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Raven Author: Excerpt: Dance of Souls by Mandy M Roth

Dance of Souls

Best Intentions 2: A Ghost Cats Story

Paranormal Shifter Romance by Mandy M Roth

ABOUT:

Some dances are downright deadly.

Mason Blackwolf doesn’t want much out of life. He’s easy going. He’s alpha of his pack of werewolves, best friends with a shape shifting cougar and the great-grandson of a powerful Native American Shaman. A normal day for him consists of dealing with inter-pack politics, seducing beautiful women and then, if he’s lucky, relaxing and not thinking about much beyond that. When it becomes clear his grandfather has sent him on a wild goose chase, Mason stops at a roadside bar for a beer. He gets more than he’s bargained for when a tall, sexy blonde enters the establishment. She catches not only his eye but the wolf’s attention as well. She’s also off limits. In a big way. To Mason, it’s simply another layer that adds to her appeal. She’s a temptation he doesn’t want to resist and if he has his way, she’ll be thoroughly claimed before the night is out.

Rating: Contains graphic sexual content, adult language, and violence.

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EXCERPT

Chapter One

Mason Blackwolf sat in the back booth of the bar he’d stopped at on his way home and watched the patrons closely. His ever vigilant eye had picked up on a number of oddities in the bar. Nothing that would send him packing but enough that Mason knew to be on his guard. He sat there, peeling the label off his beer, wadding the moistened paper into tiny balls and depositing them into the ashtray. He took another swig of the dark amber substance, savoring its rich brew but wishing it was stronger than it was.



Why his best friend, Brayen, and his grandfather, Running Elk, had sent him on a wild goose chase was a mystery to him. They had to have known that the rogue werewolf pack in Virginia had been captured and brought to justice. Everyone else seemed to know. The Virginia pack, who had contacted Brayen for help with the rouges, had come just shy of laughing in Mason’s face when he arrived. Why the hell did Brayen and Running Elk still send him? Sure, a vacation was nice but even he had to admit that he missed being home.

He hated to fly and had opted to drive instead. If the gods had intended him to fly, they’d have made him a werebird of some sort, not a werewolf. With a ridiculous amount of highway miles under his belt, Mason was ready to climb in his own bed and not look back. Unfortunately, he had a distance to travel yet before that could happen. The need to stretch his legs and relax had been great. The pull to this particular place had been all consuming—bordering on obsessive. He’d given into it and stopped. Now, he just had to figure out why.

Mason looked around, doing his best to put his finger on the problem. The smell of whiskey filled the air, coating it like a thin blanket of gasoline, no doubt as ignitable as the tempers of the occupants of the establishment.

Nothing in the bar seemed out of the ordinary. It was the same run of the mill, clean place with a gritty clientele he was used to. Though, his normal hang-out didn’t have humans roaming about it, mingled with supernaturals. This one did. That didn’t surprise him. Ninety-nine point nine percent of the places Mason went when he wasn’t home had them in it.

A row of pool tables flanked one side of the bar while a long bar ran the length of the other side. Tables filled the area in between and in the darkened back corner, sat several booths. The place wasn’t bad. It wasn’t extraordinary either. Mason couldn’t understand why he’d had the urge to stop here.

“Come on, baby. Give daddy some of that sweet ass,” a drunk called out from a table full of men.

Mason watched the brunette waitress who had caught his eye earlier as she did her best to ignore the heckling that had been going on since he’d first arrived. The bartender seemed to be leery about the group of men that had pushed several tables together and were now taking up a large portion of the center of the bar. If he had any clue what the hell the guys truly were, he’d have kicked their asses out long ago.

With a rifle loaded with silver bullets in his hands no less.

The music, pumping out of a jukebox up near the stage, varied from country to classic rock. It served to drown out some of the ruckus. Unfortunately, not enough to give Mason the peace he so desperately sought. Was it too much to ask for a break? Apparently so.

“Jeanie, you okay?” the bartender asked as he served an older man at the bar a beer.

Of course she’s not all right. The woman is being harassed by shifters, jackass!

The woman nodded as she went to collect dirty glasses and empty bottles from the table full of rowdy men. “I’m fine.”

“Yes, you certainly are fine,” a man with short, sandy brown hair said as he reached out and grabbed her ass. “Mmm, come on, sugar.”

She pushed away from him and scurried towards the bar. Mason groaned as he set his beer down. As much as he wanted to enjoy his time off, he wasn’t about to let a woman be manhandled by a group of drunken assholes. Shifters or not. The fact they were supernaturals only meant he could fight them head on and not have to hold as much back.

It’d be a real shame to kill one of these assholes. He snorted. A real shame.

The bartender put his palms down on the bar top and glared at the group of men. It was clear to see the man would attempt to protect his waitress. He was just playing it smart—avoiding a conflict if at all possible. It’s what Mason had been trying to do but suspected his attempts were in vain. He smiled.

Oh, well, kicking the shit out of someone will help me sleep better.

The door to the bar opened and Mason’s heart stopped for a fraction of a second as his gaze ran over the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. The woman had to be at least five-eight and at six foot two he liked to avoid having to bend nonstop to kiss them if at all possible. She’d work just fine.

The low-rise, boot-cut jeans she had on caught his attention immediately. Her toned abdomen showed, revealing a silver bellybutton ring. It was perfect. She was perfect. Gathering her up in his arms and spending the remainder of the night and most of the next day fucking her senseless chased his homesick blues away, replacing them with a rather optimistic outlook.

Long, shiny blonde hair stopped just before the small of her back. It was hair that a man would pay money just to be allowed the opportunity to run his fingers through and see it fanned out on the bed while sliding in and out of her. The very thought made Mason’s dick hard.

She smiled, making her classically beautiful face even more appealing. Her high cheekbones, narrow, slightly upturned nose and full rose-colored lips made his body throb with need. As his cock began to dig painfully into his black jeans, he instantly regretted not shacking up with the last hottie he’d crossed paths with. She’d been easy on the eyes and more than willing to have some fun but he felt compelled to get on the road and head home. Easy fucks weren’t something he normally passed on.

The bizarre urge to get on the road and head home had stayed with him and gotten stronger and stronger until he’d neared here. He’d given in to the compulsion to pull off, find a bite to eat and grab a beer. Somehow, he’d ended up here. It wasn’t as though the bar was close to the highway. No. Mason had driven a good distance off course before stopping. It wasn’t like he even had a choice. Something here had called to him. If he was right, it was the blonde.

“Hot damn,” a man at the table full of assholes said. “Take a look at the legs on that one. The rack isn’t bad either. How you doin’, sugar?”

Instantly, Mason found himself fighting the beast within, doing his best to keep the wolf caged. The urge to kill every one of the men for daring to look in the woman’s direction was so strong it shocked him. He clenched his fist, digging tiny crescent-shaped wounds into the palm of his hand and not caring in the least.

Jeanie went to the blonde quickly and Mason made sure he utilized every ounce of his supernatural gifts. First up, his ultrasensitive hearing. “Chan, you’re here. Ohmygod, I can’t believe it. When did you get in? Hey, I thought you weren’t coming until ten.”

The blonde smiled and his stomach did a flip-flop. If her flashing her pearly whites had that effect on him, he was screwed. Hopefully, in the literal sense if he played his cards right.

The blonde winked at her friend. “Hon, its eleven now. Don’t worry. I thought I’d head down and see if you needed a lift home or a little help?”

Her voice was every bit as smooth and sexy as she was. The need to hear her whispering sweet nothings in his ear while he fucked her left Mason fighting the urge to run to her and toss her over his shoulder. Fucking her was definitely something he would be doing before he left for home.

“Chandra Holbeck, are you telling me that you actually drove here for once?” Jeanie asked, sounding shocked.

Chandra. Chan. Mason let the name roll around in his head, taking more pleasure from it than he should.

Fuck, even her name makes me horny.

She laughed. He cupped his erection, praying for relief. When she spoke, she offered no such thing. “Uhh, please, Jeanie. You know me better than that. I didn’t drive. I walked. It’s gorgeous out. I can’t get enough of the fresh mountain air.”

Mason wanted to jump up and shout at her for being stupid enough to walk around at night, alone with shifters frequenting the area—drunk ones at that. Somehow, he managed to hold back. It wasn’t easy. Maybe the beast within him wanted to be fucking her tonight as bad as the man so it didn’t want to risk the opportunity by opening his mouth and inserting his foot.

Oh, we are so getting a piece of that tonight, my friend.

The woman slipped off the jean jacket she had on, leaving her in a tiny red fitted t-shirt. The cream-colored swells of her breasts showed due to the deep V-cut of it. Never before had Mason wanted to cover a sexy woman’s body from view but now he did. Wrapping her in a blanket and taking her home to peel back the layers and unwrap the prize inside in privacy was all he wanted to do. None of these men deserved to look upon her. She was special.

Special? What the hell am I thinking? She’s just another piece of ass.

Even as the words entered his mind, Mason knew they were a lie. She was more than just a piece of ass—way more and that scared him. Thankfully, the very idea of having his dick sinking into her lush body more than turned him on. It managed to set him on the verge of a full-shift and with his position as alpha male and right hand to Brayen—the guardian of the wolves—losing control wasn’t a problem. He was stronger than that. Or so he’d thought. The blonde before him challenged the theory at an alarming rate.

Chandra glanced around the bar, seeming to soak it all in with a childlike wonderment that made Mason smile. “Man, I missed this place. It’s packed.” Her brow creased. “Bertin, where’s Diane?”

The bartender shifted awkwardly. “She never showed and I haven’t been able to get her by phone,” Bertin said, sounding anything but pleased. “It’s good to have you home, Chan. The place wasn’t the same without you.”

Something passed over Chandra’s face. She walked quickly to the bartender, slid her arm around his waist and sent spikes of jealousy ramming through Mason’s body. “If you’re worried about Diane, which I can tell you are, go look for her. I’ll take care of things here while you’re gone. And it’s good to see you too, Bertin.”

He wouldn’t dare leave two women alone to run this bar with those assholes here.

Bertin nodded. “Okay, I’ll be back as soon as I can. You sure you’ll be okay?”

What? Mason had to fight not to fall out of the booth from sheer shock. There was no way in hell any man in his right mind would leave two women with the likes of the characters in the bar. The man was clearly insane.

Chandra did a rather long, sensual blink that had Mason’s entire body reacting to it as if it were hard-core porn. If she could do that to him with no more than a look, imagine what she could do with a touch. The very idea left his cock throbbing.

“Go on, we’ll be fine. I promise,” she said softly.

Bertin smiled and Mason considered ripping his head off and pinning it to a dartboard. He’s noticed several of them on the wall nearest the pool tables on his way in. They’d work nicely.

“Thanks, Chan. Keep an eye on the big group. They’re a bit rambunctious tonight. Jeanie is nervous dealing with them and I think they know it.”

A bit rambunctious? They’re psychotic.

Chandra nodded and patted Bertin’s shoulder as she walked behind the bar to pick up where he’d left off. Bertin hesitated just a moment before turning and glancing directly at Mason. Their gazes locked. The slight nod the bartender gave him had Mason wondering what the hell was going on. Had the man sensed Mason wasn’t human? Did he know Mason could and would protect the women at all costs? How could that be? Mason wasn’t even positive about what was going on—why the need to protect the blonde especially was so great. How the hell could some stranger hold the key?

All he knew for sure was if one of those assholes so much as sneezed in the blonde’s direction, it would be the last thing they ever did. Mason raked his gaze over them, coming close to daring them to try something.

He felt like fucking the blonde until one of them passed out. Considering his legendary stamina, Mason had little fear he’d be the first one to fall asleep.

“Jeanie, how about something a little more upbeat? I really don’t want to hear some guy singing about losing his wife, job, dog and pickup truck tonight. It’s depressing,” Chandra said, as she leaned forward and put her hand over the older man’s at the bar. “Hey, Grandpa. How are you doing tonight? You’re not getting yourself into any trouble, are you? I’ve been worried sick that you’d go causing an uproar while I was gone.”

Grandpa?

Jeanie headed towards the jukebox quickly and selected a new sequence of songs. The first one that came on was about a young girl having issues fighting the moonlight. Mason couldn’t help but smile. Being a werewolf left him having roughly the same problem, though he’d never once thought to write a song about it.

“Yeah, Grandpa,” the man who had been hassling Jeanie mocked as he lifted his beer in the air. “Have you been a good boy tonight?”

The old man glanced over his shoulder but said nothing to the group. He simply stared at them with a look that would have been intimidating if it wasn’t coming from a man who appeared to be pushing ninety.

I’m not exactly a spring chicken. Thank the gods I don’t look my age.

“Damn, Fred, that looked like a challenge to me,” a buzz-cut blond said. He sat next to the one called Fred and grinned from ear to ear.

Mason could no longer hold back. He eased forward in his seat, ready and willing to kill something. If he was lucky it would be a table full of assholes. After he was done with them, he’d take Chandra, get a room, and spend the night fucking her brains out.

His brashness made him cringe. Somehow, even thinking about her in terms like that, sickened him. You don’t make love to women, idiot. You fuck them. Get over the self-imposed guilt trip.

He locked gazes with the old man at the bar and an unseen force slammed into him. It stole his breath. Mason tried to stand, only to find himself pinned to his seat.

What the hell?

© copyright August 2011, Mandy M Roth

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

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Excerpt: The Barbarian Prince by Michelle M Pillow

Dragon Lords 1: The Barbarian Prince by Michelle M. Pillow

This might be my second book published, but it is really the one that had defined my career. It is the start of a multi-book series that keeps growing even nearly 10 years later–Dragon Lords. The series has spun off into many directions including the series: Lords of the Var, Space Lords, Zhang Dynasty, and Galaxy Playmates (all with several books in each installment) and it’s far from done. Dragon Lords 6: The Stubborn Lord releases 2013 in ebook and print.

If you’re new to my work, this series is by far a reader favorite. And, since I love reading things in order, instead of excerpting book 6, I’ll start you off with book 1.

Dragon Lords 1: The Barbarian Prince

Futuristic Romance

Breaking up was never so hard…

Going undercover at Galaxy Brides as one of the prospective mates to these Viking-like barbarians, Morrigan has no intention of getting chosen to stay. But when Ualan of the Draig picks her to be his wife with the aid of his mystically glowing crystal, it is all she can do to say no.

Waking up from a drug-induced night of torturous and unfulfilling pleasures, Morrigan discovers her spaceship has left without her and Ualan is claiming she is his wife. It’s not exactly the story this reporter had in mind. And to make matters worse, Ualan refuses to take no for an answer.

Being cursed by the Gods was never so frustrating…

Prince Ualan is like all others of his race on the male dominated planet of Qurilixen. He is raised to trust the mystic powers around him and when it comes time to marry, he is ready to follow those powers to choose his life mate. When the stubborn, yet achingly beautiful, Morrigan refuses to accept their shared fate and his supreme authority over her, it is all he can do not to break her lovely neck.

Rating: Contains graphic sexual content, adult language, and violence.

Chapter One EXCERPT

Must be 18 years and older to read. If not, please stop reading.

Chapter One

Wanted: Galaxy Brides Corporation seeking 46 fertile, able-bodied Earth females of early childbearing years and A5+ health status for marriage to strong, healthy Qurilixian males at their annual Breeding Festival. Possibility of royal attendance. Must be eager bed-partners, hard workers. Virginity a plus. Apply with A5 health documents, travel papers, and IQ screen to: Galaxy Brides, Phantom Level 6, X Quadrant, Earthbase 5792461.

The idea had been simple. Uncover illegal virgin trading practices by Galaxy Brides. For years it had been rumored that Galaxy Brides used outlawed medic units to restore women’s virginity. Virgins meant more trade with the numerous barbaric, male-populated, humanoid planets eager for fresh, young Earth brides. If the story broke, it would be huge. It was just the sort of thing to make a star reporter’s career. It was just the thing to bring down evil breeding corporations that sold women to the highest bidder.

Morrigan Blake was just such a reporter–or so she thought. However, the medic units where such procedures took place were nearly impossible to find since they looked like any other medic unit. It would take a series of diagnostic tests to reveal the chip sequencing necessary for virginity replacement. She would just have to get the women to talk to her, which hadn’t been easy either. The brides were being compensated well for their participation.



All right, thought Morrigan wryly, as she stared absently at her bare feet in the pedicure basin. Breeding corporations aren’t exactly evil and virginity replacement isn’t illegal in all quadrants.

The small metallic hands of the beauty droid worked frantically at her toes, as another pulled her dark hair into a traditional Qurilixian upsweep. Curls were left to hang down her back in long, thick waves. The droid had used a hair extender to get her normally short locks to grow. The weight was heavy on her neck and hard to get used to.

Morrigan was in the spaceship’s expansive beauty parlor with the rest of the prospective brides getting ready for the official docking later that evening. They had spent the last month being pampered and primped for tonight. Looking down at her legs, Morrigan gave a half smile. If nothing else, the trip had given her a lot of free benefits–permanent hair removal, a body enhancing lift, and time to contemplate the perfect color for her toenails.

Galaxy Red number one or Galaxy Red number two? Okay, she was definitely getting bored.

According to her editor, she was to do a soft, romantic piece on the four Qurilixian Princes and their possible attendance at the festival. It had been sixty years since royalty attended a festival in search of a bride, and women on earth were always eager to devour details of far off royal romances and intrigue.

The last piece she did on the Lophibian royal wedding had boosted newspaper chip sales nearly forty percent and the Lophibian were a slime-dwelling species covered in scales. She had spent four months in the swamplands covered in bluish-green goo. Though the tinting effect it had on her hair had been lovely, Morrigan would not relive that trip for the world.

This was definitely a better assignment. If she could uncover a scandal and interview at least one of the four Princes, she could get two stories from one trip. Not to mention, she would be in for a huge promotion and pay raise. Plus, it did help that the men were rumored to be healthy, virile specimens and would photograph particularly well. Cute men sold chips.

It wouldn’t be easy. There were no known pictures of the men on file and they were notorious for not giving interviews, especially about their private festivals. Oh, if she could pull this off! Maybe then she could get that vacation back to her own apartment she so badly deserved. She wondered if she remembered where exactly her apartment was.

“What about you, Rigan? Have you finished your Qurilixian etiquette uploads?” asked a nearby woman from her beauty seat. Her voice was soft and polite, matching her kind blue eyes. Her light brown hair whirled around her head in a frenzy caused by six robot hands. She was very careful not to move.

Morrigan turned at the sound of her name and gave Nadja a light smile. No one on the ship knew who she really was. They all thought her to be another excited bride in search of virile, warrior males Qurilixen was rumored to produce. To be chosen was an honor, or so the other women claimed. Morrigan’s thoughts, on the other hand, went to a meat market, and they were the prime cut.

“Didn’t you know?” laughed Gena next to Nadja. Her red hair was finished and her beauty droid was placing the customary short veil over the curly auburn locks. “Rigan finished her Qurilixian uploads first. It would seem she is most eager to please her new husband.”

“Or to be pleased by him,” added someone from across the circular room.

Morrigan closed her eyes, ignoring the abrasive women. Honestly, she didn’t understand them. Sure, some of them were nice enough and even seemed intelligent and from a well educated background– like the softly spoken Nadja. But why in the galaxy someone would subject themselves to this trade was beyond her.

Being alone wasn’t so bad. She had no one to answer to, except her boss, Gus. He never bothered her unless she was late with a story. She called her own shots, made her own deals. She never had to bother with a guy looking over her shoulder asking when she would be back from her assignment. Or deal with the jealousy that would inevitably come from a mission like this.

Though, mused Morrigan, forever trying to see all sides of a story though she wasn’t always successful in doing so, it would be nice to have someone to talk to on late nights. Someone to rub my feet when they are sore. Someone to … She smiled. Hey, I’ll just take this beauty droid home with me.

“I wish I could be so ambitious. I’m afraid I didn’t watch a single one of those boring uploads.”

Morrigan couldn’t tell who was talking since her eyes were closed. She hoped the others would think she napped so she didn’t have to join in the nervous banter. She was afraid her excitement would be transparent. She was, after all, close to a big paycheck.

Morrigan had spent most of the first week on the ship’s computer uploading Qurilixen facts into her brain. The rush of information had given her a wicked migraine, but it was well worth it since it freed up the rest of the trip for work. Already she had written, and transmitted, the beginning of her soft romance piece.

For weeks, her head had swum with too many of the planet’s facts. It was on the outer edge of the Y quadrant, inhabited by primitive males similar to Viking clans of Medieval Earth. The Qurilixian worshipped many Gods, favored natural comforts to modern technical conveniences, and actually preferred to cook their own food without the aid of a simulator. They were classified as a warrior class, though they had been peaceful for nearly a century–aside from petty territorial skirmishes that broke out every fifteen or so years between a few of the rival houses.

The information she hadn’t uploaded was mostly concerned with the wedding ceremony itself and a bit about the culture and law. She doubted the wedding was any different from the other formal ceremonies on the planet. Morrigan didn’t plan on getting married while she was there, but hopefully she could see a ceremony and get some pictures. Whatever tidbits she couldn’t pick up along the way, she could upload into her brain on the trip home.

Morrigan smiled wryly to herself. She was definitely going to be one of the ‘unlucky’ losers who got a free trip back. Hadn’t the corporation already warned that not all the brides would be chosen?

“I tried on my gown this afternoon,” said Gena, unintentionally breaking into Morrigan’s thoughts. She pushed up her generous chest beneath the robe. “They are gorgeous, but I think I am going to go get my breasts enhanced again–just a little bigger–and I’m going to have my nipples enlarged. Those Princes won’t be able to resist me. Maybe I’ll marry all four of them, just for fun.”

“How will you know who the Princes are?” asked a blonde from across the room. Morrigan buried her laugh behind her folded hand at the cynical words, recognizing Pia. Now, strangely, this seemed to be a woman who shared her uninterested views on marriage. “I’ve heard that all the men wear disguises. You could end up with a royal guard.”

“Or a gardener,” offered a brunette with a laugh.

“I hear they wear practically nothing at all,” added a woman with flaming red hair and sparkling green eyes the color of emeralds. “Except the mask and some fur.”

“You can’t miss royalty,” Gena said boldly with a kittenish smile of excitement. “You’ll see it in the way they move.”

Morrigan stood as her droid finished. She looked down at her own enhanced breasts showing from the gap in her white robe. They were a size larger than she was used to. It had been part of the company’s complimentary beauty enhancement services for their part in the trip. They were real, just genetically altered for perfection. At first, she didn’t like them. But, as she got used to the weight, she found they actually filled in her clothing quite nicely. She just hoped none of the men back at the office took too much notice.

Their spacecraft was outfitted with the best accommodations and services the star system had to offer. Personal droids were assigned to each passenger, and cooking units in each of their quarters could materialize almost any culinary delight, without straying from the strict mineral diets the corporation had them on. Even the doctor was mechanical.

The only company the women had been allowed the last month of travel had been each other. They were quarantined, to insure nothing unseemly happened, in what was affectionately referred to as the harem. The only communication with the ship’s crew was by video relay. The brides were valuable merchandise. The quarantine had provided for a very anxious, catlike atmosphere between the competing women. Morrigan frowned. She was in apparent need of some company with testosterone.

As the other droids finished, the prospective brides began to slowly make their way back to their personal quarters to dress. Nervous excitement infectiously buzzed through the air as they tried their best to look unconcerned. Ignoring them all, Morrigan slipped her ID card from her pocket and slid it past the laser sensor to open her door.

Once alone, she sighed as she made her way past the array of machines and blinking sensors that illuminated different parts of the room as her presence registered. With a small, absentminded command from Morrigan, music played softly in the background. She retrieved a glass of scotch from the simulator, her customary drink before landing on a new planet. It helped to steady her nerves and to keep her wits about her.

Slowly, she went to an oval window full of sparkling stars. In the distance she could see the reddish-brown surface of the small planet of Qurilixen. Lifting the glass to the orb, she muttered, “Cheers.”

She sighed at the burn as the drink slid down her throat. Then, reaching behind the curl of the window’s metal ledge, Morrigan pulled out a hidden container. She pushed the oval button on top, causing the lid to slide open.

Glancing around to make sure her droid was not in the room, she slid a clear recording disc onto her finger and stuck it into her eye. She blinked several times to get it into place before slipping a ring onto her pinkie finger. The sparkling emerald stone glittered in the mock firelight coming from the ship’s fake fireplace.

The journey was nearly over and no one had said anything about the virginity conspiracy. She hated to admit it, but there just might not be a story at all. The rumors were vague at best. But Morrigan knew from living with the other women for a month, just which ones would be experienced in the way of men. She would just have to wait for the marriages to be complete before seeing who was proclaimed pure. Then she would have her story and, hopefully, she would be able to prove it.

* * * *

The docking door of the ship hid the Qurilixian men from view, but the woman could hear the music and laughter just beyond the hatch. Dusk was setting on the normally sunny planet, marking the beginning of the one dark night of festival. Normally, a soft green haze of light plagued the planet’s surface.

Qurilixen had three suns–two yellow and one blue–and one moon, which made for a peculiarly bright planet. The green leaves of the planet’s foliage were overlarge due to the excessive heat and moisture they received. The trees towered high above the planet’s surface, like overgrown redwoods. Some of their trunks were as large around as the houses back on Earth.

The brides waited, single file, in the corridor leading out of the ship’s port. Their bodies were covered in the fine gauze and silk of the traditional Qurilixian gowns. The slinky material stirred against the skin when they moved, hugging tight over the hips and flaring out around the legs in thin strips. Soft silk shoes encased their feet.

Morrigan looked down over her nearly exposed body and gave a wry smile. Since this was undoubtedly a male planet, men had assuredly designed these outfits. The gowns fell low over the breasts to reveal a generous cleavage. A belt of sorts went across their backs. But, instead of looping in the front, they continued to the sides, holding the wrists low like silken chains, and winding half way up the arm to lock over the elbows. The women couldn’t lift their arms over their heads.

Qurilixian women were rare due to the blue radiation the planet suffered from. Over the generations it had altered the men’s genetics to produce only strong, large male, warrior heirs. Maybe once in a thousand births was a Qurilixian female born. In the old days, they had used portals to snatch brides from their homes, bringing them back to their planet. There were even rumors that their species originated on Earth, but there was no proof.

The fact that they had no women of their own was why the services of corporations like Galaxy Brides were so invaluable to them. In return, the Qurilixian would mine valuable metal that was only found in their caves. The metal was a great power source for long-voyaging starships, all but useless to the Qurilixian who preferred living as simply as possible. They were not known as explorers.

Sensing the line was about to move, Morrigan looked forward and pressed the emerald on her finger two times to take a quick picture of the waiting women for her article. The recorder in her eye blinked black, signifying it was working. Later, she would be able to download the images.

Outside the ship, she could see the soft glow of crackling firelight from a giant bonfire pit. The smell of burning wood mingled with nature’s exotic perfume. The Qurilixian moon overhead was large and bright, the biggest moon she had ever seen standing on a planet’s surface. The bonfire flames lapped at the starry night, sending sparks into the cool air. She could not see into the distance, she noticed, and only got a vague impression of a mountain.

Morrigan stepped forward and the cheers of rowdy men on the festival ground washed over her. Morrigan blushed despite herself, feeling almost naked in her ‘sacrificial’ attire.

The grounds were set up with large pyramid tents. Torches lit dim earthen pathways. Ribbons and banners floated on the breeze in many brilliant colors. Near the back, the married men sat in throne-like chairs with their wives firmly upon their laps. Morrigan was happy to discover that her information so far seemed correct. By their long hair and tunic style clothing, they appeared very much like the Vikings. The married women could be heard laughing as they watched the spectacle of those barbarians too young to participate in this year’s festival shout and pose for the prospective brides.

Morrigan swallowed nervously. Some of the women in front of her modeled before the watching crowd. She had the sudden urge to walk around them in an attempt to avoid the direct stage the docking platform had become. Dealing with slime-dwelling slugs was one thing–but humanoids? And not just any humanoids–strong, virile, women-starved, healthy, male humanoids. At the last minute, she remembered to snap a picture of the married couples and of the campgrounds.

“Oh, my!” exclaimed Gena in a breathless murmur, leaning forward to peer over Morrigan’s shoulder. “Do you see them, Rigan? With men like that, who cares if you marry the gardener?”

Morrigan followed the woman’s eyes, curiously looking down the docking plank to the ground. The bachelors, standing below them, were indeed handsome. Although those behind the men laughed and a few continued to pose their muscles, the true bachelors held perfectly still. Their bronzed bodies were like statues, with only their lungs expanding and contracting to show they lived.

Morrigan wanted to run back inside. Her feet refused to move. That was until Gena gave her an eager shove to get her descending down the plank.

The Qurilixian males were every inch the proud warrior class they were rumored to be, some even seemed to tower nearly seven feet tall in height. Fur loincloths wrapped around their fit waists to leave bare their muscular legs and chests. The fire glistened off their smooth, oiled skin. Golden bands of intricate design clasped around sinewy biceps. From their solid necks hung crystals bound with leather straps.

Morrigan’s heart began to pound, partly in fear and partly in excitement. The sexual tension on the ship had been potent for the last month. Until that moment, Morrigan had been able to resist its lurid pull. But there was something to being at the campground–something erotic in its smell of burning wood and its rustic, yet colorful, sights. Music played, primal and earthy in the background, hypnotic, enticing, gyrating in its rhythms.

Black leather masks covered the men’s faces, hiding them from forehead to upper lip. Their lustful eyes shone bright from the eye slits, like liquid metal, or was it her imagination? Morrigan didn’t know.

Captured by a spell, she suddenly realized she was walking down an aisle made up of hot flesh on each side. They were so tall that the crowd behind them disappeared from view. She glanced to one side and then the other. Her heart continued to pound. Blood rushed inside her ears, deafening her.

Somehow, her feet managed to keep moving, propelling her forward in line. The watching crowd had gotten quiet as the bachelors studied the women, concentrating on them with their serious eyes and harshly pressed lips. Then her heart–and time–stopped. Her breath caught in her throat at meeting a solid blue gaze beneath a mask. The man’s eyes narrowed and a slow, leisurely smile commanded her attention to his lips. The crystal about his neck began to pulse and glow with a white light.

Morrigan felt the cool night breeze caress the tops of her breasts, as real as a hand against her skin. Chills worked their way over her bare throat and face. Her short, blue veil fluttered over her dark locks. Her hand lifted without her commanding it to, as if to reach out. It was held back by the silk shackles of her belt.

Blinking slowly, the man nodded at her in greeting. She turned her head to watch as she passed by him. His smile dropped from his features, replaced by passionate intent and electrifying promises. Morrigan shivered as her heart began to race anew.

As she moved forward through the remaining line of men, she looked around. The others were handsome, but none caught her notice or returned her gaze for very long. And none were as spellbinding as the man with the radiant blue eyes had been. She wondered at the curious feeling in her veins each time she thought of it. She wanted to look back, but her neck refused to turn. He was so like all the others and yet somehow different.

Making her way to a raised platform laden with a gigantic feast, Morrigan forgot all about the emerald on her finger and her newspaper assignment.

BUY LINK

http://ravenhappyhour.com/The_Barbarian_Prince.html

New Contract with Entangled Publishing

I can finally share. It’s official! I’m an Entangled Publishing Covet author with a BRAND NEW magickal series starting 2014! SQUEE… Scottish heros, magick, modern day, filled with paranormal… it’s a really fun series. Can’t wait to tell you more!

Also a huge thanks to the Entangled team and the authors. They’ve been an awesome, welcoming group. I’m thrilled to be part of the Covet team.

A Midnight Seduction by Michelle M Pillow

Paranormal Romance

After her mother’s death three years ago, Audrey Hayes is mildly content to run the greenhouse left to her. She has a good life, though she is alone. Then, on All Hallows’ Eve, a man walks into the store looking for her mother, Clara.

Porter is a full blooded lycan sent to collect Clara and bring her back to the Dark Realm to be with Audrey’s vampire father so they may conceive a child by midnight in fulfillment of the elfin prophecy, or both their worlds will be lost to demons forever. Instead, he discovers Clara is dead and must he take her daughter instead —a woman who has no clue she’s even of supernatural descent. Getting Audrey to the realm is the easy part, it’s convincing her to join him in fulfilling the prophecy that proves to be a challenge.

This book was previously published in an anthology.

EXCERPT

Must be 18 years and older to read. If not, please leave the site.

Chapter One

“Tick or teat, smell my feet!” a little voice chimed. Audrey Hayes looked up from the shop counter and smiled. The round cherub face of a four year old was painted red like a demon, but the big brown eyes looked better suited to a cute little puppy dog.

“Ew,” Audrey flinched, shaking her head and wrinkling her nose in mock disgust. “I don’t want to smell your stinky feet. Gross!”

The child giggled and Audrey loaded his little plastic bucket down with candy. The kid’s dad was a customer and he smiled kindly, urging the boy to say thank you.

“Tank you!” he chirped, before remembering he was a scary demon. He held up his hands to make claws, as he growled.

Audrey jumped back and pretended to be scared. “Oh, no! Don’t hurt me!”

The boy giggled and they left. Looking around her shop, she sighed. She’d owned the Dorian Greenhouse since her mother died three years before, leaving it to her. Her mother had been a witch, well a ‘naturalist’. Audrey had always teased her that she was a witch. Her mother had just always smiled and said, ‘You never know dear, you never know.’

Audrey had been pretty close to her mother. Clara had been eighteen when she got pregnant with her by the captain of the football team. She’d never met her father.

Audrey grinned as another group of monsters and a sorely outnumbered princess ballerina came in for candy. She liked to stay open late on Halloween for her customers’ children. It was, after all, her favorite holiday. The kids got a kick out of walking through her spooky haunted greenhouse out back. She’d hired a few high school students to watch over them to make sure no one and nothing was hurt—like her plant inventory. They also rattled leaves around to scare the kids. It was all in good fun.

Outside it was evening. The sun had just set and she’d be closing her doors in about an hour. Not many kids seemed to stay out past dusk trick-or-treating anymore. She couldn’t blame the parents. It’s not like when she was little. Neighbors had known each other back then and there was no ‘razorblades in the candy bar’ scare to contend with. Audrey wasn’t sure if that was just a myth or had actually happened to someone, but if she was a parent, she’d not take chances.

Frowning, she sighed as a wave of loneliness rolled through her. She went to reload her candy bowl with tooth-decaying goodness. What was she thinking? She’d never be a parent—not unless she met a man with a ready- made family or she adopted. Part of her wanted a baby desperately, but a serious infection when she was little had left her sterile, so she knew it wasn’t possible. Anyway, with no prospective man in her life, and no love life or sex life to speak of, the idea of a family had never seemed so far away.

The door chime went off and Audrey made her way back to the counter with the candy. A man stood just behind the front display, a look of distaste on his handsome face. Brown hair spilled in gentle waves to his shoulders, framing his dark features. She felt her heart speed up. His profile was to her as he glanced around—strong European nose, bold lips, perfectly chiseled features. Her body grew hot and she had to keep her knees from buckling by leaning on the countertop for support.

Damn! He was gorgeous, like a Greek God sent down to torment mortal women with his mere presence. Her whole body came to life just looking at him. It was strange for her to react so strongly to a man, but she was instantly drawn to him.

Audrey took a deep breath, trying to calm the very wanton sensations causing hot moisture to gather between her thighs. Her eyes closed and she got the strangest flash of being leaned over the countertop and fucked by him from behind. It was so real that she could practically feel his cock inside her.

She shivered. What was she doing? This man was probably out with his kids and wife! Any second now the happy family would come trotting through the door, and the wife would be a gorgeous supermodel, and they’d both speak Italian and…

Her thoughts faltered as his dark brown eyes turned around to meet hers. The spark inside her continued to grow at his look and she felt the strongest urge to jump over the countertop and wrap her arms around him. He blinked, smiling slightly, his firm lips curling up at the side.

As he came from behind the front display into view, she saw he wore tight black leather pants. They molded to him like a second skin. He had tight calves and strong thighs with a large bulge in between them. His dark shirt was just as tight and Audrey wondered what it would be like to rip it off him right then and there.

What is wrong with me?! Say something clever, her mind yelled, even as her throat went dry. Say something! Anything! Just stop staring at him and picturing him naked.

“You’re a little old to be trick or treating aren’t you?” Audrey forced a laugh, continuing to eye the handsome man. Her voice wasn’t as strong as she would’ve liked, but at least the words came out light.

“I am looking for Clara,” the gorgeous man stated.

Audrey was disappointed to note his voice only held the barest trace of an accent. Damn. She’d been so sure he’d have a strong accent. Still, his voice was wickedly low and smooth enough to give her chills. Altering the fantasy playing in the back of her mind, she felt a wave of desire again assault her. Oh, yeah, his voice would do just fine.

“I’m sorry,” Audrey answered, doing her best to keep up the polite smile she gave him. It was hard to talk with her heart in her throat. Her mind raced for what he’d said, and finally she answered, “Clara’s not here.”

The man came forward and she saw a look of desperation cross in his eyes. “I must speak with her—tonight. Please, tell me, where might I find her? She’s…expecting me.”

“Listen, I’m sorry. Clara was my mother. She died three years ago in a car accident,” Audrey said, keeping her voice light. How on Earth did this man know her mother? Clara had looked young, being as this would’ve only been her thirty-ninth year.

“No,” he said, more to himself and she could but wonder at it. He glanced around and then turned to study her. “You own this place?”

“Yes,” Audrey answered with a small nod. The door chimed and a group of children rushed in. Audrey smiled at them and then glanced at the handsome stranger, “Excuse me one moment.”

“Are…are you like your mother?” he asked, ignoring the fact that she walked away from him.

Audrey sighed. Great. Just her luck. She’d finally feel a spark of burning desire for a man and he’d only want to talk about her mother. It wasn’t the first time. Her mother had always naturally drawn attention to herself. Couldn’t this one have just been married? She ignored his question, politely teasing the kids. Peeking through the corner of her eye, she saw he looked very annoyed by the interaction.

When the kids were gone, he stated, “Clara never gave out candy and dressed up for All Hallows’ Eve. It really isn’t a time to celebrate.”

Audrey blinked in surprise, looking down at her outfit. Her long sleeve black t-shirt had a skeleton on it, but she’d hardly call that a costume. “How do you know that? How exactly did you know my mother? Who are you?”

His mouth opened to answer and he looked uncomfortable. He glanced away, before placing his palms flat on the counter. “I’m Porter. Are you sure it was a car accident that killed her?”

Audrey nodded. The memory of it brought her pain and she had to fight down the burning of tears. “Yes. Strangely enough it was caught by a news crew filming a local festival. She was hit by a drunk driver in broad daylight. It was very…sudden.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Porter answered. “Very sorry.”

“Thank you,” Audrey nodded. The whole affair was a blur. She barely recalled the funeral, except as a bad dream. “Now, how did you say you knew my mother?”

“I didn’t,” Porter returned. He began walking away from her, craning his neck as he looked around the shop. “Tell me, do you know why she called this Dorian Greenhouse?”

“Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray. It was her favorite book. That’s what she told me,” Audrey answered. “She was eccentric like that.”

“No,” Porter said, laughing slightly. “She named it after your father, Dorian Risdon—Lord Dorian Risdon.”

BUY NOW

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FAQ: End of a Series

A FAQ came up again today about getting more books in a series / or why did I end a series that had so much more room to grow.

Don’t panic. I am not threatening to end Dragon Lords and the other futuristic series.



For me, namely the collections that are listed as trilogies, like Call of the Lycan, Naughty Cupid, and Lords of the Aybss.

Here are a few reasons as to why a series might end:

There is so much more in deciding if a series will continue beyond my love of writing it. Sales, unit numbers, etc, have a big say in whether publishers (or me as an author) can afford to keep putting out books. **It’s extremely important when the book is first released because that’s when people are paying the most attention.** Editors, final line editors, covers, formatting, printing, distribution, marketing, etc all take time and money to be done right. This is why I always stress to readers how important it is to let people know and leave reviews for the books you love. The more the word is spread, the better the series’s odds. Publishing is a business and writing is an art. The two have to be crammed together despite the clearly different motivations behind them.

I know that some of my series were hit hard by piracy, which hurt sale numbers. It’s a fact of the business. I know some other authors who stopped a series because of rampant piracy. But, that’s not the only reason. And I’m not turning this post into a lecture on piracy. Stealing is wrong. End of comment.

Sometimes, a publisher ends an imprint (something that’s not always about the authors as much as publisher business). If I know a series will be stopping (or possibly stopping) I do my best to wrap everything up. Like with the last Matthews Sister. The imprint was ending and there was no where for a new book to go, no matter that it had/has solid sales. So, the decision was made to end the series and luckily for me it was a good place to do so.

Publishers and authors part ways, or contractual limits. Sometimes, we all just can’t get along (or outgrow what one can give the other) and it’s best to do the mature thing and stop working together. Sometimes, contracts tie our hands and we can’t do more until a much later date.

A natural ending. Sometimes the stories are just done. They’re told and there is no more to say.

The good news. For me, at least, there’s never really a NEVER when it comes to older series. If there is a renewed interest shown by sales numbers, reviews, etc, then series can be revived. I like to call these the sleeper hits.

Michelle Pillow: *NEW* Dragon Lords, Oct 2013 Author Newsletter

October 2013

Dear Readers,

I’m very happy to announce that  Dragon Lords 7: The Reluctant Lord has been released early on Kindle. The official release date for print and ebook is December 28, 2013. But, thanks to the hard work of some awesome people (no just not me *wink* but the awesome editor Heidi Moore and the terrific Mandy M. Roth) this book is available 3 months early!

EVERYONE!! can read the ebook early.

For those of you who don’t own a Kindle, you can download a free reader onto your computer, iphone/pad, blackberry, andriod, win 8, tablet, pc…. It’s also worldwide, not just the US. Free reading apps on the book page, right side, under the buy buttons.

Also New: I have new audio books releasing continuously over the next several months. Be sure to check them out!  And, there are now novella book bundles for sale, so you can get a full trilogy collection, cheaper.

Dragon Lords 7: The Reluctant Lord

Official Release: December 28, 2013

Early Kindle Only Release: September 27, 2013

Polished, dignified and reserved in all things. That is a true nobleman.

Lady Clara of the Redding, a living statue of perfection, has been raised a true Redde noblewoman. She has been taught to never show emotion, to never raise her voice, to touch as little as possible, and to never act wildly or rashly. According to her people’s custom, the new generation cannot begin until the current one is settled. She is the last of her siblings without a husband and her pregnant sisters will remain in stasis until she’s married.

After Clara denies all suitable males on her home world, her parents are left with one choice—send her to a primitive planet where several noblemen await marriage. The men hardly appear picky about their choices, a perfect arrangement for a reluctant bride.

An uninhibited woman to match his untamed soul. That would be his ideal wife.

Lord Vladan, Ealdorman Honorary of the Draig is not like his noble brothers. Adopted into their family after a mining accident killed his parents, he is every bit as titled as his new brothers, and every bit as welcome into the fold. Yet he can’t help but feel the pull of his commoner past. He loves his family, and will always do as duty demands, but a part of him still yearns to shift into dragon form and run free in the wild. It is a side he indulges every chance he gets. This is how he knows his bride will be the most wild of creatures, for he wants passion, not perfection. Surely the gods are mistaken when they bind him to the most refined, reserved, frustratingly perfect creature in the universe.

Warning: This book contains an alpha male reluctant to take his place as a nobleman preferring to run free in the forest and a woman unwilling to marry anything but a cultured and refined gentleman. Oh, and she doesn’t like to get dirty…well, until now. Contains adult content.

ORDER: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00FGWFS9A/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00FGWFS9A&linkCode=as2&tag=michellpillow-20

Read an excerpt, show your “like” and “tweet” love, or buy from non-US sites:

http://www.michellepillow.com/thereluctantlord.html

 

New Audio Books!

Lilith Enraptured (Divinity Warriors 1) by Michelle M. Pillow

http://www.audible.com/pd/Romance/Lilith-Enraptured-Audiobook/B00F2L0U02

Sorin of Firewall lives in a land forever at war. In fact, the Starian men are so busy fighting, their marriage ceremony has been reduced to a ‘will of the gods’ event where they simply pick a woman out of a lineup and claim her as a wife. With women becoming scarce, it’s necessary to trade the offworld Divinity Corporation for brides. Duty-bound to attend the ceremony, he has no intention of picking a bride, let alone one from another dimension. That is, until he sees Lilith, the bewitching woman sent by the gods to reward – or punish? – him…

Lilith, a data analyst for Divinity, is betrayed by the Corporation and wakes up in a primitive, uncharted dimension filled with warriors who only know war and duty. But her initial fears of becoming a sex slave to a big beefy knight become all too real when a warrior of god-like proportions claims she’s his new woman. As Lilith discovers, there are worse fates than being the focus of Sorin’s skillful and earthy seduction.

Rating: Contains graphic sexual content, adult language, and violence. This novel contains adult content. Must be 18 years or older to enjoy.

 

Fighting Lady Jayne (Divinity Warriors 2) by Michelle M. Pillow

http://www.audible.com/pd/Erotica-Sexuality/Fighting-Lady-Jayne-Audiobook/B00FEMK2S4

Jayne Hart has earned her independence by becoming Divinity Corporation’s inter-dimensional boxing champion. Life is great, until a dirty fighter knocks her unconscious. Now, abandoned by the corporation in a parallel world, Jayne will use every weapon she has to be free once more. Even if it means running from her sexy new “husband” and spending the rest of her life in a primitive forest.

Ronen of Firewall longs for a woman to warm his bed and his home, but he had no intention of choosing a bride. In an unprecedented move, one chooses him. Never in the history of the breeding ceremony has a woman dared to lay claim. How can he resist the alluring Lady Jayne? She’s confident and sure in her decision to be with him – until their wedding night when she’s nowhere to be found. But, Ronen is not one to shy from a battle.

He will find Jayne and, when he does, he has one particular “weapon” in mind for taming his seductive, wayward wife.

Rating: Contains graphic sexual content, adult language, and violence. This novel contains adult content. Must be 18 years or older to enjoy.

Thank you for being awesome!

Reader Help: Readers, if you are so inclined, please remember to leave *honest* online reviews of the books you love. Most online retailers have a way for you do to do this. It can be as simple as a star rating or a full review, and I can’t stress enough how much this helps author rankings (equaling more books  from that author/series like the Dragon Lords). Also, be sure to share the books with your friends through social media. I can’t thank you for your support. You all rawk!

 

Website Feature: Now you can easily share and tweet the books you like. On each individual book page is a like and tweet button. It’s an easy way to help me spread the word about the books, something I can’t thank you all enough for. Without readers like you I wouldn’t have a job, and I love my job. Thank you!

To get started, you can see the like/tweet buttons here: http://www.michellepillow.com/thereluctantlord.html

Happy Reading!

Michelle M. Pillow

Tweet Me: @MichellePillow

Facebook Me (actually that sounds painful, just follow instead lol):

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Website: www.MichellePillow.com

Get the newsletter to your inbox instead:

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*squee* The Reluctant Lord (Dragon Lords) *NEW* EARLY RELEASE! by Michelle M. Pillow

*NEW* EARLY RELEASE! *squee* The Reluctant Lord (Dragon Lords) by Michelle M. Pillow

I’m very happy to announce that Dragon Lords 7: The Reluctant Lord has been released early on Kindle. The official release date for print and ebook is December 28, 2013. But, thanks to the hard work of some awesome people (no just not me *wink* but the awesome editor Heidi Moore and the terrific Mandy M. Roth) this book is available 3 months early!

 

Dragon Lords 7: The Reluctant Lord

Futuristic Shapeshifter Romance

Official Release: December 28, 2013

Early Kindle Only Release: September 27, 2013

Polished, dignified and reserved in all things. That is a true nobleman.

Lady Clara of the Redding, a living statue of perfection, has been raised a true Redde noblewoman. She has been taught to never show emotion, to never raise her voice, to touch as little as possible, and to never act wildly or rashly. According to her people’s custom, the new generation cannot begin until the current one is settled. She is the last of her siblings without a husband and her pregnant sisters will remain in stasis until she’s married.

After Clara denies all suitable males on her home world, her parents are left with one choice—send her to a primitive planet where several noblemen await marriage. The men hardly appear picky about their choices, a perfect arrangement for a reluctant bride.

An uninhibited woman to match his untamed soul. That would be his ideal wife.

Lord Vladan, Ealdorman Honorary of the Draig is not like his noble brothers. Adopted into their family after a mining accident killed his parents, he is every bit as titled as his new brothers, and every bit as welcome into the fold. Yet he can’t help but feel the pull of his commoner past. He loves his family, and will always do as duty demands, but a part of him still yearns to shift into dragon form and run free in the wild. It is a side he indulges every chance he gets. This is how he knows his bride will be the most wild of creatures, for he wants passion, not perfection. Surely the gods are mistaken when they bind him to the most refined, reserved, frustratingly perfect creature in the universe.

 

Warning: This book contains an alpha male reluctant to take his place as a nobleman preferring to run free in the forest and a woman unwilling to marry anything but a cultured and refined gentleman. Oh, and she doesn’t like to get dirty…well, until now. Contains adult content.

Read an excerpt, show your “like” and “tweet” love, or buy from non-US sites:

http://www.michellepillow.com/thereluctantlord.html

Redeemer of Shadows by Michelle M Pillow

Chapter One

London, England

Stormy blue eyes rounded in shock, glancing in all directions. Surely she couldn’t be in the right place. This hidden, modish London nightclub looked nothing like her aunt Georgia’s description of a delectably auspicious café run by a middle-aged couple from Germany.

“Maybe in Germany their idea of delectable includes licking various body parts in public,” Hathor mused wryly, trying to mask her nervousness from the crowd. Again her gaze darted around, but none seemed to pay attention to the lonely spectator in their midst. She wanted to laugh, thinking of her old aunt, the owner of an upper crust English bed-and-breakfast, reclining on one of the very decadent couches lined before the stage. Then, realizing that the liberal Georgia could very well come to such a place, she did giggle. Had her aunt tricked her into getting out of the house?

No, Hathor thought with a firm shake of her head, Georgie wouldn’t have gone to this extreme.

The club looked like an underground dance hall and brothel straight out of the turn of the twentieth century, with a dark and modern twist. Leather g-string panties with gem-studded adornments clasped against the bronzed and glittering skin of the dancers as they sauntered past the curtain to take their place on the narrow stone stage.

The dancers’ dark faces smiled in wicked promise as they glided through the smoke-filled air. Their spike-shaped bras were tipped with steel and gleamed as they thrust their breasts forward with wild abandon. The thump of their high-heeled boots ground out a lusty rhythm, pounding steadily with the beat of the hard music and the aroused shrills of excited spectators.

Hathor huddled in the entryway, refusing to make her way through the scattered tables to the trendy stone and cushion benches. Her blue floral sundress seemed oddly out of place amidst the leather, rubber and furs hugging the teasing peaks of naked flesh. She gripped her purse closely to her chest, drawing no comfort from the conservative handbag as her fingers worked against the beaded pattern of the front. Never had she felt so conscious or so very aware of herself.

You’re in London, she thought, doing her best not to be overwhelmed.

Hathor wasn’t so much shocked as she was uneasy. The dancers attracted her eyes, even as she tried to pull her gaze away. The rhythm of the music pulsed inside of her, mesmerizing her blood with its hard and wicked sound. Her heart began to beat faster to make time. She hadn’t been invited into this place.

The forgotten stone walls, barely visible in the dimmed light, were decayed and leaked in places, like the weeping of teary, old eyes kept awake a century too long. The air was damp and cool, only slightly heated by the small crowd. To her left was a long bar, the newest fixture in the place, made to look as if carved from stone. But, oddly, few seemed to be drinking the warm glasses of liquor the portly bartender tried to dispense. The apathetic man ended up shooting back that which he poured.

Around the curious stage, lounging in the long cushioned seats, near figurines gilded with gold, sat only couples—peculiarly matched. There was a stoic businessman. His arm wrapped possessively around what Hathor could only assume was an English prostitute. A young kid, clearly American by the proud flag displayed on his shirt, crushed his lips to the exposed cleavage of a shockingly older woman. A starkly handsome man, whose dark hair hung about his shoulders to spill forth over his naked chest, naughtily licked the cheek of a balding middle-aged fellow. The balding man’s wedding ring shone bright on his finger. As his head turned, Hathor was afforded a glimpse of his passion-hazed eyes. However, it was something else that caused her to pause. Each couple seemed comprised of one captivatingly beautiful person—those only seen in movies—and one very ordinary and plain.

Eerily, the stage lights dimmed into a bloody red. The smoky air cleared in coiling snake-like patterns as a silent exhaust fan was opened in the roof of the old stone building. The crowd became quiet in respectful anticipation of the awaited performance. Eyes turned to the stage in unison, drawn to the dancers as a possessed group. A look of astonishment washed over their captivated faces as they watched. The thrusting hips of the dancers came together in sexual forthrightness.

Hathor’s eyes widened. Her face froze in stunned bewilderment. She was both fascinated and horrified, and couldn’t turn away. The chorus girls formed a kneeling circle around the platform. Her heart began to pound curiously, cemented in edging fear as she watched white illumination open in the bottom of the stage with a dramatic flash. She could hear the beating in her head, like the drumming of wild horses in flight. A figure moved in the dimming center radiance. The dancers kneeled in worship, leaning back to press their pointed breasts into the shadowed air. A slight moan escaped from the depths of the impassioned crowd, and then another.

Oh no! Hathor thought in growing desperation as she finally managed to look around. I’ve stumbled into an underground sex club. These people must be prostitutes. I don’t understand. I know I got the address right. I checked the map three times before leaving the house. Damned European cities! Why can’t you have streets that lead in a straight line? I shouldn’t be in here. Is prostitution even legal in London?

Hathor grabbed her purse, intent on checking the map once again. Her fingers shook slightly. She glanced around, wondering if she should just leave. No one seemed to be paying her any mind, and the front passageway leading to the entrance held no doorman.

Stepping a bit from the shadows into the light, she moved closer to the bar. The bartender glanced at her before throwing back another shot. His eyes couldn’t meet the crowd. Hathor’s fingers began to dig into her purse, blindly searching for the crumpled map of London’s streets. Finding it, she started to pull it out. Then, as if by a will outside herself, her eyes were drawn to the center stage. Instantly the music changed, its hard beat turning seductively soft. A strange chanting stirred in the back of her mind. The words refused to let her focus. Her body lit as if possessed by fire.

Hathor’s lips parted in a gasp before she held her breath steady and her eyes alert. The lighting dimmed to red to reveal a man who was like no other—strong arms, broad shoulders tapering to a well-formed chest, and then a slender waist.

The pulsing tones of the music fell low and captivating. The tune was from another time, erotically archaic, with the sweetly aching cry of a lonely violin. She could feel the strange thump vibrating though the stone floor. It unfurled enticingly inside her, awakening her with a quickening she never dreamed possible. It was as if a lethargic spell was being woven about her senses. Everything faded and blurred and blended from her sight but the man.

The performer was dressed all in black—snugly fitted slacks and a loose linen shirt cut in a style from the end of the nineteenth century. The old style suited him well, and he wore it with a dynamic ease that said it undoubtedly belonged on him. His dark eyes, encased by the paleness of his skin, glittering a devilish red in the light, pierced through the crowd in dominant pleasure. The defined lines of his diabolically firm mouth lifted up at one side in sensual boredom. As he lowered his chin, his gaze peered through the long tresses of his extremely dark hair. He watched the dancers flip over to push their firm backsides up for his viewing. His languid smile revealed stark white teeth, two of which were pointed into sharpened fangs.

“Vampire,” Hathor whispered in awe as he whipped his arm leisurely through the air. The man on the stage fascinated her. As she watched him, she detected his every movement as if it were part of her soul. His limbs swayed languidly in the ease of the music. She forgot where she was. Shivers racked her spine in shuddering tickles of the flesh.

Her hand fell from her purse, the bag dropping forgotten to hang at her side. Her shoulders stooped as if she couldn’t control her arms. His very presence seemed to cast shadows over everything else, mesmerizing her like a drug. In her head, she knew it was only an act, but the man had an enigmatic power about him.

“Mm, that’s Lord Servaes, the Marquis de Normant. He’s yummy.”

Hathor stiffened at the distinctly British accent that fell close to her ear. Her mind tried to wrap around the words and failed. Carefully, she glanced over her shoulder to see a barely clad woman with stark pink hair that lifted high at the bangs. She wore a cut-off tank that clung to her plentiful breasts. The dusky round tips of her nipples showed large through the flimsy material and pink vinyl hot-pants hugged her hips. Hathor forced her eyes away with a nervous pant. The woman stepped closer, nearing her side. Smiling weakly in confusion, Hathor managed, “Excuse me?”

The woman chuckled knowingly, licking her lips as her eyes drifted down to peruse Hathor’s covered breasts. With a lustful moan, body gravitated closer to brush up against the ill-fitted intruder. The light lilting of her accent ground softly as she repeated with a nod to the stage, “That vampire you were admiring—that is Servaes. He is the most sought-after lay in London. His performances are very rare indeed. You’re lucky to have gotten in. I had to sleep with Sal—that damned rotter—for a month before he would let me into this fleapit. And between you and me, that is a lot of blowjo—”

“I wasn’t,” Hathor broke in, shocked. With a weakened moan, her voice trailed off. She barely heard the woman next to her, not listening to the crude speech as the music once more invaded her. Her gaze stayed fixedly on Servaes, traveling over him, only to find that she couldn’t keep from staring at his handsome, pale face. His lips parted. Her breath caught.

“Oh, I see,” the woman continued with a smirk, her voice rising to accommodate the music as it grew louder and more fevered. The excited crowd began to groan louder with it. “You’re into the role-playing. Think it will help your chances at being picked, do you?”

“I’m sorry? Picked?” Hathor questioned in confusion. She wished the woman would go away so she could concentrate on the strange fire in her limbs. Through the corner of her eye, she saw the couples growing bolder in their public desires. The mood was contagious, urging her to throw back her head and join their mindless moans. She stood quiet, astonished by such an impulse.

“Picked by Servaes,” the woman sighed in exasperation. “Seriously, are you in the wrong place? Who invited you here?”

“No, I’m not,” Hathor stammered. “I’m meeting someone here.”

“Oh, spicing up the marriage a little,” the woman said.

“I’m not married.” Hathor frowned, not knowing why she explained. “I’m from America, staying with my aunt. She’s the only family I have.”

“Oh, of course you’re not married.” The woman winked, knowingly.

Hathor glanced at her, annoyed by her constant chatter. She turned her head once more to the stage in uncertainty. Gasping in shock as Servaes ran his hands over a new girl brought before him, she felt a potent jealousy run through her blood with the virility of an out-of-control flame. With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed the woman’s bra and the pointed spikes plummeted to the ground.

The woman’s small breasts fell forth freely. She arched her back in offering to Servaes’ lips. He leaned over to gently lick the solid nub before dismissing the girl with a dispassionate flick of his hand. Hathor detected that his face showed no pleasure from the intimate act, and yet she felt her midsection twitch with pleasurable sensations. She didn’t have time to wonder at her wanton feelings as they consumed her.

The gathering growled their approval as two of the other chorus girls began sucking and kissing the bared woman’s breasts at Servaes’ command. Their hands moved in a frenzy of desire as they glided over sweaty flesh in massaging caresses. The adored woman howled in rapturous delight as the others forced her back onto the platform.

“What are they doing?” Hathor questioned in a hurried whisper. She was unable to help her curiosity as the women tied the chosen one down. She knew she should turn and leave, knew that she was a stranger to this place, but she couldn’t draw her eyes away from the vampire.

“Those women are Servaes’ offerings. He chooses someone to be punished or, occasionally, someone to be praised. Sometimes they are both. It appears like this one is going to be punished.” The pink-haired woman grunted. Her exploring fingers strayed to her large breast, circling her nipple into a peak. The women on stage pulled the punished woman’s leather panties from her slender hips. Servaes crossed his arms as he watched in dominating approval. Her tone was a bit bitter as she mumbled, “Servaes has strange tastes. He likes to punish humans for their crimes—as if it matters.”

“Punish?” Hathor inquired, amazed. To be with such a man is punishment?

“You’ll have to watch,” the woman said in mysterious delight. Her eyes danced from Hathor to the stage.

“So what did you mean by picked?” Hathor asked, her face heating with a blush. She finally managed to draw her eyes away from the stage long enough to study the woman at her side. Seeing the woman’s hand cupping a breast beneath her tank, Hathor’s face turned completely red.

“Picked to go on stage with him,” the woman said in a husky murmur. She didn’t notice Hathor’s discomfort. Her words lowered to a whisper. “Sometimes Servaes himself will pick a woman from the crowd, and he’ll take her in front of everyone.”

“A complete stranger?” Hathor questioned, appalled. “Is that safe?”

“Oh yeah,” the woman said with a cryptic laugh. She touched her pink hair lightly. Her hips began to sway to the music in gentle thrusts of excitement. Hathor realized the woman was trying to dance with her. She tried to back away, but her heavy limbs didn’t move. “At least for Servaes it is, though it sometimes angers the one who brought the woman. I have only seen him do it once, but that man can suck—fuck. And his body—oh! I saw him pick this redhead once. Man, she had giant breasts. He made her peak so many times she could barely walk. She had to be carried from the stage by the offerings. It’s enough to keep you awake at night.”

“Well, then no, I am not here to be picked.” Hathor denied her arousal as she lifted her chin. The woman’s eyes traveled over her body with a knowing gleam, as if she could see the passion invoked within. Hathor’s breathing deepened. Her eyes focused on Servaes’ mouth. The fanged tips peeked from his slightly parted lips, causing her heart to race. His arms crossed over his chest to assume a commanding stance as he surveyed the crowd he controlled. “Wait, what do you mean you saw him pick someone before? Didn’t you say this was your first time seeing him on—?”

“Hey, I’m Ginger,” the woman interrupted.

Hathor glanced briefly in her direction. Absently, she muttered, “Hathor.”

Ginger giggled playfully. She took her finger and placed it lightly on Hathor’s shoulder. “Pleased to meet you, Hathor.” Ginger’s wandering hand grew bolder as Hathor didn’t back away. It fell completely against her arm in a chilled caress. Under her breath, the woman mumbled to herself, “You have a nice body. Why would you hide it under this hideous dress?”

Hathor only half paid attention to what the woman said as she tucked a strand of reddish-brown hair back into her bun. She wasn’t sure if she should be excited by the show or shocked. It wasn’t as if they were living in the Middle Ages. Sex was everywhere one turned—posters, billboards, cable television. She was never one to watch porn, yet here she was completely enthralled by the performance and entirely jealous of all the women on stage.

The offerings effortlessly succeeded in stripping the punished one’s clothes from her writhing body. Dozens of tongues lapped at her naked skin—over her ripened nipples, to her neck, to her exposed sex. They shackled her ankles into stirrups, holding her legs open.

“What is her crime?” an excited voice shouted from the watching crowd. Hathor recognized the older woman with her college boy.

The music lowered by degrees until it was a soft thud in the background, once more stirring the desires of those watching. The crowd’s hands grew empowered by the wickedly delectable show, and their lips found temptation in the arms of the others gathered. The bodies mingled together with the beginnings of an orgy. Flesh pressed against heated flesh as they waited for Servaes to speak. Lips parted, revealing more fangs hidden within the crowd. Their combined breaths caught up in a rhythm of sensual pleasure and denial.

Slowly, Servaes moved over the stage, keeping everyone on his own time. A smile curved his luscious mouth, and he looked over the crowd in languid perusal from his deep-set eyes. Hathor shivered as the red light glinted in his devilishly handsome gaze, looking as if it came more from within him than reflected from him. His eyes narrowed with a bright, feverish tint. Arousal, swift and strong, coursed through her veins. Hathor gasped, nearly fainting with the unexpected intensity of it.

Ginger felt her shiver and mistook its cause. Leaning closer, she fitted her moistened lips to Hathor’s throat. Hathor stood transfixed by the man on the stage. She felt teeth brush her skin, but it didn’t snap her thoughts back to awareness. At the same time Ginger kissed Hathor’s pale flesh, her hands found the rounded tilt of her confined breast.

“Crime?” Servaes stated in ominous declaration. His word was as soft as a whisper and held the deadly pleasing lilt of an old culture.

Pick me, Hathor breathed, unable to stop the thought as she watched him.

Servaes suddenly stopped moving. His serious eyes turned from the stage to dart over the crowd. The smile melted from his lips, replaced by a snarl of confusion.

“How about we go find a seat?” Ginger offered with hot pants against Hathor’s skin. “Servaes can see you better if you are in the crowd.”

Hathor gasped in shock and pulled away. This wanton attitude was not like her. She didn’t want to sleep with perfect strangers, no matter how handsome they were. The spell she felt cast about her suddenly broke. A cloud lifted from her brain, a haze melted off her limbs, seeming to run onto the floor to puddle around her feet. Shaking her head, she was suddenly very frightened. Her voice cracked, “I—”

With a pull and a gasp, Ginger’s gaze hastened to the stage. Her eyes narrowed to glare in defiance at the man on stage. Her nostrils flared. Then, almost instantly, she lifted up her hands and bowed in remorse. Hathor thought she noticed the glint of extended fangs in the woman’s mouth. Ginger backed away from her. Hathor noticed an inner flash to the woman’s eyes—pooling red with blood for an instant. The woman’s gaze flitted back to the stage and she smiled like a punished child. Yes, Ginger definitely had fangs.

The hairs on the nape of Hathor’s neck lifted as she spun back around. Her heart began to pound faster in dismay. Her breathing deepened. The crowd had gone extremely quiet. Her blood rushed loudly in her ears as she turned to see all eyes on her—the intruder in their midst. Even the offerings stopped in their task to glare at her. In a flash, no longer than a blink, she saw red trails of blood coming from the dancers’ fanged mouths, falling over their throats to disappear into the valley of their breasts. Their victim lay barely moving beneath them. In a daze, Hathor blinked heavily to see the blood was gone.

Servaes arrogantly stood on the stage. His eyes bore into her, the brown depths glowing eerily with an unfamiliar light. Suddenly, a green tint flashed over the captivating orbs. Hathor felt herself caught up in his stare. Her lungs forgot to pull air. It was as if he was inside her, searching through her thoughts, listening to her heart. Somehow he didn’t seem angry at her presence, just confused, as if he probed her for something he couldn’t find. Her body hummed as if on fire. She heard his voice in her head, whispering words she couldn’t understand, in a language she couldn’t know.

He opened his mouth as if to speak. All of a sudden, he seemed aware of where he was. No words came from his curling lips. Hathor backed away slowly from the prying eyes. Those with fangs watched her, the red stage lights reflecting off their eyes.

“He has picked,” someone whispered near Hathor’s shoulder.

Hathor shook her head slowly in denial. Her eyes stayed fixed on the Marquis. Her limbs quaked with dread. She couldn’t go on stage. What was she doing? She should have run from this place as soon as she walked in. Quickly, she backed into the shadows away from his notice. His eyes followed her, as if he could see her in the impossible darkness.

A spell trapped her limbs with a numbing force when Servaes looked at her, making it hard to move. A slight frown came over his features at her rejection of his attention. Then a smirk lined his confident lips as he turned back to the crowd. He ignored her.

“Her crime…” he stated with a wave that encompassed the room, bringing the attention back to him. Instantly, the penetrating eyes of the crowd were drawn away from her, and Hathor felt as if she could once again breathe freely. She watched him point to the offering to be punished as he continued, “is that she denied her partner release after finding her own fulfillment.”

“And her punishment?” a man with yellow underwear poking out of his unbuttoned blue jeans yelled. His hand firmly grasped the exposed breast of his fanged lover. The vampire leaned over to lick his uncovered throat as she firmly grasped his erect penis.

“Her punishment will befit the crime,” Servaes said, his thoughtful tone oddly impersonal. “She shall be brought near pleasure, but denied several times until her body runs hot with moisture and her loins pulse with unfulfilled desire. And then we shall drink from her.”

The gathered onlookers voiced their approval, half in moans and half in cheers. The punished woman wailed as an offering forced her legs further apart. The sounds she made were filled with wanton pleasure. Servaes went to stand over her. Hathor watched from the shadows, mesmerized. Reaching his hand down, the vampire hovered his fingers over the punished one’s exposed sex. The woman tried to grind her hips up into his palm. He backed the pale fingers away from her so they were just beyond her reach.

The bound woman let loose a tortured moan as she was denied his touch. Then, withdrawing his hand back into his masculine chest, he nodded at his women. Instantly, they were on the tied woman, licking and poking at her flesh with their fangs. Their searching fingers touched everywhere but her seeking center as they teased her trembling skin.

Hathor pulled back, terrified by the strong urge in her stomach. The club suddenly smelled of sex as the crowd tore at their clothing in a frenzy of excitement. Her tongue flicked across her teeth as if to find her own set of fangs there. Her teeth were flat, but she bit her tongue. Lightly, she touched her lips, only to draw her fingers away dotted with her own blood.

Servaes had wanted her. Out of the fifty or so people in the crowd, he had picked her. Seeing Ginger watching her intently, Hathor backed towards the narrow passageway leading to the entrance. The woman’s eyes were transfixed on her bloodied finger.

The sound of Hathor’s feet echoed as she ran from the risqué couples beginning to fornicate before the stage. Pursued by the potent smell of sex and blood, her heart pounded and her head swam. She couldn’t make her wooden feet move fast enough.

The bricked alleyway was wet as she finally made it into the night. The moon shone full and bright in the sky, glittering on the moist pavement like millions of sparkling diamonds. Leaning against the cobblestone wall, Hathor took a deep breath. Her blood pulsed in her veins, threatening her body with its silent song of temptation. Beautiful pale skin and handsome, brown, deep-set eyes haunted her. The image burned into her mind, warning her that she was forever changed.

Suddenly screams rang out from the hidden club—the sound of people brought to slaughter. The shrill cries echoed all around her, making her hair feel as if it stood on end. The noise shook her from her stupor. She pressed into the stone wall, too frightened to move.

“Go!”

Hathor heard Servaes’ command as if he shouted it in her ear. With a start, she jolted away from the building, spinning to look behind her. When she saw nothing, she twirled, darting her gaze all around. She realized she was completely alone. The only noise was the beating inside her chest, uncommonly loud. Hesitantly, she leaned to peer down the passageway leading to the decadent club. Seeing a flash of pink hair, Hathor jerked back with a gasp. She mindlessly ran down the narrow alleyway, not knowing how she navigated the dark paths. She didn’t stop until she was safely home.

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