Genre: Romance, Fantasy Release date:
02/25/13 Publisher: Time
and Tide Publishing
Anya’s simple, medieval life
spirals into a fantastical whirlwind the moment Merivic, a lord, decides to
take her for his own. Succumbing to his charisma, Anya is whisked off to his
distant kingdom. But shortly after her arrival, she is reunited with her lost
love, Kael, when he is introduced as her personal sentinel, and it soon becomes
apparent their feelings for one another remain unresolved.
Struggling with what her heart
wants and what duty dictates, Anya is soon immersed into a world of
manipulation, deceit, and dark magic. Surrounded by impending danger from an
unknown enemy, Anya attempts to deny Kael—her protector—to pursue a life with
Merivic—the key to the evil threatening her. And while one man seduces her mind
with magic, the other captures her heart with love.
Time and Tide
Publishing / Amazon / Barnes & Noble /ARe
About The Author
Jolyn Palliata writes romance for adults
and young adults alike, and has dabbled in just about every genre there is
(paranormal being her favorite). She lives in the Midwest with her highly
patient husband and insanely energetic son.
Camdyn Hardy is a former cop who has his own private
investigator business. Due to a misunderstanding from a client, he gets into an
argument with his lover Tay. Right after, they breakup Camdyn is left alone to
think about his future as a PI and his love life.
Malik Day was recently discharged under the DADT policy and
is looking to get his life on track. The main reason he
joined was because he dreamed of being a ranking officer. Now that it’s been
taken away, he desires to start his life anew and find someone to share it
After two weeks the men meet at a shooting range and find
out they have a lot in common. Once they engage in a one on one match, they
proceed to a bar to have drinks and get to know one another better. They both
discover their affinity for guns as well as Camdyn’s need for a new partner at
Camdyn & Associates. Malik is intrigued but afraid to ask him and decides
to wait till they are closer. Camdyn is excited about this prospect as well but
waits for Malik to say the word. Finally, in an erotic encounter, true feelings
In the next books, the story continues where the twosome
began their work and love relationship. Together they’ll take on cases
investigating cheating husbands or wives, companies with defector employees all
the while trying to maintain their newfound commitment to one another as well
as having a little fun in the process.
Michael Mandrake is the
gay male muse of author Sharita Lira who enjoys writing stories of everyday men
in love in regular settings as well as extraordinary. Michael’s latest book
True Meaning of Love is a self pubbed publication now available at Amazon and
other online retailers. Please visit A Gay Man in a Females Body for more info.
When he made it to the office, he signed the necessary
papers and waited as the man finished his transaction. Lazily, he leaned on the
counter and nonchalantly glanced at a hot looking man that stood less than
twenty feet away. Malik grinned and moistened his lips in the gorgeous
The attractive guy gave him more than an eye and winked.
Obviously, he plays on my team. His lush brown-and-blond hair barely kissed his
shoulders. Beautiful azure eyes the same color as the Pacific. Lips so slim and
kissable, Malik knew he could enjoy them for hours. Wicked visions crossed his
mind as he eyed the scruff on the man’s cheeks. He liked a little roughness
when making love.
The snug, black shirt fit well, hugging his bulging muscles.
Malik eyed the ink that peeked from under one sleeve and salivated. His skinny,
black jeans clung to his taut buttocks; Malik’s own trousers felt a little
tight in the crotch. “Mhmmm.” Malik tried to keep his stares from being obvious
to the clerk.
Would the hot man like to play with him a little? Malik sure
It had been a long while since his last fuck. He’d spent the
time searching for employment, going to job fairs, and not getting any call
backs. Malik had remained so focused on getting a job; he’d ignored the signals
of his groin needing a release from other than his own hand. Too long. He
headed for the door and wished the handsome man would follow.
Maybe it’s time to stop looking for work and attempt to find
Just when he stepped out, a voice stopped him.
Malik slowly turned around. It was indeed him, the hottie
he’d been eyeing. It shocked Malik to see the guy was actually speaking to him.
“Hello.” Malik was taken aback by the guy speaking to him, but he guessed he
warranted a greeting when they exchanged more than a passing glance.
The man stepped closer to him and held out his hand. “Name’s
Camdyn. And you are?”
“Malik.” He accepted the handshake and returned it firmly.
“Nice to meet you.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Same here.” Malik noticed Camdyn continued to hold on to
his palm. Of course he didn’t mind; it felt unexpectedly soft and warm. “Um,
you been comin’ here a while?”
“Yeah, I um…” Malik stopped short and bit his lip. He tried
not to sound too excited. This was the last place he’d expected to be picked up
at. The shooting range? Malik would’ve never thought of this place to meet
other gay men.
“I been around, but I just got back in town.”
“Yeah? I’m guessin’ from the getup you served in the Army.”
“Uh huh… I um… yeah, let’s go outside.” Quickly, he pulled
his hands away, even though he didn’t want to. Surely, he wanted to talk with
Camdyn some more, but away from others coming in and out of the shop. He felt a
little uncomfortable being picked up at some place so manly, but in a way, he
Thank you to Paper Crane Books for contacting me. Today I am getting to share a short excerpt with you all. Enjoy and be sure to enter the giveaway below.
Khantara is a Haanta conqueror, meant to wage war and rule over the enemy nation of Thellis, but after vanquishing Thellis and occupying a construction of a Haanta outpost, he meets Anelta, a woman enslaved by her own people bearing a brand of servitude on her neck. Khantara contrives to save her from a cruel home and bring her to the refuge his people can provide, but how can he do so successfully when the eyes of Thellis are upon him? Amazon / B&N / Smashwords / Bookdepository /
Authors Web Site / Facebook / Twitter
Excerpt She grinned with senseless glee and thus
began her inspection: the enormity of his arms, the extent of his chest, the
broadness of his gargantuan back brought all its usual delights, but seeing
features so close gave her unfathomable joy. She had been used to see him from
so lofty a height that though he ever leaned down to listen to and speak with
her, she could never gain a full viewing of his aspects. Now, however, every
attribute was before her in the purest light: his square chin and wide maw
complemented his high cheekbones; his moderate nose, bent and flattened at its
bridge, accorded him a something like gallantry; his sparse grey brows and
deep-set eyes granted the seriousness of continual deliberation; and all of
this framed by a trail of thick and cylindrical locks afforded him a
handsomeness merely for his individuality. The one feature of greatest interest
to her was the large and gaping scar riving his left cheek. It extended as high
as the corner of his eye and was drawn down to the bottom of his chin. She was
forcibly struck with it, as there was no creature in her limited understanding
that could make such a mark. She wondered that he had lived after sustaining
such an injury and that he had not been more marred by whatever had given him
such a disfiguration. There were scars enough scattered throughout his body,
many along his arms and some upon his chest, but none were so large as the one
on his face. She was entranced by it, was narrowing her gaze to better
investigate it, and was even putting her hand to it, but the instant her
fingertips made the unconscious connection with the giant’s skin, his black and
golden eyes peered open, his lips curled into a smile and she drew back her
hand in sudden horror.
“That was given to me on my first Endaraas,”
said Khantara with perfect calmness. “Endaraas are the traditional hunts in
which all of our men participate. One of the hangaara, the large black cats
that live on the islands, attacked me. I did not yet know the jungle had
entered her den unintentionally. She thought I had come to hunt her young when
in truth I was hunting her mate. She lunged and I attempted to escape, but I
soon became trapped and was forced to kill her if I was to survive.” He looked
down momentarily, and then, with half a sigh and turning back to her, said, “I
won the Endaraas, but I did not win unmarked.”
He made his explication, but she had not
heard him. Still struck by his not being asleep, she wondered at how much of
her assessment he had seen through the indiscernible slit of partially-opened
eyes. “I…” she stammered, looking away and holding her retracted hand to her
breast. “I apologize. You were—that is, I thought you were sleeping.” The shame
of her forwardness assailed her, and she endeavoured to turn away only to be pulled
further toward him by a gentle curling of the hand beneath her. She closed her
eyes, inhaled, and dreaded to look back; his smiles were too pleasing, and to
see them at such convenience was an added disconcertion. She must look back and
address him, however; he seemed to be waiting for her to do so with his silence
and his drawing her ever nearer. When she did find the audacity to glance once
more, she found his features so very near hers that she could feel the warmth
of his exhalations. Her chest surged, her throat tightened, and when the tips
of their noses grazed, she felt unequal to speak under such pleasant anguish
until his droning words arrived to soothe her.
“Amghari are trained to rest in
meditation,” the giant thrummed. “We do not sleep.” He smiled at her, enjoying
their closeness. He could, if he wished, relinquish his principles to
imprudence; she was so artless and beguiling, and her ignorance to her
excellence made her even more desirable. He leaned forward, his mouth hovering
over hers. “Your mate has not returned,” he observed, his eyes smiling.
“No,” Anelta breathed, “he hasn’t.”
She was ceaselessly oppressed. Would that
he were not so near her, she should not be so desirous of what his pleasing
lips could warrant. She silently entreated him to right himself, governing
herself not to give way to indiscretion, but he was lifting her back, he was
grasping her chin, and before she could make any remonstrations, his mouth was
upon hers and her mind was in a silent rapture. Her body stiffened in the
terror of what she was doing: she was kissing someone, and was even
kissing a Haanta supreme commander. Such a notion beleaguered her with feelings
of unworthiness, but the tongue parting her lips and invading her mouth was
attestation enough to the contrary. He deemed her laudable enough to touch, to
hold, to ravish, and this must be all her consolation. She was persuaded by his
wandering hands and pleasurable mouth to pull on his locks and arch her back in
answer. Affection and predilection with a warming glow she had never hitherto
felt resonated within her, and she would not have removed from him for the
Tag: When telepath
meets ex-cop, will it be death or diamonds.
Blurb: Writer Liv
Corrigan has the worst luck with men -- her telepathy tends to make them run for
the hills. When she meets widower and ex-cop Jack Roarke, she decides to keep
her talent hidden. Things are looking up until their third date crashes and
burns as the man who murdered Jack’s wife turns out to be after him
retreats with Liv to his house under armed guard. But with Liv’s mysteries
rapidly coming unraveled, a diamond-thief killer to stop and passion in the air,
the safe house is anything but safe for their hearts!
everyone else thought they knew you? Remember when everyone else thought they
Layla’s a small-town teen trying to be herself and is
misinterpreted at every turn. She’s not popularbecause her dad’s a minister and her interests never seem to match those
around her. She’s learned to keep to herself and her music – big mistake. When
her love of classic rock makes her parents wonder if she’s “getting ideas” she
finds herself shipped off to church camp. There she’s faced with horrible food
and her day is planned out by the millisecond. To make matters worse her
bunkmate is the cheery, tow-the-line sort and Donna, her nemesis, is at the
same camp and is determined to make things hard for her. The only thing Layla
has left to cling to is her music, but when her interests and character are
challenged will her faith in herself and her shaky trust in something more be
strong enough to see her through?
Never one to run from uncomfortable or unusual subject
matter, Zillah Anderson is an author of the speculative, the dark, and the sexy
– and sometimes all three at once. She is the author of The Inheritance and the
young adult title Knocking Down Heaven’s Door with No Boundaries Press, the
erotic short Power Chord with Rebel Ink Press, and has also had her work
included in the Wicked East Press Anthology Halloween Frights vol. III. She
resides in the Midwest, loves all things crafty and nerdy, and writes while she
bides her time for her true purpose: total world domination.
After getting checked in, I headed out to my cabin to dump
my gear before orientation. No, cabin was an optimistic word. I can still see
that building in my head: an enormous brown wooden structure that looked more
like a workhouse or a barrack than a happy little camp house. Like the main
buildings my home away from home could have used a coat of paint and some
insecticide. It was amazing that the wooden structure hadn’t rotted away from
being stuck back in the damp forest so long.
The inside of my cell didn’t give me a reason to be any more
optimistic. Besides the obligatory sections of bunk beds there were wooden
chests of drawers and a couple wobbly tables and chairs. It was all very
Berenstain Bears meets Camp Crystal Lake. Still, it wasn’t like I had a choice
in the matter. All I could really do was make the best of it and wait things
Common sense ruled that most of the beds in the room were
occupied, or else they’d grown their own bedding out of boredom. Sighing, I
dragged my stuff to the one empty lower bunk and began to make myself at home.
I was so wrapped up in self-pity that I was only interested in getting my bed
made so I could escape the humid, musty-smelling place.
“Wow, you’re new aren’t you?” a perky voice chirped. I
jumped hard enough to slam my head into the rickety bunk above mine.
“Wild observation,” I hissed through the throbbing in my
skull. A girl the size of my forearm slid gracefully off the top bunk and
dropped to the floor without a sound. I’d been in high school long enough to be
an expert profiler and there was no doubt in my mind that she was a
cheerleader. The summer just kept getting better.
“I’m Missy; I’ve been coming here ever since I was nine,”
she added then beamed a smile any dentist or orthodontist would probably be
tempted to frame. I was tempted to ask if she wanted a medal for the
accomplishment but held my tongue. I’d been around youth group enough to know
that if there was something to count attendance for, there were pins and badges
to commemorate it. Sure enough, on the crisp white polo shirt she sported was a
small gold pin with a series of added bars to show off each year she’d returned
to the asylum.
“I’m Layla,” I managed as I gracefully slammed my stuff onto
the bottom bunk in an effort to encourage her to leave me alone.
“Isn’t that Hebrew for something?” she asked with a tilt of
the head that was probably meant to show off her blonde locks. It just made her
look like a curious Labrador retriever.
“Dunno. I think my parents’ gave me the name because they
were listening to Derek and the Dominoes when I was conceived,” I said as I
busied myself tucking clothes away and dutifully slid my Bible under my pillow.
It was an outright lie, but it was worth seeing Missy’s baffled expression.
Having an unusual name meant you got tired of explaining it really quick. I’d
already come to the conclusion that as soon as I was old enough to get a tattoo
I would get my name, its pronunciation, and its meaning inked someplace really
visible so I’d never have to have that conversation ever again.
“Are you planning on wearing that to the orientation?” she
asked in an attempt to change the subject, and nodded to my Led Zeppelin shirt.
As she stared her expression grew dubious. I wasn’t a size zero blonde
cheerleader, but I wasn’t anything to sneeze at. Still, it seemed she was more
interested in the strange, presumably satanic writing scrawled across my chest
than my chest itself. At least I hoped so.
“Sure, what’s wrong with it?” I asked, my raised eyebrows
practically daring her to say it. In those days, I had fun antagonizing girls
like Missy. They were all for preaching peace and acceptance and knew they
should lead by example. Despite that philosophy, quite often the synapses just
didn’t connect the saying to the doing, especially once Sunday was over.
“Well, it’s just that…we don’t really wear stuff like that
here. What’s ‘Stairway to Heaven,’ anyway?”
“You’ve never heard of that?” I blanched and slid my bag
under the bed. “Oh, wow, Missy; you’ve never heard that song? I mean, it’s
‘Stairway to Heaven!’ It’s like one of the best Christian rock songs ever, all
about God’s forgiveness and salvation and stuff! You have to climb the Stairway
to Heaven if you’re gonna be saved, right?”
I could see her ticking through her mental Bible retention
in the silence that followed. Luckily, most Sunday school lessons focus on the
same ten to twelve stories over and over again. It was one advantage of being a
pastor’s kid – I could do far more than hold my own in a fight over the Bible,
though I hated to get into those types of arguments. No one ever won and it
wasn’t about the book or spirituality, itself, but about proving that you were
right. No thank you. “Yeah, I think I remember reading that somewhere. I’ll
have to go looking for that song…though Led Zeppelin doesn’t really sound like
a Christian group.”
I shook my head in pity. “C’mon Missy, you’re forgetting
where it talks about the absence of faith causing one to descend from salvation
with the strength of a zeppelin crafted from lead,” I went on, more and more
amazed when she nodded somberly. That was the trouble with all the new,
watered-down translations; for all I knew there was a verse that had been
retranslated as such.
“You’re so right, Layla. You’re so, so right,” Missy nodded
and placed one of her perfectly-manicured hands on my shoulder. She looked like
she was nearly in tears, moved as she was. “I’m so glad you’re my bunkmate.” I
followed her numbly towards Harmony Hall.
Blurb:Consumed by madness and tormented by
dark memories of blood and death, Hadrian Lucretius, King of the Validus Clan,
has returned after living in self-imposed exile for nearly three hundred and
maintain peace with the vampires, Eva Maldonado is offered as a sacrifice to
the crazed vampire king by her father, the alpha of the Silveria Shifter Pack.
Hadrian’s reputation is both legendary and lethal; he is ruthless,
bloodthirsty, lusty, and soulless. When Eva arrives at the ancient fortress high
in the Carpathian Mountains, she is shocked to find a ravaged man with dark
burning eyes filled with loneliness and dangerous desire.
she be his lover…or his prey?His savior…or his victim?Would Hadrian lure her
into madness or would their perilous passion be their redemption?
Dear God, what had her father done?
He sacrificed me. She snorted. He
couldn’t send one of his precious purebred daughters off to what was surely her
Eva pushed away from the wall and began to pace.
Falcon had been gone for nearly fifteen minutes and her nerves were making her
restless. Glancing about, she decided to take a little tour. She would not go
far and, with luck, she may find the knight. Besides, if she remained immobile,
consumed by her thoughts, she would soon have herself worked up into another
fit of hysteria.
Deciding to head in the direction Falcon had, she
did not enter the main hall though the large arched entrance was directly in
front of her. She turned left and headed down a long, dimly lit corridor. She
paused outside each door she passed, she knocked and tried their knobs, but no
one called from the other side and every door was locked.
After the fifth door, she gave up her search and
allowed her curiosity to take over. The hall was lined with wood paneling
decorated by sharply detailed paintings. Each featured a portrait of a man and
was accompanied by a gold placard with his name. These were the kings of the
The name of the last painting read Hadrian Lucretius,
but the image had been savagely shredded. Stepping closer, Eva reach up, trying
to place the pieces back together, wanting to get a look at the vampire—
A cool hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her
scream as she was hauled back. Eva fought for freedom, twisting down, she
jabbed her elbow in her attacker’s side then kicked back, connecting with his
shin. He growled in response and spun her about, trapping her with his body.
His hands slammed into the wall, cracking the wood, on either side of her head.
“Little girls should not wander alone in the dark.”
She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. His voice,
it was dark, threatening—pure sex. He leaned his head down, his lips brushed
her ear and, God help her, she shivered. Whether it was from fear or something
entirely sexual, she did not know. Confusion, terror, and desire fought for
control of her brain, as she remained pinned between the large, solid male and
“Bad things prowl in the dark,” he whispered against
her ear and Eva’s knees went weak. His words were heavily accented, his voice
deep. It echoed with evil and laced with lust. “Bad things, like me.”
Eva tried to speak, knowing she should demand he
release her, or scream, but nothing came.
One of his hands dropped from the wall to encircle
her wrist, the pad of his thumb gently brushed over her erratically beating
“Your scent,” he said, his voice rough, the sound
sending waves of need crashing over her.
His fingers lightly traced up her arm to cup her
nape, tickling her sensitive flesh.
Eva’s breathing grew shallow as her body began to
Yes. Oh, God, yes.
The menacing male drew closer, his second hand
dropping to her shoulder, pressing her firmly against the wall. Danger, it
radiated from him, yet desire flickered in his cold, black eyes. Instinct took
hold of her. Eva wrapped her arms about his waist. Her hands pressed flat
against his lower back, urging him closer. She arched her back trying in vain
to close the space between them.
“Sweet…warm vanilla.” His cool breath caressed the
tender flesh of her throat, sending chills all the way down to her toes.
Was he going to bite her?
God, what was she doing? She had no idea who this
man was let alone what he was doing to her. She should shove him away. She
should bring her knee up and hit him where it counts. But she could not move.
Her heart beat frantically, her blood rushed like lava through her veins as her
body responded to this aggressive male.
Eva’s sigh was a mix of relief and disappointment
when she heard Falcon’s voice.
The vampire’s mystifying obsidian gaze held her
captive as he asked, “Do you want to be rescued?”
No, but her self-preservation cried yes.
He vampire gently brushed her bottom lip with his
thumb and Eva shuttered.
“My king,” Falcon bellowed.
The stranger lifted his head and glared at Falcon
for a long breathless moment. She could sense the tension that coiled in his
body. Pure lethal power flowed from him like tidal waves.
Finally he turned his attention back to her. Framing
her jaw with his large hands, he bent his head down. Was he going to kiss her?
Another rush of heat coursed through her and pooled at her core. She wished she
could see his face. The shadows hid his features. All she could see were his
dark as midnight eyes, which burned in the darkness, violence and lust.
He leaned into her, his solid chest brushing her
breasts, causing them to ache, as he sank his lower body against her.
Surrounded. Hot, aggressive male surrounded her and—wild, she was wild with
His cool lips brushed against hers as he whispered,
“Until we meet again, little one.” He disappeared.
Eva sagged against the wall, her body feeling bereft
without him. Shock pulsed through her body and she struggled to make sense of
what just happened. Her initial reaction had been fear, but was quickly
replaced by desire. She focused on her breathing, trying to calm herself as she
gathered her scattered, confused thoughts.
He didn’t kiss her. Why did he not—
“Did I not ask you to remain in the foyer, because I
distinctly remember doing so,” Falcon said.
“W-what?” she sputtered.
When she looked up at him, his expression was not
what she had expected. His tone implied announces but his gaze was quizzical as
he studied her, his brow furrowed in thought.
“Nothing,” he said with a shake of his head.
Falcon cursed a string of obscenities, some in English but most in an old form
“Come on, I’ll show you to your room so you can get
He turned and began back down the hall.
Eva shoved away from wall and jogged to catch up
with him. Her legs were still weak and she feared they might give out. She
caught his arm and Falcon stopped.
“Was that…I mean, he was—”
“Hadrian Lucretius, King of the Validus Clan of
vampires,” he answered.
“I thought so,” she
said, her voice a faint whisper.
Her steps faltered as she came to a bend.
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
She was not alone.
Eva froze and strained her senses. Her
hearing and eyesight was slightly better than a human’s but nothing compared to
a full shifter or—she swallowed hard—a vampire. Unable to detect anything, she
slowly crept forward. Placing her back against the twelve-foot tall hedge wall,
she peeked around the corner.
A man sat on a white marble bench, his
elbows resting on his knees, his head hung low. She could only see his
perfectly hard profile and her heart skipped a beat as her breath caught. High,
bold cheekbones and a straight, stern jaw descended to thin, yet enticing lips.
His hair was black and buzzed in an extremely short military fashion. To her
disappointment, his eyes were closed, but she knew they would be intense. He
was dressed in all black, a stark contrast to the white that surrounded him.
Raw power radiated from him. He was pure
unadulterated male. Lethal. She knew instinctively this vampire was the crazed
king, Hadrian Lucretius. The man—no, the beast that had ensnared her in the
His eyes remained closed as his lips
pulled back from his long, white fangs tinted with red.
She knew she ought to be horrified but as
before…he was making her lust. Her body was hot and heavy, her breathing came
in soft gasps, and heat spiraled through her core as she recalled the feel of
his powerful body looming over her.
“I know you’re there.” His voice was deep
and heavily accented though his style of speech was modern. He spoke again, but
she did not comprehend his words. She closed her eyes and savored his voice.
Dark. Seductive. She shivered, not from cold, but from pleasure.
Nothing made sense. She knew her reaction
was insane. She knew she should be terrified and run as fast as she could back
to the castle and the safety of her room. But, she could not bring herself to
leave, nor did she want to run. Her heart stuttered at the thought of him
chasing her and something wild deep within her roared to life.
In a rush of movement, she was pulled
forward and spun about. Her back slammed against the hedge, a cool, strong hand
wrapped about her throat. Her cry of shock quickly faded to a gasp of delight.
He stood before her, pinning her to the hedge. Her senses flared, taking in his
fresh scent. He smelled of pine, wilderness, and male. His eyes gazed deeply
into hers as if searching for her very soul. They were fathomless, obsidian
pools that swirled with malice, grief, and…desire.
Her heart thundered in her ears as her
lips parted, drawing in rapid breaths, filling her lungs with his irresistible
scent. Again, she wondered at her response, but lust clouded her mind, blocking
all rational thought.
She dropped her gaze to his broad
shoulders and chest, which were covered only by a short-sleeved black shirt.
Her fingers twitched at the thought of running her hands over the hard muscle.
He was lean, solidly built, and tall, clearly over six feet.
He crowded her. Trapping her.
She loved it.
Hadrian’s gaze focused on her pulse.
Eva’s heart beat wildly, teasing him. His fangs felt heavy in his mouth and
they ached to pierce her slender throat.
The run had helped him immensely, driving
away those hateful memories. He thanked God he had recovered before his ward
had stumbled upon him in the labyrinth. The memories always left his mind
He had wanted blood. No. Needed blood.
Death. Yes, he had craved to taste death, to savor it. He had hunted in the
forest and fed from a rabbit. It’s tangy blood and tiny life had brought him
precious little relief. It was enough. It would keep him from tearing her
throat open and gorging himself on the sweet elixir.
would be spicy, exotic, and oh, so hot.
He ran his tongue over his fangs and Eva
sighed. The scent of her desire grew stronger. He took in a deep breath and
shuddered. Intoxicating. His erection strained against his pants as heat
consumed him. He wanted to teleport her to his bed, feel her soft body beneath
him, her hips rocking with his as he claimed her, filled her. Her lust sang to
him like a siren’s song and fired his icy blood.
“We meet again, little one.” He brushed
the elegant column of her throat with his thumb, pausing over her pulse with
every stroke. “I did not expect it would be so soon.”
Hadrian kept his hand on her neck as he
stepped back to appraise his prey. He had known she was small, but his mind had
been completely consumed with lust and hunger earlier to focus on detail. She
was barely over five feet and slight of frame. Fragile. He could snap the poor
girl; easily break her like a doll. He eased the pressure on her neck at the
thought. Her face was delicate with almond shaped eyes that were down caste,
concealing their color. She also had well defined cheekbones and stubborn chin.
Her luscious, pouting lips were peach in color. Hadrian shivered as he imagined
their taste. He could not remember the last time he had felt another’s lips
pressed against his. Never had he kissed the women he took to his bed…not since
he had been a mortal man, not since his wife. But damn, her mouth was tempting.
He dropped his gaze to her body. She was
tightly bundled in a thick jacket, the blue a perfect complement to her smooth
sun kissed skin. Her dark brown hair was pulled back and fastened in a braid
that came to her hips. He resisted the urge of freeing her locks, having the
absurd desire to run his fingers through her hair.
He released her throat to press his hands
to the hedge on either side of her head. Her gaze met his and Hadrian bit back
a curse. Amber. Pure, amber stared back at him. Not yellow, as he thought
before when he had found her in the hall.
For an instant, his gaze grew sharp. Eva
tried to look away, but his hand caught her chin and forced her to face him.
“Look at me, little one.”
She raised her hands, intending to shove
him away, like she knew she should. This was wrong. He was a vampire. No, he
was a crazed vampire king and she was, well, a lowly half-breed, who was also
his ward. Nothing could happen between them. As if I would want something to happen between us, she told
His thumb brushed over her bottom lip,
the caress was simple and yet completely erotic. He sank his body into hers and
Eva lost her breath. .
Hadrian slipped his hand down her neck to
her nape; his fingers began to play with the stay strands of hair that had
escaped her braid. His ravenous gaze roamed her body. Despite the bulkiness of
her jacket, he could feel her generous curves. The blue material covering her
chest strained ever so slightly against her breasts as her hips cradled his,
her stomach was flat and soft against his painful erection.
“Shall we continue what we started in the
Eva swallowed hard as she thought, Oh, God, yes!
His finger danced over her shoulder and
her chest to the zipper of her jacket. She watched as he slowly drew it down,
heat coiled in her core.
Eva couldn’t think. She couldn’t move.
The heat of his strong hands burned through the thin material of her pajama
tank top as he spanned her waist. She did not notice the cold but shivered in
anticipation. His fingers slowly slid up her sides and paused at her ribs, just
below her aching breasts. She arched her back and he hissed.
“Terror,” Hadrian whispered. “You should
be feeling terror.”
Eva squeaked in response, unable to
He leaned his head down, his breath
brushed along the sensitive flesh of her throat.
“You should run,” he said. Would I let her escape? Yes, he would.
He would use what remained of his will to remain still as she raced through the
labyrinth. He should set her from him and demand that she go.
All Eva could do was nod. She knew he was
right. She should be screaming. She should be praying that Falcon would come to
her rescue. This dark vampire had her trapped. Hadrian, the mad king, had her
at his mercy. She tried to remember the evil rumors, hoping they might be able
to draw her back into reality. Nothing came. All she could think about was how
much she wanted to feel his hands on her body, hips lips against her skin and
“Touch me,” Eva gasped. Desire controlled
her mind as lust gripped her body.
His black gaze jumped with dangerous
delight. He spun her about, forcing her back against his chest, his hands
gripping her hips as he pressed her front towards the hedge.
Heaven help her, a bolt of treacherous
excitement ran down her spine to curl her toes. She pressed her hips back and
groaned at the feel of his hard cock against her ass.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked, his
lips brushing her ear.
“Who?” His demand was rough and, God, she
loved the anger that laced his voiced. On some level, she knew she must be
losing her mind to desire this vampire. She did not care. She wanted him. Now.
Primal, sexual need coursed through her in sweet agonizing pulsating waves.
“H-Hadrian Lu-Lucretius,” she answered.
About The Author:
When she is not writing, Amanda can found playing
the role of a full time university student who works part time. She lives in
Southern California with her very supportive husband and their sweet cocker
spaniel. Doing all the above and being a military wife is not easy, but
rewarding! Of course, she accomplishes everything with a strong cup of coffee
in her hand.