Girlfriends. Wives. Lovers.
At some point they all nag, but only Kilar, a vampire demon, can nag her way into a possession, taking over Lance’s body for a night of sexual exploration.
Lance, Kilar’s blood slave, cannot escape and giving into her whims only leads to more devastation. Trapped in a psychic link, Lance grows weary and weak with her constant demand for freedom.
Kilar’s body remains hidden by the vampire tribunal due to a loathsome pact Lance made with them in order to contain his destructive girlfriend and prevent Armageddon.
So, what’s a guy to do? Kill the nag? The thought has crossed his mind…but first he has to find her.
Love and hate was the only way Kilar could feel anything for him. Part of her ached inside for tormenting Lance, but she couldn’t help herself. The jerk was out there living his life while she rotted in a hole, sealed in by the LA vamps. Lance had given her up to save the world. Ten years ago she had loved him. Now, it twisted into something insane.
“Wake up. It’s time to go out.”
Lance groaned and scratched his side.
“I said, let’s go!”
Lance fell from the bed. “What the?”
“I’m too wasted. Let’s go to sleep.”
“No. I want to feed. You’re the only way I can, Lance. You owe me that much.”
“I seem to owe you a lot,” he mumbled. “You know it’s only psychological, right? I’m the one who gets juiced.”
Kilar tapped into the anger that ripped through him and his thoughts of being her blood whore, his body already sobering, metabolizing the alcohol and drugs.
“Blood slave, Lance. You’re not a blood whore. You benefit from it too. It’s why you look so youthful after ten years of drinking and drugging. Oh, let’s not forget driving fast. Or wrecking even faster. How many broken bones? Not to mention all the years in extreme sports. The dangerous stunts.”
“You sound like my wife. There’s good money in stunt work. You enjoy my lifestyle.”
“I’m tired of putting you back together.”
“Then stop. Let me die in peace.”
“More like pieces. Now, let’s go.”
“You’re driving. I’m gonna pass out. You’re on your own, sweetheart.”
It was rare for him to allow her complete control. Only once or twice when driving across country did he give over his body. Lazy drunk knew how much energy it drew from her mind, but she was hungry. Kilar paced in the dark. Her vision took over his and her mind commandeered his body. She stopped him in front of the mirror in the hallway.
“You look like crap, Lance. You need to brush your hair, at least.”
Kilar finger-brushed his hair into submission.
“I don’t care what you do, just don’t wake me up,” he snarled. His consciousness crawled into a dark, hushed place in his mind to sleep.
She looked in the mirror again.
“Lance?” she said aloud, watching his lips move as his voice repeated her words. “Cool, I’m going to have a lot of fun tonight, Lance.” His smile broadened. “First thing’s first, we’re going to shower and get dressed up nice.”
She brought the Lamborghini to a stop in front of a club, opening the door, she tossed the valet her keys. Lance can eat dirt. She allowed the valet to handle his baby.
Kilar needed a drink.
People stared. They couldn’t help it; her blood aura surrounded Lance. People were drawn in for the kill. It irritated Kilar. Sycophantic blood bags.
Yet, hunger drove her mad. To hell with what might happen when a little human draws her attentions. In the back of her mind Lance rolled over in a drunken haze.
Blood, warm and inviting, pulsed through the human bodies. Kilar’s cooled in Lance’s veins. Feeling crocodilian, she moved through the writhing bodies, unhurried while spindling nefarious instincts within the crowd. The music thumped in his chest. Dancing quickened despite the chill following Lance through the room. Skin glistened even as their breath frosted over as Kilar slithered through the mass of malevolent flesh. The sensation of standing in a freezer on a blistering desert day surged through the club, like breakers in a rising tsunami. Each wave greater than the next.
Tempo increased. Kilar’s bloodlust rose along with the pheromones in the room. Something else peaked. Desire. Actual physical desire.
This is an exciting moment for me, the release of my first publication, and I never thought it would happen.
As a kid, all I had were my stories. Every project for school I could write a story for, I would. I wrote a novella for history, blending my own family history into a tale of the civil war. I’ll never forget Charlie and the chicken leg he pulled from his pocket. He’s always nicking food from somewhere. Never knew when he’d eat, I guess. Thanks Mom. I wrote a pirate tale for English class and had a teacher who made my only assignment for the whole year writing stories for him to read. Arthurian tales, witches, pirates, and vagabonds all found their way into my stories. I’d put my friends in horror stories. Sorry Mary for your sacrifice to the werewolves. Oh and the burning at the stake thing, too. Adventures through the mystic lands of faery with my friends in tow. Through caverns under rivers and caves burrowing into mountains. It was all fun. All the best escapes of my life. Little did I know more were to come. I’d stopped writing for years after I lost all my stories in a fire. Luckily, my children and I were safe, but I didn’t want to put so much effort into my writing again. (The kernels of Cold Darkness popped from a horror comedy story my thirteen year old son and I were writing together. I’m sorry nothing came of it, but then I turned it into an adult tale with the dark themes I enjoy.) I had a lot of fun with Angus and wished we had kept it up, but it was fun and a great memory.
When I was a child, I’d sleep walk, so my mother made me sleep with her. She was afraid I’d fall down the stairs and break my neck. It started a tradition of laying in bed making up stories together. When I was in my early teens she would write ‘screenplays’ for our favorite TV shows. She would make word search puzzle books for us and I’d love reading the typewritten documents. My favorite moments was with my mom taking turns telling those stories.
Whether I sell one damn copy, or none, the best part of all this is my mother read my story and loved it. Sex and all.
That is the best part of launch day.
In honor of the release of Cold Darkness I’d like to offer up a free copy. Just stop by my blog today to answer this simple question:
If you woke up to find yourself in the body of the opposite gender, what would be the first thing you would do?
The answer I like the best wins a copy of Cold Darkness.
Leave your answer in the comments section below by June 16th, 2014. Be sure to check the box for email notification of reply. Once I’ve replied to your comment, send me an email:
email@example.com to receive your free copy.
I’m at Kay Dee’s place. Hop over and check out her blog! Cold Darkness releases June 13th.
From the man who leaves no footprints on newly fallen snow, Spencer Dryden. He talks about Bliss, his new book out with Breathless Press.
Click on the image for the link to Spencer’s interview.
Meg Amor is her real name. Great for a gal who writes wonderful romances, yes? Not just typical romances, but troikas. Throw in some sexy black men, a redheaded New Zealander, and you’ve got yourself a great time. Not only in this life, but in the previous, and the next.
My beautiful, redheaded friend has made her first splash with Dark War, a short story from MuseItHot Publishing that introduces these wonderful characters from her world.
When I first met Meg, we were ogling men in L.A. Well, not exactly. She began reading my novel Trainwreck, which is set in L.A. Unfortunately, our meeting came just weeks after I’d been in California not far from where my friend resides, so having not met in person, doesn’t mean we can’t get into trouble together.
Her characters are so heart wrenchingly real. Charlie is by far my favorite. I can’t help myself. I like them troubled and brooding with amazing eyes. Uh…hem…anyway, her settings and intricacies of plot are compelling.
Charlie Laralde aches with pent-up sexual tension and love for his two best friends, Henry and Izzy. His desire for them is torn to shreds by a vicious woman convincing him, he’s unlovable trash. Like the inner Dark War struggle he’s fought his whole life, he gives in to the darkness. Frustrated and hell-bent on destruction, he disappears with an unsavory crowd on a depraved death wish booty-call.
Will Henry and Izzy rescue him in time? Can they convince Charlie of their deep passionate love and need for him?
I’ve known Charlie since the day he was born. He’s ten years younger, a Creole from a good Louisiana family like I am. Tall, charismatic, charming, oozes sex like the call of a siren going out into the night. He has a slight look of Smokey Robinson in his eyes, raw sexuality, and the women flock to him. They always have. Charlie’s sexy, light-skinned, what would have been called pardo in the old days, not like my darker skin. He keeps his hair slightly long and swept back. He still colors it, just vain enough to not want to age yet.
I’ve long let my short afro progress to salt and pepper. Izzy likes it. She thinks I look and sound a little like that popular, distinguished black actor, which I take as a compliment. He’s older than me and apparently comes under the “sex on a stick,” category. She says I do, too. I’m not sure what she sees, I’m sixty-eight to her thirty-eight years, but she loves me on a deep, soul level. I remind myself everyday how lucky I am.
“We have to find him,” Izzy’s plugged in energetically and this makes me more nervous.
After a lot of calls back and forth to Danny, I’m still none the wiser as to where Charlie went. Hell, I’m worried. It’s been an hour. We’ve achieved precisely nothing.
Izzy comes back from the office, her face taut with stress. “I know where he is.” She loves him as much as I do.
“Where?” I frown.
She shows me on the map. Oh thank God. Okay, I know where he is now. “How did you get this information?”
She grimaces. “I managed to get the stupid car-tracking software to activate.”
“Thank God, baby. I was going mad.”
In reality he’s not far. It’s an old property of his family’s, kind of Bayou, out on the river. An old plantation house, falling down now, the Spanish moss choking everything it touches.
“Let’s go,” says Izzy, grabbing her purse and sliding her feet into a pair of flip-flops.
I want to leave her here but know she won’t let me go by myself. Her long, red curls and bright, tropical sundresses make her exotic and sexy, all that beauty dragged into something squalid.
“Not even,” she says.
“Iz, babe, let me deal with Charlie.”
“No, for fuck’s sake, I’m not letting you go there by yourself. Crikey, you don’t really think that’s going to happen, do you? He’s my friend too. We need to sort this out. He’s probably trolleyed out of his brain. You’re not going to deal with him by yourself.”
“Iz,” I say seriously.
“We’re bloody going. Charlie needs us.”
“Yes, he does, but I have a bad feeling about this. There’s probably going to be some sleazy people there. And who knows what else will be going on.”
“Fuck you, Charlie,” she hisses.
I don’t want her to see him like that. I know when he wakes up, sober and sick, he’ll be ashamed. I’ve been here with him. She hasn’t. Admittedly, even for me, a long time ago.
“We’ll take my truck.”
She nods, already helping me grab things we’ll need. Oh God, Charlie. Please be okay. I toss the big first-aid kit in the car, grab water and blankets. I run upstairs to his bathroom and pack shampoo, soap, toiletries, and towels. I throw spare clothes into a bag. Izzy’s eyes silently ask me why. She grimaces and shuts her eyes.
It’s hot, sultry, and steamy. A storm’s brewing out in the bay, picking up the wind. The big thunderheads rolling in earlier have been slow reaching us.
We’re sweating from fear as much as the velvety warmth. A sheen of sweat coats our skin. It’s the height of summer. The heat hasn’t dropped any at night. This heat flash has been brewing for a few days, increasing tensions each day. I’m not surprised something crazy is happening.
We hop into the truck. She grabs my hand. I pull her into me, wrapping my whole body around hers, breathing in her sweet plumeria scent. I wish I could go back inside, shut the door, take her to bed, and make love to her slowly. Deep heat, sensuous lingering arousal, until we’re both going mad with desire. The screaming need for each other has never diminished or abated.
It can’t be easy for Charlie at times, living with us. He wants what we have, I know that. I thought this was taking a different direction but unless I’m mistaken, something’s jumped the rails somewhere.
“I feel bad, I should have caught this sooner,” I say.
“I didn’t pick up on it either, babe. Maybe something happened at The Club and he got triggered.”
She’s as worried as I am.
“I love you, babe, more than life itself.”
“I know, baby. Back at you, always.” She kisses me slowly, her soft lips opening up, letting me slide my tongue into her mouth, all the heat in her eyes, despite the worry. Beautiful girl. How did I get this lucky?
I don’t even have to plug in the address. I know where he is.
Alex Bennet, a first year grad student in Anthropology is recruited by a time traveler from the fifty-second century to save mankind from oblivion. His quest will require Alex to seduce the headstrong Dr.
Lilith Bendershoot, a rising star in the department and eventual founder of the movement that will lead to the emasculation of males, triggering the decline of the human race. To help in his mission, the time traveler gives Alex a secret weapon, The Gueschtunkina Ray Gun.
I was surprised and delighted to see this roll through Twitter today. So excited.