R.G. Alexander's Blog, page 2
September 27, 2012
Wicked Release is out now!!
Book 3 in the popular Wicked3 Series is out!
When you’ve waited centuries for release…will three be the magic number?
Cursed for hundreds of years by a rejected suitor and an ultimate betrayal, Sarah Blackwood has had plenty of time to plan vengeance…and escape. When she sensed a magic that called out to her own, she instinctively drew it to her, desperately hoping it would be her way out.
She never expected what happened next.
Con and Lorie have always known their Triad was incomplete. They didn’t realize the woman they’d been waiting for had been born over three hundred years too early, or that a twist of magical fate would bring them together at last.
Sarah has sworn vengeance on all the families involved in her imprisonment, including the Abbotts. Will she use her unique abilities to destroy them all, or will the two men she can’t seem to resist convince her–with a little help and a lot of kink–that love is the best revenge?
Warning: Explicit Menage Sex. Sex in the grass and sex in a chair. One magical mirror sees sex everywhere. A little spanking, a little kink and the dirtiest magical threesome in the land.
When you’ve waited centuries for release…will three be the magic number?
Cursed for hundreds of years by a rejected suitor and an ultimate betrayal, Sarah Blackwood has had plenty of time to plan vengeance…and escape. When she sensed a magic that called out to her own, she instinctively drew it to her, desperately hoping it would be her way out.
She never expected what happened next.
Con and Lorie have always known their Triad was incomplete. They didn’t realize the woman they’d been waiting for had been born over three hundred years too early, or that a twist of magical fate would bring them together at last.
Sarah has sworn vengeance on all the families involved in her imprisonment, including the Abbotts. Will she use her unique abilities to destroy them all, or will the two men she can’t seem to resist convince her–with a little help and a lot of kink–that love is the best revenge?
Warning: Explicit Menage Sex. Sex in the grass and sex in a chair. One magical mirror sees sex everywhere. A little spanking, a little kink and the dirtiest magical threesome in the land.
February 25, 2012
Geared for Pleasure Countdown Party!
Having a party on March 5th to celebrate March 6th Rachel Grace release of Geared for Pleasure-Book 1 in the Elemental Steam series!
Join the invite list on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/events/17532...
Or just show up March 5th at www.smutketeers.com to enter. Blogs included:
Naughty Nine Novelists
Down Under Divas
International Heat
Guilty Pleasures
Shelli Stevens
Mari Carr
Kate Pearce
Smutkedette Reviewer Blogs
And many more!
Multiple prizes and tons of fun
We hope to see you there :)
February 23, 2012
Rachel Grace Website goes live!!
My alter ego, Rachel Grace, has a Berkley book of clockworky steampunkitude called Geared for Pleasure coming out in less than two weeks!!
And now? She has a website. I'd love for you to check it out.
www.rachelgraceromance.com
And now? She has a website. I'd love for you to check it out.
www.rachelgraceromance.com
December 19, 2011
Four For Christmas *Fourway Contest*
Having a contest for Christmas at www.smutketeers.com Come and See!
Dreaming of a White Christmas led her straight into their arms...
In this holiday spin off of the bestselling novella Three For Me?, saving a man in a snowstorm leads Georgia Bale to an isolated cabin, where three men have an important promise to keep. A promise Georgia soon becomes caught up in herself.
She just wanted to survive Christmas, and her bad holiday karma. She had no idea that accepting a friend's invitation to Colorado would lead her to her perfect man. Times three.
What does an eccentric writer do when a compassionate doctor, a dominant police officer, and a handsome adrenaline junkie only have eyes for her?
Use her imagination.
But when the storm clears, she'll have to decide which path to take. The way back home, or the road less traveled.
Warning: A bit of heart tugging, excessive use of imagination, role playing (the dirty kind), foursomes, magic, a guardian angel or two... and the kinky use of holiday themed beverages.
Dreaming of a White Christmas led her straight into their arms...
In this holiday spin off of the bestselling novella Three For Me?, saving a man in a snowstorm leads Georgia Bale to an isolated cabin, where three men have an important promise to keep. A promise Georgia soon becomes caught up in herself.
She just wanted to survive Christmas, and her bad holiday karma. She had no idea that accepting a friend's invitation to Colorado would lead her to her perfect man. Times three.
What does an eccentric writer do when a compassionate doctor, a dominant police officer, and a handsome adrenaline junkie only have eyes for her?
Use her imagination.
But when the storm clears, she'll have to decide which path to take. The way back home, or the road less traveled.
Warning: A bit of heart tugging, excessive use of imagination, role playing (the dirty kind), foursomes, magic, a guardian angel or two... and the kinky use of holiday themed beverages.
November 30, 2011
Do you get RT Book Reviews Magazine?
I'm on the cover! Along with my fellow Smutketeers Eden Bradley/Eve Berlin, Crystal Jordan and Karen Erickson.
Just wanted to share :)
Just wanted to share :)
September 5, 2011
Eternal Guardian Out Now! And Contest!
WOOHOO! Available NOW at Amazon for 99 cents!
Book 4.5 in the Children of the Goddess series
A lost warrior, an infinite passion...a world that is almost out of time.
Max is an Igigi warrior, a Sariel guard who has always fought to protect those in his care. When he wakes from a wound that should not have harmed him, in a world where nothing is as it should be, his first thoughts are for his duty. Not himself.
She has watched him for thousands of years. Beyond the gods and the whims of fate, she has loved him. But love was not what she was made for, and she was content with that design...until a single action threatened to unravel time.
Only the strongest of warriors can save the future of the Goddess and her children. Will Max fight Time itself...or walk away from his destiny and the heart of the woman who loves him?
***
Having a contest, giving away a $25 Amazon or B&N Gift Card on www.smutketeers.com
Stop by to enter!
Book 4.5 in the Children of the Goddess seriesA lost warrior, an infinite passion...a world that is almost out of time.
Max is an Igigi warrior, a Sariel guard who has always fought to protect those in his care. When he wakes from a wound that should not have harmed him, in a world where nothing is as it should be, his first thoughts are for his duty. Not himself.
She has watched him for thousands of years. Beyond the gods and the whims of fate, she has loved him. But love was not what she was made for, and she was content with that design...until a single action threatened to unravel time.
Only the strongest of warriors can save the future of the Goddess and her children. Will Max fight Time itself...or walk away from his destiny and the heart of the woman who loves him?
***
Having a contest, giving away a $25 Amazon or B&N Gift Card on www.smutketeers.com
Stop by to enter!
August 19, 2011
POSSESS ME ON SALE NOW AT Amazon! EXCERPT
For a limited time, Possess Me is available at Amazon at less than half the price. Since its the Bone Daddy 3 story antho you should read before Tempt Me-its sequel-comes out November 1st, I thought I would post a link a blurb and an excerpt (oh my)Blurb:
"Three exciting new paranormal erotic novellas set in New Orleans, with a voodoo twist that's pure magic." (Eden Bradley)
In the Big Easy, there's a legend women long for: a sexual voodoo spirit who can fulfill their darkest fantasies. And in these three steaming-hot novellas, he helps three New Orleans couples achieve the ultimate satisfaction...
In Release Me, Allegra heads down to New Orleans to heal her wounds, but she never expects to lose her heart to such a quiet, troubled man as Rousseau. She's even less prepared for the scorching, sexual spirit within him-and what he can do to her...
In Reclaim Me, Ben has loved Michelle as long as he can remember. But his beautiful artist has a way of running away from life-and what the pair could be. Leave it to the infamous spirit to help Ben prove to Michelle where she belongs: in his embrace...
In Redeem Me, it's All Saints' Day, the one day the voodoo spirit can walk the world in the flesh. When he bumps into Bethany, she might just be the reincarnation of a girl he once loved. Passion ignites, but can the couple overcome past mistakes and have a real chance at love?
EXCERPT from Release Me
“Him? Oh, baby girl, are you sure? Haven’t you heard
the stories? What they call him? The man is trouble. By that I mean I’d do him, and you know what bad taste I have in men.”
A few curious tourists eating at the table beside them raised their eyebrows at Michelle’s overloud reaction to her plan, and Allegra grinned in spite of her nerves. She probably shouldn’t have invited Michelle out to lunch at their favorite po’boy shop to ex- plain it.
Witnesses wouldn’t save her from her roommate’s vocal, if humorous, disapproval. At least the food was comforting. And filling. She pushed away from the table, half of the giant seafood sandwich left uneaten. “Personally, I can’t believe you haven’t.”
“What? Done him?” Michelle held her hands up and shook her head, chocolate curls bouncing with her vehemence. “He’s easy on the eyes, true enough, but that man has a monkey on his back. A giant, climb-the-Empire-State-Building-and-swat-at- airplanes kinda monkey.”
Allegra snorted, her sweet tea nearly going up her nose while Michelle shuddered dramatically. “No. He’s not for me. And I don’t think he’s for you either, Allegra. No matter how big a risk taker you are.”
Allegra smiled again. This was one of the reasons she’d moved to New Orleans. She needed her friend, even if they disagreed. She needed a little laughter in her life. Someone to tell all her secrets to. Okay. Most of her secrets to.
Since the accident, her family back in Houston acted as though she were an invalid with one foot in the grave. She wasn’t their Allegra anymore. To her it seemed they could barely look at her, and they spoke in those hushed tones reserved for terminal patients and funeral homes. It was like a never-ending wake.
Michelle, on the other hand, treated her the same way she had when they’d shared a dorm at the University of Texas. Back when Allegra was a wild, carefree youth who wasn’t afraid to take chances, to live. Back when she was whole. So when Michelle called and mentioned her roommate had moved out and taken a job in North Carolina, Allegra jumped at the chance to start again. Before she let her family’s concern overtake her determination to heal. To have a life again.
Michelle was right about one thing; he did look like trouble. Lucifer the fallen angel himself. Too beautiful not to be a sin. Celestin Dias Rousseau. It was a mouthful of a name for the mouth- watering man who owned the small coffee shop across the street from her and Michelle’s apartment.
The man she was going to seduce. Luring men into having sex had never been one of her pastimes, even before the accident. But for the last few months Rousseau had become Allegra’s obsession.
Who was she kidding? She’d been hooked from the first morning she’d laid eyes on the man.
Her physical therapist in Houston had left her with strict instructions not to overdo, but not to let her leg muscles weaken any further from disuse either. So as soon as she’d arrived in town she’d taken to walking through the French Quarter early in the morning. Oh there were still people milling about, there always were, but in the morning it was a different crowd.
Workers unloaded trucks to replenish the bars and restaurants that had been drained dry by the influx of tourists and business- men. Artists, psychics, and performers staked out their places on the sidewalk, ready for the crowds that were their bread and but- ter. Crowds that, according to Michelle, were finally coming back after the nightmare of Hurricane Katrina.
Allegra had pushed too hard that morning—had it only been six weeks ago?—leaning heavily on her ridiculous cane, her skin covered in sweat as if she’d run a marathon rather than walked a few simple blocks. She could see the apartment. She only had to cross one narrow street and climb one steep flight of stairs. It might as well have been Mount Everest.
She’d lowered herself carefully onto the curb in front of a shop that smelled of espresso beans and chocolate. It was as good a place to live as any, she’d thought, closing her eyes and focusing on slowing her heart rate. All she needed was a cold drink and a pillow, and she’d pay whatever curbs were going for these days.
“I have an extra iced coffee with your name on it.”
The voice had slid down her spine like a rough tongue, instantly making her think of late nights and sweat-soaked sex.
Sultry, with just enough edge to put her hibernating libido on red alert.
Allegra fanned herself dramatically. “Don’t lie to a dying woman.”
They’d laughed softly together and she shielded her eyes with her hand, looking up with a friendly smile at the warrior god who was handing her a coffee.
He was perfect.
Light cocoa skin and full lips framed by a closely trimmed goatee that saved his face from being too pretty. His body, however, was all male; thick thighs, lean arms roped with muscle and tribal tattoos, the hand holding the to-go cup so big she actually shivered. And those eyes. Hazel, heavy-lidded, long-lashed. The writer in her was inspired. Smoky eyes. Bedroom eyes. Brooding. Unless you wrote romance, how often did you get to use those words?
His hair fell in thick dreadlocks to his waist, tied back loosely with what looked like an extra apron tie. Allegra nearly melted into the concrete at the sight.
In high school, when her friends had all gone insane for the rock-and-roll hair bands, she’d never understood it. No male should have prettier or longer hair than she did. But he’d done it. This stranger had made long hair—knotted hair—sexy. She’d wanted to grip it and pull his lean, broad-shouldered body closer, to study every line of his face and the tattoo she noticed peeking out from the neckline of his white T-shirt. To kiss him, before he’d even told her his name.
He’d handed her the coffee, free of charge, and they exchanged a few sentiments about the weather before he abruptly left her to go back inside, the line at the cash register grabbing his attention.
The next day there’d been a small table and chair beside the café, just for her. It had quickly become a ritual between them.
She, sweaty and wrung out from her morning workout; he, cool and devastatingly attractive, if distant. But every day she came back, hoping for more. For conversation. For flirting. For some- thing. She’d never drunk so much coffee in her life.
Like Michelle said, she’d heard the talk. Noticed that his morning crowd was mostly made up of women. And those women would speak in loud, giggling whispers about him as they walked by her table. They would say he knew the right words to heal, and his touch could melt even the coldest heart. And sex with him? Sex with him was a blessing from Marie Laveau herself. According to them, he was the love doctor of the Big Easy.
Bone Daddy.
That’s what they called him. A walking, talking, well-hung plea- sure factory who, with a few easy orgasms, could bring you what- ever your heart desired. Your boyfriend would propose, your boss would give you a raise. Rumor had it he could even heal your scars, inside and out. If you satisfied his lust.
The conversations were confusing, since they didn’t seem to jibe with her own observations of Rousseau. With her, Rousseau was solicitous but shy. And always respectful. Maybe she wasn’t his type, though sometimes she thought she saw something in his eyes. Lust. For her. And it gave her hope.
She could be mistaking desire for pity or heartburn, but she didn’t think so. She couldn’t be wrong. Her feelings were far too intense to be one-sided.
Yes. He was trouble. But it was exactly the kind of trouble she wanted. After a year of being resigned to the life of a shut-in, the wild thing in her wanted to come out and play. And it only wanted to play with him.
TO BUY for $6 on Amazon!
August 16, 2011
Tuesday TEMPT ME Excerpt
A little preview for upcoming book Tempt Me from Berkley Heat out in November. Its the sequel to Possess Me.
EXCERPT
“Care for another, angel?”
Gabriel nodded at the bartender, ignoring the blatant invitation in her eyes.
Angel. His smile was rich with self-mockery. If he’d ever been one, he’d fallen long ago.
The sexy blonde turned to refill his glass with amber ale, and the sight of his own reflection in the beveled mirrors made him wince. It had been a while since he’d seen himself. Too long, apparently. The first description that sprang to mind when he did was pathetic drunk.
Was this who he really was, then? Gabriel Toussaint Giodarno—just another lost soul?
Whoever it was he was glaring at needed a shave. Rough shadows framed a sharp jaw, accentuating cheeks that had hollowed out in the last year. A diet of beer, scotch and shame would do that to a man.
His dark hair curled around his ears and along the nape of his neck—the first time he’d let it grow out since he was sent to Catholic school at the tender age of nine. His heavy-lidded green eyes were bleary with exhaustion, and—his gaze narrowed—the skin around his left eye was still tinged with yellow and blue from his encounter with that angry biker last week in a Tupelo bar.
Nearly all traces of his old reflection were gone. He was gone.
“You look like Hell, Gabe. As usual.”
Shit. He knew he was drunk, but he hadn’t realized he’d had enough to start hallucinating again. He pushed his beer away and tapped on the glossy wooden counter. “Any coffee in this place?” Or even better, some holy water?
The man beside him sighed. “I was hoping you’d head to Mambo Toussaint’s or Michelle’s instead of the nearest tavern. Why you keep gravitating to these shadow-filled places, I’ll never know.”
“Look, guy, I told you—those shadows aren’t real,” Gabriel muttered, keeping his eyes straight ahead and his voice down so the bartender wouldn’t think he’d gone off the deep end. “You aren’t real. Not a man. Not a ghost. Remember? I don’t do that particular parlor trick. All the woo-woo genes went to my sister. You’re just a figment of my imagination.”
He lowered his head tiredly and shoved his hands through his hair. “Shit, why didn’t my broken brain concoct a hot, breathy blonde to follow me around instead of a chatty, grungy man-child like you?” He sent said man-child a sideways glance. “I did what you wanted. I’m in New Orleans. Nothing has changed. Now run along, shut the hell up and leave me in peace.”
He looked up and noticed the bartender was watching him and no longer smiling suggestively. She slid a cup of coffee in his direction, the suspicious look in her eyes clearly retracting any invitation they might have issued earlier. Then she hurried toward the other end of the bar and the safety of her regular customers.
Gabriel smirked. He’d run too if he could. Hell, he’d tried. But he couldn’t escape the guilt that had kept him up nights, had become a demon that stalked him. He’d even started seeing shadows where there should be none. Watching those shadows notice him. Follow him. Press on his heavy heart and twist his thoughts until there were only three avenues of escape: fighting, fucking, or getting blackout-drunk. Sometimes it took all three for him to feel human again. To regain control.
Four months ago the game had changed, and his mind brought out the big guns. His new buddy here. His walking, talking, invisible conscience. There could be no doubt now that he had truly gone around the bend.
Gabriel grimaced at the first rich taste of chicory, and glanced at his imaginary friend. He had no idea where he’d dreamed the guy up. A man in his mid-twenties, with black hair that fell to his shoulders and blue eyes that were startling framed by dark brows and a swarthy complexion. He wore a long dark trench coat, dirty khaki pants and torn-up boots, looking like one of those disaffected adolescents Gabriel had silently scorned back when he’d been a globe-trotting, self-important businessman.
Had it only been a year ago that employees of his father’s investment firm had cowered in fear before him? That Gabriel had taken pride in being known as The Dark Messenger, the smiling bearer of bad news and pink slips? What an evil jackass he’d been.
Maybe he was finally getting what he deserved.
“I can practically feel that self-pity you’re wrapping yourself up in, Gabe. You’re more stubborn than your sister, and that’s saying something. Honestly, I have no idea why I got stuck with you.”
He’d gotten stuck? Ha. “I apologize for inconveniencing you. Even my hallucinations can’t stand me. There’s a certain poetry to that, don’t you think?”
“I’m not a hallucination, idiot. I’m real, with a name and everything. But you haven’t asked my name, have you? You haven’t asked about me, about the shadows—nothing. You need to stop fucking around, Gabe.” The young man pounded on the bar in frustration. “I never swore before I met you. You came back here for a reason. You need to find out what you are. You need to see your family. Tell your mother what’s been happening to you.”
Not who he was. What he was. Gabriel already knew what he wasn’t. He was no angel. No bon ange, like his twin sister who could see spirits. The one who had risked her soul for him, despite what he’d done to her. He was no loving son or loyal friend. And even though it felt like it right now, he was no ghost.
He wasn’t sure about anything anymore, not even why he’d come back to New Orleans again. Other than to shut his invisible stalker up. The one no one else saw. The one who could so conveniently appear and disappear at will.
If only Gabriel could disappear that easily, along with the memory of what he’d done—what he’d almost done—to Mimi. Michelle. His sister.
Djab. That was the name his mother had called the thing that had taken over his body last year. A dark entity, sometimes controlled by voodoo sorcerers she named bokors. Djab were wild spirits that, when left to their own devices, could wreak havoc on weaker humans.
Weak. That wasn’t a word Gabriel had ever associated with himself until it happened. How easily it had taken him over. He’d been angry at the awkward reunion with his mother, and when Michelle had shown up, injured and so distant, he’d blamed her. In his anger, he’d wished she’d been the one the priests had beaten, the one who’d been ripped from their mother and told everything she knew, everything she loved, was no longer hers. His need for vengeance had made him the perfect target.
Gabriel took a deep drink, the hot coffee scalding his tongue, his knuckles white around the porcelain mug. As if it were yesterday, he could recall the feeling of being trapped in his own mind, of screaming and shouting in disbelief as something else took over his body.
His hands tying up his sister. His mouth speaking words so offensive to his soul that he wished he could claw them out with his bare hands.
How could she ever forgive him for that? How could he forgive himself? He shook his head, coming back to the conversation. “I know what I am. And they are all better off without me. You can add delusional to the list of reasons why.”
“That does it.”
Gabriel nearly slid off his stool when the bartender appeared across from him once more and purred appreciatively, “Didn’t see you come in, lover. What can I get for you?”
He blinked. “What? Are you talking to me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course not, silly, you’ve been here for hours. And I’m really glad you decided to have that coffee, by the way.” Then she looked over Gabriel’s shoulder and batted her eyelashes. “I’m talking to your cute young friend.”
He followed her gaze, then turned back to the bartender. “Who do you see behind me?” When she hesitated Gabriel leaned closer. “It’s important. Describe him.”
She tilted her head, her blonde ponytail swinging softly behind her. “O—kay. I see a sexy slice of cheesecake with dark hair and stunning blue eyes.” Her own eyes widened. “And he blushes? Oh, baby, what’s your name, what’s your sign and where have you been all my life?”
Black spots and stars blurred Gabriel’s view as he glanced back at the blushing figment behind him. The figment someone else had just described. She saw him?
He heard the bartender’s worried voice as if she were speaking through static. “Oh, damn. Listen, lover, if your friend is about to throw up or something, get him outta here. I’m the only one on tonight and I refuse to clean that up.”
Gabriel felt hands hoist him up as if he were weightless and drag him toward the back door that led to a narrow alley.
He pushed away and fell to his knees, retching. He leaned his head against the rough wall, a rasping laugh escaping his raw throat. “So this is what rock bottom looks like. I always wondered.”
“Congratulations, Gabe. As usual, you set a goal and you reached it. Your father would be so proud.”
Gabriel pulled himself up once more and turned, rage suddenly welling up inside him. “You don’t know shit about my father. But I just set another goal. If other people can see you that means you’re real. And if you’re real, I can kick your ass.”
The tall man’s lips quirked. “You can try. The shape you’re in? I think I can take you.” He crossed his arms and shook his head. “You used to be a believer, Gabe. Even when you couldn’t see me, when Mimi was the only one who could, you believed I was there. I never thought you’d turn out like this.”
He believed…even when Mimi could see him? “Who the fuck are you?”
His illusion’s hands rose up to the sky, as if in prayer. “Hallelujah. I think he’s finally waking up.” Unearthly blue eyes pierced him with their solemn expression. “The name is Emmanuel.”
Gabriel scoffed, but he felt the name like a kick in the chest, making it hard to breathe. “Emmanuel was a child. A ghost child. I told you. My sister has that gift. Not me.”
Emmanuel nodded. “You’re right. That isn’t your gift.” He shrugged. “But all the same, I am Emmanuel. How else would I know you cracked your tooth when you fell chasing after Ben and your sister in the back of my old house? The same day you told your father you were playing with spirits for the first time.”
Gabriel remembered. How could he forget? That was the day everything had started going to shit.
“If you’re Emmanuel, and I can’t see ghosts, then how can I see you?”
The younger man was suddenly right beside him, his expression tinged with pain and regret. They were emotions Gabriel knew well. “You can see me, Gabriel, because I am not a ghost. I’m no longer anything I was. And neither are you. But I’ve faced a few of my monsters. It’s time for you to face yours. You need to understand what’s happening to you, before you lose yourself completely to the darkness.”
This was some sort of twisted joke. Gabriel closed his eyes and saw a flash of a memory. Father Leon, the priest who had taken special delight in punishing him, tormenting him with images of his sister and mother burning in Lucifer’s inferno for eternity. Warning him that he would join them if he didn’t purge himself of his family’s evil. Warning him that he would be taken by the darkness.
Even then, there was a small part of young Gabriel who would have taken that punishment, would have burned, if only he could be with his family again. His mother. If only he could have been like his twin, Mimi. Special.
He felt like he was going to be sick again. This couldn’t be happening. He needed to get out of this cursed city. “Fuck the coffee. I need another drink. Maybe two.”
Gabriel took a step toward the bar’s back door, but Emmanuel was there before he could reach for the knob.
He shook his head. “Stubborn ass. This is for your own good.”
Gabriel saw Emmanuel pull back his fist and swore when it connected with his flesh. For a ghost he had a powerful right hook.
He was falling to the ground again, hearing Emmanuel before he hit the cobblestone pavement.
“You’ll thank me for this, Gabe. Eventually.”
Gratitude wasn’t on his mind as the hard ground jarred his bones. As his ears rang with the power of the physical blow he’d just received from his imaginary pest. No, it wasn’t gratitude causing the red haze of anger and pain to blind his vision.
It was the need for revenge.
As soon as he could get up again, Emmanuel would learn what everyone who’d ever gotten on the wrong side of Gabriel knew. Clichéd but true…
Payback was a bitch.
AVAILABLE at
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EXCERPT
“Care for another, angel?”
Gabriel nodded at the bartender, ignoring the blatant invitation in her eyes.
Angel. His smile was rich with self-mockery. If he’d ever been one, he’d fallen long ago.
The sexy blonde turned to refill his glass with amber ale, and the sight of his own reflection in the beveled mirrors made him wince. It had been a while since he’d seen himself. Too long, apparently. The first description that sprang to mind when he did was pathetic drunk.
Was this who he really was, then? Gabriel Toussaint Giodarno—just another lost soul?
Whoever it was he was glaring at needed a shave. Rough shadows framed a sharp jaw, accentuating cheeks that had hollowed out in the last year. A diet of beer, scotch and shame would do that to a man.
His dark hair curled around his ears and along the nape of his neck—the first time he’d let it grow out since he was sent to Catholic school at the tender age of nine. His heavy-lidded green eyes were bleary with exhaustion, and—his gaze narrowed—the skin around his left eye was still tinged with yellow and blue from his encounter with that angry biker last week in a Tupelo bar.
Nearly all traces of his old reflection were gone. He was gone.
“You look like Hell, Gabe. As usual.”
Shit. He knew he was drunk, but he hadn’t realized he’d had enough to start hallucinating again. He pushed his beer away and tapped on the glossy wooden counter. “Any coffee in this place?” Or even better, some holy water?
The man beside him sighed. “I was hoping you’d head to Mambo Toussaint’s or Michelle’s instead of the nearest tavern. Why you keep gravitating to these shadow-filled places, I’ll never know.”
“Look, guy, I told you—those shadows aren’t real,” Gabriel muttered, keeping his eyes straight ahead and his voice down so the bartender wouldn’t think he’d gone off the deep end. “You aren’t real. Not a man. Not a ghost. Remember? I don’t do that particular parlor trick. All the woo-woo genes went to my sister. You’re just a figment of my imagination.”
He lowered his head tiredly and shoved his hands through his hair. “Shit, why didn’t my broken brain concoct a hot, breathy blonde to follow me around instead of a chatty, grungy man-child like you?” He sent said man-child a sideways glance. “I did what you wanted. I’m in New Orleans. Nothing has changed. Now run along, shut the hell up and leave me in peace.”
He looked up and noticed the bartender was watching him and no longer smiling suggestively. She slid a cup of coffee in his direction, the suspicious look in her eyes clearly retracting any invitation they might have issued earlier. Then she hurried toward the other end of the bar and the safety of her regular customers.
Gabriel smirked. He’d run too if he could. Hell, he’d tried. But he couldn’t escape the guilt that had kept him up nights, had become a demon that stalked him. He’d even started seeing shadows where there should be none. Watching those shadows notice him. Follow him. Press on his heavy heart and twist his thoughts until there were only three avenues of escape: fighting, fucking, or getting blackout-drunk. Sometimes it took all three for him to feel human again. To regain control.
Four months ago the game had changed, and his mind brought out the big guns. His new buddy here. His walking, talking, invisible conscience. There could be no doubt now that he had truly gone around the bend.
Gabriel grimaced at the first rich taste of chicory, and glanced at his imaginary friend. He had no idea where he’d dreamed the guy up. A man in his mid-twenties, with black hair that fell to his shoulders and blue eyes that were startling framed by dark brows and a swarthy complexion. He wore a long dark trench coat, dirty khaki pants and torn-up boots, looking like one of those disaffected adolescents Gabriel had silently scorned back when he’d been a globe-trotting, self-important businessman.
Had it only been a year ago that employees of his father’s investment firm had cowered in fear before him? That Gabriel had taken pride in being known as The Dark Messenger, the smiling bearer of bad news and pink slips? What an evil jackass he’d been.
Maybe he was finally getting what he deserved.
“I can practically feel that self-pity you’re wrapping yourself up in, Gabe. You’re more stubborn than your sister, and that’s saying something. Honestly, I have no idea why I got stuck with you.”
He’d gotten stuck? Ha. “I apologize for inconveniencing you. Even my hallucinations can’t stand me. There’s a certain poetry to that, don’t you think?”
“I’m not a hallucination, idiot. I’m real, with a name and everything. But you haven’t asked my name, have you? You haven’t asked about me, about the shadows—nothing. You need to stop fucking around, Gabe.” The young man pounded on the bar in frustration. “I never swore before I met you. You came back here for a reason. You need to find out what you are. You need to see your family. Tell your mother what’s been happening to you.”
Not who he was. What he was. Gabriel already knew what he wasn’t. He was no angel. No bon ange, like his twin sister who could see spirits. The one who had risked her soul for him, despite what he’d done to her. He was no loving son or loyal friend. And even though it felt like it right now, he was no ghost.
He wasn’t sure about anything anymore, not even why he’d come back to New Orleans again. Other than to shut his invisible stalker up. The one no one else saw. The one who could so conveniently appear and disappear at will.
If only Gabriel could disappear that easily, along with the memory of what he’d done—what he’d almost done—to Mimi. Michelle. His sister.
Djab. That was the name his mother had called the thing that had taken over his body last year. A dark entity, sometimes controlled by voodoo sorcerers she named bokors. Djab were wild spirits that, when left to their own devices, could wreak havoc on weaker humans.
Weak. That wasn’t a word Gabriel had ever associated with himself until it happened. How easily it had taken him over. He’d been angry at the awkward reunion with his mother, and when Michelle had shown up, injured and so distant, he’d blamed her. In his anger, he’d wished she’d been the one the priests had beaten, the one who’d been ripped from their mother and told everything she knew, everything she loved, was no longer hers. His need for vengeance had made him the perfect target.
Gabriel took a deep drink, the hot coffee scalding his tongue, his knuckles white around the porcelain mug. As if it were yesterday, he could recall the feeling of being trapped in his own mind, of screaming and shouting in disbelief as something else took over his body.
His hands tying up his sister. His mouth speaking words so offensive to his soul that he wished he could claw them out with his bare hands.
How could she ever forgive him for that? How could he forgive himself? He shook his head, coming back to the conversation. “I know what I am. And they are all better off without me. You can add delusional to the list of reasons why.”
“That does it.”
Gabriel nearly slid off his stool when the bartender appeared across from him once more and purred appreciatively, “Didn’t see you come in, lover. What can I get for you?”
He blinked. “What? Are you talking to me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course not, silly, you’ve been here for hours. And I’m really glad you decided to have that coffee, by the way.” Then she looked over Gabriel’s shoulder and batted her eyelashes. “I’m talking to your cute young friend.”
He followed her gaze, then turned back to the bartender. “Who do you see behind me?” When she hesitated Gabriel leaned closer. “It’s important. Describe him.”
She tilted her head, her blonde ponytail swinging softly behind her. “O—kay. I see a sexy slice of cheesecake with dark hair and stunning blue eyes.” Her own eyes widened. “And he blushes? Oh, baby, what’s your name, what’s your sign and where have you been all my life?”
Black spots and stars blurred Gabriel’s view as he glanced back at the blushing figment behind him. The figment someone else had just described. She saw him?
He heard the bartender’s worried voice as if she were speaking through static. “Oh, damn. Listen, lover, if your friend is about to throw up or something, get him outta here. I’m the only one on tonight and I refuse to clean that up.”
Gabriel felt hands hoist him up as if he were weightless and drag him toward the back door that led to a narrow alley.
He pushed away and fell to his knees, retching. He leaned his head against the rough wall, a rasping laugh escaping his raw throat. “So this is what rock bottom looks like. I always wondered.”
“Congratulations, Gabe. As usual, you set a goal and you reached it. Your father would be so proud.”
Gabriel pulled himself up once more and turned, rage suddenly welling up inside him. “You don’t know shit about my father. But I just set another goal. If other people can see you that means you’re real. And if you’re real, I can kick your ass.”
The tall man’s lips quirked. “You can try. The shape you’re in? I think I can take you.” He crossed his arms and shook his head. “You used to be a believer, Gabe. Even when you couldn’t see me, when Mimi was the only one who could, you believed I was there. I never thought you’d turn out like this.”
He believed…even when Mimi could see him? “Who the fuck are you?”
His illusion’s hands rose up to the sky, as if in prayer. “Hallelujah. I think he’s finally waking up.” Unearthly blue eyes pierced him with their solemn expression. “The name is Emmanuel.”
Gabriel scoffed, but he felt the name like a kick in the chest, making it hard to breathe. “Emmanuel was a child. A ghost child. I told you. My sister has that gift. Not me.”
Emmanuel nodded. “You’re right. That isn’t your gift.” He shrugged. “But all the same, I am Emmanuel. How else would I know you cracked your tooth when you fell chasing after Ben and your sister in the back of my old house? The same day you told your father you were playing with spirits for the first time.”
Gabriel remembered. How could he forget? That was the day everything had started going to shit.
“If you’re Emmanuel, and I can’t see ghosts, then how can I see you?”
The younger man was suddenly right beside him, his expression tinged with pain and regret. They were emotions Gabriel knew well. “You can see me, Gabriel, because I am not a ghost. I’m no longer anything I was. And neither are you. But I’ve faced a few of my monsters. It’s time for you to face yours. You need to understand what’s happening to you, before you lose yourself completely to the darkness.”
This was some sort of twisted joke. Gabriel closed his eyes and saw a flash of a memory. Father Leon, the priest who had taken special delight in punishing him, tormenting him with images of his sister and mother burning in Lucifer’s inferno for eternity. Warning him that he would join them if he didn’t purge himself of his family’s evil. Warning him that he would be taken by the darkness.
Even then, there was a small part of young Gabriel who would have taken that punishment, would have burned, if only he could be with his family again. His mother. If only he could have been like his twin, Mimi. Special.
He felt like he was going to be sick again. This couldn’t be happening. He needed to get out of this cursed city. “Fuck the coffee. I need another drink. Maybe two.”
Gabriel took a step toward the bar’s back door, but Emmanuel was there before he could reach for the knob.
He shook his head. “Stubborn ass. This is for your own good.”
Gabriel saw Emmanuel pull back his fist and swore when it connected with his flesh. For a ghost he had a powerful right hook.
He was falling to the ground again, hearing Emmanuel before he hit the cobblestone pavement.
“You’ll thank me for this, Gabe. Eventually.”
Gratitude wasn’t on his mind as the hard ground jarred his bones. As his ears rang with the power of the physical blow he’d just received from his imaginary pest. No, it wasn’t gratitude causing the red haze of anger and pain to blind his vision.
It was the need for revenge.
As soon as he could get up again, Emmanuel would learn what everyone who’d ever gotten on the wrong side of Gabriel knew. Clichéd but true…
Payback was a bitch.
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August 13, 2011
Interview and More
I am over at the Day Dreaming Blog talking about the perfect man, my upcoming print and e-releases, and having a contest. Winners will be announced on the 17th. A new author everyday!
