Why zombies?

By Mary Winter


It started off as a joke. I have a couple of really good friends who are zombie crazy, and I thought: “what's the one thing you never see in a romance novel?” That's right. Zombies. Of course, a zombie couldn't be either the hero or the heroine. You can get away with a lot of things in erotic romance, but something that is a walking, rotting corpse, just isn't romantic or sexy. If it makes you go ick, it doesn't need to be the heroine (or hero) of a romance novel.


So when I sat down to plot my NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) project I knew that I wanted to write a romance and I wanted it to have zombies in it. I had the character of Zahra in mind as a zombie slayer, and the more I thought about her, the more I realized what kind of man, or in this case, a half-angel, it would take to stand up to her. The entire mythos kind of fell into place and the novel was born.


So why zombies and angels? The biggest reason is as a nod to my two good friends who have supported me from my days as an aspiring writer through my published days, and now listen to me while I talk about the trials and tribulations of the publishing world. And angels, because I read a book Metal Angel by Nancy Springer and absolutely loved her hero. This fallen angel made the perfect dark, brooding, sexy hero, and while Dashtu isn't a full angel, he certainly does, well… have his wings.


And probably the biggest reason is that I wanted to have fun. NaNoWriMo is about cranking out 50,000 words in a month. While I've certainly done that, and my current writing goals, if I get to them every day, tend to run more toward the 80,000 word range, I wanted to make sure that the story was one that I couldn't wait to get back to every day. In 2006 it was my polar bears in Bjorn's Mate. In 2007, it was An Angel's Blade.


Happy reading!

An Angel's Blade

By Mary Winter

http://www.marywinter.com/

Release Date: May 15, 2008

http://www.loose-id.com/detail.aspx?ID=702

Loose Id

Genre: post-apocalyptic/near future erotic romance with zombies and angels


BLURB:

A woman teaches a half-angel that the best way to save the world, and himself, is to give into his desires and play with his Blade.


EXCERPT:


Dashtu rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I'm just one man, Zahra. I worked with someone once, remember? It didn't end well. I'm too smart to wage a one-person crusade against the Necromancers.”


“Someone has to fight. I'm not giving up.”


“Then you're going to die. I'm sorry, Zahra. I want to help you. I really do, but I've done my time. More than you can know. I remember when the first Necromancers gained power. I remember when the bomb took out most of Washington DC. Amazing what people will do out of greed, isn't it?” He kept his voice deadpan, his expression undecipherable.


He didn't look much older than thirty. For him to have seen that -- she did some quick mental calculations -- made him nearly seventy-five years old. He looked good for being a septuagenarian. “If you saw all of that then you know why we have to fight.”


Dashtu glanced toward the door again. A tall wall of a man strode in. His bald head gleamed in the lantern lights. He wore black from neck to toes, insignia along the right arm of his jacket.


Zahra's stomach fell. This man worked for the Necromancer controlling the area. She ducked her head.

Dashtu lunged across the table. Cupping the back of her head, he pulled her lips toward his. “Don't fight me,” he whispered an instant before his mouth closed over hers.


She'd once watched an apartment building catch fire and burn to the ground in less than an hour. The flames igniting inside her eclipsed even the memory of that event. With his left hand, he cupped her cheek, obscuring anyone's view of her face. She did the same, tangling her fingers in his fine hair. His tongue swiped across her lips and willingly she opened for him. A hungry, needy moan erupted from her and he swallowed it.


Fire and ice. He made the combination possible, the heat radiating from him feeling strong enough to melt the worn, vinyl bench. His scent surrounded her, a mix of sandalwood and cinnamon like the incense her mentor used to burn. The scent of angels, she'd called it, and after getting this close to Dashtu, Zahra knew she was right. Not even the crudely brewed beer she tasted detracted from his allure. His spicy taste filled her mouth and made her tingle all the way to her toes. Her nipples rasped against the leather vest. Between her legs, her leather pants rubbed against her swollen clit.


No one cared about the couple kissing in the corner. Zahra tried to focus on her surroundings. The big man strode through the bar, acting as if he were looking for someone.


Dashtu's hands didn't move. He didn't reach for her breast, didn't try to caress any more than her face and neck. His tongue plunged into her mouth, a carnal acknowledgement of the attraction between them.


Zahra kissed him back. Stroking his tongue with her own she poured her years of sexual frustration into the kiss. She tucked her knees beneath her, crawling further onto the table. Distantly, she recognized hoots and catcalls coming from somewhere in the bar. She clenched her fingers in his hair, pulling him hard against her. Their teeth clicked together, the slight pain adding to her pleasure.


The need for air parted them, a momentary distraction. Even that tiny parting made her whimper and press her lips to his. Her years of self-enforced celibacy, her hunt for Dashtu, her need to save these people…it all coalesced into this moment of life giving passion. His lips on hers. His hands on her skin. His cock in her body. She wanted it all and she wanted it right now.


He pulled away. “Let's go.”


“What?” Her mind reeling from the kiss, she turned to look.


“Don't look.” Cupping her cheek, he turned her to face him. “Just get out of the booth and head out the back door.”


Zahra nodded. She knew her way around Barg's since she'd often come here to let off a little steam, especially after Spika's death. “I'll lead.” She tore off the apron and left it in the booth.


He followed so close his breath tickled the back of her neck. With him so near he swamped her senses. She struggled to listen to snippets of conversation. A woman's orgasmic scream vibrated through the paper-thin walls. Two men discussed the harvest, or lack thereof, and one boasted he found a way to repair an abandoned car. The other guffawed. Beer flowed into tankards and into mouths. The slick floor made a hasty retreat impossible.


She ducked into one of the alcoves lovers used when there weren't any rooms available in the back.


“Hurry,” Dashtu growled.


“I'm trying.” She poked her head out of the alcove, saw the big man still sitting at the bar. “This way.” She grabbed his hand, pulling him down the hallway that led to the prostitute's quarters. Raising her hand in the air, she made a gesture for Barg. The bartender nodded and shoved another drink at the big man.


“What are you doing?” Dashtu stopped in the hall. He glanced at the curtains. Sexual sounds echoed from the rooms, from the slap of leather against bare flesh, to a man's groan of pleasure. Somewhere, a tenor voice chanted “Yes! Yes!” and squeaking bed springs made an off-tune symphony. She'd often hidden back here where the prostitutes worked, sometimes offering protection to the women. Barg helped her out with the occasional job. She knew she'd be leaving Barg with one hell of a mess. Sorry, man. She shoved open the back door, stepping through a cloud of cigarette smoke.


“You coming?” she snarled over her shoulder at Dashtu, aware that had they been somewhere else the question would have had a different meaning. As if on cue a man gave a long, lingering moan. Zahra grinned.


“Yeah,” he muttered. “Where now?”

Coming Soon:

June 2