Viki Lyn - For The Bite Of It

New Release

For The Bite Of It by Viki Lyn and Vina Grey

Blurb: Vincent Esposito is an exiled vampire running a cupcake bakery in Arizona. When a car with a dead driver crashes through the wall of his shop, it also brings All-American, closeted cop, John Reeder into his life. Smitten the instant he sees John, Vincent must battle his attraction to the sexy detective. Bound to silence by the Vampire Council, he can never reveal his true self to John.


John Reeder cannot control his attraction to the sexy Italian baker. But as addictive as the sex is, can John overcome his fear of rejection for being gay and open his heart to a man with so many secrets?

Excerpt:

Chapter One

The front half of a silver sedan decorated his bakery, its nose nudging the counter, glass shards peppering the floor like confetti.

Except Vincent Esposito wasn’t celebrating.

As he stepped around the vehicle, glass crunched under his clogs despite his walking-on-hot-coals strut. The car had nose-dived into his store about an hour ago. His landlord, Mr. Sala, sat slumped between his seat and air bag, dead. The situation had all the makings of a B-grade movie you watched at three in the morning to cure insomnia.

“Sir, you can’t come into the crime scene,” stated a tech in blue overalls.

The entire bakery was a crime scene now? That was fine for them but he wasn’t leaving his shop.

He pressed his thumbs to his eyes. All these humans made him nervous as a caged bird with a cat tapping on the bars. A sure sign that he should have fed by now. It had been a long three weeks without blood.

“Sir, you need to step back.” Another uniformed policeman held out his hand to stop Vince. The place was crawling with them.

“Mr. Esposito?”

Vince took a deep, calming breath and turned to the male cop who appeared to be in charge, the one with the gravelly deep voice and sleek dark pants that molded an ass begging to be stroked.

This is what came of abstinence. Lusting after just anyone.

“We’d like to ask you some questions.”

Vince glanced at the detective’s female partner. Too bad. He would have liked to have been interrogated by two men.

“Sure. Er…where do you want me?”

I could you take you anywhere. Anytime.

Ouch, there he went again, thinking flippant remarks, his trademark when dealing with stress. It had been way too long since an attractive man entered his life.

This All-American cop was unexpected, enticing. He brought back memories of the thrill of the chase, that enticing two-step when attraction first hit.

“Let’s go outside. It’s a mess in here.” The man with the begging-to-be-held ass narrowed his eyes. “Unless you want to come back to the station.”

He was not leaving his shop in this mess. “Outside is fine.” Who knew when he’d been forced to own a cupcake bakery he would become so proprietary? Sometimes you couldn’t predict life’s twists and turns.

He followed them out to the square patch of cement with its cast-iron café seating. Thank God, it was still shaded from the near-scorching Arizona sun because sweat already trickled down Vince’s back. It added to that scratchy feeling all over his body that usually came with the abstinence from blood. His experiment of trying rare meat and avoiding sinking his fangs into a person wasn’t going all that well.

“I’m Detective Reeder, this is Detective Norman.” The cop indicated his partner with a flip of his hand.

Vince sat on a hard metal chair.

J. Reeder, read the detective’s badge. What did the J stand for? Something all-American to go with the guy’s clean-cut looks—Jake, John, Joe?

“I would offer you coffee and a cupcake, but…” Vince shrugged.

Detective Norman grinned at him. “Glad you can’t…diet, you see.”

Ah, the eternal quest for the perfect body. Not that she had much body fat, more stocky and muscular than flabby. Both detectives were in decent shape and didn’t look like they spent time at the local donut shop.

Especially Detective J. Reeder.

Why hadn’t they sent a portly policeman with a beer-gut and bad hair? This cop had started to give Vince a serious itch in his nether regions.

“Tell us your account of what happened this morning.” Detective Reeder was all brisk business, his notebook at the ready.

Vince almost expected him to lick his pencil nib. “I was in the kitchen when I heard the crash. I ran into the front of the bakery and saw that.” He jerked his thumb toward the shattered plate glass window.

“Then what did you do?”

“Do? Like any bloody civic-minded citizen, I went to help Mr. Sala. But he didn’t respond. I then called 911.”

“So you know the driver?”

“Dio, yes. He’s my landlord.”

Detective Reeder scratched furiously in his notebook at the mention of his landlord. Fascinated Vince eyed the numerous yellow sticky notes and the pages in imminent danger of falling out. “Was he coming here to meet you?”

He forced his gaze back to Reeder’s face. “Not that I was aware of, although he stopped in occasionally for a cup of coffee.”

“Could he have been meeting someone else here? Was the store open?” Detective Norman queried.

Vince shook his head. “Too early. I was the only one in the shop.”

J. Reeder looked up from his notebook and stabbed him with a piercing blue gaze. “Are you usually here this early?

Why did they have to be blue? Vince had a weakness for baby-blues in a man’s face. If he believed his friend Angelo, a sexual distraction was exactly what he needed at the moment. A good fuck.

Whoa…when had he gone from nice eyes to fucking?

Vince cleared his throat and his mind of dirty thoughts. “Yes, this is what I do. Every day.”

He gave them a brief version of his morning routine. Open the kitchen at four in the morning, bake cupcakes till about eight, then start on the special orders which were picked up after twelve. The bakery was closed to walk-in business at two but customers could collect their cupcakes until four. Then prep for the next day. In between those tasks, he tried not to think about needing blood, his home and family or all that he had lost in the last year.

Santo dio, was that his life he was talking about? As boring as watching dough rise. Well, he did fantasize about finding a mate. A man who could take him, baggage and all.

“So this morning was no different?” J. Reeder’s record seemed to be on stuck.

He ran an interested gaze over the cop. He was not his usual type—too clean-cut, too…athletic. So why did his balls tighten, his hands itch to reach out? Something about the man’s wide-set eyes with its direct gaze, guileless almost, and his full lower lip, had parts of Vincent dancing to attention. And his shoulders bordered a half-mile stretch of prime male chest between them.

Vince commanded himself to focus. Did he or did he not want these humans out of his shop? Besides, nothing about the cop said he would welcome another man’s attention.

“This morning was no different,” Vince agreed. Then prompted by the little devil on his shoulder activating his sex drive, he asked. “What’s your name, by the way? Your first name?”

The detective stiffened, his body pressing back into the black rail of the café chair. His instinctive withdrawal may not be apparent to the casual onlooker, but to a gay man, the message came across loud and clear. Back off, I’m straight and people like you make me want to vomit.

Cazzo, he could certainly pick them.

Reeder’s brows shot up his forehead. “That’s Detective Reeder to you.”

“Okay, Detective Reeder.” Vince drawled out his title and caught the flash of irritation in those eyes, quick as a bee-sting. “It’s like I told you. I didn’t see the crash happen. Just the aftermath.”

Thank goodness there had been no blood or it would have been difficult to call the police. Because he hadn’t fed in weeks, a pool of blood would have been like waving raw meat at a tiger.

"Some aftermath,” Detective Norman remarked. “By the way, you can call me Free.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners in that I’m-amused-but-won’t-laugh.

“Interesting name. What’s it short for?”

“Oh no, we’re not going there. May I call you Vincent?”

“Vince, Vincent. Either is fine. ” He smiled at her, and her answering grin gave her rather ordinary face a gamine charm.

However, it did nothing for him sexually. He was simply being himself. His siblings said flirting was hard-wired into his DNA.

J. Reeder scowled. “Okay, Mr. Esposito. Let’s get back to this morning.”

Cazzo. He tugged his attention back to the cop with the one-track mind. Fine. He just had to convince them he had nothing to do with the accident. The sooner Mr. Detective took his sexy ass back to his station the better for Vince.

“Did you hear anything?” Reeder demanded, irritation giving his tone a sharp edge.

Was he serious?

“Of course I heard something. A car going through a window isn’t exactly silent.”

Free let out a small sound that turned into a cough.

Detective Reeder’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “I meant before the crash.”

“Ah, I see. Squealing of brakes perhaps? No, the morning was unremarkably quiet.” But then again he did have his head stuck in the oven as he took out a tray of cupcakes. In fact, he hadn’t even sensed anything. Faint as his powers were these days, he should have still felt a premonition. He’d have to talk to Angelo about that. Damn the rules under which he was forced to live. Exile was all well and good but did they have to take away most of his powers, leaving him a shell of himself?

The detective flexed his shoulders back and his pecs moved under the grey polo shirt in a way that made Vince want to test their firmness. He curled his hands into his pink, icing-spattered apron and realized he hadn’t removed it. What a great picture he must present.

“Look here, Esposito—”

“Call me Vince.” He may as well enjoy baiting Reeder if he couldn’t get rid of him. Or fuck him.

“I need your cooperation or I’m taking you to the station. Got that?”

What happened to innocent until proven guilty? Suddenly, Vince wanted them all gone. He wanted a long, cold shower to wash away his attraction to Detective Clean-Cut Reeder. Maybe some soap and a firm hand would alleviate some of the pressure. He wondered if the detective had a firm grip.

Cazzo.

Viki Lyn
http://www.vikilyn.com/

ENDURING INSTINCTS by S.J. Frost

New Release!

ENDURING INSTINCTS by S.J. Frost
Gay Erotic Romance, Paranormal, Vampires
Published by MLR Press
Length: Novel, 86,000 words
Available at MLR Press, Amazon.com, and many more.
Coming soon to print.






BLURB:

Vampire Daniel Valente struggles to live on his own, now that his master, Titus Antonius Calidus, has found eternal love with another.  Carrying mental and emotional scars, he lives in loneliness and feels as though he’s lost who he once was. 

Ryunosuke Kimura has known Daniel for hundreds of years, and loved him for many of them.  Even though he believes Titus is the only one Daniel wants to give his heart to, when he hears Daniel needs his support, he rushes to be with him. 

With Ryu at his side, Daniel’s confidence returns, and with it, he sees the enduring love Ryu has always had for him.  As they grow closer, new threats from old enemies arise, and if Daniel and Ryunosuke are to spend eternity together, they must first defeat the past.

EXCERPT: 

Daniel walked beside Ryunosuke, their pace slow as they wove around the people going in and out of stores and restaurants.  Though the holidays had passed, many of the decorations were still up, but the festiveness of them did nothing for Daniel’s mood.  He glanced to Ryu, whose eyes scanned the crowd, his posture alert as if waiting for an attack. 

Daniel extended his own senses.  No vampires around that he could tell.  But with Ryu being the warrior he was, Daniel knew he didn’t easily let his guard down.  He wanted to say it was the reason Ryu had hardly spoken to him, why they were walking side by side but felt so far apart, but the real truth was Ryu didn’t want to be out with him.  He’d made that clear with his glare when Titus suggested he go with him.

Daniel lowered his gaze to the sidewalk.  How had their relationship taken this bad turn?  It seemed Ryu was rejecting him even before knowing his feelings.  Or maybe, Ryu did know his feelings.  He knew for certain Ryu wasn’t daft enough to not have picked up on his lusting.  It could be that’s what had built Ryu’s walls.  Ryu didn’t want him and was trying to block him before he made a move that could embarrass them both.

Ryunosuke’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“I’m not sure this is the best hunting ground.”

Daniel glanced up, looking over the crowd milling about Water Tower Place.  “No, it’s not.  But I don’t know this city well enough to know where is.  At least I’m getting to see this.”  He gestured to the castle-like Chicago Water Tower.  “I’ve heard about it, just never came to see it.”  A long sigh left him.  “It reminds me of home and all the old buildings there.” 

Ryunosuke looked at him out the corner of his eye.  “Are you okay?”

“Just feeling a little worn down.”

“I’m sure you are.  We should probably find a prospect soon and get you fed.  The night’s moving fast.”

Daniel nodded, but rather than continue walking, he moved toward a bench and sat.  Not seeming bothered by his decision, Ryunosuke sat beside him.  Daniel gestured toward the trees, still decorated with holiday lights.  “I’ll admit, I felt a bit sad at spending the holidays alone this year.  I shouldn’t have been in such a rush to leave after I was healed, but I thought it’s what would’ve been best for Titus and Andreas.  And myself as well, I suppose. But at least some of the holiday spirit is lingering.  The lights are lovely, aren’t they?”

Ryunosuke glanced at the trees.  “I guess.  I’m not really into the whole Christmas thing.”

“Well, you didn’t have it in your culture for many years.”  Daniel forced a smile, giving Ryu a playful bump with his shoulder and a wink.  “Whereas I, on the other hand, grew up as a good Christian boy.”

Ryunosuke chuckled softly.  “I don’t ever remember you being good or a Christian.”

“Maybe good is stretching things a bit, but the rest is true.  I was Catholic.  Even back when I was a whore, I’d still go to Mass.  Granted I wasn’t allowed inside the cathedral, I was too poor and my soul was already too lost in the eyes of the priests, but I’d still sit on the steps, trying to catch the bits and pieces of the sermon floating out.  Even though I didn’t understand Latin then, there was still something comforting in the words.”

Ryunosuke’s gaze was focused on the ground.  His voice left him hushed, the tone wounded.  “Remember what I told you about using that word to address yourself?”

Daniel looked at him.  “I’m sorry.  An old habit, but I’ll work to break it.”

“And I’ll do what I can to help you, even if it’s just reminding you you’re so much better than that.”

A soft smile rose to Daniel’s lips.  Ryu not only defended him against true foes, but from himself as well.  It sparked hope inside him that their friendship wasn’t as broken as he thought.  He felt the need for Ryu’s touch,  throughout his body, over his skin.  Even the smallest of touches would do.  He just wanted contact from him.

Daniel offered a hand to Ryu. 

Ryunosuke looked at it, then met Daniel’s gaze, giving him a gentle smile as he placed his hand in Daniel’s.  He shifted closer to him, sitting so their shoulders and arms touched.  “I never knew you to go to church after we met.  Or maybe you did, but since it’s not a part of my life, I never paid attention.”

“I stopped going after Titus took me in.  When that other bastard owned me, the things he did made me lose all faith in a greater protector, until Titus.  After he rescued me, I saw no need to worship anything or anyone other than him.”

Ryunosuke took a breath as if to say something but slowly let it out in a sigh.

Heavy silence fell between them. 

Daniel cleared his throat but still only managed to get his voice out in a whisper.  “A lot has changed now, though.  I’ve come to accept I’m not the one he was meant to be with.  And maybe I’ve always known that, deep down, but I chose to ignore it.  He’s found his soul-mate, his eternal partner, in Andreas.  I won’t deny I still hold some hurt over it; how can I not after loving, wanting, and hoping for so long?  But I’ve also come to care very much for Andreas, and even I can see the beauty of what they have together.  And for all Titus has done for me, there’s a part of me that’s overjoyed at seeing him finally and truly happy.”

Ryunosuke squeezed Daniel’s hand.  “He would be proud of you for saying that.  You’ve grown so much.”

Daniel laughed lightly.  “Yes, it’s only taken me three hundred years or so to mature.”

Ryunosuke grinned and leaned a little more into him.

Daniel pressed back.  “And what about you?  Are you proud of me?”

Ryunosuke tipped his head back, his gaze moving beyond the water tower to look at the stars.  “I’m proud of you, too.  But, I’m also happy to hear that it sounds like you’re getting closer to moving on from him.”

“I’m not getting closer to moving on.  I’m ready to do so now.”

Ryunosuke turned his head to look at him.  There it was, that intense look in Daniel’s soft brown eyes.  Before, he only hoped he was interpreting it in the right way, wanting it to mean Daniel was attracted to him.  Daniel had dropped so many hints and clues about being attracted to him, but he felt the way Daniel talked to him now with such open honesty could be trusted so much more than the flirtations.

Daniel glanced toward the tower again.  He pulled his hand from Ryunosuke’s to rub both of his gloved hands together.  “It feels like it’s starting to get colder.”

Ryunosuke brought his gaze forward.  Or maybe he was wrong about what Daniel was feeling.  His emotions and senses got so muddled around him.  Normally he could read anyone.  But Daniel, what he was thinking and feeling, had always been an enigma to him.  It was as if Daniel could shut off his emotions at times, or he was a master at hiding them when he wanted to. 

It made sense, actually.  With what Daniel had gone through when he was young, it was probably a matter of survival to control his feelings and close himself off at times.  But then there were other moments when Daniel’s emotions shone so clear. 

Ryunosuke pushed the thoughts aside.  He hadn’t figured Daniel out in countless years.  He sure as hell wouldn’t be able to do it now.  He stood up and half turned away from him.  “I think it’s getting colder, too.  We should find a place to go in for a while.”

“I agree.”  Daniel grinned at him.  “I could do with a warm drink.”

“I’m sure there’s a bar nearby.”

A few hushed chuckles left Daniel.  “That wasn’t the kind of warm drink I was referring to.”

“I didn’t think so.  I was more thinking you might be able to pick up someone who’s already drunk for a quick feeding.”

Daniel sighed and leaned forward, propping up his head up with his elbow on his knee, his chin cupped in his hand.  “So much effort.  It’s gets tiresome.”

Ryunosuke gazed at him, words screaming in his mind to be spoken.  Should he?  He wanted to.  He could feel it inside him, the yearning to give himself to Daniel, to provide him with the life sustaining blood he needed.  But he’d already tried to get Daniel to take his blood before, and if Daniel refused it when he was injured and so desperate for it, why would he take it now?

Still, would it hurt to offer?  There was a chance Daniel could say yes, wasn’t there?  Clinging to the thin hope, Ryunosuke turned toward him again.  He lowered his voice.  “You could always take from me.” 

He saw Daniel tense and regretted letting the words have voice.  His mind raced to find a way to smooth over the offer, to make light of it and ease the discomfort he caused Daniel.

“Okay.”

Ryunosuke startled inside.  Daniel didn’t…he couldn’t have…it must’ve been a trick of his mind.  “What did you say?”

Daniel slowly rose to his feet.  He faced Ryunosuke, standing eye to eye with him.  “I said ‘okay’.  If you truly mean it.”

“Of course I do.  I’m surprised, that’s all.  I didn’t think you’d want me.”

Daniel pulled off his glove to touch Ryunosuke’s cheek, wanting to feel Ryu’s skin beneath his fingertips.  He caressed down, settling his hand on Ryu’s chest.  “When it comes to trust, of everyone in the world, of everyone I’ve ever met, only you’re on equal standing with Titus and Andreas in my heart, mind, and soul.”

Daniel’s words wiped any response from Ryunosuke’s mind.  He never thought he’d hear Daniel say he trusted him as much as Titus.  And Daniel’s voice, sensuality overflowed from each spoken word.  This wasn’t flirting.  It was seduction.

Ryunosuke laid his hand over Daniel’s resting on his chest, curling his fingers around it.  “I don’t know what to say.  Thank you.”

“You don’t have to say even that.  In the things you’ve done for me, the care and kindness you’ve given me, those say everything.”

Ryunosuke slid an arm around Daniel’s lower back, drawing him in so their bodies pressed together.  His voice left him in a husky whisper.  “Do you want to go back to the house?”

Daniel shook his head.  “I’m too anxious. I don’t want to wait even the time to get back.  I want to do it right now.”

“I guess we could do things true vampire style.  Find a private place, down an alley or somewhere.”

Daniel gripped Ryunosuke’s hand and started walking.  “Let’s go.”

Copyright 2011 by S.J. Frost

Breathe Me In

Breathe Me In – Tales of the Darkworld Book Six and a Half

Pink Petal Books

M/M, vampire/Magia, erotic paranormal romance

Novella


BUY LINK

Blurb:

Life is good for vampire Wilson North. His family left him well off. His job as an estate attorney is prestigious, well paying, and non-demanding. He’s gay and out and never had any issues being either. In fact, until the day he ended up beneath his car, bleeding out and only a few pints of blood from a sure trip to the Afterworld, life had never been a challenge.

When Will meets his destiny in the form of an enigmatic Magia named Garrick Forrester he finds the challenge of his life. Garrick’s gay but doesn’t live an openly gay life. Instead, he hides his nature behind his ownership of a BDSM club. The two men instantly know they are mates, but that doesn’t smooth the path to their bonding. Garrick wants Will but threats from his past convince him that the only way to protect his lover is to leave him. Shocked by Garrick’s ability to walk away, Will struggles to understand why his mate doesn’t want him. For the first time in Will’s life, something isn’t easy and he must fight for what he needs or give up his chance for happiness.

Drawn together by destiny. Torn apart by self-doubts and fear. Two men on the cusp of a dream must set aside the lives they’ve always lived for a chance at a new and brilliant future.

Warning: This book contains virgin sex between a sexy self-sacrificing wizard who’s never been catcher and an angelic-faced vampire who’s never pitched, a BDSM bad guy with dark magic, a mysterious royal Acerbian, and a host of characters from previous Tales books who do everything from implode buildings to change diapers…all to help two reluctant heroes find true love.

Excerpt:

Dark lashes flicked up and the beauty of Wilson North blazed through Garrick’s very soul when their eyes met this time. The lure of such angelic masculinity proved too much for him and he found himself pushing off from the marble crypt. He glided toward the bench where Will sat, his sole thought to lose himself in the salvation those dark eyes promised.

A visible shiver went through Will as Garrick stopped before him. Holding out his hand, Garrick silently prayed to the gods that Will would just take it and question things later. At the moment, all Garrick wanted was to touch Will, hold him and love him. Problems and logistics and the real world and all its damned obligations could come into play and be solved—or not—later. For just this moment in time, Garrick wanted to hold Will and breathe him in and know that they belonged to one another.

With eyes blazing, Will slipped his hand into Garrick’s, and they both drew in a breath as a metaphysical crackle of electricity arced between them. Then with a slow, fluid motion like that of wings unfurling, Will came to his feet. Garrick noted the slight wince the vampire gave as his weight settled onto both legs. He sensed rather than saw the pain lancing through Will’s body despite the natural grace of his movements. And he wished with every bit of his theurgic strength that he could heal his mate’s injuries despite the sure knowledge that Will had received the best healing possible after his accident. Helplessness never sat well within Garrick and with this man it spurred his natural possessiveness.

“Your name sounds familiar but if I’d met you before, I would have remembered,” Will said in a low voice. “You’re unbelievably hot.”

Garrick smiled at his soon-to-be lover. “You look like a Botticelli angel,” he replied, knowing that his words would give away the depth to which Will already affected him.

“Me?” Will’s brows winged up in surprise.

“Yes, you.” Garrick used the hand he still held to pull Will closer.

The heat of the vampire’s body registered briefly in his mind as he swept the man against his chest. The strange zing he’d experienced when Will took his hand became magnified a hundredfold as their bodies touched from chest to knee. Will sucked in a harsh breath and Garrick used the moment to reach up and cradle his mate’s dark head in his free hand.

They were nearly the same height but Garrick had a slight inch on Will. Still, their mouths were so close together, they already shared breaths. Garrick knew in the marrow of his bones that soon they would share more. That knowledge drove him to take the mouth of his mate with soft urgency, asking for Will’s capitulation rather than demanding as most Alphas would. At first, the firm lips beneath his own held a touch of Alpha resistance at being taken, but the instant he touched the tip of his tongue to that cool flesh, the man in his arms moaned and became his.

Lips parted, both his own and Will’s. They both sighed, breaths mingling as their hearts thudded in tandem, and they slowly, with absolute irrevocability, breathed each other in. The slightly muddied thoughts Garrick had gotten from Will only moments before shifted to an ice sharp clarity that stabbed his psyche, piercing it with the revelation that he would never be the same again. He belonged to Will. Will belonged to him. They were one whether they completed their mating or not. Destiny could be ignored, but never denied.

The kiss took on a familiarity that spoke of past lives together—if one believed in the reincarnation of souls—and a rightness that settled into Garrick’s head as firmly as Will’s thoughts did. Fear licked him as his tongue traced the edge of Will’s teeth. He understood that Will heard his thoughts now as clearly as he heard Will’s. Their bond ensured neither of them would ever be alone again and the loss of privacy morphed momentarily into a panic driven by the sense that he’d lost himself. But it dissolved almost as quickly as it had come when his tongue twined with the heated roughness of Will’s.

Tasting Will had all the qualities of sipping the finest Cabernet Sauvignon. Will’s flavor burst onto Garrick’s tongue in the same way that the wine’s tannins did, the tartness providing an edge of danger to the elegance. Firm muscles rippled beneath Garrick’s wandering free hand, reinforcing the notion that for all his sophistication, the man in his arms had more depth than a simple clothes horse. Will’s hands closed on Garrick’s buttocks and the Magia had no idea whose hips moved first, but the seductive brush of cloth covered erections made it obvious that it didn’t matter. They were equally aroused.

New Release: NATURAL INSTINCTS by S.J. Frost

Now available at MLR Press. 

NATURAL INSTINCTS by S.J. Frost
M/M vampire erotic romance novel
Published by MLR Press
Available in all ebook formats and in print.






BLURB:

Andreas Nikandros has one focus, to kill the vampire he believes murdered his sister, and he knows with their greater strength, the surest way to kill a vampire is to become one.  As a zoologist, he’s used to looking at the world from a natural standpoint, but when he sets out on a quest to find a vampire to Turn him, what he finds in Titus Antonius Calidus is the last thing he expected.  Titus has lived for over a thousand years, and in that time has only ever given his heart to one man.  As they follow their natural instincts, they discover something truly worth living forever for, each other.

EXCERPT:

*In this scene from Chapter 1, Andreas Nikandros goes to the restaurant, La Rose Rouge, to confront the vampire he believes murdered his sister, and also meets vampire Titus Antonius Calidus*

“Do you have a reservation, sir?” she asked.

“I do. It’s under Nikandros.” Andreas smoothed his pale blue button-down shirt and flicked his hand at nonexistent lint on his black pants, feigning patience while she opened a ledger to check for his name.

She inclined her head in acknowledgment and turned to show him into the restaurant. “Would you prefer the bar or the restaurant, Mr. Nikandros?”

Andreas followed her through an arched doorway. “The bar, please.”

Dark red carpeting flowed before him, and he couldn’t help but think the color had been wisely chosen. Round wooden tables covered in white linen and booths of cream colored leather seats filled the space. Small chandeliers hung down from the cathedral ceiling, their light causing tiny rainbows to dance off the walls trimmed in a gold leaf border. To the far right on a half circle stage, a string quartet played Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.”

Andreas noticed eyes turning from conversations and meals to him, many holding open appreciation, others a hunger beyond physical attraction. He was used to being looked at in the first way. His medium build lined in fine musculature, his hair of loose black curls, eyes of blue-gray, and delicate facial features provided him many admirers. Though in this place, being an attractive human was like being an injured gazelle within a lion’s sight.

Andreas followed the hostess as she turned to the left, leading him through another arched doorway to the bar. The dark wood floors and walls made the space feel warmer than the cool formality of the restaurant. It also allowed for darker shadows.

The hostess departed, and Andreas headed for the long bar. As he reached for a stool, a hand clapped down on his shoulder. He turned, and though he considered himself fairly tall at six feet, his eyes were only level with the chin of the man beside him. Andreas was positive the guy wasn’t a vampire, though he might be an ogre, if such things existed. At this point, with how his vision of “the real world” had been shaken, he didn’t doubt the existence of anything.

Andreas tipped his head back to look into the man’s eyes, and with a backhanded slap to the other’s wrist, knocked the beefy hand from his shoulder. “Hands off.”

The large man reached for him again, snatching him by the upper arm. “My boss wants a word with you.”

Andreas stared at the man in disbelief. He’d been in the restaurant for less than five minutes, and already he had caught Renart’s attention? The guard started walking, leaving Andreas no choice but to go with him. From the guard’s purposeful march, Andreas guessed their destination was a booth taking up a back corner that allowed for a clear view through the doorway to see all who entered the restaurant.

His gaze fell on the man occupying the booth, and he knew from his sister’s descriptions he was Renart. With his dark brown hair pulled back in a tight, short queue, his sharp, raptor-like features were pronounced. Andreas couldn’t deny Renart was attractive, but there was an aura around him enhancing Renart’s physical appearance. The vampire sat with an air of complete control, power, and dominance.

The guard brought Andreas to a halt at the table’s edge. Andreas watched Renart’s deep brown eyes move over him. He chanced glancing away from Renart to the group gathered round the booth: three males, two females. The predatory look in their eyes gave them away for what they were, and also, he didn’t think Renart would flank himself with humans. Two of the males stood side by side whispering to each other. Watching them, a tremor of unease went through Andreas.

Neither of the two males looked like they could be far beyond twenty years-old, or in actuality, couldn’t have been older than that when Turned. One had a purposely messy cut to his brown hair, the other wore his blond hair in a short, neat style. The brown-haired one had features rugged and angular, but no less handsome than the softer face of the blond. Andreas’s gaze darted back to Renart when he caught movement from him.

Renart leaned his cheek on his fist, an amused smirk on his lips. “I know who you are, and I can make a guess as to what you’re doing here, Andreas Nikandros.”

Andreas steeled himself against the sound of Renart’s voice, deep, smooth, and tinted with a French accent. How many times had Adrienne said the sound of Renart’s voice alone was enough to melt her? Now having heard it, he understood better.

Andreas adopted a posture of arrogance and let out an indignant snort. “I would hope you could figure it out since I used my real name to make my reservation, and my purpose for being here should be fairly easy to guess considering this is a restaurant.”

Renart’s smirk broadened. “Not only is your scent similar to your sister’s, but your sharp tongue is also. That was one of my favorite things about her and all the various ways she was skilled with in using it.”

Andreas stared at him in cold silence.

“Ah, but that was before her tragic death,” Renart continued, his voice nonchalant. “And now here you are, her distraught little brother coming before me on some misguided sojourn for revenge. I am correct, no? That is why you’re here.”

Andreas fought to control the muscles in his face from contorting with rage and maintained a neutral expression as he looked into Renart’s eyes. “Actually, I’m looking for a master.”

Renart let out a chuckle. “Are you now? Why does that sound so very unbelievable considering I know how dear you were to Adrienne, and I gather your feelings toward her were the same.”

Andreas shrugged. “I warned her more than once that if you play with vampires you’re bound to get bit. But she didn’t listen, and now she’s gone because of it. I don’t have the same delusions she did, thinking she could make a beast like you love her. I know what I’m walking into, and I can handle it.” On his final word, Andreas fought to not put a hand over his heart to calm the hurt from speaking of his sister in such a way.

“Oh, you’re good.” Renart sat forward and placed his hands on the table. All amusement vanished from his expression. “But I can smell your pain with every word you spit out. And while this display is mildly entertaining, I can’t continue to breathe in that sweet scent you carry just like hers.” Without taking his gaze from Andreas, Renart flicked his hand toward the brown-haired male. “Troy, take this toy out back and instill in him the importance of never returning here again.”

Andreas lunged for Renart. He hardly twitched forward before Troy and the blond male snatched his arms. He felt their sharp fingernails, already grown into their predatory claws, sink through the thin fabric of his shirt and into his skin. Knowing that struggling would only attract the attention of other vampires, Andreas silently glared at Renart, and then walked as the vampires pulled him toward the back of the bar and through a swinging door to the storeroom. One of the females squeezed between them and the rows of shelves holding bottles of wine and various alcohols to a steel door. She shoved it open a fraction of a second before he was thrown toward it.

Andreas stumbled into the alley, reeling to catch his balance. He whirled around. A fist smashed into the side of his mouth. The force knocked him to the side and the ground. He landed hard, his body rigid with shock and pain.

Andreas struggled to suck in a breath, then lost the little bit of air he gained when a sharp-toed boot slammed into his ribs. He curled his body into a ball. Through his pain, laughter deafened him. Andreas lay still, waiting for the next strike to come. His mind moved far too sluggishly in forming a plan for escape, and it seemed fixated on one thought: he’d failed.

A voice broke through his thoughts and over the laughter.

“Children, children, look what you’ve done.”

The laughter ceased.

The rich baritone spoke again. “Clearly you’re undeserving of such a fine treat.”

Andreas sensed the other vampires moving away from him. He opened his eyes to see them standing in a cluster near the wall of the restaurant, their gazes fixed beyond him. He couldn’t help but think they resembled a pack of hyenas when forced to bow to a lion, unable to do anything but watch as their prey was stolen from them.

Andreas felt a presence standing over him. A hand touched his shoulder and pushed him onto his back. Andreas’s gaze traveled up long legs clad in black pants to a steel-gray silk shirt and over each button to the top where two were open to reveal ivory skin. He looked at the slender jaw, the high cheekbones framed with platinum-blond hair, and met the silver stare of the other.

Troy took two quick steps forward. “Back off, Calidus! He’s ours!”

The blond vampire snatched Troy by the arm, muttering under his breath. “Troy, no. No one’s allowed to call Lord Titus that.” His voice dipped lower, though Andreas still caught him mumbling the word “ancient.”

Troy shook off the other’s grip. “I know who he is, Isaac, and I don’t give a shit. That piece is ours!”

Titus looked up from Andreas to Troy. With fluid grace, he stood, his gaze locked on Troy. Even without the gaze focused on him, Andreas could feel the lethal threat radiating from Titus.

Troy slunk back toward the door. “Don’t think I won’t tell Lord Renart about this.”

“I’d be grateful for the favor,” Titus said.

Troy backed through the door, Isaac and his companions mimicking his movements.

Titus kept his gaze on the door until it closed, then brought it back to Andreas. “And now for you.” He bent over him and dipped the fingers of one hand into Andreas’s hair near his temple, drawing them through the curls. “Let’s get a better look at you.”

Titus slipped his hands under Andreas’s arms and, with the ease of lifting a small child, hauled him to his feet. He spun Andreas around, holding him under the light hanging above the backdoor and looked into his eyes, drinking in their blue-gray hue.

“Like the sea before a storm,” Titus said softly.

His strength returning, Andreas got his feet under him and moved to take a step back. Titus dug his fingers into Andreas’s upper ribs, stopping him. Andreas stood eye to eye with him, his heartbeat quickening. “Titus, that’s your name?”
Titus tipped his head closer to him, his lips a fraction from Andreas’s. “Titus Antonius. And yours?”

Andreas took a breath, inhaling Titus’s exhale. “Andreas Nikandros.”

Titus bowed his head, bringing his nose closer to Andreas’s neck. “A Greek name.” He lifted his head, his eyes focused on the rivulet of blood coursing from Andreas’s bottom lip to his chin. “Maybe you carry ancient blood also.”

Titus touched the tip of his tongue to Andreas’s chin and licked up the red line, a deep groan rumbling from his throat as he did. There was a sweetness to Andreas’s blood, just as his natural fragrance had betrayed, and the energy and virility of his essence sent a euphoric rush through Titus.

S.J. Frost
http://www.sjfrost.com/

Impasto (part of the 'Mine' anthology) by Lydia Nyx

Blurb: Alexander is a vampire and his human lover–and dearest possession–Laurent has finally agreed to be turned. While in London so Laurent can visit his mother one last time as a human, Alexander sits in the darkness of their hotel room contemplating Laurent’s beauty in post-coital slumber. Alexander endeavors to paint a portrait of him in words in his well-weathered notebook, but despite observing all the trappings of their lives together, and Laurent himself, he finds only one word can encapsulate him: mine.

Excerpt: Now came the centerpiece of the painting, the object that would tell the observer exactly what had happened here, if they hadn’t already guessed. Most likely they had, but were wondering with who, and why. The ‘who’ was simple enough, the ‘why’ a bit more complicated, and had been, for nearly two decades.

The sheets on the bed were white cotton. They were soft and had smelled of industrial detergent. They’d been wound around Alexander’s bare legs earlier, before he’d gotten up and pulled his pajama bottoms out of his suitcase. Atop the sheets was a cream-colored blanket, then a green and white comforter with pink flowers printed on it. Both were tangled, twisted. Pillows were scattered at the top of the bed, one on the right propped against the headboard and slumped toward the edge of the mattress. The smell of detergent had been replaced by the scent of sweat and sex, skin and musk, and just a little blood, that sweet, coppery odor. Alexander fancied he could smell it still, even over the damp air and lingering cigarette smoke.

On the left side of the bed, the fire behind his inspiration lie tangled up in the sheet. He was on his stomach, his bare shoulder blades angular and sleek, his arms sprawled out to either side and his right hand lost amongst the mounds of pillows. The left dangled off the bed, fingers curled against the box springs, swaying slightly with his breath. The comforter was draped over one leg and the other rested atop the blanket, long and muscled and bare, the light picking out downy hair on the back of his calf. Across the white pillow beneath his head, sable curls were flung scattered and wild, a few clinging to the back of his neck. One tumbled onto the smooth, pale skin of his back, a dark, tempting ringlet on a bed of creamy velvet. Alexander felt the urge to go over and pluck it up between his fingers, curl it around his knuckles, press it to his lips.

Beneath the sheet, the shape of his lover’s body was exquisite, long and slender, a sloping back and narrow hips, jutting hipbones and slim thighs. The swell of his ass was subtle, the sheet so far up his bare leg Alexander could just see the soft round beauty of one cheek peeking out.

How could anyone capture such glorious beauty on canvas? Michelangelo would have thrown his brushes into the Tiber upon seeing him, knowing he could never replicate such a thing in pigments and oils.

Buy the anthology at Torquere Press!

Lydia Nyx on GLBT Bookshelf

The Sin Eater's Prince (Long Excerpt) - Keta Diablo

The Sin Eater's Prince came out today at - BUY HERE - RAVENOUS ROMANCE . You can find it featured at THE GLBT Bookshelf. Just search for my name/page and read the FIRST review.

This is a male/male VAMPIRE full-length novel.

Here's the NEW - Never before seen excerpt from Chapter Two:
Set-up: Owen is beginning to suspect that the man he's loved from afar as a vampyre.

Excerpt:

Dragging his feet through town, Owen had difficulty keeping up to Maddock’s brisk pace. The man had speed, he’d allow him that. By the time they reached the bottom of the steep knoll, Owen drew a deep breath and gathered his strength. A lack of sleep and the unsettling aspects of his duties contributed to his weariness.

Andras led the way up the rugged crag, looking over his shoulder now and then to see if he followed. Owen lumbered up the hill—he could only think of it as lumbering compared to Maddock’s graceful strides—and focused on the moonlit path, matching Maddock’s every footprint with one of his own. He had an uncanny feeling the nimble doctor would have reached the summit by now if left to his own devices.

An owl screamed overhead, shattering Owen’s concentration. He lost his footing, clutched a nearby branch and groaned when it slipped from his grasp. Tumbling backwards, his knees rolled over his shoulders in rapid succession and swallowed up the ground he’d just ascended. A dull thud reached his ears and a white-hot pain shot through him when his head made contact with the rock he’d used as a stepping stone minutes ago.

Finally coming to an abrupt halt, he lifted his battered body into a sitting position with a moan that seemed to come from outside his body. He looked up and imagined a cloaked hunter riding through the night sky. Wavering between lucidity and the dream world, Maddock’s dark visage floated before him, powerful and sure. His dazed brain registered the improbability—how had the man appeared so suddenly?

The stars shifted and then a black veil enveloped him.

* * *

Owen awoke to strange surroundings. A heather-scented pillow comforted his throbbing head and fine linen bed sheets rustled beneath him. Surely I’ve died and entered heaven.

“No, you haven’t left the earth, Owen. I brought you into the manor after the fall knocked you senseless.”

His pulse beat a painful rhythm near his temples when he snapped his head toward the voice. He hadn’t said the words aloud, he was certain of it, and yet Andras knew what he’d been thinking. He rolled his legs toward the edge of the bed and attempted to rise.

“Do not leave that bed, Owen! You took a hard blow and I’ve stitched the torn flesh at the back of your head. You must remain abed for the day.”

He didn’t want to stay in Maddock’s house. It reminded him of everything he lacked in life . . . and everything he desired, notwithstanding the mere presence of the man left him weak-kneed and tongue-tied.

“I can’t stay; I must return. . . .” The room spun and he felt his eyes roll back in his head.

Maddock bolted from his chair beside the bed and eased him back onto the pillow. “You’re safe here, Owen. No harm will come to you.”

A shiver coursed through him.

“You tremble. Is it me you fear?”

He shook his head.

“What then? Why do you tremble?”

“I’ve never stayed in such a fine abode and feel well out of my element.” He couldn’t meet that smoky gaze, dear God, not now when he felt so weak, so vulnerable. “I’ll keep my promise and stay in the stables until Mistress Davies passes.”

Maddock hadn’t withdrawn his hand from his shoulder. “Tell me true, Owen, is it me you fear?”

Ignoring his question, he asked one of his own. “What time of day is it?”

“Midday.” Andras answered abruptly and stared into his eyes for a long moment.

“Why are the curtains drawn? Why do you never allow sunlight in?”

“You were sleeping, and after a head injury ‘tis best to keep the patient calm, the room dark.” He removed his hand from his shoulder, reached for a glass of water on the oak table near the bed and handed it to him. “You should have an ample amount of liquid if you’re able to stomach it.”

“Your hand didn’t bleed.”

“Pardon?”

“When you pulled the stopper from the pint of milk, your hand smashed into the jagged glass and tore your skin, yet there was no blood.”

He stood back, his gaze locked with his. “You’re mistaken. I assure you, the wound bled.”

Andras’s familiar scent—a virile woodsy aroma—wafted over him, wreaking havoc on his befuddled mind.

“Whatever your overactive imagination has conjured, are you certain your fear of me doesn’t stem from another source?”

Fighting a numbing fatigue, Owen struggled to process the question. Duw help him; if the man could read his mind, any answer he offered would be disassembled in a heartbeat. “What other source?” he finally managed, his pulse launching into an erratic tempo.

Maddock’s handsome face lost all expression. Owen recognized the man’s ability to mask his emotions, a skill he also possessed. “Forgive me; this is not the proper time for this discussion.” He ran a hand through the ebony strands at the side of his head and blew air out his lips. “I’ve prepared a tincture to help you rest.” Pulling a vial from his vest pocket, he popped the stopper with his thumb and handed it to him. “Know this, I’d rather cut off my hand than harm you.”

Owen rose to an elbow and sucked in a short breath. The tremor running through him was so intense the vial shook in his hand. He’d never been important to anyone except his father, never dreamed he’d hear such words from Andras’s lips. Fearful his voice would crack under a response he put the bottle to his mouth and downed the bitter liquid. Then he eased his head onto the pillow again, acutely aware of the stitches at the back of his head.

Andras remained at the foot of the bed, his dark form growing blurrier by the minute. The potent remedy warmed Owen’s stomach and spread out to his feather-light limbs. His eyes grew heavy and the sound of footsteps heading toward the door came to him through a tunnel.

He surrendered to the blessed world of forgetfulness with Andras’s words echoing in his ears, ‘I’d rather cut off my hand than harm you.’

* * *

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I HEART THE GLBT BOOKSHELF - You Will Too!

I love the GLBT Bookshelf and and you will too. Thanks Mel and all the others who put this great site together where you can find ALL THE BOOKS you love in one spot! Visit the GLBT Bookshelf today here: http://bookworld.editme.com/ketadiablo


I can't wait until The Sin Eater's Prince, my latest gay fiction novel, is released in two weeks by Ravenous Romance and listed on the GLBT Bookshelf. Today, I'm leaving you with a teaser, a taste of the Historical/VAMPIRE novel. This book has it all, sorcery, magick, sin eaters, vampires werewolves and a few witches tossed in too!


Setup: Owen Rhys, the village Sin Eater has just discovered the man he loves is a vampire. To learn more about the undead, he thumbs through the pages of his tad's (father's) history books.


LONG EXCERPT: (Rated R - Gay Fiction)

An innate sense of curiosity drew Owen to the hearth, and specifically to the nearby wooden crate. Shortly after his father passed, he’d relegated the man’s meager possessions and his collection of cherished books to the trunk and hadn’t looked at the contents since. If memory served him, he’d find not only several volumes on Welsh history, but another on legend and lore of Wales.

He removed the lid from the crate and sorted through the books until he found what he searched for, Demons and Other Mystical Creatures of Wales. Thumbing through the pages quickly, he found the chapter entitled Lords of the Underworld: Vampyres.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and scanned the page, his eyes settling on a passage in the middle: The vampyre is the most dreaded and feared creature of the supernatural world. He’s not only obtained immortality, but has the ability to alter his appearance, fly through the night sky, and traverse the ground under the guise of the wolf or a wisp of smoke. After seducing his victims through hypnotic measures or mind control, the vampyre will drain them of their blood thereby bolstering his strength and power. A vampyre might possess beauty beyond one’s imagination or be hideously marked.

Owen’s heart launched into a triple beat and a fine bead of sweat broke out on his forehead. The mouth is thought to be the way the soul leaves the body, and also the way evil spirits are allowed to enter. If one has slain a vampyre in Wales, it is advised the mouth be stuffed with a consecrated object or stitched shut and sprinkled with holy water.

Owen turned the page with an acute sense of trepidation and read his third and final passage: Spiritual vampyres draw the life energy from their victims and at times, their very souls. This species of vampyre does not merely feed on blood but the victim’s essence in order to survive.

He slammed the book shut, tossed it back into the crate and replaced the lid. Then he rose and paced the cottage, the words from the tome tumbling through his head. He didn’t need to read the passages to know Maddock was a vampire; the man had admitted it. What he wouldn’t give to have known Andras before he arrived in Pembrokeshire. Had he always possessed such unearthly beauty or had he accrued it since Traherne turned him?

And what species of long tooth was Traherne? Had he not only fed on Andras’s blood, but sucked the very soul from the man? Andras, soulless? Nay, it could not be. He’d witnessed innumerable acts of compassion from the man while ministering to the sick, watched his eyes flood with empathy when they passed into the other world.

His intestines wound their way into a reef knot. Had Maddock played him false with his words of coveting him from afar and holding a place for him in his heart? Were those the words of a demon possessed of hypnotic capabilities or the words of a man who cared deeply?

The questions festered and churned until Owen knew only one thing: Maddock was a very dark and very beautiful vampire.

He plucked his fiddle from the case and bolted outside, the questions rattling his brain until he could no longer think. Settling into a rocking chair on the stoop, he drew a deep breath and gazed at the cloud-hung peaks of the mountains in the distance.

Hopelessness cloaked him. He had little in the way of earthly possessions—his goats, a roof over his head and his fiddle—tangible objects that could be taken away in the blink of an eye. But the two things he possessed that no one could ever take from him were his good name and his love of the song.

His father’s words from long ago found him, ‘Enw da yw’r trysor gorau’, a good name is the best of treasures. No matter what the villagers thought of him—of all sin eaters—he had his good name and had done nothing to dishonor it.

Plucking the fiddle from his knees, he tucked it under his chin, and with his arm stretched out, rested the beloved cwth on his collarbone. He angled the bow across the strings and strummed out a repertoire of ancient Welsh tunes his father had taught him. He lost track of time, misplaced all melancholy thoughts of vampires, sin eaters and the troubles plaguing him. Whisked away in the poignant, artful blending of tunes reminiscent of his Celtic roots, he didn’t see the dark shape watching him from a cluster of yews several feet away until he placed the fiddle at his feet.

Andras.

He shuddered, as much from his eloquent dark visage as from the memory of his kiss. Despite the passages in the book, and the questions afflicting him, one thing remained clear. He wanted Maddock, ached with the desire to touch him. Suddenly, all he saw was the magnificent features, the hard, powerful body—like a well-oiled apparatus—as he advanced.

Advanced? Duw help him.

The intoxicating musk of the man’s body drifted over him on the cool breeze of evening, and still the man didn’t speak. The implication of his hypnotic gaze stoked the fire raging in his gut.

The words from the book echoed in his ears, after seducing his victim with his hypnotic eyes, the vampyre will drain him of blood, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Andras’s face.

In one swift motion, Andras stood before him, his dark eyes blazing a luminous red. With an unexplainable momentum, he transported them into the cottage and slammed the door behind them.

Pressed up against the wall, his senses dazzled, Owen lifted his eyes and met the silver orbs he’d visited so many times in his dreams. “How did you know I’m gifted at the fiddle?” Gaw, what a dim-witted question to ask while in Maddock’s possessive embrace. Have you lost your senses, Owen?”

The somnolent lilt to Andras’s arrogant voice sent fire racing through his bloodstream. “Did I not tell you I’ve watched you from afar?” Without waiting for him to answer he added. “Does it frighten you to know a vampire has longed to look upon your face whenever possible; would risk everything for one stolen glance to feel the lightning coursing through him that only Duw can call forth?”

Owen melted like candle wax, buried his hands in Andras’s thick hair and pulled him down into the kiss he craved, would die for. He didn’t really want to know the answer anyway; not now. Not when Andras was here in the flesh, allowing him to touch him, stirring something deep inside him he’d only wondered about.

* * *

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