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Shades of Gray: A Short Story by H.D. Thomson
Kennedy Sinclair is given a pair of simple sunglasses. Or so she thinks. Within twenty-four
hours, she discovers they are far from simple or normal. The lenses open a door to the dark side of her personality and a serial killer, who turns his focus on her. Can she outwit, outrun a murderer? And if she survives the night, does she have the strength to become the person destiny has created for her?
Just 99 cents!!
For more information about my books, please visit HDThomson.com.
Shrouded in Darkness by H.D. Thomson
Margot Davenport should never have opened the front door. She should have just kept on getting slowly and thoroughly drunk that night. But the pounding on the door went on and on, reverberating throughout the house and inside her skull. Stumbling from the couch in the living room, Margot knocked over her glass and an empty wine bottle, and grabbed onto her throbbing head with a hand.
“Damn it!”
In the hall, she tripped over her calico cat, Marmaduke, who streaked past her and up the stairs. She swore again. The banging continued. The crazy fool outside had given up on the doorbell long ago.
“John! Come on. Open up! It’s me, Jake!”
At the mention of Johnny’s name, Margot’s stomach twisted and rolled with sudden nausea. “Okay! Okay! Give me a second.”
She groped for the light switch to the hall. Nothing happened.
“Damn, stupid thing!” That’s what she got for not replacing the house’s ancient wiring.
“John, I’m freezing my ass off!”
“What do you expect,” Margot muttered, wondering if this guy was playing some sick joke at her expense.
Margot hit the outside light switch and peered through the glass panel beside the door. A man stood on the front porch. She didn’t recognize him, but then again, the sheet of snow and the light’s glare against the night backdrop didn’t help matters.
A gun or pepper spray for protection sounded pretty nice right now, but Margot hated guns and had never expected the need, living on the outskirts of Greyson, Arizona. It wasn’t like this town up in the White Mountains was loaded with crime. The worst incident had been a case of disorderly conduct last winter, and that had been from a drunken tourist.
“Who is it?”
A pause on the other side followed—almost as if she’d surprised him.
“Margot? Is that you? It’s Jake Preston.”
Though muffled, his words were clear enough to make out. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t recall what Johnny had said about him.
Margot frowned and winced as pain cut across her temple, brow and the base of her skull. She should have stopped at one glass of wine. “How do you know Johnny?”
“I worked with him at Miltronics for several years on the outskirts of Boston.”
Margot debated about turning this Jake away as she watched him stamp his feet against the porch. He must be freezing—what with the wind and snow.
“I know it’s late, but I need to talk to John. Please. If you could just get him, you’ll see I’m harmless.”
The urgency in his voice made her decide. He obviously didn’t know about her brother. She sighed heavily. What she had to tell him wasn’t going to be easy.
Margot unlatched the lock and opened the door.
An angry gust of wind burst into the house, tearing the knob from her grasp. The door flew wide and crashed against the wall. Gasping, she reeled back as snow flew in, stabbing her face with icy spikes.
“Here, let me.” He stepped inside and shoved the door closed with his shoulder. He turned his back against the light from the kitchen, casting his face in shadow. His baseball cap further shielded his features—along with sunglasses of all things.
How very odd. Sudden apprehension curled up her spine as Margot stepped away from Jake and the doorway. Topping a good six-feet, he appeared far larger than when he’d stood behind a locked door.
“What are the sunglasses for?” she asked.
“The light.”
“What?”
“My eyes. They’re sensitive to light. I injured both corneas as a child.”
“Oh.” She must have been staring at him like an idiot, but something about him made her uneasy. And it wasn’t just the glasses and pale complexion.
He must have sensed her disquiet, because he explained further, “It’s called traumatic iritis. It’s something I’ve had to live with for as long as I can remember.” He shrugged a large canvas backpack from his shoulder and placed it on the floor. “Can you get John for me?”
“He’s dead.”
Margot never intended the words to come out so abrupt and final, but…it hurt. Balling her hands into fists, she fought against the sudden tears that burned the back of her eyes. Please no. Not now. She couldn’t fall apart in front of this stranger.
“He can’t be. That’s impossible.”
For more information about my books, please visit HDThomson.com.
Shrouded in Mystery by H.D. Thomson
He came to with a jolt. Wind rushed through the broken windshield and slashed vicious tentacles against his face, while shattered glass and snow lay scattered across the dashboard and his lap. Pain cut into his skull and the back of his neck. With a tentative hand, he touched his brow and came away with damp fingers.
Blood.
He blinked several times, unable to understand why he sat behind the wheel of a car.
Some type of car accident? He couldn’t remember.
The vehicle rested at an odd angle, its nose dipped downward, and the driver’s side tilted toward the pine tops. Waning light turned a cloudless sky to a dirty gray. Dawn or dusk? He didn’t know. He couldn’t think. How had he gotten here?
Lifting his hands, he peered at them. They were large, long fingered, and free of calluses. Fine brown hairs dusted their backs. Stranger’s hands. His hands.
He wrestled for answers—a memory, an image, a clue to his identity—anything.
Nothing but a black, empty slate.
Panic welled in his throat and cut off the air to his lungs. He couldn’t remember anything about himself. He didn’t have a name, a past, a family. He didn’t exist.
Finally, he managed to drag in a lungful of air, but its frigid sting rushed passed his throat and into his lungs too fast. Oxygen flooded his head and white sparks danced across his peripheral vision.
No. He needed to stop. Now. And focus. Think.
He forced himself to relax, to calm the wild thump of his heart. After a moment he managed to breathe in a slow, steady rhythm, and the panic eased. He turned and noticed the passenger to his right. A man sat slumped, silent, his body thrown forward and held in place by his seatbelt.
“Hey, are you okay?”
No answer.
He nudged the man’s shoulder with a hand. “Can you hear me?”
No response.
Something wasn’t right.
He unbuckled his seatbelt and slapped a palm against the dashboard to stop from pitching forward. Awkwardly, he twisted in his seat, eased forward and ducked to get a better look at the person’s face. That’s when he noticed the hole above the passenger’s open and unblinking eye. For several long, heartrending seconds, he stared at how the blood pooled from the wound, and then dripped, again and again, slowly but steadily onto the person’s jean clad leg.
A gunshot wound. Had to be. “Jesus!”
Until now, he hadn’t noticed the pungent odor of death and how it clung to the interior of the car. At the stench, his stomach lurched but kept from heaving its contents.
The passenger wasn’t even a man but a kid in his late teens. A dead one at that. And the boy sure as hell didn’t die from a car accident with a bullet hole in his head.
Repulsed by the idea, but determined to find something of importance, he dug inside both outer pockets of the teenager’s jacket. He needed something to tell him what the hell was going on or at least who sat dead in the car with him. Next, he unzipped the kid’s jacket and felt around. His fingers caught on something jutting from a shirt pocket. He pulled it out and lifted it up to get a better view.
A picture. He managed to make out that it was a photo of the passenger and a woman with her arm draped over his shoulders. They stood in front of a building of some type. He turned the photo over and read:
Me and Katherine at the Morning Dove.
At least it was something. But not nearly enough to tell him who either one of them were.
Had he been the one to kill the kid?
There’d have to be a gun.
Quickly, he stuffed the picture inside the pocket of his down jacket and started searching. The fading light forced him to grope around the seat and floor by his feet and that of the dead teenager. He reached for the glove box, the most logical place for a weapon, and kept his gaze away from the body.
He didn’t find a weapon inside but he did find a flashlight, which he flipped on and aimed at the car’s floor. Still no gun. The relief was almost immobilizing. Because if he’d found a gun, he’d have proof that he’d murdered the boy. The idea of sticking the barrel of a gun into that kid’s face—
No. He didn’t want to go there.
He aimed the light in the back of the car where the beam caught on a navy blue duffle bag. Finally something. Not liking the idea of reaching over the back and brushing up against the dead teen, he decided to go outside and around. He opened the door, jumped out, and landed in a foot of snow, which seeped under his pants and bit into his skin.
Suddenly lightheaded, he bent over and rested his hands across his knees. Eyeglasses, he hadn’t noticed until now, slipped from his nose and fell to the ground. He plucked them from a snow as gray and lifeless as the sky. When he rose, a wave of dizziness seized him. He swayed and latched onto the car’s roof with one hand. God, he was weaker than he’d thought.
After he regained his equilibrium, he opened the back door, unzipped the duffle bag and aimed the light inside. And froze. He’d hoped for some clue to his past—anything—but what he discovered was far from what he’d imagined.
Cold, hard cash. The bag was stuffed with bundles of it, all tied by bank straps. With the flashlight trained on the bag’s interior, he lifted one bundle out and fanned the top edges and did it again to insure he wasn’t hallucinating. Hundreds. Every single one of them. The bills trembled against his fingers, while his heart rate kicked into a rapid rhythm. At the very least, there had to be more than a hundred thousand in front of him.
How? Why? What type of person carried this amount of money around with them?
He dropped the bundle back into the bag, opened the sides wider and realized he wasn’t done. Far from it. Something large rested inside. He wrapped his fingers around the handle and pulled the item from the bag. Beneath, the flashlight’s beam, the dark silver gleamed as if recently polished.
A gun.
“Holy Shit.”
Something big had gone down, and he’d been involved. But what?
He hated the feel of the gun beneath his fingers as he shoved it back in the bag. But even though he disliked touching the weapon, he’d obviously found it important enough keep one around.
What the hell type of person was he?
Then he heard something other than the wind through the pines. A cry. It had a distinct rhythm, growing low, then high, increasing in intensity as it approached.
He stilled.
The murdered teen, the cash, the gun. All incriminating, all unexplainable. The police or paramedics would never believe him. He didn’t even believe himself.
Fear shot him into action. He grabbed the bag—he might have lost his mind, but he wasn’t stupid enough to leave something like that behind—pivoted and stumbled away from the car and the dead boy.
If you would like to learn more about my books, please visit HDThomson.com.
The Devil You Know – Sexy, Paranormal Adventure by Sam Cheever
Book 4: Dancin’ With the Devil
The Devil You Know
by Sam Cheever
Book Length: Plus Novel
Excerpt rating: R
~~*~~
Astra Q Phelps is turning twenty-five in a few months and she’s starting to feel the effects of her Settling, the time when a half angel, half devil Tweener decides whether to embrace her dark nature or her light.
The delectable Dialle, king of the Royal devils, really needs Astra’s help in Hell to deal with an insurrection. But Astra’s Settling pretty much has her thinking of only one thing−S.E.X!
Sex with Dialle—sex with her yummy partner, Emo—sex with a molten hot dragon slayer she meets along the way—and sex with assorted other randy Royals cavorting among the fires of Hell. It’s a constant struggle just to keep her mind and body pure so she can concentrate on the business at hand, but Astra Q Phelps is definitely up for the challenge. And Good versus Evil has never been this much fun!
~~*~~
“Sam Cheever does it again. Combining her unique brand of humor with action and hot sex, The Devil You Know is an excellent tale to keep you up late at night. The plot was captivating, reminiscent of court intrigue, where you never know which are your friends and which are your enemies. Hop on for the ride as Astra Q Phelps and her delicious Dialle figure it all out in the pages of The Devil You Know.” SensualReads.com
~~*~~
Emo jumped slightly and turned. His handsome, golden face was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and his black eyes swirled with agitation. When he looked at me his lips tightened and then tipped upward in a tortured smile. “Hey, boss.”
“How’d it go?”
He shrugged. I noticed then that he was holding himself very stiffly and worried that he’d been injured. Hurrying forward I reached out and touched the soft knit of his black, torso-snugging sweater.
I gasped as I touched him and he jumped away, scowling. My fingers tingled and felt as if I’d burned them. An impossible amount of heat radiated off his body.
I could feel it from nearly a foot away. “Are you all right?”
Emo laughed. It was a bitter sound. A spot of color caught my eye and I looked down, a pretty, pastel swatch of fabric stuck out of his pocket. I reached for it, pulling it from his jeans. It was a small, lacy scrap of silk. Ladies panties.
Lifting an eyebrow in question, I grinned. “Souvenir?”
Emo’s body softened slightly as some of the tension slid away. He moved around me, taking great care not to touch me as he passed. “Collateral from the assignment. The Troll Queen was trying to fit them on her head and when I told her to give them back she threw them at me. I’m afraid they stuck to my sweater and I didn’t notice until I was back in the Black Knight and heading back here.” He paced slowly back and forth in front his desk, casting me a quick glance and a grin. For just a split second he looked like the old Emo. My friend.
“They look like they’re about your size, Astra…” He cut himself off and flushed visibly, gulping. “You can have them if you want.” He headed toward the office door.
“Wait!” I walked over and stood in front of him, lifting a hand to touch his forehead. He was burning up. “Emo, you’re sick. You need to get to an unplanned injury unit right away.”
He grabbed my wrist and pulled it away. He held on, not releasing me as I watched his eyes darken further and swirls of red and bright yellow enter them. His square, slightly bristled jaw clenched. “Please, don’t touch me.” He ground the words out and trembled.
“Emo, what’s wrong?”
Almost as if he were struggling against some invisible power, he lowered his head and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and slowly, scenting me.
My body reacted to his nearness and the possessive quality of his behavior and warm cream slid from my pussy. I panicked and tried to yank my wrist from his grip. “No. Emo, the Settling!” My temperature spiked to match his and my senses expanded.
“Exactly.” He murmured. His yummy scent, familiar yet different, with a slight tang that I recognized with a guilty start as lust, rose around me, exploding my senses and closing off all rational thought.
He lifted my arm above our heads and stepped close, dropping his head to scent my neck. I gasped as our bodies met, heat merged with heat, and I felt the hard ridge of his cock against my belly.
“Emo!”
His lips found my throat. I moaned.
My daemon hickey sparked and spat, sending warnings into the musk saturated air around us.
Emo lifted a finger and covered my hickey, silencing it. His tongue swept the sensitized skin of my throat. My nipples hardened into desperate peaks beneath my leather coat.
His hands slid under my coat…hot skin and cool air slipped across my body…
His eyes shot toward my face. “You’re naked!”
I opened my mouth to explain but no words formed in my mind.
Groaning, Emo yanked me up against his body, grinding himself into me. His lips ravaged mine. His hot, sweet tongue plundered my mouth, tangling hungrily with mine until I could barely breathe, hardly think. Everything was sensation. Heat. Musk. The brush of hungry skin against starving flesh.
Somewhere in the center of my lust-drenched brain reason called to me. I squelched it ruthlessly, allowing my Settling to pull me, limp and compliant, into disgrace and debauchery. My body wrapped around his, my leg twined around the backs of his hard, muscular thighs, and my mouth consumed his.
I was lost.
Gone.
Plowed under by lust.
There was no way I was going to pull back from it. Emo was no help at all. He wasn’t even trying to fight the pull of my Settling.
Wait a minute.
This was my Settling, not his. He couldn’t be under its influence.
I gasped and jerked away from him, swiping a shaking hand over my mouth as I backpedaled, putting much needed space between us.
Emo growled and tried to grab me back. His eyes were no longer even slightly human. They swirled with frantic color and throbbed in a rhythm that matched the surge of blood between my thighs. He panted desperately, beyond reason, and his jeans bulged with clear evidence of his need.
“You and I are about the same age!”
Emo turned away, reason finally sliding in to dull the edge of his raging hunger. “Yes.” His voice sounded strangled, husky from an internal struggle I recognized all too well.
~~*~~
Feed Your ARCHANGELS Craving!
You can feed your Archangel Craving with Summon Dorn, currently available only in Kindle Format. Good news, though, in late June it will become available in all the other electronic formats.
If you’re not all that fond of Kindle, I have REALLY good news! “Summon Kassern” is now available at: Smashwords, Barnes & Noble
Kobo Diesel ebooks
And to top it all off, “Summon Kassern” and “Summon Dorn” have brand-spanking NEW covers!
Check it out!
Azure and I are busy writing Toren’s story. The Mercury Archangel has a few things to teach us! Make sure you stop by ArchangelsCreed.com for new info, content, features, IMAGES and CONTESTS!
And now, to whet your appetite, an excerpt from “Summon Dorn”!
Other than tripping over air when she got in the elevator, Jessie made it up to her floor without incident. She checked in, grabbed her charts, and started off on her first rounds of the evening, fending off dozens of questions from co-workers about the unusual glow in her cheeks. Several assumed Todd had finally made some sort of move toward advancing their relationship. Jessie was careful to say nothing, about the transfer or Leo. Gossip was the last thing she needed. Bad enough some would likely see her get in Leo’s truck at the end of the shift.
The last hour of work seemed like a marathon in molasses. She must have checked her watch at least a dozen times every minute. Anticipation built until her stomach churned. With her luck, she’d end up puking right in Leo’s lap. She rummaged through the drawer in the lounge until she found a roll of antacids and popped three into her mouth.
Then the unthinkable happened. Five minutes before time to clock out, the elderly volunteer at the information desk stepped off the elevator with Leo in tow. An arthritic finger pointed to Jessie. “There she is, dear. I hope the two of you enjoy your day together.”
Every person around Jessie froze in complete silence as the sexy grin on two legs strutted to the station where she double-checked the day’s charts. “Hey there.” Leo leaned one arm comfortably on the counter. “I hope you don’t mind, but I realized we hadn’t planned where to meet and was afraid of missing you.”
Oh…Myyyy… The confidence in the man was just…fascinating. Probably strutted out of his mother’s womb. Why couldn’t she be that self-assured? “Um, yes, yes, of course, it’s fine. I still have a couple minutes before I can clock out, though.” She pushed hair behind her ears and hugged the charts while she attempted to chew the tremble from her lower lip.
“Good, that gives me a chance to watch you work.” The intimate rumble of his voice sent her stomach into a series of insane acrobatics.
Ruth, doing her own charts next to Jessie, gasped aloud as if Leo had said something unfit for mixed company.
He wanted to watch her? “Uh, ye-yeah. Okay.” That doggone stutter from elementary school reared its ugly head after more than a decade of hibernation.
He just smiled and nodded, while all her co-workers tried to scrape their jaws off the floor.
Jessie finally initialed the last block on her chart and closed it. “I need to get my purse and stuff from the lounge and clock out, then I’ll be ready.”
“Cool. I’ll wait here, if that’s okay?”
“Of course. I’ll hurry.” Jessie turned, forgetting Ruth next to her. A series of gasps and squeals and oh my Gods followed, along with Jessie’s profuse apologies as she climbed out of the poor girl’s lap. “So sorry,” Jessie gasped for a fifth time, patting Ruth’s shoulders and head before hurrying around the counter and past Leo.
“Maybe I should walk with you,” he said.
She paused, fighting down the humiliation. Just meeting those honey-baked eyes, all sweet and warm, made the air leave her lungs in a rush. His tongue swept across his lower lip in a way that should be illegal for the things it did to her.
Leo finally grinned and drew her to his side. “Which way?”
The walk to the lounge was uneventful, unless the stuff going on in Jessie’s body counted. Her nerves went for Olympic Gold in Gymnastics, and her pulse became a serious contender for the 10K. Her coworkers stood in dumbfounded silence, staring pointedly at Leo’s arm resting casually around Jessie’s waist, fingers curved to fit her hip.
A couple of centuries later, he escorted her into the elevator and then out to the staff parking lot where he helped her into his truck. She sat there, bouncing her legs while he went around and climbed in. The scent of his cologne, all musky with woodsy overtones, filled the enclosed area and her heart went to pounding again.
He drove and talked but no one better ask her what he said. She was too focused on the timbre of his voice and how it wrapped around her in an intimate embrace. They reached her house and he insisted on walking her to the door.
When she fumbled with her key, he took it and unlocked the door, and held it open for her. She stepped inside and turned to thank him, but he had followed her.
He gave her that seductive little smile and swung the door closed.
Jessie’s heart banged against her ribs in alarm when the deadbolt snicked into place.
Stop by ArchangelsCreed.com to learn more about the Archangels and their mission, as well as the demons and what they’re up to.
The Devil You Know – Sexy, Paranormal Adventure by Sam Cheever
Book 4: Dancin’ With the Devil
The Devil You Know
by Sam Cheever
Book Length: Plus Novel
Excerpt rating: R
~~*~~
Astra Q Phelps is turning twenty-five in a few months and she’s starting to feel the effects of her Settling, the time when a half angel, half devil Tweener decides whether to embrace her dark nature or her light.
The delectable Dialle, king of the Royal devils, really needs Astra’s help in Hell to deal with an insurrection. But Astra’s Settling pretty much has her thinking of only one thing−S.E.X!
Sex with Dialle—sex with her yummy partner, Emo—sex with a molten hot dragon slayer she meets along the way—and sex with assorted other randy Royals cavorting among the fires of Hell. It’s a constant struggle just to keep her mind and body pure so she can concentrate on the business at hand, but Astra Q Phelps is definitely up for the challenge. And Good versus Evil has never been this much fun!
~~*~~
“Sam Cheever does it again. Combining her unique brand of humor with action and hot sex, The Devil You Know is an excellent tale to keep you up late at night. The plot was captivating, reminiscent of court intrigue, where you never know which are your friends and which are your enemies. Hop on for the ride as Astra Q Phelps and her delicious Dialle figure it all out in the pages of The Devil You Know.” SensualReads.com
~~*~~
The water was hot enough to sting the center of my low back when I stepped into it, but I quickly got used to it and it felt wonderful. The pool was hip deep, and there was a wide, flat rock on one side I could sit on.
I groaned with pleasure and lay on my back for a long moment, just floating on the surface. My hair floated lazily around my head in the hot, mineralized water.
My muscles started to loosen and my mind wandered, at first considering the problems facing Glynus. But those thoughts quickly morphed to the Slayer. I realized with a jolt that I didn’t even know his name. I needed a name if I was gonna fantasize about throwing him to the floor and ravishing him.
Or did I?
My mind formed a picture of him and then set about stripping him naked, imagining the finely sculpted muscles and nicely packaged sexuality of a perfect male creature.
There was little chance he’d fit my mental description, but it didn’t matter, since it was purely an academic exercise. I had no intention of finding out what he looked like naked for real.
I floated happily, a grin on my face, and pictured him bending over me, his full, soft lips touching mine, pulling my breath away and sending spirals of delight to tighten at my sexual core.
My pussy clenched hopefully at the thought, and my nipples peaked. I reached up and covered my breasts with my palms, pulling on my nipples. Pleasure spiked in my belly and moved lower, to pulse in my throbbing clitoris.
I visualized his hot mouth moving from my lips to capture a rigid nipple, sucking it deep into the heated cave of his mouth and favoring it with long, slow pulls that tugged directly on my pleasure core, as if a thread of sensual desire attached the two parts of my passion-charged body.
My tongue came out and swept across my lips, tasting his imagined kisses there. One hand slid across the wet surface of my belly and disappeared in the curls covering my moist core. I touched my pulsing clit and moaned, nearly sinking as my body stiffened in delight.
Placing my free hand on the flat rock under the water’s surface, I regained my balance and renewed attentions to my clit. With every squeeze on the throbbing nub, bright tendrils of sensual expectation flared, until my toes curled and my muscles clenched in anticipation of the building release.
I played his face through my mind, savoring the hard angles of his jaw and the soft outline of his full lips. My traitorous psyche filled in the outlines with hot, knee-melting detail and went farther, drawing the silhouette of his broad shoulders, narrow hips, and long, muscular legs.
When my mind got to the shoulder length, silky black hair and long-lashed blue eyes I realized, with a start, that I was picturing Dialle. He’d nudged into my subconscious and shoved the other guy right out when I wasn’t looking.
I embraced the change, feeling the guilt I’d been ignoring at the back of my subconscious sliding away to leave only delight as my fingers worked their magic and built the pleasure to a tipping point. I thought about Dialle’s scent, his heated touch, how his cock felt sliding deep within my dripping pussy. How he made that little sound in his throat when I pulled his cock deep into my throat…
The sound of the waterfall was thunderous. It gave me the sensation of being in a cocoon, alone, free to do only as I wished.
So when I heard the clearing of a throat it was a shock. Beyond a shock. My eyes flew open and I shrieked, losing my balance on the top of the water. I sank to the bottom like a rock, sucking a mouthful of water down my throat in the process.
I came up spitting and spraying water, embarrassed, humiliated, and angrier than I’d ever been. Forgetting for a moment that I was naked I surged to my feet and faced him, fists clenched at my sides.
The Slayer’s face was completely without expression, and he held a bundle of clothing in his hands. “Sorry, I did call out several times but you didn’t respond. I thought maybe you’d drowned.” Something flashed quickly through his eyes as his gaze slid down my dripping form. Something hot and…hungry.
~~*~~
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Prisoner of the Mountain Watch – excerpt and FREE download!
Prisoner of the Mountain Watch is my fantasy m/m short story, which you can download for FREE now from All Romance, Amazon, Kobo, and W.H.Smith (for UK Kobo downloaders). It is also available at Amazon.co.uk where we are working to get the price reduced to free. Design is by the very talented Ria Chantler.
Megan Derr has kindly put Prisoner of the Mountain Watch on Goodreads, so you can now add it there.
WARNING: This story is suitable for over 18s only (includes male/male sexual practices and light BDSM – bondage.)
Excerpt:
“Stop playing the fool and be quiet. Now you have to take your tunic off.”
“What?”
The elf paled beneath his golden tan. Ivenhal’s heart sank to his boots. He’d always dreaded the possibility of having to forcibly remove a prisoner’s clothes for the binding, though he’d expected any victim of the Helon barrier to be unconscious. His attraction to this creature only made matters worse.
“Take your clothes off, elf, or I’ll have to do it for you.”
“I promise I won’t use magic on you. If you’d just tell me what’s going on, I won’t even try to escape, but–”
The elf broke off as Ivenhal stepped into the cage, stooping to fit under the low gridded roof, and slammed the door behind. Ivenhal turned a heavy key in the lock. “When we’re done with this, you can ask me whatever you like, though I can’t promise you any good answers. Do we have a deal?”
The elf nodded. He was trembling, and Ivenhal stifled the words I’m sorry once more. This was war, and he did what he had to.
“Good. Now come on. It won’t be so bad. If it gets cold in here tonight, I’ll light a fire.”
“How kind.”
The elf arched a dark brow, and Ivenhal sharpened his glower. He wasn’t in the mood for sarcasm, though it was preferable to physical resistance. The elf tugged apart the laces that fastened his rustic tunic, and dragged it off over his head.
Morning sunlight streamed through the tower’s narrow windows, highlighting the angles of the prisoner’s broad shoulders, each ridge and contour of his stomach and hairless chest. His clothing cast aside, he hooked his arms above his slim waist and peeped up at Ivenhal from beneath a wisp of his honey-and-chestnut-streaked hair. Only a ragged green cloth attached to a thong concealed his loins.
“So bind me,” whispered the elf.
Ivenhal gritted his teeth lest his contact-starved body quake. The elf licked those plush lips, exacerbating a hot ache in Ivenhal’s throat–and the erection he could no longer suppress. The idea of touching an enemy while so bestirred made him feel wrong and dirty. He strove to think of anything that would quell his lusts.
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Dragon Knights at the Movies
Not sure if this will post correctly here, but I wanted to share my first-ever professionally crafted book trailer, made by Circle of Seven Productions for my latest Dragon Knights book, Keeper of the Flame. It came out really great and I think it’s worth watching. What do you think?
Two New Dragon Knights Stories!
As I mentioned before, there will be two all-new Dragon Knights novellas coming out in July and August. You can pre-order them now from Amazon and here’s a little bit about each…
What’s better than a knight sweeping you off your feet? Two knights.
Silla is a healer riding circuit on the border, helping those in need. When she hears the pained cries of a dragon in distress, she comes to his aid, using most of her precious supplies to help the badly injured creature.
The dragon’s knight, Brodie, is fascinated by the woman – the miracle worker – who has come to help his friend. She is both beautiful and kind hearted and he quickly realizes she is his destined mate. And if she is Brodie’s mate, she is Geoff’s as well, for Brodie’s dragon was mated to Geoff’s dragon many years ago.
Geoff doesn’t believe in the tales of love at first sight among knights, but he knows that when either he or Brodie finds a wife, they will share her. Hearing about the dragon’s injury, Geoff and his dragon race to help, only to find the dragon on the mend and Brodie in bed with the most stunning woman Geoff has ever seen.
Love at first sight turns out to be real and it strikes them all as they come together and realize that no matter what the obstacles, they are meant to be together. Silla is the missing link that will join their lives and make them a true Lair family.
Warning: Knights like to get frisky and these two are no exception. Beware the passion, playfulness, a bit of bondage and a whole lot of three-way loving with a tiny bit of exhibitionism thrown in for good measure.
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When Cara’s half-brother is gravely wounded, she rallies the defenders of their keep as best she can. She knows how to fight, but is smart enough to realize she cannot-and should not-lead men into battle. No, that is the job of the Master at Arms, a mysteriously attractive foreign fighter named Tristan.
But when deadly, venomous creatures called skiths attack, only dragons can save them. A flight of dragons arrives in the nick of time-among them an unpartnered dragon named Rath and his mate with her handsome knight partner, Sir Thorn. Until Rath finds a knight and both knights find their lady, the dragons cannot be together. But fate may have just stepped in to help both dragons and men.
Caught on the ground, Rath is in serious danger from a rogue skith when Tristan comes to his rescue. His courage impresses the dragon greatly. This is a man who could be a knight… if his loyalties can be won by dragonkind.
And all is not as it seems with Cara’s family and the half-brother who wants nothing more than to pack her off to a loveless marriage, sold to the highest bidder. It will take all the diplomacy and skill of both Thorn and Tristan to set things right… and win Lady Cara’s heart for themselves.
Warning: When two dragons really want something, it’s best not to stand in their way. And when their knights are focused on a single woman, nothing and no one will stop them from getting what they want. Beware! This trio gets up to all kinds of naughtiness in the pursuit of true love.
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Excerpt – Keeper of the Flame by Bianca D’Arc
Here’s another excerpt form another one of my series – Dragon Knights. Keeper of the Flame came out in February of this year and is the newest novel in the series. There will be two more stories – novellas – in this series releasing in July and August of this year, that are already available for pre-order: The Dragon Healer and Master at Arms.
A warrior, a maiden… and a passion that could set the whole world aflame.
Despite the fact he is the largest of his half-dragon brothers and better suited to fighting, Hugh has been sent on an undercover mission. Forced to stay in human form, he must discover if the land of Helios is truly the Draconian ally it pretends, or something more sinister.
When he witnesses injustice in the form of a misshapen baby gryphlet kicked out into the cold, he cannot remain in the shadows and watch the child suffer. All he can hope for is that his act of kindness will go unnoticed so his mission can continue.
But someone does notice. When Lera cautiously approaches Hugh, she is drawn to his strange, foreign magic. She is entranced by its irresistible allure — until assassins come calling and reveal her true identity.
She is Valeria, queen of Helios, Keeper of the Flame. And she has been betrayed. Together they must risk everything to uncover the traitors and reforge the alliance between their lands. Yet beneath their blazing passion, both are still keeping secrets. Secrets that the Sacred Flame will reveal — if their love survives its cleansing fire.
Warning: When a dragon prince and a Flame Keeper come together, the conflagration is definitely too hot to handle!
EXCERPT
Copyright © 2013 Bianca D’Arc
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication
“What’s wrong?” she asked in a low, urgent voice.
“Good question.” The words, spoken in an unfamiliar voice, made them both whip around to the left.
A black-clad man stood there, in the dark shadows of the vines. How had he approached without Hugh sensing him in some way? The lady shrank back in terror, crowding Hugh. Then he saw it. The snake eye tattooed on the stranger’s forehead and the deadly gleam of blackened steel in his hands.
“Eyes.” Hugh didn’t need to hear the lady’s frightened gasp to know what they faced. Another assassin. “Why didn’t you just stick her with your blade while you had the advantage?” Hugh stood in the darkened field between the rows of vines to face the man and put some space between himself and the lady. He needed room to maneuver.
“Terms of the contract,” the man replied offhandedly. “My employer wanted her to see it coming. There’s a bonus for terror. Plus, I find it personally more entertaining to make the target suffer.” He looked around at the dark vineyard. “And on her own land too. She’ll like that, she will.”
“In my land, assassins take pride in their silence.” Hugh tucked away the news that the lady’s cousin had put out the contract on her life, though he could tell by the way her face drained of all color that it came as a shock to her.
“It must be a very boring place, then.” The tattooed man moved, closing in as Hugh drew a short blade that had been sheathed in the leather strap over his chest.
“I would call it civilized,” Hugh replied with a small amount of disdain.
“I see you plan to act the hero.” The assassin sounded almost bored, but his eyes—the real ones, not the tattoos—missed nothing, actively watching Hugh’s slightest move. “I’m only being paid for her, but I suppose watching you die first will garner me that bonus.”
Without warning, the man engaged, closing with Hugh in a lightning fast move. Had Hugh been any less alert, he would’ve been dead within seconds. But he was a dragon and had supernatural reflexes even while in his human form. He could see better in the dark than a regular person and had the advantage of dragon magic that allowed him to harden his skin against the sharp metal blade.
While not exactly as strong as his dragon hide, Hugh’s unique magic allowed him to take blows that would leave normal people slashed to ribbons. The assassin moved like lightning, but few of his strikes landed and those few that did didn’t draw blood.
Eventually the man changed tactics, maneuvering Hugh around the darkened vineyard, almost herding him. Hugh tried to keep himself between the assassin and the lady at all times, but he hadn’t counted on there being more than one attacker.
A gasp from behind made Hugh spin. The lady was in the grip of a second assassin, this one with a matching snake’s eye tattooed on his forehead, directly between his real eyes. The blackened blade gleamed to Hugh’s sight as the assassin pressed it against her throat.
“That’s right, boyo,” said the first man, closing on Hugh’s unprotected back. Hugh could take him, but his partner would kill the lady without a second thought before Hugh could get to her. “Now, do we get one eye from this or two? Your choice.”
“You get an eye for each person you kill?” Hugh was sickened by the macabre practice.
The man nodded with seeming pride. “Twenty-seven I have today. My master there has double that number.” From the corner of his eye, Hugh saw something move in the darkness to the left. Something that blended with the night in gray and black stripes. “My master can make it quick for her or make her suffer. Which would you prefer?”
“Neither, actually,” Hugh said conversationally to the man. “We need your help, sweetheart.” He directed his thoughts toward the baby gryphon. “Remember how I told you about your claws? Unsheathe them and sink them into the man holding the lady. I will take care of the rest.”
A split second later, as if he’d timed it perfectly, though luck had more to do with it than planning, the gryphlet erupted from beneath the vines as Hugh sprang into action. Miss went for the man holding his knife at the lady’s throat, claws bared, sharp teeth flashing in the night as she hit the man from the side, raking his arm. She jumped upward, using her wings to bat him with air and feathers, claws and teeth, blinding him and making him let go.
But not before the sharp blade cut into the lady’s neck.
Hugh saw it in the split second as he shifted shape and slashed out with his much bigger claws, killing both assassins at the same time—one with his right hand, one with his left.
The lady was bleeding, but still standing when he dropped the lifeless men to the ground and beckoned to her.
“Get on my back quick as you can. We dare not tarry. There may be more of them.”
The lady climbed aboard and Miss bounded up right behind her. Hugh lurched into the air with less grace and even more speed than before, heading out, over the hills, toward the sand flats beyond. He needed a place to take them where they’d see an enemy coming. Someplace safer than the city or its environs. Someplace close.
The sandy wasteland beyond the foothills was the only place he could fly to fast that provided some of those tactical advantages. And it had to be quick. The lady was bleeding. He had to see how bad it was.
“How are you holding up back there?”
“All right,” she said in a weak voice. Was the weakness from shock or blood loss? Hugh needed to land in order to find out.
He looked around for a likely spot and found something usable not far. He landed more rapidly than before, with less finesse, but more speed, absorbing the shock of meeting the ground with his elbows and knees. The lady tumbled from his back, followed by the gryphlet who glided downward using her fluffy, baby wings. She would be fledging before long, Hugh thought absently as he shifted form and knelt at the lady’s side.
She was pale, blood flowing down the front of her dress. Hugh cursed and examined the wound, glad to see it was not as deep as he’d feared. He could heal this and in time, she would regain her strength.
All dragons had magic. Most had healing abilities. Hugh had trained his healing powers so that he could help humans and dragons alike should there be need. He blessed his teachers now for their preparation as he laid his hands over the lady’s neck, summoning his power.
A fog surrounded them as the Dragon’s Breath came at his call, enveloping her and healing her wound. Miss was sitting at her side and batted at the magical fog in curiosity but didn’t back away. She seemed to bask in the magic that Hugh called and he was glad for it. He hadn’t had a chance to see if any of the blood on the kitten’s fur was her own. He thought not, but he didn’t want to take any chances.
If she was injured, the Dragon’s Breath would work to heal her as well. If not, it would still be good for her to bask in the magic he’d been feeding her in much smaller doses since they first met. As a growing creature of magic, she should have gotten such influxes of magical energy from her parents. Hugh had been acting as a surrogate of sorts until finally the baby gryphon’s energy level was just about where it should have been for her age.
At length he drew back, recalling his healing power. The lady’s eyes blinked open and she stared up at him with confusion.
“Are you feeling better, milady?” Hugh asked with a small grin, hoping to calm her and ease the shock of the startling news she had learned in the vineyard.
“A little dizzy, but better. What was that?”
“The Dragon’s Breath. It is a healing mist most dragons can call. Some stronger than others.” He tried to shrug off his very potent ability.
He was very close to her. So close, he had only to lean in a little farther in order to touch his lips to hers.
Following the impulse he’d had since almost the first moment he’d seen her, Hugh did just that.
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