Transformation
By: Selena Illyria
© 2008 Selena Illyria, All Rights Reserved
I/R, Paranormal

Sebastian gritted his teeth, Lea screams cut through him. He looked at the door and glared at his father who was father standing guard. He continued to pace, fists clenched, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands. Another bloodcurdling scream sounded and Sebastian turned only to be stopped by his brother Toryn’s hand on his chest.
“Don’t go in there until he’s done,” Toryn said quietly.
“I can’t stand it,” Sebastian gritted out.
“Riken is doing his job, let him,” Cable said breaking his silence. Pushing away from the wall he walked over to his older brother. “It will be okay, Lea is strong, she will survive.”
“But she is mortal, my moral,” Sebastian shook his head, his heart pounding, mind filling with thoughts of what could happen if she didn’t survive. “I won’t lose her. I can’t lose her.”
Sebastian turned and ran a hand through his hair, frame taunt as he stared out the large circular window. He didn’t see the lush gardens or forests below, all he could focus was the sound of Lea’s screams.
Not many mortals survived the transformation into becoming a demon. Not many mortals chose to become a demon, there were still humans that lived in the dimensions, normal mortals who had chosen to stay as they were. The transformation was painful, to willingly give up a person’s soul in exchange for immortality. But for a half demon the transformation was even more painful. Both sides warred for control only one side could win. Whirling around Sebastian confronted his father.
“When did you know? How long did you know that she was his daughter? Why didn’t you tell me?” He demanded.
Lucifer shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. “All will be revealed in time, just let Riken do his job.”
“You all keep saying that. You also keep telling me that I should also calm down. I won’t calm down. My wife is in there, in pain and I can do nothing, nothing about it. What fuck am I supposed to be calm about?!?” He cried out, spittle flying from his mouth.
Lucifer took a step forward, “You challenging me son?”
His form seemed to grow bigger, the room became hot. Sebastian stretched out his arms, shadows started to form behind him, darkness eating the room slowly.
“Whoa, whoa,” Vulcan cried out, reaching out he touched his brother, looking at his father with hesitation. The room’s temperature began to return to normal. Vulcan looked at his frozen brother and sighed. He would have to keep Sebastian frozen for at least a good two hours. Shaking his head he walked away to stand with his other brothers. Sebastian could still hear and see but could not move.
“What should we do when the two hours are up?” Vulcan asked/
“Freeze him again?” Tryton suggested.
“We can’t keep doing that,” Toryn said.
“Well, then you think of something,” Cable said.
Suddenly all was silent, Lea had stop screaming. The doors suddenly burst open and Riken came out, looking pale and shaken.
“It is done,” He walked over and leaned his shoulder against a pillar, sliding down, his minions gliding back and forth in front of the door, black, writhing swirls and curls of gray-black clouds.
Sebastian watched them slide back and forth every so often a face would become clear in the cotton candy masses.
“She needs to rest,” Riken said, voice shakily. Just as he said that the doors opened, one mocha limb slipped out of the opening, pushing the doors wide Sebastian’s breathe caught. Lea stood before them nude, her skin covered in black swirling, writhing tattoos. A wicked smile spread across her lips. “Hello, my husband. I am home,” she purred.

Blurb:
A water witch, Isabelle Novak has always led a chaotic, nomadic existence. But her life spins out of control when her sister—her only friend and emotional anchor — is killed by a demon. Driven by grief and a desire for revenge, she turns her back on the Coven and the rede they hold sacred: Harm thee none...

When Isabelle first encounters Thomas Monahan, she's running on pure rage and sorrow, channeling her pain into power — and trying to freeze the life out of a warlock she holds responsible for her sister's death. Together, they form an uneasy alliance to hunt and destroy a demon of tremendous power. As head of the Coven, earth witch Thomas must thwart Isabelle's dark impulses, but his very presence stirs deeper desires she never knew she had…


Buy links:
http://www.amazon.com/Witch-Blood-Elemental-Witches-Book/dp/0425220435/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1196881739&sr=8-1

http://search.barnesandnoble.com/booksearch/isbnInquiry.asp?z=y&EAN=9780425220436&itm=14

http://us.penguingroup.com/nf/Book/BookDisplay/0,,0_9780425220436,00.html



Bio:
Anya Bast lives in the country with her Belgian husband, their tornado toddler of a daughter, and more cats, dogs, and rabbits than is sane. Ever since she was a little girl, Anya has told stories (much to her mother's dismay). She's happy to finally be making a career out of it.

A native of one of the colder states, she loves to ice skate and watch hockey. She has fascination for crows, ravens and birds of prey. She enjoys the study of Eastern philosophy, Celtic myth, dreaming, and shamanism and occasionally incorporates what she learns into her paranormal stories. She works part time as a data base editor and French translator.


Excerpt:

How to Catch a Warlock 101. Isabelle could teach that class.

Club music thrummed through Isabelle's body. Eyes closed, she swayed her hips, dancing more to the ebb and flow of the subtle emotions around her than to the beat. Intoxicated by the sea of euphoria and lust, she allowed the seductive, primal weave to free her for a few blessed moments.

The trap she'd set for the warlock also trapped her.

A man's hands grasped her waist. A lean, muscular body pressed against hers from behind. She knew that touch, those hands and the subtle, woody scent of his expensive cologne. It was the warlock she hunted. The one who thought she was a woman just like any other. Her eyes came open, moment of serenity vanquished by his presence.

Anyone able to see her face would've glimpsed revulsion pass over her features before her lips curved in a coy smile. She snuggled back into Stefan Faucheux's arms. He rocked her back and forth, changing the sway of her body to the beat of the music instead of the soft waves of emotion. Stefan had no empathy.

Somewhere nearby a camera flashed, then another. Paparazzi. The media fawned over Stefan, an ultra-rich playboy.

Any woman he dated was a source of particular interest. Isabelle had managed to stay on
Stefan's arm longer than most. She was the mysterious red-haired, green-eyed woman on whom no reporter could find much information. Isabelle had paid a lot of money to ensure that was so. She'd worked hard to make certain she interested Faucheux for a while too. A lot of planning had brought her to this night.

Of course, the photographers didn't know she was a witch and Stefan a warlock. Those were secrets best kept from the non-magickal population. That was the only thing the Coven and the warlock-controlled Duskoff Cabal could agree on. The non-magickals greatly outnumbered the magickals and, historically, showed a lot of bloodthirstiness for those perceived to be different.
Stefan moved his body with hers in a teasing semblance of sex that made her stomach roil. Soon, this would all be over. That was the only positive about having to suffer his closeness.

Isabelle pasted a smile on her lips and closed her eyes again. She thought of deep, rushing streams furrowing their way through the earth, the recesses of the ocean, where the water lay still and silent, the gentle eddies and ripples at the edge of a lake. Her power rose in response to the mental stimulus, just a little. It bled off a bit her stress, blunted the sharp edge.

Stefan's arms tightened around her and he nuzzled her throat. More cameras flashed. They'd be on the front page of every tabloid in the country by tomorrow. She'd probably be touted as pregnant and making plans for a wedding. The Lady only knew what stupidity they'd come up with.

And then the other story would break. The darker one. The far more violent one.
Soon, she assured herself. Tonight. Because she was not a woman like any other and today was no ordinary day. It was time Stefan Faucheux paid for his sins.

Emotion welled in her throat for a moment. She'd barely had time to grieve. These days she was running on rage, sorrow and little else.

Use it. Don't let it use you.

Immediately, the sudden swell of vulnerability faded into cold resolve. It was a lesson she'd learned long ago and learned well.

She'd had lots of practice stuffing away her pain, transforming it into a far more effective force. Her emotion had become a well-honed weapon.

He leaned into her, spoke into her ear loud enough for her to hear over the pounding music.
"Time to leave, ma cheri."

It was, indeed, time.

Anticipation coursed through her, leaving a tingle of sweetness that warmed her more surely than Stefan's skill with fire could ever do. Stefan was a fire witch, one of the more powerful she'd encountered. Though he couldn't claim the title witch anymore, not technically. He'd betrayed the Coven, broken the rede too many times to count. Now he was a lowdown, dirty warlock.
Her own ability resided in the realm of water. That meant she and Stefan were direct opposites magickically. It had complicated her plans somewhat. Normally fire and water had a natural repulsion, whereas fire and air had a built-in attraction. Isabelle had had to work double time to snare her quarry because of that, especially since she couldn't hide her abilities from a warlock like Stefan. He had a nose like a bloodhound for different types of magick.

He took her hand and led her through the crowd toward the door. The photographers detached themselves from the partying throng and followed. She could see them scuttling like crabs out of the corner of her eye. Stefan's bodyguards flanked them, not allowing anyone to get too close. Earth charms helped. He'd had several created that compelled people to keep their distance.

They made their way out of the club and the heavy doors closed behind them, not quite blocking the bass of the music within that seemingly made the entire club throb on its foundation. Early morning chill raised goose bumps on her bare arms and legs.

She took a moment to inhale the fresh, not quite clean, air of the city, ignoring the surprised whispers and gasps of those in line to enter the club.

"Come, darling," Stefan said, placing a proprietary hand at the small of her back and guiding her toward the limo. "La limousine attend."

She flashed him a ditzy smile. "I love it when you speak French, Stefan. It's so sexy."

Stefan didn't know it, but she understood every foreign word he spoke to impress her. She'd been a child of the world, growing up the temporary resident of many countries, and spoke both French and Italian fluently.

He stopped her in front of the limo, tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned in to whisper, "I will speak it to you until the sun comes up, if you allow me, ma cheri."

She moved her head and placed a lingering kiss to his neck. "Then send your bodyguards away." Isabelle dragged his earlobe between her teeth and he responded with a shiver. Cameras flashed in abandon.

He spoke a few words to the warlock muscle near him while the driver opened the door for her and ushered her within. Regulating her breath, as she always had to do when entering a small area, she climbed into the cool interior of the limo and sank down onto one of the leather seats. Isabelle had a moment of unease at the dark closing around like a velvet fist. Close spaces weren't her thing.

Stefan sat down next to her. As soon as the door was closed, he was on her. But not coarsely, or clumsily. That was not Stefan. He was a perfect gentleman until he decided not to be.

He slid his hand to her waist, tilted her chin toward his face and pressed his lips to hers. Suave, undemanding, seductive. His fresh breath invaded her mouth as his tongue sought entry.

She suppressed a shudder and placed her hands on his broad shoulders, the fabric of his suit cool against her palms. She hesitated, unwilling to allow him a deeper kiss. He pressed the issue and she yielded, using every ounce of her willpower to not push him away.

Outwardly to the non-magickal world, Stefan was a benevolent social icon, known for his goodwill and his generosity. In reality, as head of the Duskoff Cabal, the violent little club warlocks kept, he pillaged and plundered his way through witches as though in his personal stockyard, slaughtering here and there when he felt like it.

Like any sociopath worth his salt, Stefan was a charming, handsome monster. The world should thank her for what she was about to do, even though she'd had to turn her back on the Coven Rede to accomplish it.

He leaned in toward her, burying his nose in the curve of her neck and sliding a hand past the hem of her short, black Versace. "We're finally alone," he whispered, "as you requested." The car pulled forward, rocking her against his body.

She tilted his face to hers and kissed him, pressing herself into the curve of his body. She cupped his groin through his black pants and felt his hardness. "So we are."

"Then why so shy? Tonight you will not escape me, Isabelle," he breathed against her skin with his smooth French accent.

Part of her plan had been to tease him sexually. It had been a little like taunting a starving tiger with a slab of meat, but she'd been successful. It had hooked him, made him want her more…and allowed her limited intimate contact with him. A definite plus.

She raised an eyebrow. "I think it's you who won't escape me, Stefan." If only he knew. She unbuttoned his pants. "Take them off."

He grasped the hem of her skirt. "You first," he purred.

"Noooo, you," she shot back coyly.

He shook his head. "Take off your dress for me, Isabelle." His voice held a thread of steel and his eyes had a brutally cold glint in them.

Her sly, sexy smile faltered. Damn it! This was not going the way she'd envisioned it. In her head, she'd been fully clothed when she brought him down. Having no choice unless she wanted to raise suspicion, she allowed him to draw her dress over her head, leaving her in only a lacy red bra and panty set and her shoes.

"Mmm," he murmured in appreciation right before he pressed his lips to the swell of her breast. Oh, yeech. Yeech, yeech, yeech!

She yanked him forward by the waistband of his pants and kissed him roughly, biting his lower lip hard. He jerked a little and she tasted blood. "Off now," she commanded.

"I adore a woman who likes it a little rough."

Then he'd love her.

He slipped his shoes and pants off. She glanced down and lifted a brow as if in sexual speculation. He gave her cocky smile, the smile of a man who's sure he's about to get laid. How wrong could he be? He was about to find out. She reached out and took him her hand.

And she squeezed. Hard.

Bio:

I am a native born Texan. I say that with all the pride of "Remember the Alamo" and "The Yellow Rose of Texas". I currently make my living in retail management and have been told the everyday drama of running a 24 hour convenience store is the fodder for the next prime time television sitcom. I have been married for two years to the man of my dreams, and am learning that our multicultural relationship is the stuff that fantasies are made of. I love to cook and spend quite time with friends and family. Reading is my passion. I love the written word. I love the places that it can take you. The sensations it can make you feel.
http://www.dreariley.literalseduction.com/
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/drea_riley/
http://www.myspace.com/sassysinfulsexy


Blurb:
Working on a special dessert order for a customer reminded Tzara Johnson that she would be spending Valentine's Day alone. It also rekindled daydreams about the one man whom Tzara thought was more delicious than any dessert on Earth.

Jason Martin is the contractor that revamped her house a year ago and the man who has held the leading role in all of Tzara's fantasies since then. Hearing from Jason on Valentine's day was the perfect opportunity to make her heart's wish come true

Exerpt:
Damn, she liked the way his voice flowed. Words seemed more colorful - musical almost - when he spoke them. "I love you." Her heart stopped and she turned just in time to see Jason ending his conversation on the phone. She was a little disappointed. For a moment she thought that he‟d been talking to her. "Sorry, that was my mom. She picked today to give me the whole,"



Why are you still single "speech," he explained as he sat the phone on an end table by the couch. "So did you decide on something or do you just want to channel surf for a while?" Tzara looked back over her shoulder at the large TV, then at Jason before shrugging her shoulders. "Let‟s channel surf for a while. I don‟t really know what I‟m in the mood to see." Her brain was screaming, "Liar, liar pants on fire. You want to see a porno with a little bwah, chica bwah, bwah starring Tzara and Jason. That's what you want to see."


She felt a blush creeping up her skin. With the way she was feeling, she was glad that Jason couldn‟t read thoughts. Stealing a glance at him out of the corner of her eye she noticed him looking at her ass. She tested him by slightly shifting her weight from one foot to the other.


His Adam's apple bobbed and he shifted his
weight to accommodate the bulge in his pants. Smiling, she wondered how big that bulge would get if he knew that she was sans panties under her dress.

Okay, so I got tagged by Dawn …dammit. LOL. 5 sordid facts about me. Hmm.

1. I absolutely love chocoloate covered pretzels, can't resist them.

2. I adore corsets, very sexy.

3. I adore accents especially if they are Scottish or Irish. Purrrrrr . . .

4. I think intelligence is one of the sexiest traits a man can have.

5. I think letter writing, pen to paper, is a lost art.

Well that was fun. So I’ll be tagging five others.

Shara Cooper

Savannah Chase

Tilly Greene

Paz Edwards

Stella Price, tag you’re it!

And two more for luck! Tuesday Morrigan and Jayha Leigh .

So let’s see who’s willing to lay out some dirt!

Author Spotlight

Bio:

Destiny Blaine writes erotica romance, suspense, and mainstream fiction. She is the author of several print titles in non-fiction and young adult. Until her children are more comfortable with their mom's chosen genre, she'll continue to keep the two names separate.

A woman who knows what she wants and loves to try to win it, Destiny is a casino player who knows all the ins and outs of casino gambling and has visited many destinations. In 2008 and 2009, you'll see a lot of gaming-related stories. You can feel confident in knowing this is one area of profound experience. She brings a lot of reality into these books because she's been around some form of gambling all of her life.

When she's not pounding away at the keyboard, Destiny Blaine does enjoy cooking, reading, and spending time with family and friends.

Her books and short stories are found in various storefronts on the internet and her print titles are available and coming soon to Amazon as well as other outlets. Destiny invites everyone to check out her website at http://www.destinyblaine.com/ and to visit her blog at http://www.destinyblaine.blogspot.com/

The proud mother of two teenagers, Destiny and her husband are on the move a lot with sports activities keeping them on their toes but she likes to blog about their adventures and will keep you entertained at http://www.destinyblaine.blogspot.com/ or through her MySpace posts!

Links:


http://www.destinyblaine.com/

The Demonic Seduction series will continue next week. Here is a snippet from my WIP Sweet Caresses of Revenge. Enjoy.

Sweet Caresses of Revenge
Paranormal, Vampire, Light Bondage, I/R
© 2008 Selena Illyria, All Rights Reserved
By Selena Illyria

Prologue

Strobe lights flashed over the dance floor, illuminating the mostly dark club. The Underground Penthouse’s walls were thumping from the bass as Jamelia’s Beware of Dog played through the speakers hidden in the ceiling. Sabrina’s eyes swept over the crowd of writhing bodies on the dance floor. She looked for a head of pale blond hair and saw a lot of them. Corbin’s kin was everywhere, but she didn’t see the man she was looking for. She smoothed her hands over the tight, hip hugging red leather skirt that had slits that went all the way to her hips. She bent over very sure she was giving the people behind her a good show. The skirt was so short that it hardly covered her ass or her mound.

She fixed the strap of her leather four inch stilettos and then straightened up, smoothing the skirt down to cover her naked bottom. She wasn’t wearing underwear tonight. Tonight she was going to satisfy her sexual attraction to Cable and then walk away. She was going to show him that she wasn’t as cold in bed as others thought she was. She was going to punish him for sending her that stupid chair. She wasn’t going to seduce Cable for Corbin, but for herself.

She let the music flow through her and made her way to the dance floor. Running her hands over her sides and over her breasts, she lost herself in the rhythm, joining her Vampiric kin in bumping and grinding against each other. She didn’t notice Cable arrive or how his eyes found her form.

He narrowed his gaze and made his way to her place on the floor, pushing people aside to get to her. He ignored the cries of protest from two of his kin who had taken up residence in front and in back of her, their hands had been roving over her curves. He leaned his head forward, his mouth close to her ear, placing his hands on her hips pulling her to him, “Miss me?”

He then turned her around to face him; icy blue eyes met mysterious dark chocolate ones. She smiled at him.

“Took you long enough to get here.”
“This better be worth it, this apology of yours.”
“It is.”
“Show me.”
“As you wish.”

She slid her hands down his chest, over his stomach, running her hands over his hips sliding them back until she cupped his ass, squeezing the cheeks, pulling him forward, grinding against him, feeling his erection against her stomach. She smiled showing a bit of fang. She had him right where she wanted him.

http://www.changelingpress.com/author.php?uid=108

I'm all teary now. LOL. You know I'm a dork. LOL

Selena

Myspace: http://www.myspace.com/raelynnblue
Website: http://raelynnblue.blogspot.com
A Blue Blog: http://blog.myspace.com/raelynnblue

Bio: RaeLynn Blue is not your run of the mill type girl. The
author of numerous tales of erotic interracial romance and science fiction.
With an imagination that's varied and diverse, her tales explores love in
all its many shades, situations and scenerios.

She fell into romance stories at the ripe age of eleven and has been writing
stories ever since. A humble scribbler of tales, RaeLynn is actively writing
another story of lust, love, and romance.


Title: Menage a Valentine Anthology with Shara Azod
Buy Link: http://www.redrosepublishing.com/bookstore
Blurb: "The Concierge" by Raelynn Blue: A little spice in life? Are you up for it?--After ten years of marriage, Tamika is excited about this
year's Valentine's Day gift. Instead of the usual repetitive trinkets of roses, chocolates and lace, her husband, Ron, sweeps her away to Las
Vegas. Anxious to indulge every delectable delight the city has to offer, Tamika pounces on the opportunities for fun. Yet she doesn't
clear the hotel room before Vegas sets an offer upon her doorstep--the concierge. Attraction to the Chinese concierge is undeniable
and--unattainable. For although it wouldn't be the first time she and Ron have shared their bed with someone else, Tamika knows a male
wouldn't be welcomed--not by Ron. So, she shoves her lustful longings down deep and struggles to hide her cravings for the concierge
Unbeknownst to Tamika, Ron has noticed her attraction to the other man, and soon sets about giving her a Valentine's Day gift so extraordinary,
Tamika, nor he, will soon forget.

"Three of Hearts" by Shara Azod: Can you handle the truth or is it the attraction that Mikki is feeling you can't handle? What happens when the object of your affection returns your secret yearnings, times two? Mikki never imagined that the torch she had been carrying for both of her bosses was known by both. Never in her wildest dreams did she think that all she was feeling, they were feeling too. Now comes Mikki's moment of truth. Will she let go of her
fears and insecurities and make this Valentine's Day one to remember? Or will she flee from the raging passion staring her in the face?


Excerpt: "The Concierge"-RaeLynn Blue

¨Mrs. Allen?" he inquired, his dark brown eyes sweeping over her
disheveled hair, naked feet, and robe. "My name is Philip Wang, one
of the concierge's staff. You failed to claim your luggage and it's been
more than a three hours. Would you like for me to have it sent up?"

¨You came all the way here to tell me this? You could've called," she
said, feeling suddenly naked in the concierge's intense eyes.

¨Sure, send it on up."

Philip blushed as he broke her gaze. ¨We called three times, Mrs.
Allen. There wasn't an answer."

Tamika peered at him. Had their telephone rang? She hadn't heard it, and
judging by the crimson flush on the concierge's cheeks, she wondered how
long he'd been hanging around her suite. Had he heard their noisy
lovemaking?

At this thought rushed through her, heat spread up from her feet to her
cheeks. Tamika thanked the heavens for her dark skin for it hid the
crimson flush she knew warmed her cheeks.

Winded in a manner, she didn't quite understand, she cleared her throat
loudly, dislodging the strong pow of attraction the concierge set about
her. His shiny black hair had been tied back into a ponytail, and his
hands were folded politely in front of her. In a flash, Tamika could see
those wide, olive hands gliding down her stomach and dipping into the
folds of her being, seeking her wet tunnel to explore.

Stop it, Tamika! Get a grip. Speak. He's staring strangely at you!


She blinked as she fell back to reality and found him peering intently
at her.

¨Madam?" he inquired, a smile tugging at the corner of his thin lips,
begging to be released into full fledge grin. "Are you all right?"

¨Yes, well, I didn't hear the telephone. By all means, send up our
bags."

The concierge stepped back from the door, his black pants skimming his
surprisingly muscular thighs, despite his very lean frame. He probably
swam or jogged, he had that athletic, but sinewy look to him. Lean
muscle tone covered with olive skin, lightly tanned from the desert sun.
His hair had been cut recently, the ends were razor straight, but the
front hung thick in inky blackness. Arms cut with muscle, little fat and
veins snaking across those triceps as if cords.

"I will send them up at once,¡¬ the concierge said politely with a
bow. ¨If I may be of assistance, please, do not hesitate to contact
me. My extension is 7051."

At this he did look at her fully, and the zinging blast of raw sexuality
slammed into her with such force, she stumbled back a step.


You offering yourself, handsome?

"Good evening, Mrs. Allen."

"Good evening," Tamika said, feeling a surprising shiver chase across
her shoulders. I imagined it. Asians didn't dig black chicks. It's some
unspoken rule someplace. They preferred blondes, the whiter the better,
not the other way around.

She tugged the robe closer to her body, very aware of her tingling
nipples and dampness between legs. She spied the rather handsome
concierge retreat down the carpeted corridor. Not a great ass, but then,
he strolled with such grace, she longed to see him handle himself in
bed. No raw, rough thrusting from the concierge, but smooth, sensual
lovemaking.

But what if he was dropping a hint?

With arousing tingle in the triangle between her thighs, Tamika wondered
how she could get the cute concierge to assist her with the big problem
in her bed.

End Excerpt

Bio:

Lena Austin is a “fallen” society wench with a checkered past. She has been a licensed minister, hairdresser, and realtor, radio DJ, exotic dancer, telephone service tech, live-steel medievalist swordswoman, BDSM Mistress, and investment property manager. Not necessarily in that order. She never finished that degree in marine archaeology, but did learn to scuba. After a life like that, writing about it is pretty restful. Of herself, Lena writes, “I’m tall, and I look like an unholy mating between an Amazon and a librarian. Everything else is subject to change on a whim, and I have a lot of whims.” She presently has over 20 books written. Write her at voiceomt2002@yahoo.com or visit her website at http://www.lenaaustin.com/

2.

Truth is often stranger than fiction, and Lena's experiences gave her a wide range of material to write about. Someone cursed her with "may you have a life so full you'll have many tales to tell your grandchildren." Hey, why waste these stories on kids who won't listen anyway? Writing them down is a nice way to spend her retirement. What? You expected an ex-BDSM Mistress to take up crocheting or something? See all her books at http://www.lenaaustin.com/ or write her at voiceomt2002@yahoo.com.

Tuesday Richards:

I am in the home stretch of college classes, I'm in my very last year of my Business Management degree ! My first book released March 14, 2008 and six other due out sometime this year. Check out my website at http://www.tuesdayrichards.literalseduction.net/ . I am also the Marketing Coordinator for Aspen Mountain Press. I get to stay at home with my children, because I 'Telecommute' to work. I also fill my days with editing books for my best friends mother who has 30 books published so far. You can check her out at http://www.lenaaustin.com/, writing my own book and enjoying time with my children.

For those who may be wondering about my name, and I know you are, I will tell you, no my parents were not on drugs or drunk, at least not my mother. I was named after “Tuesday's Gone” by Lynard Skynard.

Buy Link:

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=821



Blurb for Must Love Dogs:

Corbin is a pure werewolf Alpha, and heir to his pack. Tired of the avariciousness of the pure females at his disposal, Corbin lies on a dating service and pretends to be human. Breaking tradition is the only way he sees of finding his dream Alpha Bitch. Who cares if he dates a were-dog?


Roni is a Chusky. That is, her mother is a Siberian Husky were-dog and her father is a Chihuahua were-dog. Roni has no problem being a “mutt” and can't understand why anyone would have a problem with her dating a human. Just because she's the heir to her father's pack, who cares what she sleeps with?


Who cares? Their parents. This is so not Romeo and Juliet. You won't hear any Shakespearean whines out of this pair, but you may hear a whole lot of growling.


Excerpts:

Excerpt 1

Roni had no such restraints to keep her from pealing out the wildest howl he'd ever heard. "Woo-woo-wooo!" She threw back her head and sang to the moon.

The carriage shot them down into the blackness of a dark cave. At least Corbin assumed it was a cave. He couldn't see the stars or the moon but he could see the luminous red nature of Roni's eyes. She looked like the legendary demon dogs. Wait. Her mother was a Siberian Husky werefolk. Their eyes turned red in low light. His heart raced faster, and adrenaline shot through his system. He'd howl in a few seconds if he didn't do something, and his body reacted before his conscious mind thought up a plan. His arms clamped around Roni's, and he yanked her closer for an adrenaline-laced kiss.

She returned the kiss in kind, smelling of excitement and a trace of fear from the ride. Her lips worked beneath his, nibbling on his bottom lip with tiny nips both painful and arousing.

They were still locked at the mouth like two teens with stuck braces when the ride ended. The attendant chuckled when he lifted the restraint bar, and whispered the name of the nearest local hotel. "Get a room, you two."

Roni released Corbin's lips and giggled. She tugged on his hand. "C'mon, handsome. Your car is this way." Then she let go of his hand and ran. The wink over her shoulder invited him for a short chase.

He knew where the damn car was. Barely. Not that it mattered. She couldn't run fast in those heels and presumably she left them on to let "the human" catch her. He laughed and loped easily after Roni.

She "let" him catch her at the rear bumper of his hydrocar. Her hand reached up to grasp his head and pull him down for a lingering kiss.

Corbin wrapped his arms around her and lifted Roni's butt until it rested on the trunk of his car and equalized their heights.

Roni responded by wrapping her legs around his waist. The heat of her arousal smacked his nose like a fist. "We need a room. And a bed. Now."

Those panted demands acted like the strongest aphrodisiacs known to lupine kind. Corbin stroked her whole body from breast to hip and back. "Yes. Your place is closest." It was a lie. His home was closer, but the last thing he wanted was for Duke to see or get involved. She was his, and he didn't want to share even her face.

Roni dove for the passenger side and had her seatbelt on before he could even get in. Her big brown eyes flashed with that demonic light once more in the streetlamps. Her fingertips stroked his zipper, but she couldn't reach any further. "Damn the laws that keep me locked away from you. I'd suck on your cock the entire way home."

The aforementioned body part stood at rigid attention like a soldier called to duty. Corbin's mind blanked as all the blood rushed out of his brain. "Yes, ma'am. I'll drive as fast as I can."

Excerpt 2


With aching slowness, Corbin pulled down the zipper of her minimalist jumpsuit, designed to hug every curve of her body. She'd bought the jumpsuit with Corbin in mind, and he seemed to appreciate the effort on his behalf. His lips followed the zipper's slow trail down, licking and nibbling every inch revealed. "Did I mention how much I love this suit you sprayed on?"

Roni gasped and wriggled beneath him. The tiny bites and soothing licks, moving slowly down to her dripping pussy, made the anticipation increase to unimaginable levels. Most guys hopped on with minimal attention to her needs and rode her like a racehorse doing the two-minute mile. Not Corbin! The human was a master of the slow, sensual lovemaking most women dreamed of. "You're showing me just fine."

Corbin chuckled softly at her moaned answer. He continued to pull the zipper down past her hip joint, but stopped its progress midway to her knee. There, his lips worked their way to the soft flesh on the inside of Roni's thigh. "Open for me, baby."

Obediently, Roni spread herself before him, helplessly caught in her need for his tongue or his cock. She didn't give a rat's ass, as long as she got relief from the rumbling volcano inside her. She could feel her skin heating, knowing her fur was showing and unable to stop it. She just prayed her shaved pussy would be enough to keep the virtually hairless human aroused. "Corbin…"

Her zipper slid down to her knee, exposing more of her flesh. Corbin's hot mouth attacked her pussy like he was a hungry predator. His sensual hum vibrated up her entire body.

Her delighted shudders echoed his hum, and her entire focus narrowed to how his tongue scraped across her swollen clit, and his chin ground into her flowing pussy. One of her hands crept downward and pulled apart her labia to give him full access.

Corbin responded to her silent plea by delving even deeper into his treat. If she'd been an ice cream cone he'd have been swirling his tongue to relish every bit, fueling a thousand fantasies of every woman in view. As it was, he was all hers, and he was a master at his art.

Roni had no warning. Her body stilled only for a second, an eternity of waiting before she exploded. Her back arched, and she clawed the rug to hang on to sanity. Roni screeched his name, helpless and caught in the force of her orgasm.

Her human lover wasted no time. He knelt upright and wiped his chin of her juices with an evil grin of triumph. Had he been a werewolf, such an expression would have been a serious challenge to her as a born Alpha Bitch. Then, he ripped her new jumpsuit to shreds with his bare hands.

The loss Roni counted as a small one. She'd buy another. She restrained herself from the urge to go completely furry and demand a chase in the woods. Poor primate that he was, he'd never scent her out, much less catch her and tame her as an Alpha Male claimed his mate. What a shame. He came so close to perfection, Roni almost howled in despair.

Corbin closed his eyes for a moment and shuddered. He bit his lip and took a deep breath. His dark eyes opened, and he grabbed her ankles. Before Roni could even squeak, he put her feet on each of his shoulders and hauled her bodily across the carpet until his cock nestled against her still throbbing pussy. "C'mere!"

The Chuskie in her obeyed before the thinking woman caught on. Roni blessed her daily sit-ups and came upward to put her arms around his neck. Seamlessly, she slid down on his cock and fell backwards toward the carpet.

Corbin's strong arms saved her from a nasty bump on the head and gently lowered her back now that he was firmly entrenched inside her. Again, he shuddered, perhaps to avoid coming too soon. He put his hands on her thighs as his brace. "Ready, baby?"

Unable to speak, Roni nodded and grabbed the carpet once more. She'd be at his mercy, and unless she wanted a serious rug burn on the parts not still covered by the remains of her jumpsuit, she had to hang on tight.

The first thrust rocked her back into orgasm. Roni pulled up two fistfuls of carpet and grabbed again for more. Again and again, each thrust shoved her further across the Oriental rug. Likewise she left a trail of shredded handfuls behind her. Ana was going to kill her, and Roni didn't give a royal damn. She howled her lover's name. "Cor-wor-wor-woo-woo!" God, Roni hoped she didn't sound like an idiot.

Quick Note:

Bio:
Award-winning author Devyn Quinn lives amid the scenic Southwest Texas plains. A huge fan of dark gothic literature, Devyn is a recent Romantic Times Nominee and CAPA Award winner. Writing with a style that has depth, fire, and fiendish imagination, Devyn made her New York debut with FLESH AND THE DEVIL, then followed it up with the release of SINS OF THE FLESH in Oct 07–the first book in her Kith & Kynn vampire series. She and is currently working on her next Goth-erotic title. Visit Devyn online at http://www.devynquinn.com/ or www.myspace.com/devynquinn for the latest details on her books and upcoming announcements.

Blurb:
Sins of the Night (Book 2 Kith & Kynn)

Once, Adrien Roth was a Shadow Stalker--a hunter of vampires called the Kynn. Captured, he was forced to pay a devastating price, to become the very thing he despised. Over a century has passed since that time and Adrien's revenge against the creatures who tainted him is almost complete.

Little does he know that his thirst for justice will turn on him.

Foiling an attempted rape, Adrien is stunned by his attraction to the would-be victim. Cassie Wilson is a vibrant woman, obsessed with living for every moment. Though he knows better, Adrien begins to fall in love with her. But Cassie hides a terrible secret: her cancer is incurable.

When he and Cassie are captured by his enemies, Adrien is given a choice. Should he choose death for himself, or life for Cassie by making her one of the clan he's shunned for too long?

"A compelling, exciting and fascinating tale. 5 Angels!" Fallen Angel Reviews
"The interplay between the characters makes this book a really great and exciting to read. 5 Stars!" Just Erotic Romance Reviews"A very creative story of love, lust, and vampirism. Fans of vampires and the paranormal will most likely enjoy this story just as much as I did. 4 Cups." Coffeetime Reviews.

"Unique...part thriller, part love story and part fantasy. This is an interesting addition to the vampire genre." - Romantic Times


Buy Link:

Available March 25th, 2008

Buy from Amazon:

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Buy from B&N:

http://search.barnesandnoble.com/booksearch/isbnInquiry.asp?z=y&EAN=9780758220189&itm=5

Excerpt(s):

Sins of the Night
Copyright 2008 @ Devyn Quinn.
Published by Kensington Publishing Corp. All rights reserved.

Prologue

Warwickshire, England - 1906

Adrien Roth wasn’t sure what awakened him. Perhaps it was the sinking of the sun, the gradual darkening of the chamber already shrouded in shadows by heavy velvet drapes drawn across the windows.

Or perhaps it was dread rousing him from his restless sleep, causing him to twist his wrists against the ropes binding them to the headboard. He cursed the unyielding restraints. No matter how much he writhed, he simply could not free his arms. The skin under the ropes was badly chafed and raw. Struggling only delivered more pain. He ignored it, his hands balling into tight fists to fight the ropes anew.

Helplessness consumed him. A wild-voiced cry echoed through his head.

They’re coming…

His eyes slipped shut. Silence hung, the lack of sound even more disturbing than a scream, or the sound of ominous footfalls on the hardwood floors. His heart hammered in his chest, beating against his ribs with a fury threatening to steal his breath away. He gasped, running his parched tongue over dry, cracked lips.

Opening his eyes, he focused on the dim light behind the drapes as though it were a beacon, the only source of illumination in the world. He silently prayed to God without ceasing. Without allowing himself to think of what was to come, or of how it would end, he vehemently cursed the source of his misery. When more thoughts of torture invaded his mind, his gaze clouded over and his lower jaw trembled. The wait was excruciating.

Minutes dragged like hours. All hope faded with the last precious rays of day. As the wing of night spread over the land, misery and horror was given fresh birth. Fear became more intense.

He did not hear them, but felt them, the way one would become aware of a spider crawling across one’s skin.

His eyes widened when the door swung open and two figures, a man and a woman, entered silently. He knew them both. The man was Devon, Lord Carnavorn, seventh Earl of Hammerston. Tall, well over six feet, his features were strong and commanding; piercing gray eyes, sensual but cruel mouth, tousled brown hair. The outfit of dove gray trousers, white silk shirt and silk vest of a lighter gray well fitted his muscular frame.

The woman… Oh, blessed virgin and tainted whore. She was his angel and his demon, savior and tormentor; appropriately named, for she would consent to lie beneath no man.

Lilith.

Her name was a whisper on the lips of pious men, the screech of a night owl, the shimmering frost on the accursed north wind. In one slender hand she carried a gold-gilt candelabrum. The flame guttered as she walked. She was a lovely creature to behold through the wavering light. Clad in a white silk dressing gown, the sheer material whispered around her legs. Open at the neck, a glimpse of her sumptuous breasts hinted of untold delights. Black hair cascaded around her shoulders, falling nearly to her waist. Silver-flecked crystal blue eyes, a pert nose and a pouting little bow of a mouth decorated her oval face. Beyond her beauty was a strange hardness–a hatred lingering in the depths of her eyes and the cruel set of her mouth.

Devon Carnavorn’s probing stare raked Adrien’s naked form. “I hope you’re ready for the coming evening. We have something special in store for you this night.” His accented voice was smooth, untroubled, as if all his guests were usually trussed up like a Christmas turkey ready for roasting.

Adrien gave a final feeble tug, wishing the ties would magically dissolve. There was, however, no hope of rescue and he knew it.

He was afraid, but not for his life. Life was temporary, something he’d been prepared from childhood to sacrifice in the name of the hunt for the creatures inhabiting the night, stalking the weaker human prey. Life was fleeting, easier lost than kept. But what of his immortal soul? No amount of preparation or prayer could sustain a man when eternal damnation beckoned. All he had left was his faith in God and the church. Through the days, he’d prayed when conscious, dreamt that he prayed when unconscious, his time spent in restless sleep refusing to let him find solace or peace.

The beginning of a prayer slipped from his lips. “Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name,” he said, attempting to wrap himself in the words as if they were a shield. “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven–”

Carnavorn angrily recoiled from the words. A look of scorn colored his face. “Your prayers will not be Devyn Quinned! Your God does not exist here!” Hands fisted in anger, the venom in his voice temporarily silenced Adrien. Recovering his composure, Carnavorn continued in a smoother tone. “I know the old prayers as well as you do. They are meaningless. Nothing.”

“You mock the words of my faith, demon!” Adrien spat back.

Dark brows dropped into a frown. “They say the devil can quote scripture for his own purposes,” Carnavorn countered icily. “That itself is true enough. I certainly have one that perfectly fits our, ah, situation. Something you may recognize, about an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.”

A shiver clawed its way up Adrien’s spine. His guts turned to liquid. “If you’re going to kill me, do it. I’ve no fear of death.” How many days had he been held captive? He wasn’t sure. He only knew that he was growing weaker, resistance fading each and every time the demonic pair descended.

Carnavorn laughed, mouth curling up in a half-smile of disdain. “Kill you? Death is too good for you, Amhais. As the shadow-stalkers have hunted us, so must we of the Kynn return the favor.” He turned to the woman. “Are you ready, my dear?”

An eager smile crossed Lilith’s red lips, showing a flash of white teeth. “I have a special surprise for you.” Her voice was a combination of warm honey on sharp gravel, throaty and sensuous. She set the candelabra aside.

Adrien shook his head. Hunger, exhaustion and his weakening body were all making a play on his senses. The faces of those he’d slain drifted to the front of his mind. Their corpses rose to grasp at his legs, tug him down into the depths of an unhallowed grave.

He wanted to cry out, deny this evil in the name of all that was holy. Instead, only feeble words escaped his lips. “No…please…not again…” To beg was demeaning, but he had no more to give.

Carnavorn stepped behind Lilith. Hands on her slender hips, he maneuvered her to the bed. Reaching in front of her, he untied the sash of her gown and slid it off her shoulders. Underneath, she was completely naked. Her figure was well arranged; full breasts, slender waist, flat belly and legs that went on endlessly. Beautiful and feminine, hers was a body made to entice, tease and please. A thin silver chain hung around her neck; a pendant nestled in the hollow between her breasts. Of Celtic origins, the design was that of a circle interwoven with three sharp-edged eyelets that formed a triangle around the circle.

Carnavorn’s hands lifted, his fingertips grazing her temples. “Beautiful, is she not?” His fingers continued their trek, tracing the contours of her high cheekbones, the lines of her jaw, down her neck to the hollow of her throat. Eyelids lowering, she tipped her head to one side.

“We have a gift to share with you, Adrien.” Carnavorn’s head dipped, nuzzling the soft curve of Lilith’s neck. His hands found her breasts, cupping their weight. She made a soft sound; half gasp, half moan.

“I don’t want your damnation.” His sputtered words were strained.

Devon Carnavorn’s gray eyes narrowed, hard and flinty. “I don’t recall that you were given a choice. Did you show Ariel any mercy when you put that stake through her heart? She was everything to me and you took her away with the darkness of your hate and prejudice against our kind. There are truly more things in heaven and on earth than humankind will ever be able to understand. Your mind is too small to comprehend that. But your eyes will be opened, and then you shall see all.”

Adrien fought his bonds. “I sent her back to the devil that spawned her. Just as I will send you to hell right after her if I ever have that chance!”

Carnavorn only laughed. His hands found and teased Lilith’s nipples, giving them renewed erectness. “I won’t let you go, Adrien. You’re going to pay for what you did, not once, but again and again and again. You’ve only gotten a glimpse of what we really are.”

He ran his palms over Lilith’s hips, then her belly. A low moan escaped her throat. She hovered in a state of sexual arousal, the air around her scented from the sizzling heat of raw desire. His hand found the tender slit between her legs, that velvet treasure every woman possessed. Delving past the soft curls of her Venus mound, he stroked her clit.

Carnavorn dipped one finger inside her depths. He brought it to Lilith’s mouth, tracing her lips with honeyed nectar. Her moist tongue snaked out to savor her juices. “You want to taste her.” He grinned, feral and unpleasant. “Admit you are as weak as the next man and that lust is ablaze in your heart.”

“No–”

Lilith looked at him from under a fall of long lashes. “But it is, my darling.” Her gaze traced his nude body, settling on his flaccid penis. “How well I know.” Smiling, she began to finger her silver charm. The edges of the triangle were sharpened, and could slide through flesh like a razor. The charm had meted out a lot of pain, and would deliver still more. The agony itself was not nearly as great as the apprehension of pain to be inflicted. “You belong to me now, beloved.”

Adrien winced, his eyes drifting downward. A series of cuts crisscrossed his chest and abdomen, his skin red and swollen, part of the bondage and bloodletting ritual his captors had inflicted.

Devon gave her a gentle push. “Take him.”

Lilith flicked her hair off her shoulders and stretched out on the bed. The feather mattress was thick and soft, covered with a warm down comforter.

By day, Adrien was chained in a damp, windowless cellar. When night neared its fall, two silent male servants would bring him to her bedchamber. He was too weak to protest, try to fight his way to freedom. Through his long captivity he’d been given no food, and only very little water.

Propping herself on an elbow, Lilith trailed her palm over his chest, tracing his dusky male nipples. Her nails were long and sharp. Her touch was chilly, as if no blood flowed through her veins. Her skin had a strange opalescent opaqueness, reminding him more of stone than of living flesh.

Sexual hunger exuded from her like an exotic perfume. Lust pummeled in a series of gut wrenching kicks. Adrien caught a quick breath. When she was so close, every breath he took sent his need soaring. He ached to touch her.

Lilith’s hand moved to one of the small cuts marring his abdomen. Her fingers felt like silk against his skin. “Don’t you like what I do to you?” The wounds were deep and wide enough to draw blood, but do no serious damage. They seemed to mark him as hers and hers alone. Dipping her head, she circled one of his nipples with her liquid-silver tongue, flicking the little nub until it grew as hard as a bead. Her breath caressed his chilled skin as her searching hand rubbed over his bare chest in sensuous circles.

Adrien closed his eyes, trying to fight her alluring touch. A growl rumbled deep in his throat, but he was barely aware of it. “Please–don’t–” His voice was hoarse, wavering with desperation. As if to betray his words, sweet inertia washed over him.

Devon sneered. “Words Ariel said. Words your men ignored.”

Lilith jerked off her necklace, snapping the thin chain. “Tonight, I will close those mortal eyes of yours.” She drew the sharp edge of the charm across his skin, just below his navel. Crimson welled to the surface, and her head dipped. She soothed away the brief sting with her tongue, licking hungrily. Low snarls escaped from her throat as she drank, the way an animal would growl when its food was in danger of being snatched. She made two more cuts, going lower with each, licking and suckling his skin.

Adrien shivered when she wrapped her fingers around his growing erection. His thick, jutting cock pulsed, alive under her touch. A drop of semen leaked from its head, glistening in the candlelight. What she was doing appalled him. It was against his will, but it also fascinated him on a deeper, more primeval level.

“You will pay for murdering my sister in cold blood,” Lilith murmured. “As you took her life from the clan, yours shall replace it.”

Adrien’s senses spun away when Lilith spread her long hair spread across his torso. Eyes alight with anticipation, her adept tongue flicked out. Wetness swirled over the tip of his penis. She suckled in long deep strokes that stole away his breath and tightened his balls.

Anticipation ran riot through Adrien’s veins. Need pounding a strange rhythm in his temples, he felt a flame of desire shoot down to his balls, making them tingle and tighten. Lilith’s teeth scraped, a bit more pain to feed his deep-seated erotic desires.

He wasn’t willing–but he could be persuaded.

Appalled by his excitement, Adrien was also secretly intrigued by this strange world of sexual vampirism. Fantasies he’d never believed would be fulfilled were bursting into a painfully carnal kaleidoscope of sights, sounds and sensations. Sex was suddenly not just something to have or have done. It was sustaining nourishment drawing from the very core of energy that could create life itself.

Still, he desired it even as he despised it. The conflicting ideas were plunging him deeper into confusion. Sanity was slowly turning to madness as the carnal desires harbored in his heart took seed and sprouted. The devil had laid a feast before him and even though he should turn away and embrace the famine, he was a man of desires unfulfilled.

He hungered.

And he ate.

Watching from the edge of the bed, Devon Carnavorn grasped the bedpost, leaning closer. “Show him no mercy, Lilith. Take him in the most painful way.”

The malicious words drew Adrien from his enjoyable apathy. “I was sworn of an oath to erase your kind from this earth. I will not stop, no matter the hell you send me into.”

Despite his words, he was completely under the domination of these foul beasts. The ache to possess her completely worsened. Fiercer than his own disgust at his weakening will was the unquenchable desire to dominate Lilith the way she was controlling him.

Devon chuckled. “Heaven is just a sin away, my friend. Your lips say no, but your body betrays your piety. You can’t resist the needs of the flesh, so give in and have the benefit of what is so generously offered.”

The shackles of repression were easily cast aside.

I’m too weak, Adrien thought.

Pleasure took control.

Bracing his head on the pillow, Adrien moved his hips, savoring the way Lilith flicked her tongue over the tip before taking him deeply. His mouth felt incredibly arid, his lips tender from his hot breath rolling over them. He longed to be kissing her, holding her, needing to be inside that tight, velvety cunt, feeling her smooth belly against his as she writhed under his body.

Just as he was about to explode, Lilith drew back. She shifted and moved onto her knees, straddling his body. She lowered her hips to his in a smooth motion, guiding his erection into her welcoming depths. He could feel her thighs tightening against his hips. Her sex clenched his cock, soft as rose petals and strong as steel bands.

Lilith dug her nails into his shoulders, bringing a fresh pain of the most exquisite kind. Leaning forward, her mouth captured his in a long suckling kiss. He tasted his blood on her lips, a sample both forbidden and thrilling. Even as she kissed him, he could feel the strange ripples drawing away his sexual essences the way her lips had drawn in his life’s essences. She quivered violently when orgasm ripped through her.

Adrien’s own arousal was simmering at a heat threatening to boil over like a volcano disgorging molten lava. Straining against the ropes tying his wrists, he thrust his hips upward, driving deeper into her slick, silken channel.

Face framed with a tumble of dark hair, white teeth sinking into her lower lip, Lilith slammed back, grinding down on his cock. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she rose a little, then back down, meeting his upcoming thrust with perfect synchronicity. The power of their joining was more erotic than anything he’d ever experienced.

Adrien lost control.

Lust searing his senses, he speared deep in one long thrust. Clenching his teeth, unable to hold back any longer, he felt the pull of his loins releasing. The muscles across his abdomen ridged, then rippled. Brain short-circuiting, a quake of pleasure thundered through him. Hot semen jetted. Lilith’s inner muscles rippled around his cock in long, blissful waves.

Adrien moaned, struggling to master his breathing. He was woozy, dizzy, feeling as though his very soul had been drained away.

Sleep would be welcome. Food even more.

The offering he was to receive for nourishment wasn’t what he anticipated.

Bodies still joined, Lilith retrieved her charm. Lifting her hand, she slashed through her palm.

Warm blood dripped onto Adrien’s chest, the droplets falling like shards of ice in a winter storm.

Lilith reached out and grasped his face. Her nails dug into his skin, the pressure at his jaws forcing his mouth open. Fierceness blazed behind her gaze. “Drink.” She positioned her bleeding hand over his mouth. “Drink of me, and shed your mortal shell.” Foul blood dribbled past his lips.

Gagging, Adrien twisted his face to one side. “No…” Stomach lurching, he spat her blood back at her.

With a little laugh, Lilith righted his head. Digging her fingers into his mouth and wrenching down his jaw, she fed him more of her blood.

Adrien renewed his efforts to refuse her offering, gagging and gurgling sickly through his efforts not to swallow even as his lungs burned from lack of air. He had to breathe to live.

He had to swallow.

Gasping, he reluctantly swallowed. The strange sweet taste coated his tongue, sliding like cold lead down his throat. When the chill hit his stomach, he could feel the exotic organism enter his veins, slithering through his body like an evil snake.

Adrien’s vision dimmed alarmingly as an unfamiliar euphoria overtook him. An unearthly and wholly incredible energy was burgeoning inside him, spawning outward like a child fighting to be birthed. He could not speak, he could not move. His flesh tingled as though consumed by an inner fire, feeling dry and papery. He could feel the energy pulsing, conquering, consuming…

His soul was being swallowed by the black entity stealing his mortality away.

Darkness rose.

Helpless, a mist shrouded his brain, spreading a strange numbness over his senses. Then unconsciousness claimed him, and he knew no more.