Published By: New Dawning Bookfair
Word Count: 10,400
Heat Index 
Price:
Available in: Adobe Acrobat, Mobipocket (.mobi), Epub
In modern Toronto, two vampires stalk the night, their hunting a game that is seductive and deadly. In a darkly compelling Goth Club, they find the prey they seek for their pleasures, and the night runs crimson with blood and unquenchable thirsts....
Reader Rating: 
(2 Ratings)
(2 Ratings)
Sensuality Rating: 
Exclusive Excerpt:
She knew what she wanted tonight, and her senses
resonated with his presence. Somewhere in this crowded mélange, Demetri
deVerieux was lying in wait, his deviant desires beckoning to her with invisible
fingers. In this alone was he like their maker, Stavros, with his ability to
lure her into amoral desires until all that existed was her need to find
release.
She paused at a dark corner, closed her
eyes and reached out to the night. A shudder of rapture slid along her veins at
his mental caress. He summoned her to him, taunting her with waves of memory
and promises yet unfulfilled. Their game began in earnest.
Edgy and eager now, she rubbed her hands
against the velvet of her skirt, her breathing rapid and shallow as harsh
reality bit into her eagerness. Her present life was a necessary ploy to disarm
an old enemy. Despite the pleasures they shared, her relationship with Demetri
served a greater purpose. He was not the mate she had chosen to spend her
eternity serving and loving.
She seized a seat at a sidewalk café, and took
a moment to pull her emotions together, before he picked up on her distraction.
Or the reason behind it.
She drew in a calming breath and closed her
eyes. Demetri’s hunting games always triggered the memories seizing her heart.
Shivering, she opened herself to the past. It was the only way she could hope
to bury her secrets beyond his reach again…
The
dreams came, as they always did, breaths of disjointed, blood-tainted images. Fragmented
and disconnected, the scenes flew across her mind like clips from a movie in
which she was the star. Terror assaulted her, a distant, abstract awareness, part
of her, but not born of her. Within Cliantha, an unmistakable thrill of
excitement awoke—a macabre delight in the fear that flourished all around her. A
reckless surge of abandon filled her, and she threw back her head. Laughter
filled the night, hers, and his.
A
shudder penetrated the madness and she wondered who he was. She gazed up, drowning in
eyes so blue, they filled her vision, and he smiled. That fleeting shift of
expression sent a tingle along her spine that made her arch toward him, her
body seeking contact with his. He laughed, sweeping Cliantha into his arms.
Before
she could make sense of whom he was, the dream/vision skewed again… becoming
one of lust and savagery as images blurred and aroused a hunger she couldn’t
define. His lips parted hers and demanded her soul.
She
gave it.
His taste
and scent filled her senses, stirring a passion that threatened to make her
scream for fulfillment. Still he teased her, his mouth searching out the most
vulnerable places, plundering her secrets, revealing them to her with a
wickedness that made him all the more terrifying.
When
he refused to answer her broken pleas, she grew angry, and that, too, pleased
him.
“Bastard!”
she hissed.
“Take
what you desire, Cliantha!” He matched her anger, but still smiled. “You can
have anything you want, if you dare to claim it as your right.”
Her
eyes swept over the man lying beside her and she rose to her knees. She stared
at him, her passion swelling to an agony of exquisite need with each caressing
shift of her gaze. With shaking hands, she stroked his silky platinum hair, while
her sensitive fingertips traced the mocking smile that tilted the corners of
his mouth. She parted his lips with a gentle probe of one finger, and punctured
the tip against the razor-sharp edge of one extended fang. He licked the
droplet of blood as she traced the fullness of his bottom lip.
“I
hate you,” she murmured, leaning forward to straddle his hips. Her hands
wandered over his smooth, cool chest, memorizing contours she knew better than
her own. Touching him intoxicated her like a drug, addictive, senseless, and
exciting beyond anything she’d ever known.
It
had even ceased to matter that he had forced her into his bed. His dominance
had long ago stripped her of the innocence she’d once possessed. She let
another drop of blood drip from her finger; it pooled over his heart and she
bent to lick the scarlet stain. This time he reacted, and the tiny shiver
inspired deep satisfaction, making her smile down at him. Pure hunger blazed within
her. A hunger he had cultivated and fed for decades. A thousand years could
pass and she’d still crave his touch with an insanity that made her despise
herself, and him.
“Show
me how you hate me, bitch!” His hand tangled in the waves of blue-black hair
that fell forward when he pulled her to him. She tore away from his embrace and
glared down at him. Amused, he gripped her throat.
She
arched her neck, inviting without a word. His blue eyes grew dark and
dangerous. She rose and bent forward until her lips brushed his, then allowed
her tongue to invade his mouth. Strong, elegant fingers drifted across her
back, waking trails of fire that left her shuddering against him. She drew away
from the bitter sweetness of his mouth and stared down at him again, her chest
heaving with her effort to regain control of her body’s responses.
His hands
at her waist shifted, found the fullness of her breasts and she moaned as he
brushed his thumbs across the hardened buds of her nipples. Cliantha shook her
head and slid back, pushing his hands away as she began to explore his pale,
defined body. When her mouth finished its teasing trek across his chest, and
closed over him, she shuddered at the rise of his hips.
“Hate
me, Cliantha.” He was, even now, unable to resist reminding her that he allowed this erotic torture.
Her
head rose and she smiled. Reflected in his glowing gaze, her fangs gleamed in
the silvery haze of muted moonlight that illuminated the elegant room.
He
pulled her to him and rolled, possessed her body with his, biting into her
throat in the same motion. She spasmed in a shiver of pain and ecstasy. He mirrored
her response when he drew back and she found the softness of his neck.
*
* * * *
Cliantha gasped as the mixture of dreams
and memories left her trembling and disoriented. She rose from her seat,
annoyed because this always happened when she permitted the truth to surface.
Ten years ago, Stavros had reclaimed her
from Demetri, but then Demetri had killed their master.
Demetri now owned her in ways she hadn’t
believed possible. What had begun as a game she’d controlled had become an
addiction, a trap from which she made no effort to escape. Even when the truth
had returned to her mind, Demetri’s seductive hold remained unbreakable.
He’d destroyed Stavros, run a burning stake
through his heart. She’d wanted to die that night, but Demetri refused to allow
it. He’d forced her to live, lured her with his seduction and his passion for
the darkest desires she could imagine.
When she had run to her oldest friend seeking
shelter, Demetri had killed him while she watched. But, even now, she carried a
secret he’d never discovered. He was so certain of his victory, he’d never
questioned her absences.
Demetri had chosen tonight’s game, but before
the hunt was over, she’d planned a few surprises for him. She stepped onto the
sidewalk, moving through the throngs of humanity, and burying the past with
determined will.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank you for stopping by and sharing your thoughts.