Spying Neira ferociously defending her fellow passengers, Vayne pursues her, as his Chosen. Neira resists, and despite healing her emotionally the Sovereign wonders if he must concede defeat at the hands of this infuriating woman.
Then the stars align and truths are discovered…
Daggers at the ready, the three pirates once again approached the doors. Vayne spied a young, fair-haired male standing wide-eyed, his mouth dropping open as Barek, Duff and their Captain charged from the lift. Vayne followed on their heels, wincing as they mowed the young man down with a hit to the head. Then all chaos descended.
A significantly smaller figure, dressed completely in black, waded into the triangle of pirates. It laid Barek low with well-placed blows to his knees and an uppercut to his jaw as he fell to the ground. The baton inflicting the punishment flashed in a blur of movement to match the warrior’s whirling grace. Vayne was already moving to assist when the fighting dervish dealt with Duff, body moving with grace and deadly intent, bringing the pirate down with punishment to his kidneys. Short black hair gleamed in the harsh lighting as the warrior spun to take on Captain Ristos.
Vayne used his shocker, nearly catching one slender, black clad shoulder as their opponent made contact with Ristos’ ribcage, the baton making a dull, wet sound. But the little warrior whirled out of range, turning to renew the attack, and the bolt spent itself harmlessly against the bulkhead. Vayne’s cock filled and stood at full attention, causing him considerable discomfort in his tight-fitting space uniform. By the shades of Turco, it was a female. He locked eyes with orbs a brilliant shade of the golden gemstones so prized on his planet before she charged, moving gracefully on the balls of her bare feet.
“He dies!” Duff’s howl cut through the tension as Vayne prepared to defend himself, and the female halted, stumbling as she did so. Duff held his weapon at the young male’s throat, vicious intent written across his features.
“No, don’t,” the lithe beauty called out, and Vayne watched, transfixed, as she dropped to her knees, carefully laying down the lethal weapon she used so efficiently. She then clasped her hands behind her neck.
Nothing in her posture spoke of true submission, but it didn’t matter to Vayne’s cock. That appendage throbbed painfully and he was at a loss as to how to calm it. Never had he ever… Vayne struggled to make his body move. Ristos moved first.
Kicking aside the baton, he gestured to Duff, who released his hold on the still-unconscious young male. Was this woman attached to the man? Vayne shook his head. It didn’t matter. She was now his.
Ristos bent and clipped a pair of solar cuffs around the woman’s wrists, and Vayne approved of how efficient the captain was, yet afforded the little female respect. He wasn’t the only male to appreciate her attempt to defend this deck. The restraints emitted slight whirring sounds as they engaged. Charged by any light source, they were virtually impervious to tampering and would open only to the owner’s print. Vayne pulled the control from the captain’s hand, entered his own print to replace that of Ristos’, then crushed the control beneath his boot.
As desperate as the Shadalla were, their scientists had confirmed the compatibility of Earth females to breed and bear their children, and some of his species’ males had actually found their chosen. Gone was Vayne’s need to merely pick a female out of the women on this ship, using careful parameters to ensure she was suited for his position, able to bear his children, and of a nature and appearance to stimulate his desires in order to put those offspring in her belly. Royal concubines weren’t unheard of, after all, and the odds of him finding a chosen were slight. But he couldn’t look any further, impossibly drawn to this imperious warrior at his feet. And should he ever be fortunate enough to find an actual chosen mate, this lovely woman would retain concubine status, regardless.
“Bring the men out. Offer. I’ll send my exec to scrutinize the females.” He wasn’t that overwhelmed to forget he had a duty to other men in his service.
He reached down and fit a hand under the elbow of the female, and his world turned upside down. The physical attraction had been immediate, granted. But the instant he touched her and her scent enveloped him, his brain exploded with a revelation he’d only experienced once in his life—and a very subdued and pale version at that. One manipulated by science. Vayne didn’t need another minute with her to understand the symptoms and wished to shout his joy out loud. She was a chosen and not his future concubine. She came up with the lightness of gossamer, and only his quick reflexes saved him from a knee to the groin as he turned to catch the blow on his thigh. Little spitfire.
Allyson Young lives in cottage country in Manitoba, Canada with her husband of many years and numerous pets. She worked in the human services all across Canada and has seen the best and worst of what people bring to the table. Allyson has written for years, mostly short stories and poetry, published in small newspapers and the like, although her work appeared in her high school yearbooks too! After reading an erotic romance, quite by accident, she decided to try her hand at penning erotica.
Allyson will write until whatever she has inside her is satisfied- when all the heroes man up and all the heroines get what they deserve. Love isn’t always sweet, and Allyson favours the darker side of romance.
I’m super excited to bring you all the second book in my romantic suspense series, INTIMATE FEAR. Many met Dwayne, my hero in this story, in book one, INTIMATE DANGER, who is Charlie’s best friend. Dwayne is known for his quirky, yet professional ways, and as the town’s playboy, so I had so much fun bringing him to a level that knocked him on his ass! I hope you all like him, too, and please make sure to let me know your thoughts!
Giveaway & Contest: Want a chance to get your hands on Intimate Fear? DC will be giving away three copies on Goodreads next week, so make sure to mark your calendars and keep watch through her social media, which is listed below.
She’s also running a contest with readers who take a picture of them next to her cover of Intimate Fear. This can be done through any ereader or computer shot. As long as you tag her in the picture once you post it, you’ll be entered to win a $10 Amazon gift card, a HUGE bundle of autographed ARCs from various authors, AND receive a free book from any of DC’s backlist!
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1K1IKSp
Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/1FqQmHz
Book trailer: http://ow.ly/OsYtO
Worried about Hailey, exhausted to the bone, and slightly swaying, Brooke clung to Dwayne, took strength from this solid, very real protector. She would have to be dead not to notice his firm body beneath her fingertips, the hardness of his chest pressed to her breasts, and the wicked, clean scent drifting from his skin. While they were no longer hugging, but more her clinging to him, she didn’t want to turn away, couldn’t find the power to do so. How easy would it have been to end up with this man? She’d caught the looks he had given her before. But that had all been in the past, a separate life for them both.
She had become a mother, someone who dedicated her entire being to making sure her daughter was well-rounded, cared for, and knowingly loved. Not only that, but she wasn’t a young pup any longer, and from the few women she’d seen Dwayne with, his type seemed to have a list of traits all very similar: young, perky breasts, tight asses, single, and free of major responsibilities.
His hand tightened on her back and she held her breath, waiting to see if he would push her away.
Just a few more minutes, please.
She needed him, this close contact with another being. It had been so damn long.
Hailey refused to slow down to cuddle on the couch as she had once done as a young girl. Her daughter had her own life now, one currently held in peril, but Brooke had faith they would find her. They had to. Failure wasn’t an option.
Dwayne trailed his hand up her back and pressed a palm to her head, his other arm tightening around her waist. She went with the direction, pressed her face into his warm neck, and breathed. His skin emitted heat rivaling the summer’s sun. She grasped the back of his suit jacket, wishing she could be closer. He shifted their bodies, and her aggravation spun to something else. His lips brushed her temple, and moist air fanned across the side of her face. He hovered there. So close, all she had to do was turn her face and take his mouth. She knew he would let her, too.
So near to him, starved for human contact, she wanted to get lost for a while. She trailed her nose along his neck, took another deep breath, and pressed closer.
He grumbled something unintelligible, the sound coming from his chest more than his mouth. His hand at her waist laid flat on the small of her back and urged her closer still.
The situation was moving fast out of control. Tendrils unraveled, but she was helpless to stop it. This strong male held her as if she were a treasure. He had the power and ability to make her forget everything, to make all the stresses and danger go away.
His hand slipped beneath the back of her shirt and made direct contact with her skin. They both hissed and his breath pushed her hair from her face. His cruel yet sensual mouth continued to drift in a teasing caress across her temple. She turned her head, like molasses on a cold day, up and toward him. Her lips tingled in anticipation, waiting for his kiss. She brushed her mouth across the line of his jaw, a hairsbreadth from his skin.
His heart thudded against hers, a matching hammer between their bodies, telling her he was just as affected. The hand at the back of her head tightened. She trailed the caress over his cheek; his lips were right there, centimeters away.
The rest of their surroundings faded. She didn’t know if it was because of this man drawing her absolute attention, or because of her exhaustion.
She touched the side of her mouth to his and thought she’d be prepared for the rush of desire.
She was so wrong.
Reading has always been a passion of hers, getting lost in a good, steamy romance is one of her favorite past times. She soon after discovered her own love for writing and recreating stories and characters in her head. Her writing concentrates on romantic with specifics in paranormal, suspense, and erotica.
Now, when she isn’t trying to solve a new puzzle in the world of fraud, she is engulfed with coffee, her laptop, and all those crazy characters in her head. She is a member of the Romance Writers of America, Hudson Valley Romance Writers, New Jersey Romance Writers, RomVets, RWA Kiss of Death, and the Liberty State Fiction Writers. She served as the 2014 NJRW Vice President and Conference Chair. Come stop by on Facebook, Twitter, or her website and say hello!
Facebook PAGE: http://www.facebook.com/authorDCStone
Facebook PROFILE: http://www.facebook.com/dc.stone.92
I think one of the fun and frustrating parts of being a writer is that the idea you start out with is often not the story you end up with (or is that just me?). BLOOD WITCH is a prime example.
This novella started out as a way to keep myself occupied during my Christmas break last year, and turned into a labour of love. It's also turned out to be a bit of an exquisite corpse, in the sense that it's a patchwork of ideas and characters from other projects I started and abandoned in the past. Some facts:
1. The opening scene is an adaptation of something I scribbled in a notepad before work one morning. A witch (then called Lilah) was being interviewed by the police. At that point I had no idea why and I never wrote any more. I did steal that opening and turn Lilah into Lola for BLOOD WITCH.
2. The start of chapter two, where Lola visits her ex-girlfriend, Rowan, started life as an urban fantasy parody I was writing to amuse myself. It was supposed to be part of a really OTT cliched UF story, but I ended up taking it too seriously (as I am prone to do) and decided to make it part of BLOOD WITCH.
3. One of the side characters, Caleb, was originally a secondary character in a paranormal romance I was writing a few years back. I got about 20k in before realising I didn't really know what I was doing, but I liked Caleb and decided to work him in somewhere else.
BLOOD WITCH has come a long way from my initial idea of a short story about a witch falsely accused of murder. That core idea is still a big part of the story, but the world has grown beyond my plans and I now see this as the start of a series instead of a stand-alone mini project. I'm so glad my original plan changed so much because now I get to explore and share a whole new bunch of ideas and characters with you!
There was probably never a good time to have the police knock on your door, Lola reflected. But three am on a September morning was definitely one of the worst. The fog outside seeped into the house with the stone-faced detectives, and the brisk chill of the night sank into Lola's bones. She'd only been home a couple of hours; only just stripped off and gone to bed. Now, huddled in her ancient rocking chair by the embers of a dying fire, she didn't feel as exhausted as she should. She felt like someone had stuck a live wire up her ass.
“I know this can't be good news,” she addressed the female detective, who introduced herself simply as 'Hardy.' “So you'd better just get on with it.”
Hardy, a brunette who did look exhausted, raised an eyebrow. “What makes you so sure it's not good news, Miss Guntram?”
Lola tried a smile. “Do the cops ever show up after midnight with good news?”
Her partner, Scherer, looked fresher. He sat on the edge of his seat like he might spring up any second, but he smiled back. It wasn't an entirely happy expression. “You caught us out, Miss Guntram. This isn't a social call.”
“Then don't drag it out,” Lola said. His nervous energy was infectious.
They exchanged a knowing look. “Where were you between ten and midnight tonight?” he asked.
The blunt question created a knot of dread in her stomach and she had to swallow hard before she answering. “Working. I was with a client. Why?”
Hardy fixed cold blue eyes on her. It was a searching look, penetrating. If Lola didn't know better, she'd wonder if the detective was trying to probe her psychically. But both detectives felt like nulls to her sharp senses. “Can you prove that?” she asked.
Irritation mixed with the dread. “Yes, of course. I have a diary in my office and you can call the client – although she probably isn't going to be any happier to hear from you than I am. What's this about?”
Scherer couldn't quite manage Hardy's gimlet gaze, but his half-smile had disappeared. “What exactly is your job, Miss Guntram?”
Lola shifted in the rocking chair, wishing she could cover herself with the blanket she sat on. But it would make her look vulnerable and she had a distinct feeling that wouldn't do her any favors. She settled for tightening the belt on her robe and pushing her shoulders back. Three years of childhood ballet lessons had taught her that good posture always created a good impression.
“I'm a spiritual consultant. I help clients with difficult decisions, life choices, with emotional and psychological problems.” That was an edited, socially-acceptable answer. Lola wasn't about to get into witchcraft and spellcasting. She rubbed her wrists absently, glad her robe had long sleeves that hid the scars on her arms.
Scherer sneered at her answer, making her doubly glad she'd given the short version. “So you're a New Age guru or something? Separating the gullible from their money?”
“Scherer,” Hardy said, “let's not get distracted.”
“Yes, I'd love it if we could stay on track,” Lola snapped. “Maybe we can start with you telling me what this is about? It's late, I'm tired, I have an early start -”
“Why does 'spiritual consulting' take place so late at night?” Hardy asked. “That strikes me as odd, Miss Guntram.”
The sound of her own surname was starting to grate on Lola. “It's a new moon tonight. Very good for certain practices.” Were they ever going to get to the fucking point? She couldn't think of a single thing she'd done that would bring them to her door, and it felt like she'd never find out at this rate.
“So if we checked with your client, they would confirm you were nowhere near the Red Lotus tonight?” Hardy asked.
Lola blinked. “The Red Lotus? No, of course not. Why would I be there?” The idea was so laughable, she almost forgot her nerves and irritation for a second. The Red Lotus was a pretty exclusive S&M club – members only, sky-high fees, that kind of thing. It was also owned and managed by Lola's ex-girlfriend. Even if she'd been into the kink that the Red Lotus offered, Lola could never have gone there. It would have been mortifying. She felt herself blushing at the very thought.
“Well, you tell us, Miss Guntram.” Hardy leaned forward again, resting her elbows on her knees and clasping her hands under her chin. The movement put her face in shadow, with the room only lit by a soft peachy lamp, and Lola was struck by the thought that Hardy would be beautiful if she didn't look so tense and tired. “You see, a woman was found dead there tonight.”
Lola's heart jumped, then plummeted. “A woman? Not Rowan?” Her voice squeaked and she covered her mouth as if she could recover the sound.
“Ms Morgan is fine,” Scherer said. Lola felt some of her dread drain away.
“She is the reason we're here, however,” Hardy said. “She seems quite sure you're responsible for the killing, you see.”
Naomi likes writing, perfume, fancy tea, and unfathomable monsters from the dark spaces between the stars, not necessarily in that order. She has been writing stories ever since she learned how to write, but is still trying to master the art of biography writing. When she's not dealing with werewolves, demons, or sea monsters, she's hanging out with her cat and probably watching a documentary about Bigfoot. If the cat isn't available, she's with her fiancé watching cookery shows and silently plotting her next book.