d only recently learned the identity.

Red marked the members of her newly-appointed attendants. Gulietta rose from the green vine-entangled cedar throne. She pulled a succulent purple grape from the wooden tray and popped it into her mouth. As she bit down, sweet juice flooded her mouth. Gulietta’s gaze drifted around the courtyard as she stepped off the dais. Dancing stopped. Flute music and drums ceased as all eyes turned to her. Who would have thought this was where she would end up? Who could have known that her curiosity about the big black door in the photograph would lead to her destiny? This was certainly not what she had envisioned for herself.

She brushed a hand down the curve of her naked hip. She pushed her long black hair over her shoulder. In this land, behind the black door, clothing was optional. An afterthought.

“Continue with the music,” she said as she strode across the garden, elves and fairies and lesser satyrs of the court making a path. Immediately the sound of music filled the courtyard once again. The fauns and nymphs began to dance, twirling and swaying to the light, cheerful music.

“Take care, Gulietta. You push me too far.”

The smile was wiped from her lush lips. Her horns tingled. A rack of antlers, feminine, yet deadly. She whirled around to face the tall Roman who shadowed her every move.

“Your duty is finished, Quintus. You have returned me to my supposedly rightful place. You have done your duty to my father. Why are you still here?”

Without warning he fastened his hand to her slender hips and yanked her toward him. Too close for her to drop forward and use her horns. She beat her hands against his iron-hard chest.

“Let me go. I’ve let you bully me as much as I’m going to.”

He shoved her backward until her back was against a stone wall. Only then did he remove one hand from her waist and fist it into her hair, effectively stilling her movements.

“Bullied you? I’ve protected you. I’ve guided you.” He leaned closer until his hot breath brushed across her ear. “I’ve claimed you. And now you belong to me, Sabine woman. Your father promised you to me if I brought you back safely.”
She struggled against him to no avail. That was the whole problem. Gulietta was a duty and nothing more. A means to an end for Quintus. More than a thousand years had passed since Sabine women had first been the coin of prosperity for Romulus, nothing but a way to populate Rome.

Gulietta beat her fists against Quintus’s chest, he arched her head to the side, exposing her neck, taut and bare. His mouth fastened onto her flesh, fangs scraping across and then piercing her skin. She felt the rush of hot connection as he quelled her anger, forcing her to submit.

His tongue licked across the aching wounds as she felt her resistance ebb away. And yet the blood rushed hotly through her veins. When he finally raised his head and forced her to look at him, his eyes burned like molten steel newly forged in fire. His expression dark and lusty. This man–no, this immortal Roman guardian–a servant to her father–dug deep into her heart. And she hated that she could not find the strength to resist him. She would give anything to not want him–to not need him–as badly as she did.

She felt the familiar pain, a tug of lust that shot straight down to her vulva. She throbbed with desire, a need that thus far she had been unable to deny. And that only Quintus could ease.

“Quintus.” His name, an ache of longing. The smell of him. She leaned forward and licked at a nipple, tasting him, then suddenly drove her teeth into his flesh.

 

Now available at these ebook retail outlets:

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Eternity (the wedding) – an excerpt

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Blurb:

(#erotichorror #vampires #darkromance #MF #MMF #MMM #BDSM #darkfantasy)

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.

EXCERPT:

“To our future, cara.”

She swallowed the sparkling liquid. Max took her in his arms, kissed her and then picked her up and carried her to the bed where Achille awaited.

“You will be the first,” she said as she looked up at Max. “You will claim my virginity in this as you have claimed my blood.”

He looked down at her, his pupils dark chasms growing wider and deeper. And she felt herself falling. She wished he were as easy to read for her as she apparently was for him.

He turned his gaze to Achille. “Unlace her dress,” he commanded. He turned back to Lena, then lowered his head to kiss her. Kisses that were drugging and had her gasping for breath, her body burning. Up until this moment he had made love to her in every conceivable way except one, stopping just shy of breaching her virginal barrier.

The bed shifted as Achille climbed onto it and started to unlace her dress. It drooped down her shoulders. It was Max’s hands that went to the hooks on the front of her corset and released them one by one and tossed it away. Achille removed the bustle and petticoats. Max pulled the chemise over her head, then Achille removed the pins from her hair, allowing a cloud of dark brown curls to spill over her shoulders.

Max slowly removed her stockings, carefully rolling them down her legs. Achille placed kisses along her bare shoulders. Extending one of her arms, he trailed kisses along her forearm, pressed a heated kiss to the sensitive crease at her elbow and down along her wrists. It was Max’s cool lips at the soles of her feet, across the top. Separating her thighs, he kissed his way along her calf, over her vulnerable tendon, sucking each toe into his mouth.

Achille kissed each fingertip. Turning her hand palm up, he spent a considerable amount of time licking across the sensitive flesh, then sucking on first her index finger and then her middle finger.

She shuddered at the exquisite sensations that ran through her from head to toe as these men fondled her, petted her, drove her passion higher and higher.

The two men took a long time undressing her, worshiping each inch of her body. She didn’t know where Max’s clothing had gone, but the next thing she realized he was naked.

Achille sat behind her, bracing her, his large hands cupped her breasts, kneading the engorged, rounded globes. Max had something in his hands and she wasn’t quite certain what they were. Black pearls swung from the ends of what looked like tiny sharp jaws, yet they were different.

Achille cupped one breast from beneath. With his other hand he elongated her nipple She sucked in a breath at the sharp pain that shot to her womb. Her dark nipple stood out prominently, the rosy color deepening. She gasped as Max bonded the pearl to the hard bead.

“Made especially for you, my dear,” Max murmured.

Once the pearls were fastened, Achille smoothed his dark fingers around the areola and the rival sensations that attacked her burned her right through to her core.

She arched up as the pinching sensation altered and became molten lava that poured through her to pool in her vagina. Her breathing grew shallow even as Achille continued to stroke the globes of her engorged flesh. Several times he stopped and flicked a pearl, sending more exquisite sensations coursing through her body.

Max widened her thighs; her labia lips parted. The dark curls covering her mound glistened with her juices beneath the candlelight. Max leaned forward to press a kiss to her clitoris and then licked between her lips. She melted as his tongue swiped over her slit, jumped when he flicked a tongue over her sensitive clitoris. Her reaction was immediate. Her climax powerful.

She had hardly recovered when he fitted himself between her thighs, his cock poised at her opening, the head slipping inside, her body opened to receive him. He rocked slowly against her, shallow thrusts, carefully deepening an inch more each time as he allowed her body to become accustomed to his size.

She rocked against him. Achille’s hands were still on her breasts; the small pearls bobbed. Through her delirium she saw Max look at Achille and nod.

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Talent Scout – an excerpt

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BLURB

(#MMM #vampires #darkfantasy #BDSM #erotichorror)

Two vampires hunt for entertainment-and dinner-on a dark, seductive night. Yum-yum… Vampire blood games require a unique sort of “talent scout.” Claud plays front man for the powerful Silas, ferreting out tasty treats to satisfy the ancient master he adores. And Silas likes to add a special twist to their blood hunts. But it’s not all games, since Claud knows his days as Silas’s lover could be numbered if he fails in his task, and he loves Silas too much to take a chance on failing him. Now, Claud locates tonight’s main dish–a young, handsome hustler named Jimmie. Will Claud’s choice of human playmate “live up” to Silas’s expectations and provide an evening of adventurous, entertaining passion, the vampire way?

EXCERPT:

I entered the darkness of the compartment, the rhythmic rumbling of the train beneath my feet as it winged its way along the tracks. I thought it was taking me home, but in fact, it was leading me to a place far more exciting. Silas turned to look at me from across the small compartment. I know it was small, but in that moment as his hypnotic gaze attached to mine, it seemed far larger.

“Close the door,” he said softly, although I did not see his lips move, it seemed I heard him inside my mind. It was a request I could not refuse.

Once the door was fastened, I remember hearing the snick of a lock and vaguely wondered how it had been accomplished, because I certainly hadn’t been the one to engage it.

Before I could blink, he was on me, spinning me, pressing his lips to mine, driving me back against the door. My mind was a blur, my cock hard as rock, and I could feel his granite length against me as he molded me to him.

I couldn’t catch my breath, nor did I want to as I sucked him inside me. He was pushing at my jacket and then ripping at my shirt, baring my chest, securing my arms above my head.

“Will you be mine, Claud? Only mine?” he whispered into my ear, then nipped the cusp. I felt a trickle of blood slide down my ear. It never even crossed my mind to be curious as to how he knew my name. Nor in the heat of that instant did it matter.

He looked down at me as I stood imprisoned by my own clothing and his bottomless black gaze. I slowly nodded. I remember his smile, the glow in his black eyes that now seemed so very red, so very bright in the dusky, humid closeness of that cabin.

I say he looked down because at that moment he seemed to have grown much larger, dominating me completely. “Then you’re mine, boy. Tonight you belong to me.”

I couldn’t utter a sound. It was as though my vocal chords had been cut off. I felt myself falling, drifting into darkness, and I was only partially aware of what was happening, yet helpless to stop it. Even if I had wanted to.

I felt my eyelids drift closed and my head dropped to the side exposing my neck, and in a sense I was offering myself to him. I no longer felt the coldness of his skin, only the heat of my need to be taken by him.

I felt his wet mouth at my neck, his teeth scored across my skin, down my chest, and settled at a peaked nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth.

I never felt so consumed before as his mouth traveled over my body. I was in a hypnotic trance, a puppet awaiting the commands of the master puppeteer. Something locked my hands above my head, drew me up so my feet no longer touched the floor. I dangled there like a hunter’s prize buck ready to be flayed and dressed. And I loved it. I loved the sense of helplessness. I was so hot and hard I couldn’t stand it.

“Open your eyes, boy, and look at me.”

Slowly my lids raised and I gazed into his glowing eyes. I should have felt fear at what I saw there, but it was far from fear what I felt. Far from it. My heart beat faster. I was mesmerized.

“Do you want me to possess you? You must tell me. I must hear the words.”

Were there any words beyond yes? None that were in my vocabulary at this moment.

“Take me, Silas. Fuck me. Let me suck you. Do anything you want to me.”

I saw the smile reach the corner of his lips, his eyes glowed brighter, casting a red aura across my dangling body. His eyes were glittering black diamonds shaded with crimson–a light that seemed to shine from within, remote and bottomless, and I felt myself falling into them. Dizziness swept through me and I felt the world spinning around me, faster and faster. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. This forceful man held me within his grip and was free to do anything he wanted to me. With my permission.

I swayed with the motion of the train, my arms stretched out, my wrists bound above me. Silas undid my trousers and shoved them down my legs. The brisk air assaulted the heat of my body. He touched me, stroked me, drove my lust higher and higher. Somehow my clothes were gone and I hung there, naked.

Red leather straps appeared just above my knees. Straps with rings. A leather collar gripped my throat, chains dangling. I couldn’t begin to fathom how the bindings had gotten there. I didn’t care. He lifted first one leg, pushed it back, drew the chain behind my back, then bound my leg in place and then he bound the other in the same manner, opening and stretching me. My cock bobbed and swayed with the motion of the train. My weight, bearing down upon my bound arms, was painful.

“Very nice, Claud. Very nice indeed. Do you still want to give yourself to me?”

I could feel the stretch on my thighs, the freedom of my cock, the constriction of the leather restraints. My heartbeat quickened. The pain in my bound arms was almost more than I could stand. Each sway of the train bore down on me. I wasn’t certain how much more I could take. I so wanted to come. I wanted him to touch me, to stroke me. To fuck me.

“Yes, Silas. Do it.”

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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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