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Showing posts with label Halloween. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Halloween. Show all posts
Thursday, 29 October 2020
Thursday, 15 October 2020
New Release! Fin d’Espoir - A Bisexual Vampire Romance - by Lisabet Sarai
New Release!
Fin
d’Espoir
A
Bisexual Vampire Romance
by
Lisabet Sarai
MMF
Vampire Erotic Romance, HFN ending
Release Date 5 October 2020
22,000
words, 81 pages
Smashwords and Amazon KDP
ISBN
(Smashwords): 9781005361945
ASIN: B08K55W8QD
Tag Line:
Their love may be his last hope for redemption.
Blurb:
Bitter and alone, Etienne de Rémorcy haunts
the forest around the ruined plantation of Fin d'Espoir. He has sworn to never
again taste human blood. Then a fierce storm and a runaway horse bring a
slender, raven-haired beauty to his lair. When she begs him to take her, he
cannot resist.
Madeleine and Troy hope that a carefree vacation in tropical Jamaica will reignite their faded passion. On a mountain trail ride, Maddy's horse bolts, carrying her deep into the jungle. Injured and lost, she is saved by a giant of a man whose mere presence kindles unbearable desire. By the time she understands his dark nature, it is far too late for her to escape.
When Maddy returns, Troy finds her greatly changed : ravenous in bed, restless and disturbed otherwise. The elegant stranger he meets on the beach holds the key to her transformation - and soon has seduced Troy as well.
Tortured by his conscience, Etienne is determined to set the young couple free. But their love may be his last hope for redemption.
Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound under the title Fire in the Blood. It has been edited and updated for this release.
Buy Links
Enjoy an Exclusive Online Excerpt over at Beyond Romance
X-rated Excerpt
Etienne dragged his belt from the loops of his dungarees. “Give me your hands,” he ordered. Madeleine held them out, palms turned upward in supplication. “I plan to bind you to ensure that you cannot escape me once we have begun. I will give you one more chance. Do you still want this?”
Maddy shivered, imagining herself restrained on the rough bed, powerless and at his mercy. Lust and fear warred in her body. Liquid dripped from her pussy, soaking the satiny robe bunched under her buttocks. She and Troy had played at bondage, silk scarves and velvet blindfolds. This was real.
She sought Etienne’s eyes, seeking reassurance. Fire flickered in the depths of those dark pools. His face was a beautiful mask that offered no solace. He gripped the belt in both hands, twisting as if testing it. “Et bien, Madeleine?”
She wanted it. She could not pretend otherwise. She wanted him, on any terms, wanted whatever he would do to her. Nothing mattered, not his terrifying strength, not his grim warnings, not the feeble image of Troy awaiting her back at the hotel. She reached for the bonds he offered. “Take me,” she whispered.
In an instant, he had slipped the end of the belt through the buckle and caught her wrists in the resulting loop. She felt the leather begin to bite into her skin as he pulled her arms above her head and a further tightness as he secured the other end to the metal bedstead. She tugged at the restraints, verifying the stark fact she could not, in fact, work herself free. Terror and arousal swept through her in alternating waves.
Her heart slammed against ribs. Her nipples and her clit throbbed with her pulse. Without being told, she spread her damp thighs. An oceany scent rose from her exposed pussy.
He shrugged off his vest and pushed his trousers down over his hips. Naked, he was even more formidable, his ebony thighs corded with muscle, his sculpted chest and flat belly gleaming like black marble. His erect cock sprang from the wiry thicket of his groin, on the same gigantic scale as the rest of his massive body.
The shaft looked thick as her wrist. Veins meandered along its endless dark length like creepers on a tree branch. The cap was dusky pink, taut, polished flesh that glistened with moisture.
Maddy moaned at the mere thought of that
cock invading her. Saliva gathered in her mouth.
“Etienne!” she pleaded, splaying her legs wider in lewd invitation. “Please!”
“Little harlot! Have you no shame?” Even as he chided her, however, the black giant climbed back onto the bed, positioning himself between her thighs.
She expected ferocity, his power unleashed. She imagined him forcing that awe-inspiring cock deep into her body. Instead, he bent his head and flicked his tongue along the sensitive skin on the inside of her knee.
“Ah…” Pleasure rippled through her, converging on her pussy. He licked again, moving upward, painting her with his cool saliva. She squirmed under his mouth, wanting to feel those thick lips on her aching clit. Gradually, he came closer to her center, yet still he lingered on her thighs, kissing, nibbling, lapping up the juices that spilled from her hungry, empty sex. She arched up, pushing her pelvis towards him. Without effort, without removing his mouth, he forced her back onto the bed.
About Lisabet
Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.
You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh
Thursday, 31 October 2019
#ThrowbackThursday - The Halloween Edition - A snippet from Lost Time - #timetravel #paranormalromance
🎃 Happy Halloween! 🎃
paranormal, time-travel, erotic, romance
[I've left another extract over on * Pick a Genre * if you'd like to read some more]
But first, here's the blurb:
Within this frame, his curse is time…
When Hannah Keys discovers a four-hundred-year-old portrait in Wales, she is intrigued and somewhat saddened by the handsome Highlander portrayed by the artist's masterful, lifelike strokes. But when she runs into the majorly hunky model for the painting—in the flesh, in the middle of the night—she learns first-hand all about masterful strokes when she shares a night of medieval passion with him.
Lockhart Munro has been cursed inside the portrait until he meets Hannah Keys. For four hundred years, no one has heard him or seen him, let alone touched him. The one woman who can do all these things may be the key to his long-awaited freedom.
But if Hannah sets Lockhart free from his prison, will she be cursed to spend the rest of her lifetime without him?
Or perhaps freeing Lockhart will be just the beginning…
Buy Link:
Excerpt From Lost Time
Hannah heard it again.
A sigh. Her head snapped up, causing pain to burst from behind her eyes. When her vision cleared, she shrieked and scrambled up onto the bed.
There was a man. At least, the portrait of a man.
“Ohh!” she breathed, as she stared at the full-length painting. The figure leaned casually on a sword. The huge frame dominated the whole wall.
Hannah slowly climbed from the bed and approached cautiously, almost waiting for something else to jump out and spook the shit out of her.
“How on earth did I not see this?” she whispered, nearing the image.
He was the most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on. His features were perfectly masculine and artfully aristocratic.
His eyes were dark and intense, but the artist had highlighted the inner iris with tiny white strokes, making it seem as if his eyes were lit from within. They sparkled with curiosity as though he were really seeing her. She looked into the dark orbs, holding her breath—transfixed, waiting, watching for them to shift or blink. But, of course, they remained still. She released the breath on a chuckle at her own silliness. What a marvelously talented artist to have made him look so lifelike.
She continued to examine him, noting the thick, dark hair that reached almost to the collar of his crisp-looking white shirt. She wondered if the cut was considered overlong and indecent for that time period. She tried to discern what era he might have been from, but there was nothing in the painting that even hinted at the answer. Hannah almost wished he were real. She longed to run her fingers through his thick mane. Had the artist taken liberties, or could this man have been so flawlessly designed?
“You are gorgeous!” She reached out almost reverently, hesitantly touching his cheek. “How could I have missed you?”
She allowed her eyes to drift over the rest of him. His shoulders were wide. The painter had revealed only a small glimpse of what hinted to be a gloriously muscled chest through the V of the unlaced shirt. His waist was trim but Hannah imagined there lay an amazing six-pack under the loosely tucked garment. Her eyes drifted lower, over the dark pants that covered his thick thighs, down to the calf-high, shiny black boots.
Her focus slowly lifted back over his body, her eyes lingering on his crotch for an overlong moment as she imagined that part of him, too. She didn’t have to be an artisan to imagine in precise proportion to the rest of his size what a delightful handful he might be. She sighed. A girl could dream, couldn’t she?
Hannah realized she was breathing rapidly. Her face was warm. Her breasts tingled. Her body was responding as it would if a real live man had captured her attention, although she couldn’t ever remember having a reaction like this without some kind of stimulation first. She almost wished the swirls of paint were not cool to her touch but warm and giving, like his skin might feel.
She centered her gaze back on his amazing face, noting the high cheekbones and the strong jaw, noticing the slight cleft in his chin. She touched it, wishing that her finger could delve inside the little dent. “Oh, I like that.” She smiled in appreciation of the tiny little dimple that gave the very manly features a boyish little twist.
Her attention swept to his mouth. He had full, sensual lips. “I bet you know how to kiss a girl, don’t you?” she asked them, wondering what it would be like to be kissed by those lips—to be kissed by a man like him at all. Would he take a woman over? Would he dominate her until she gave in? Not like he’d have to do much convincing. Or would he seduce a woman into submission with flowery words and a soft touch? It didn’t matter— either way, she’d be all over it.
Hannah swallowed hard and licked her parched lips as she ran the pad of her index finger over his full lower lip, resisting the sudden, overwhelming urge to press her own lips to the cool canvas. Hannah’s body trembled.
She gave herself a mental shake. It was the first time she’d ever been turned on by a painting. Putting distance between herself and it before looking back into his dark eyes, she gasped. They didn’t look as cold and intense as the first time that she’d looked into them. They were a warm chocolate brown.
“How can that be?” She exhaled, again looking to him for answers. She rubbed her eyes and looked again. She shook her head from side to side. They were back to their original cold, blank stare. Her mind was playing tricks on her.
“Maybe I’m coming down with something?” She peeked up at him once more. “Why can’t I meet a man like you?” she asked him. “You know, if I did, I’d never go back home.” It was the truth. There was nothing to go back home to. Her mum was gone. Cass would soon marry that idiot Paul and things would change. Again.
Hannah backed away from the portrait, switched off the bathroom light then slid into bed. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the painting. The flickering firelight gave the impression that he was alive, moving.
All of a sudden, Hannah felt a moment of gripping grief, as if she mourned for the man in the painting. Her eyes filled as her chest tightened with pain. And just as fast as the feeling had come, it went, leaving her feeling nauseous and hot.
There was a man. At least, the portrait of a man.
“Ohh!” she breathed, as she stared at the full-length painting. The figure leaned casually on a sword. The huge frame dominated the whole wall.
Hannah slowly climbed from the bed and approached cautiously, almost waiting for something else to jump out and spook the shit out of her.
“How on earth did I not see this?” she whispered, nearing the image.
He was the most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on. His features were perfectly masculine and artfully aristocratic.
His eyes were dark and intense, but the artist had highlighted the inner iris with tiny white strokes, making it seem as if his eyes were lit from within. They sparkled with curiosity as though he were really seeing her. She looked into the dark orbs, holding her breath—transfixed, waiting, watching for them to shift or blink. But, of course, they remained still. She released the breath on a chuckle at her own silliness. What a marvelously talented artist to have made him look so lifelike.
She continued to examine him, noting the thick, dark hair that reached almost to the collar of his crisp-looking white shirt. She wondered if the cut was considered overlong and indecent for that time period. She tried to discern what era he might have been from, but there was nothing in the painting that even hinted at the answer. Hannah almost wished he were real. She longed to run her fingers through his thick mane. Had the artist taken liberties, or could this man have been so flawlessly designed?
“You are gorgeous!” She reached out almost reverently, hesitantly touching his cheek. “How could I have missed you?”
She allowed her eyes to drift over the rest of him. His shoulders were wide. The painter had revealed only a small glimpse of what hinted to be a gloriously muscled chest through the V of the unlaced shirt. His waist was trim but Hannah imagined there lay an amazing six-pack under the loosely tucked garment. Her eyes drifted lower, over the dark pants that covered his thick thighs, down to the calf-high, shiny black boots.
Her focus slowly lifted back over his body, her eyes lingering on his crotch for an overlong moment as she imagined that part of him, too. She didn’t have to be an artisan to imagine in precise proportion to the rest of his size what a delightful handful he might be. She sighed. A girl could dream, couldn’t she?
Hannah realized she was breathing rapidly. Her face was warm. Her breasts tingled. Her body was responding as it would if a real live man had captured her attention, although she couldn’t ever remember having a reaction like this without some kind of stimulation first. She almost wished the swirls of paint were not cool to her touch but warm and giving, like his skin might feel.
She centered her gaze back on his amazing face, noting the high cheekbones and the strong jaw, noticing the slight cleft in his chin. She touched it, wishing that her finger could delve inside the little dent. “Oh, I like that.” She smiled in appreciation of the tiny little dimple that gave the very manly features a boyish little twist.
Her attention swept to his mouth. He had full, sensual lips. “I bet you know how to kiss a girl, don’t you?” she asked them, wondering what it would be like to be kissed by those lips—to be kissed by a man like him at all. Would he take a woman over? Would he dominate her until she gave in? Not like he’d have to do much convincing. Or would he seduce a woman into submission with flowery words and a soft touch? It didn’t matter— either way, she’d be all over it.
Hannah swallowed hard and licked her parched lips as she ran the pad of her index finger over his full lower lip, resisting the sudden, overwhelming urge to press her own lips to the cool canvas. Hannah’s body trembled.
She gave herself a mental shake. It was the first time she’d ever been turned on by a painting. Putting distance between herself and it before looking back into his dark eyes, she gasped. They didn’t look as cold and intense as the first time that she’d looked into them. They were a warm chocolate brown.
“How can that be?” She exhaled, again looking to him for answers. She rubbed her eyes and looked again. She shook her head from side to side. They were back to their original cold, blank stare. Her mind was playing tricks on her.
“Maybe I’m coming down with something?” She peeked up at him once more. “Why can’t I meet a man like you?” she asked him. “You know, if I did, I’d never go back home.” It was the truth. There was nothing to go back home to. Her mum was gone. Cass would soon marry that idiot Paul and things would change. Again.
Hannah backed away from the portrait, switched off the bathroom light then slid into bed. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the painting. The flickering firelight gave the impression that he was alive, moving.
All of a sudden, Hannah felt a moment of gripping grief, as if she mourned for the man in the painting. Her eyes filled as her chest tightened with pain. And just as fast as the feeling had come, it went, leaving her feeling nauseous and hot.
Buy Link:
Totally Bound
Amazon
Universal Link
Also Available in Print
Totally Bound
Amazon
Amazon
Universal Link
Also Available in Print
Totally Bound
Amazon
🎃Have a Safe and Happy Halloween!🎃
Saturday, 19 October 2019
'Tis the season for all things spooky... Enjoy this intriguing teaser from The Fall of Cairnnon Castle
For the month of October find all of my eXtasy Books on Sale including fan fave mafia romantic suspense, The Always Cambridge Series; Editor's Choice, historical romance, The Devil Take You; AND the haunting Lustful Possession Saga. A perfectly haunting read that'll get you in the mood for all hallows' eve.
Though this collection of short stories is predominantly dark erotic paranormal—at times verging on horror—it runs the gamut in sub-genres and eras—from contemporary to historical time-travel, and back again. Please note: the series also incorporates both m/f and m/m couplings, plus some multi-partner interaction.
A seemingly harmless paranormal investigation sparks a series of haunting events that ultimately sends an international team of supernatural investigators to Ireland and to one of the most haunted destinations in all of Europe.
Though this collection of short stories is predominantly dark erotic paranormal—at times verging on horror—it runs the gamut in sub-genres and eras—from contemporary to historical time-travel, and back again. Please note: the series also incorporates both m/f and m/m couplings, plus some multi-partner interaction.
A seemingly harmless paranormal investigation sparks a series of haunting events that ultimately sends an international team of supernatural investigators to Ireland and to one of the most haunted destinations in all of Europe.
Travel Through Time and Unravel the Mystery of Cairnnon Castle
Part 1 - Meet Me in the Dark
(m/f, paranormal, erotic, contemporary, ghosts, possession)
(m/f, paranormal, erotic, contemporary, ghosts, possession)
Crishtin Davenport thought she was attending a simple Halloween event—a good scare to get the blood pumping. Little does she know her actions that night would unleash an ancient evil.
Part 2 - Dark Foursome
(m/f, paranormal, erotic, contemporary, ghosts, possession)
A foursome takes on a whole new aspect when a fledgling couple, is hijacked by two randy spirits, who then use their corporeal bodies to recapture the sexual pleasures they enjoyed while inhabiting the physical world.
The saga takes a sudden medieval time-travel twist in Part 3 - The Fall of Cairnnon Castle (m/f, time-travel, Ireland, historical, paranormal, dark erotic, verging on horror)
Cairnnon Castle is one of the most haunted places on earth and home to one of the most evil entities ever documented. When an enthusiastic troop of paranormal investigators descends on the ancient stronghold, all hell breaks loose.
Meet the O'Cairnnon's - a fate most do not survive...
Part 4 - Rising From the Darkness
(m/m, paranormal, erotic, contemporary)
U.S. paranormal investigators return to Ireland to commemorate the 25th anniversary of the Fall of Castle Cairnnon. But what they find instead might set the paranormal community on it’s collective ear.
Part 5 - Dark Seed
(paranormal, erotic, contemporary, m/f story with m/m interaction)
The supernatural investigators' astounding discovery at Cairnnon Castle, can only be described as a miracle.
Or perhaps one blessing, is just another curse.
Part 6 - Bending Darkness
(m/f, paranormal, erotic, time-travel, historical)
The Cairnnon curse threatens to turn one woman's dreams of happily-ever-after into a hellish nightmare.
And Part 7 - Dark Defeat - The stunning conclusion to the Lustful Possession saga
(paranormal, dark erotic, time-travel, historical, an m/f story with f/f and m/f/f interaction)
Hell-bent on saving her children, a mother will stop at nothing to defeat the evil that stalks her family, or at the very least, she’ll die trying.
Evil never gambled on battling one pissed off mother!
Please be aware: This erotic paranormal collection of short stories contains both mf & mm pairings, & cliff-hangers. Installments must be read in order.
Enjoy an erotic excerpt from Part 3 - The Fall of Cairnnon Castle
Prologue
Cairnnon Castle, Ireland—The Present
The earth underneath me quakes. The sky above me falls. It rains down on me. Pain explodes inside my head. My ribs break. I am crushed.
A deafening rumble offends my ears. My body is tossed and crumpled, battered by debris. It goes on for an eternity.
And then...
Silence. Stillness.
The pain is immense. Like nothing I’ve ever endured in my life.
Oh, God! Please! I implore wordlessly. I cannot speak, scream, or moan.
My eyes are closed. But beyond me, there’s brightness, so vivid I detect it through my closed eyelids. I try to open them, but none of my faculties are functioning. I am heavy. My lungs are burning. It hurts to even take shallow breaths. I concentrate on the unenviable task of simply inhaling in and out—an action I have obviously taken for granted all these years. The dust is choking me. I try not to cough. I will split apart if I do. My ribcage has already splintered with the weight upon me.
A low hum begins. It is annoying, but as it goes on it becomes comforting, harmonious.
As the fire in my chest subsides, I am lethargic, sleepy, and content.
Stillness.
I know what this is. It is elemental. Inevitable, from the moment we take our first breath.
I wait for it...
Death comes.
~
I am in and out of consciousness.
“Just come,” I whisper. Speaking is laborious, yet somehow it happens. “Just take me.”
The incessant drone becomes vibration.
I sense it, a presence. Above me. Surrounds me. Becomes me.
The pain subsides by degrees. Warmth seeps into me. I sigh at the pleasure of it. I hadn’t realized I was so cold.
Without words, it communicates with me. Death is one with me.
“You enjoy that.”
“Yes. Thank you.” My gratitude is profound.
“You know what I am.”
It is a statement. It is a part of me. It knows what I am thinking.
I don’t need to articulate. “Yes.”
“You are not afraid.”
“No, you comfort me.”
For a moment I sense confusion, and I am bewildered by it. It is not my uncertainty. It is illogical. Death would not emote. But my thought is distracted.
The lovely heat spreads, radiating through every part of my broken body.
“Ahhhh, that feels so good.”
Everything in me tingles, from the top of my head right down to my feet. There is no pain. Not even my lungs hurt anymore. My inhalations become rapid instead of shallow. My blood rushes. I can hear it traveling through my veins. My pulse pounds in my head. My body throbs. My breasts tingle and my loins catch fire.
I squirm. My body tightens. The heaviness in my lower body is nothing but carnal.
I am not even being touched, but I am being consumed and stimulated on every level. Mind, body and spirit.
It fills me, inside and out.
Unable to stop myself, I feel my hips list in that dance as old as time. I am going to come.
“Onnhhh!” I am bombarded by one blissful, gutwrenching wave after another of exquisite, relentless pleasure. I want to weep at the intensity of it, but I am helpless.
It has to stop, but I don’t want it to end. I thrash, uncontrollably experiencing an all-over body orgasm like nothing I’d ever experienced in life. Is this heaven? A powerful tug, deep inside, sends another round of sweet undulation through me.
I cry out.
“What am I, Nevaeh?” Death demands.
I pant with my last breaths.
“You!
“Are!
“Allll!”
Chapter One
Neve Brádach opened her eyes. She was floating outside her body, above herself, looking down through the rubble and ruin that just hours ago had been Cairnnon Castle. Centuries-old stones and debris lay on top of her broken body, but somehow, she managed to see through the layers to her physical form below.
Unbelievably, sadness at her own horrific demise was not her first concern.
“Neve! Neve! We’re coming! Don’t give up! I’ll get you out!” It was Arnie Rollison’s frantic voice. The team-leader and her mentor. The man she’d longed to work with for years was now digging desperately with his bare hands. Unguarded tears ran down his dirty cheeks, leaving trails.
She felt sorry for him. He sounded so adamant, so determined. As if he still had hope.
There were tons and tons of wreckage. Even if she were still alive—and she wasn’t convinced that she was—they’d never reach her in time.
Neve laid a hand on his shoulder. “Arnie. Stop, my friend.”
His head twitched, as if he’d heard her, and his frenetic actions ceased for a moment.
“I’m sorry, Neve. I’m so sorry!”
Without warning, she was jerked back inside her body. The pain was dull, not sharp like it had been in the beginning.
Shit! I’m not dead. But I’m goin’ to die in here. I’ve seen the devastation above me.
Death was going to be long and arduous. “Come back to me,” she called Death. “Please come and take me.” But as she lay fading in and out of consciousness and time ticked by, she wasn’t sure if she begged Death to claim her permanently or for it to take her again and again as it had earlier. She longed for the carnal bliss that Death could provide. Her body tingled at the memory as the blackness once again enveloped her.
* * * *
Much later, the heavy equipment continued to dig above her, but she drifted out once more.
The next time she woke, the weight had been lifted from her chest. She opened her eyes, and to her astonishment, she was able to move her arms and legs. She looked down at her limbs.
“What am I wearing?” She let her fingers run over the unfamiliar fabric. “Where am I?” She searched the strange room. She blinked rapidly, confused. Who am I?
Her mind was blank, devoid of all memory.
Noise, like that of a large crowd reached her ears. Gaining her feet, she followed the sound, out of the room and down a hallway.
It seemed like a party. Everyone was in costume. Lit torches in sconces lined the wall, giving the entire area a dreamlike quality.
From nowhere, someone grabbed her. “There ya are. Where have ya been?”
Neve looked up at the man who stared down at her with deep intensity. Unable to stop her reaction, she gasped. He was the most incredible looking man she’d ever laid eyes on. Chiseled, rugged features. Striking, dark eyes. Strong chin. Tall. Muscular. He wore a crisp-looking white linen shirt, baggy trousers, and a blue and green checked sash.
He smiled, obviously sensing her attraction to him.
“Watch that smoulderin’ gaze, my sweet Nevaeh, or I will throw ya over my shoulder, with or without the vows, and take ya to my chambers and ravish ya until ya canna walk.”
Sounds good to me.
“Come. This is our celebration. Let us dance. I want nuthin’ more than to feel ya in my arms.”
He twirled her around and escorted her out onto the ballroom floor.
Unbelievably, sadness at her own horrific demise was not her first concern.
“Neve! Neve! We’re coming! Don’t give up! I’ll get you out!” It was Arnie Rollison’s frantic voice. The team-leader and her mentor. The man she’d longed to work with for years was now digging desperately with his bare hands. Unguarded tears ran down his dirty cheeks, leaving trails.
She felt sorry for him. He sounded so adamant, so determined. As if he still had hope.
There were tons and tons of wreckage. Even if she were still alive—and she wasn’t convinced that she was—they’d never reach her in time.
Neve laid a hand on his shoulder. “Arnie. Stop, my friend.”
His head twitched, as if he’d heard her, and his frenetic actions ceased for a moment.
“I’m sorry, Neve. I’m so sorry!”
Without warning, she was jerked back inside her body. The pain was dull, not sharp like it had been in the beginning.
Shit! I’m not dead. But I’m goin’ to die in here. I’ve seen the devastation above me.
Death was going to be long and arduous. “Come back to me,” she called Death. “Please come and take me.” But as she lay fading in and out of consciousness and time ticked by, she wasn’t sure if she begged Death to claim her permanently or for it to take her again and again as it had earlier. She longed for the carnal bliss that Death could provide. Her body tingled at the memory as the blackness once again enveloped her.
* * * *
Much later, the heavy equipment continued to dig above her, but she drifted out once more.
The next time she woke, the weight had been lifted from her chest. She opened her eyes, and to her astonishment, she was able to move her arms and legs. She looked down at her limbs.
“What am I wearing?” She let her fingers run over the unfamiliar fabric. “Where am I?” She searched the strange room. She blinked rapidly, confused. Who am I?
Her mind was blank, devoid of all memory.
Noise, like that of a large crowd reached her ears. Gaining her feet, she followed the sound, out of the room and down a hallway.
It seemed like a party. Everyone was in costume. Lit torches in sconces lined the wall, giving the entire area a dreamlike quality.
From nowhere, someone grabbed her. “There ya are. Where have ya been?”
Neve looked up at the man who stared down at her with deep intensity. Unable to stop her reaction, she gasped. He was the most incredible looking man she’d ever laid eyes on. Chiseled, rugged features. Striking, dark eyes. Strong chin. Tall. Muscular. He wore a crisp-looking white linen shirt, baggy trousers, and a blue and green checked sash.
He smiled, obviously sensing her attraction to him.
“Watch that smoulderin’ gaze, my sweet Nevaeh, or I will throw ya over my shoulder, with or without the vows, and take ya to my chambers and ravish ya until ya canna walk.”
Sounds good to me.
“Come. This is our celebration. Let us dance. I want nuthin’ more than to feel ya in my arms.”
He twirled her around and escorted her out onto the ballroom floor.
© H K Carlton
Find The Lustful Possession Series On Sale through October 31st at eXtasy Books and Check out my author page for more savings!
Variety is creativity's playground — it's where you'll find me
For more from the Lustful Possession Series hop on over to Pick a Genre for a haunting teaser from Part 4 - Rising from the Darkness, or over at Breaking Genre, sample an extract from Book 2, Dark Foursome.
Find The Lustful Possession Series On Sale through October 31st at eXtasy Books and Check out my author page for more savings!
Variety is creativity's playground — it's where you'll find me
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